#like i was trying to figure out if i still had july but nope! apparently not

[teruthecreator]

my life just got so much scarier yesterday and i haven’t rlly processed it

[iam93percentstardust]

Winteriron, both Tony and Bucky are insanely jealous of each other bc they think the other is super into Steve. But like, in reality, Steve's a troll and Tony and Bucky are the stupidest at seeing what's right in front of them.

I hope this is okay, this prompt really got away from me

~

“They’re idiots, Your Honor,” Steve moaned, collapsing face-down into Natasha’s couch.

“And just where did you learn that phrase?” Natasha asked from her armchair. She sounded amused, damn her, as though his real and totally valid problems were of no concern to her. And maybe they weren’t; she did, after all, have other issues on her mind, like what she was going to wear to Capitol Hill the next time she needed to tell Congress to fuck off when they tried to put restrictions on the team. Still, it was rude to make light of his problems.

“I can learn new things,” he grumbled into the expensive leather. “I have the Twitter.”

Natasha made a strangled sound that sounded suspiciously like she was laughing but when he raised his head to glare at her, her face was perfectly composed. He glared at her anyway. She probably deserved it and he was still in a bad mood.

“What did they do this time?” she asked eventually. She sounded sympathetic but he was on to her now. He squinted at her, just to make sure that she knew that he was watching her. She just raised an unimpressed eyebrow. Damn spies, never being impressed by anything that he did… not that that was really a surprise. Tony was never impressed by anything he did either and Thor was unimpressed by Midgardians in general.

“Tony has convinced himself Bucky and I were dating back before the war,” he informed her.

She groaned. “He didn’t.”

“He did. And Bucky thinks that the only reason Tony and I aren’t dating is because I haven’t figured out that Tony has feelings for me yet so he keeps trying to tell me about all of Tony’s good points.”

“But Tony doesn’t have feelings for you.”

“I know that, and you know that, but Bucky is an idiot who doesn’t know that.”

Natasha groaned again. “And Tony is even worse,” she muttered. “So what did you do?”

He looked at her.

She sighed. “Tell me you didn’t tease them.”

“In my defense!” Steve began. “I didn’t think Tony would take it seriously when I told him that of course Bucky and I were fucking like rabbits during the war. I thought he’d do what he always does and make a dumb quip and tell me that he’s going to tell the whole internet that I’m a troll.”

“I told you to stop doing that.”

“Won’t.”

“They’re never going to get together if you keep causing problems like this.”

“They’re idiots who won’t communicate with each other,” Steve said stubbornly. “It’s not my problem if they can’t figure out I’m not serious.”

“Forget Tony telling the internet you’re a troll; I’m going to tell them and they’ll believe me.”

This was not a terribly effective threat, as Steve didn’t really care if the entire world knew he was a troll or not. Unfortunately, Natasha apparently figured that out because she narrowed her eyes thoughtfully and then added, “Or I could always just say that your birthday isn’t actually the fourth of July.”

He knew she was still mad about that. “You wouldn’t.”

“Wouldn’t I?” she said innocently. “Oh and Steve? Figure it out before next week, please. If they get together next week, Clint wins the pool and I refuse to give him any more money.”

Steve stared at her. “You two have a very odd relationship.”

Her smile was downright filthy as she purred, “But a very fulfilling one too.”

~

Steve had a plan. It wasn’t necessarily a good plan—the Man with a Plan really only had a plan when it came to battle strategy—but he did have one. He just wasn’t sure if this plan was going to backfire horribly on him.

“Well,” he muttered in the elevator, “at least it’ll be funny.”

And it was. It was really incredibly funny to see the looks on everyone’s faces as he tromped into the kitchen for breakfast, declared, “Natasha! Wonderful morning!” and kissed her square on the mouth.

He turned to Clint. “Clint! Great to see you too!” Clint tried to dodge, but Steve caught him and planted a big ol’ wet one on his mouth.

“Bruce!” he began only to see Bruce’s skin tinged the slightest shade of green. “Nope! Thor!”

That was all he had to say before Thor exclaimed, “An excellent new bonding idea, Captain,” and kissed Steve before Steve could kiss him first. It was a little more thorough than Steve would have liked, but hey, it was all in the name of romance so he decided not to complain about it.

“Rhodey!”

“Take one step closer, Flag Boy, and I will personally repulsor you in the ass.”

“Got it!” And he swung back around to Sam instead. “Sam!” At least Sam was laughing while Steve kissed him. It was a nice change to being greeted as though he was contagious.

And then it was time for the big two. The two that really mattered. The two that Steve was going to personally throw off the tower if they still couldn’t get their shit together after this.

“Bucky!” Barely the briefest kiss before he was pulling away and cheerfully saying, “Yuck! Let’s never do that again, okay?”

And lastly—“Tony!” Another brief kiss before he pulled away and said, “Tony, for a billionaire playboy, you sure do kiss like a limp fish.”

“Hey!” Tony protested.

In the background, he heard Clint whisper to Natasha, “Are we sure he hasn’t been replaced by a shapeshifting alien or something?”

“That would be the Skrulls,” Thor said, sounding very amused, “and I do not believe they would be so foolish as to give away their game this early.”

“Well, it sure can’t be Stevie,” Bucky muttered bitterly. “He would never compare kissing Tony to kissing a fish.”

“Really, Bucky?” Steve said. “And why wouldn’t I do that, exactly?”

Bucky looked a little like a deer caught in the headlights. Steve probably would have felt bad for putting his closest friend on the spot like that but he really was getting very tired of the pining. And the stupidity. And the waxing poetic about the perfect shape of Tony’s ass. Like, sure, it was fine, but it wasn’t fine enough to write literal sonnets to.

“Uh,” Bucky said intelligently and gestured at Tony.

“Sorry, I don’t speak pine tree,” Steve said. “You’ll have to explain.”

“You know,” Bucky mumbled, “cause you’re dating Tony and anyone lucky enough to be dating Tony shouldn’t be calling him a fish.”

Steve opened his mouth but Tony beat him to the push. “I’m not dating Steve,” he said bewilderedly. “Where did—you’re the one dating Steve.”

“Ew, no,” Bucky said immediately.

Steve scowled at him. “Wow, you didn’t have to be so quick about it, punk.”

“Jerk.”

“See?” Tony exclaimed, gesturing between the two of them.

Bucky blinked at him. “What, like you never call Rhodey pet names?”

“That’s different, we’re friends.”

“Yeah, so are Stevie and I.”

“No—no—love story for the ages,” Tony spluttered.

“I’m not dating Steve, Tony!” Bucky exclaimed. “Why would I date him when I wanna be dating you?”

Silence rang in the kitchen.

“What?” Tony eventually whispered.

“I—uh—” That deer in the headlights look was back. But, fortunately, it was only there for a split second before Tony scrambled up out of his chair and into Bucky’s lap, seizing his face between his hands as he kissed him. A beat passed and then Bucky groaned, hands clutching greedily at Tony’s waist.

“Time to go,” Natasha declared.

Bucky stood, just enough to lay Tony out on the table.

“Yep,” Steve agreed, sprinting for the door, the rest of the team right behind him. “JARVIS, schedule the kitchen for a deep clean this afternoon. And once they’re done, tell Bucky I said, ‘You’re welcome.’”

Four hours later, Bucky’s texted response was a very smug, Tony doesn’t kiss like a limp fish at all, asshole.

[bluefirewrites]

I'm sorry about your presentation, idk if your still doing hcs but can you do one where Reggie is julies older brother by 1 or 2 years and Julie in love with Luke and Luke likes her as well but neither will do anything because of Reggie. If not its ok. ☺

I brought up an idea similar to this a while back! But let’s rework it. 

In this scenario, let’s say that the Molinas and the Peters' have known each other for a long while, ever since Julie and Reggie were kids. They’ve pretty much grown up together. 

And then they get older and a lot of shit happens. Julie’s mom dies. And Reggie’s parents finally get a divorce. 

As the two families are healing and trying to move on, eventually Ray and Reggie’s mom sorta just clicked. 

And years later, they ended up getting married- officially making Reggie Julie’s brother. 

They move into the Molina’s house and they transition to one big family so seamlessly that Julie often forgets that Reggie isn’t her brother in the biological sense. He’s always been an older figure to her, always looking out for her and Carlos. 

She’s so used to having him around. And even used to having Reggie’s friends around growing up. 

They all met when they were in middle school, but Julie hasn’t seen them much over the years, only seeing them during special occasions or whenever she would go to the Peters’ from time to time. 

She remembers Alex, the shy blonde one who does his best to keep the peace when everyone got too rowdy. 

And then Bobby, who is just hitting his stride in his sullen, moody teenager phase. Still nice though. 

And Luke, the wild one. The guy was all long haired, energetic, and sporting some gnarly braces the last time she saw him. 

She hears a knock at the door the night Reggie and his mom had moved in. Julie opens it and it’s the boys: Alex, Bobby, and- woah. 

“Julie?” Luke smiles, his long hair cut to a still shaggy ‘do, braces gone, and now ripped, telling by how he’s proudly wearing his Nirvana cutoffs, “No way! Long time no see,” 

“Y-yeah,” Julie instantly wishes that she wasn’t wearing her dinosaur slippers at the moment. She leads them all inside, telling them to make themselves at home while they wait for Reggie to come down. 

Julie hurries off to her room, red in the face, internally freaking out about the idea of a cute guy coming over to her house on a regular basis. 

A cute guy she cannot get involved with... imagine how Reggie would react... 

The guys note the dreamlike expression on Luke’s face as he watched Julie go up the stairs. Once she’s gone, Luke whirls around, “Has she always been like that?” 

“Squirrely?” 

“No...” Luke drops his voice down to a whisper, “I mean, has she always been that cute?” 

Alex and Bobby shoots this idea down real quick, “Woah! No no no! Off-limits! She's off-limits, Luke!” 

“How come?” 

“She’s Reggie’s sister,” 

“Step-sister,” 

“Still,” Bobby cuts in, “You know Reggie. He takes the brother role very seriously. He won’t let you stand a foot away from her if he heard what you just said.” 

“If who heard what?” Reggie says, coming down the stairs. 

“Nothing!” They all exclaim, and Luke silently thanks the boys for not ratting him out and invoking Reggie’s wrath. 

He does know how Reggie can get when it comes to Julie. He’s already so protective of her. So he’s not going to try and do anything to piss him off. 

And besides, he just finds her cute. It’s not like anything’s gonna come from it. 

Wrong. 

Luke and Julie are hardcore pining for each other the more time the boys spend over at the house. 

And they’re over a lot. 

Julie would come into the garage, now a studio space for the boys’ band, and watches them practice. 

Somehow Luke finds a way to gravitate towards her. Always standing beside her, ready to show a song he’s been working on or just ask how she’s doing. 

And Julie would find an excuse to hang around the boys, whether offering to help with songwriting or help clean up the equipment. One time, she hands Luke his guitar and their hands met. They both blush but quickly part before Reggie could see what transpired. 

They sneak little casual touches here and there, both to gauge if the other person reciprocates their feelings and to hide whatever was going on between them from Reggie. 

This all coming from the fear of Reggie flipping out on them. 

Apparently when the boys bring up Nick from Julie’s class, joking about the way he was starry-eyed when dancing with Julie (secretly trying to get a rise out of Luke), Reggie immediately asks Julie about a thousand questions: 

“Who is he? What does he do?” 

“Do? He’s a student. In my grade...” 

“Oh. No job? So he’s a deadbeat, huh? Doesn’t sound like a suitable match,” 

“What are you going on about?”

“Does he like the Star Wars Prequels? Yes or No? There is a right answer” 

“What does this have to do with anything, Reggie?”

“I need to know if he’s good enough for you!” 

Reggie starts watching Nick like a hawk at school, going out of his way to intimidate the junior (well as much as he could. he’s still pretty much a puppy and super non-threatening). 

It’s getting ridiculous. 

So Julie goes to talk to Luke, to try and nip this in the bud before Reggie notices their weird behavior. She manages to play off needing help to get something in the laundry room to get him alone without suspicion. 

“Look, we can’t do this anymore... whatever this is,” 

Luke nods, “Agreed. Reggie’s my best friend.” 

“And he’s my brother,” 

“I don’t want to do something that would upset him,” 

“Me neither. Glad we’re on the same page,” 

“Right. Same page. So just friends. Deal?” she sticks her hand out. 

He shakes it, “Deal,” 

They lock eyes, appreciating how the other one looks under the warm dimmed light. 

It takes only about .5 seconds for them to crash their lips onto each other’s, igniting a full on make out session. And by the time they finished, they realize their mistake. 

Uh oh. 

They can’t go back after this. 

Now they really have something to hide from Reggie. 

They sneak around the house, whenever they could. 

Luke would make up an excuse to grab water or go to the bathroom in the middle of rehearsal, just to sneak up to Julie’s room to grab a quick kiss and maybe a small tickle fight just so he could hear that laugh he loves so much. 

And Julie would join the boys at the dinner table, sitting next to him and discreetly slipping cue love notes into his pocket that she knows would make him blush and smile all goofily later (and if they turn into potential song lyrics? Well that's for them to know).

Alex warns Luke the next day, “I think he’s catching on. Be more careful,” 

They spend more time together now that Julie starts writing songs for the band. Her and Luke would huddle over the piano, scribbling the night away, always sitting dangerously close to each other.

Once, Reggie observes them quietly from the couch with an unreadable expression on bis face.

“We are careful,” 

Bobby raises an eyebrow at him, “Really? You tried to pass off the hickeys on Julie’s neck as rashes.” 

“And Reggie bought it, remember? He went out and got ointment for her and everything,” 

“He’s not stupid, Luke. You better do something about this. Fast,” 

Luke sighs, “You’re right.” 

Later that night, Luke pulls Julie into the upstairs bathroom, the one between her room and Reggie’s, to talk. 

“Jules, as much I want to keep doing this... I can’t stand lying to Reggie,” 

“Me too,” she says, “So, let’s just tell him. I don’t like hiding you.” 

“But we need to plan it out. We can’t just spring it on him,” 

“Catch him in a good mood hopefully, and we’ll tell him together,” 

“Sounds like a plan, boss,” 

“Love it when you call me boss,” Julie smiles, angling her head up to kiss him. 

Just then, the door connecting to Reggie’s room bursts open and the said bassist enters in his bathrobe. His eyes grow wide at the sight of them tangled up in each other. 

“What is going on here?” 

The couple breaks apart. Julie and Luke jump to opposite sides of the bathroom, hands up in surrender. 

“You didn’t lock the doors?” Julie hisses at Luke

“Was not my main priority!” Then Luke steps forward in an attempt to calm Reggie down, “Hey, Reg, pal, um, what you just saw-” 

“You guys were kissing in here?” he yells. 

Julie and Luke lower their heads, “...yeah,” 

Reggie sighs, throwing his hands up in the air, “Unbelievable!”

“Reggie, we’re sorry-” 

“In the bathroom, really? Can’t you guys do this in the laundry room like you usually do? My toothbrush is here, come on!”  

Wait. What?

Did they hear him correctly? 

“You knew?!” Julie all but screamed at her brother. 

“Duh. You’re not really subtle,” 

Luke splutters, “B-But Nick-” 

“Found out real quick that he’s not the one I should be worried about,”

“And the... the, well..?”  Julie gestures lamely at her neck, “Why did you get me ointment?” 

Reggie smirks, “Just to mess with you.” 

“So... you’re not mad?”

“Nah. Like I said. I need to make sure whatever guy you end up with, Jules, is good enough for you. And, well, I’ve known Luke almost all my life. And I trust him. Honestly, there’s no other guy I could think of that could be a better match for you.” 

Luke’s hand rests on his shoulder, “You mean that, Reg?” 

“Of course. I’m happy for you guys. But uh...” he sticks his thumb towards the door, “Could you like skip on out of here. I did come to the bathroom for a reason.” 

“Oh, right,” 

“Your Tia’s chicken went right through me-” 

“Ok, Reggie! We’re leaving!” 

“But one more thing,” 

Luke and Julie stop in the doorway leading to the hallway. 

“If you think I’m bad,” Reggie shakes his head, “Try breaking the news to Carlos,” 

Luke pales, “Oh no,”

“’Oh no’ is right,” 

The couple spins around to find Carlos in the hallway, arms crossed, staring them down, “Care to explain why you two were in the bathroom?”

“Well, uh, um, we were-” Luke turns to Julie, but the girl is nowhere to be found, having already yeeted to her room to escape an overprotective Carlos. 

Luke throws a pleading look at Reggie, “A little help here, buddy?”  

Meanwhile, Carlos is unamused, carrying so much tension in his small body that it has Luke gulping nervously. 

“Nope you’re on your own,” he winks, “Make sure to tell him about the ‘rash’ while you’re at it.”

And with a laugh, the bathroom door closes. 

“I can explain...” 

[fandomlovingfreak]

Incidentally In Love (2/?)

Charlie Weasley/Reader

Word Count: 1433

Rating: E for Everyone (Trigger Warning: Pregnancy, talk of pregnancy)

Masterlist Link I AO3 Link

Summary: Sleeping with Charlie Weasley was easy. He was charming, and handsome, and was quite talented in bed... Finding out you're pregnant with your casual fuck buddies baby was not easy.

Reader's journey through co-parenting, an overbearing Molly Weasley who wants reader to marry her son to give the baby a "real family", and maybe falling a tiny bit in love with her baby daddy.

Enjoy

"How the hell am I gonna tell my mum, though?" Charlie paces my small apartment's living room. It only takes him about six steps to reach each wall. I've counted each time he's paced across the floor. It would be funny if this conversation wasn't so—

"Charlie," I stand up wringing my hands, "if it's going to be a problem—"

He stops mid-pace, turning to face me, "no (y/n). I'm not going to just pretend this isn't my baby. I'm just nervous about my mum's reaction. She's old fashioned..."

"I don't want to be like a wedge in you and your families relationship—"

"No, no. She'll warm up to it eventually. She just won't understand for a while why we're raising her grandchild like this."

I roll my eyes, "it's really not a big deal."

"You haven't met Molly Weasley. It's going to be a big deal." He looks at me like he already knows exactly what we're putting ourselves through by co-parenting instead of just caving under his mother's pressure and getting married.

"Well, I'm not marrying you. I barely know you."

"Hey! We know each other (y/n)!"

"Yeah? What year did I graduate from Hogwarts? Or how about my birthday?" Charlie opens his mouth to respond, closing it quickly. I smirk, knowing I'm entirely correct. "See? If I'm around you, you're most definitely too preoccupied between my thighs to have an actual conversation." The way he blushes over this is cute. Like this wasn't the truth, and he hadn't been coming over to my little apartment solely for sex for months now. I didn't expect him to get to know me, just how I never expected to carry his child.

"I suppose you're right--but (y/n). I would have agreed to marry you if you had wanted it." There's nothing worse than an obligatory proposal of marriage, but something about the sincerity in his voice has little butterflies bubbling up in my stomach.

"I know, 'cause you're a nice guy...but--"

"So, you know that I'm a nice guy, but nothing else?" There's that flirty grin I'm used to.

"Nope. Well, that and you've got a very talented tongue." I can't help myself but flirt back. I watch his face burn as bright as his hair.

Charlie clears his throat before changing the subject, "I want this kid, (y/n). No matter what my mum says, I want what you want as well."

"Okay," I exhale shakily, hating that this is happening honestly, "and by the way, it's June twenty-third."

"What?"

"My birthday. July twenty-third."

Charlie tilts his head, grinning, "Yeah? I'll remember that for later."

***

Molly eyes me suspiciously at the dinner table. She's been nothing but kind, even as I've basically crashed their dinner as a complete stranger. Honestly, the whole family is acting odd with me around. Boy, am I really going to rock their world with Charlie and my little surprise.

"So, (y/n)," Arthur attempts conversation with me, "You know Charlie from work?"

"Yes," my smile feels unnatural on my face, "I work in the International Magical Office of Law department." Charlie's parents exchange looks, hopefully, an impressed look...I'm too nervous to really know.

"Oh, how's that?"

"Uh--" I set down my fork, "It's demanding but rewarding work. I travel some, which is interesting. I had a trip planned for later this year to America, but I had to change my plans due to--well, some things."

"Oh, that's too bad, dear. Do you think you'll go next year?" Molly asks politely. Damnit. No, I do not think I'll be doing anything I want for quite some time.

"I don't think so. It was a one time offer from MACUSA, unfortunately." Charlie gives me a look. I hadn't really talked much about the trip to him, mostly because I didn't think I'd be here in this situation. I'm sure he feels awful currently over this. He's so--

"Mum, Dad?" Charlie's voice throws me out of my own thoughts. Fuck, what the hell was he doing? We had a damn plan, for Merlin's sake! Going rouge was not part of this plan. "I've got to tell you something. Well, (y/n) and I do." This, for sure, catches Molly's attention. She looks even more suspicious of my being there at her kitchen table.

"Charlie--" He stops me before I can say anything more.

"I knocked up (y/n)." My eyes go wide, too petrified by embarrassment to really look at any of the Weasley family to gauge their reaction to Charlie's bluntness. Chaos erupts first from Fred and George, who knew me only briefly from school. They make crude comments, congratulating Charlie and betting between themselves if their mum would kill Charlie on the spot. Apparently, this was a bigger deal than I thought?

"Charles Septimus Weasley!" Molly's voice is screechy. She looks like she might actually help George win the bet.

"Mum," Charlie's so red as he leans further away from his mother, "We're going to raise the kid. We have a whole plan..."

"How irresponsible can you be, Charlie? We did not raise you to act this way. You've not only derailed your own life but (y/n)'s as well!"

I have to interfere here, "Mrs. Weasley?" I want to vomit when she turns her head towards me, "Please don't blame Charlie for all of this. I was obviously irresponsible as well--"

"Well, you two are obviously getting married as soon as possible. We can straighten this out, dear, don't worry." She pats my hand.

"What? No. I'm sorry, Missus Weasley, but I am not marrying your son." She looks wholly perplexed. "It's nothing against Charlie, of course. He's a good man. I just don't see why we'd get married just because of a child."

"You have to give the child a stable home, dear." Missus Weasley's brow is furrowed. I've clearly agitated the traditionalist homemaker in her.

"I will. It'll be just a little bit different than your definition of a stable home, ma'am. We'll figure out some sort of custody plan. I am willing to be flexible, and I won't keep the child away from any of you," I want the child to know it's father's family. And the Weasley's were friendly people. Despite the situation and the accidental part of this pregnancy, I wasn't opposed to the Weasley's being my child's family. Merlin knows I can't offer much in that department. "I'll be staying and working in the Ministry, and I assume that Charlie will eventually want to return back to Romania--"

"How can--How would that work? How will Charlie see the baby if he's halfway across the world?"

I glance over at Charlie, "Well--"

"Mum, we haven't thought all of it through yet. We'll figure it out in time. We have quite a bit of time."

"How far along are you, dear?" Molly asks suddenly.

"I'm around two months now, I believe." A silence overcomes the already somewhat tense room. Missus and mister Weasley seem to be sharing a silent conversation. I look at Charlie. He tries to give me a reassuring smile. My eyes flitter over to George and Fred, who don't even try to hide their shit-eating grins. I am still so nervous, the silence only enhancing the heat I feel on the back of my neck.

Molly sighs, looking between Charlie and me, "I'm still not happy with the situation, but I realize I can't force you to do as I please."

I offer her a small smile. I feel awful. "Thank you. I really do intend to let you and your family be apart of the kid's life. I don't have much family left after the War... it's important for me that he or she has some semblance of a family." It feels weird talking about my family so openly like this. I threw myself into my new job and, subsequently, into Charlie's bed, after the funerals.

Molly gives me a sympathetic look, "Of course you and the baby will always have a place in our home." 

***

"I didn't know about your family--" Charlie offered to walk me out once dinner was over.

"I don't like to talk about it." I sigh, breathing in the end of the summer air. We stand in comfortable silence. I suppose it's because he doesn't know what to say. Most people don't know what to say.

"Mum meant it." I glance at him for a second before glancing back up at the moon.

"Meant what?"

"You and our child will always have a place here. She meant that."

A little smile finds it's place on my lips.

Tag List: @hannah220506

[aethelflaedladyofmercia]

For the prompts number 35 fluff: “You didn’t think you’d be able to get rid of me just yet did you?” ineffable husbands

Bit of Quarantine/Awake the Snake/Nope He’s Asleep Again fluff...

(Using this wonderful prompt list - send me an Ask or an @ with your request!)

Aziraphale stood in the door of the bedroom.

The shop hadn’t always had a bedroom. It hadn’t always had a kitchen, either, but somewhere around 1950 he’d gotten the urge to do a little redecorating and had added a few rooms to make it more homey. The kitchen was the only one that saw any real use, though.

Until now.

He watched the figure huddled under the tartan blankets. They seemed darker now, more grey and black than his usual color scheme. He supposed that was to be expected, when a demon slept under them for the better part of nine months.

Now and again, Crowley shifted, just slightly. Head adjusting on the pillow, legs stretching or pulling back in. It was as active as Aziraphale had seen him in months.

He still wasn’t sure why Crowley had come over. He’d made it quite clear, in their telephone conversation, that the demon should not, under any circumstances, be going about breaking the rules. Crowley had agreed, mumbled something about setting the alarm…and not ten minutes later, had knocked on Aziraphale’s door, bottle of wine in hand.

“You didn’t think you’d be able to get rid of me just yet, did you?” he’d asked, all charming grin and tempting voice, as Aziraphale hid behind his own door.

“You can’t be here, Crowley! The rules!”

“Yeah, you said.” He’d leaned against the doorframe, tilting his glasses down just enough to let a hint of gold shine over them. “You also said you thought I’d be out breaking the rules.”

Aziraphale spluttered indignantly. “That is – I only said – you’re a demon, Crowley, of course I thought – that doesn’t mean—”

With a shrug, Crowley had stood up, stretching his arms languorously as a cat. “Well, if I’m not wanted here, I suppose I could go…wander the streets. Tempt some humans to come out. Maybe throw a party.”

And, really, what could Aziraphale say to that?

“Two meters,” he’d warned as he opened the door.

“Come on, Angel. We can’t even catch the virus.”

“Two meters, or you’re back on the street. Is that clear?”

“Whatever you say.”

And he’d kept his word, moving the sofa so they could sit the appropriate distance apart, working their way through the bottle of wine, as well as two cakes and a plate of biscuits that had been slightly burned. They’d talked, and as the hours passed, Aziraphale had even found himself laughing again.

Some time after midnight, Crowley had risen unsteadily to his feet. “Well…tha’s all from me. For me. Gotta go…sleep it off.” Aziraphale hadn’t known what to say, so with a shrug, Crowley started shuffling towards the door. “July? Yeah, July. Th’ sigkss. Siksifiss. Sixsthsthsth. Ngk. The fifth. Sounds good.”

“I suppose so.” Aziraphale rose from his chair and snapped his fingers, locking the front door.

“Unnnnn.” Crowley struggled with the knob for almost a minute. “Angel. I need. M’Bentley’s outside, you know.”

“I know.” He’d been surprised to find he wasn’t actually very drunk at all. “You didn’t think I’d let you leave just yet, did you?”

Crowley’s jaw had worked, flapping in confusion like a fish trying to grow lungs. His glasses had slid down his nose almost entirely before he finally managed: “Wah?”

“There’s a bed upstairs.” Aziraphale swallowed. “You can…you can have it as long as you like.”

They’d kept two meters apart, up the stairs, around the landing, all the way to the bedroom door, Aziraphale waving Crowley through. But the demon had just stood in the center of the room, turning his head in confusion. Not seeming to notice the piles of books or dusty furniture.

“It’s just – right there,” Aziraphale had pointed helpfully, as if Crowley might miss the bed taking up half the floor.

“Yuh.” Another turn, and Cowley had finally stepped forward, placing his glasses on the bedside table, sitting slowly on the edge. “And you’ll…?”

“I’ll be downstairs, of course, in my shop. I never use this room.”

Crowley had stared at him a long time. Aziraphale had expected questions, but no. Just silence.

“Ah. I see you…you’re very tired. If you need me, I’m—”

“Downstairs. Yeah. Why?”

“That’s where I live, obviously.”

“Not that.” Crowley shifted to sit a little further back on the bed, but his eyes never left Aziraphale’s face. “Why ask me to stay? I’ll still be asleep. You’ll still be alone. And you know I always sober up before I drive, so don’t pretend it’s that.”

“Perhaps…” Even nine months later, Aziraphale didn’t have a good answer. “Perhaps I just like having you close.”

“Huh.” Crowley had leaned back, starting the long, elaborate process of kicking his boots off. They weren’t real boots, of course, and vanished as soon as they hit the floor, but he took his time all the same. “You know. Couple months here. We’ll be, what’s the term. Same household.”

“Will we? Fancy that.”

“Nh. Different rules, two adults in the same household.”

“Are there?”

Crowley had finally pulled his legs up and started to burrow under the blankets. “Well. If you change your mind, you’ll know where to find me.”

“Now, don’t be absurd. I’m hardly—”

“Uh-huh. I know. Just.” He’d settled back onto the pillow. “I’m here. Any time you need me.” Then a smile. “Good night, Angel.”

Aziraphale had fled, without another word.

He’d hardly said anything, in July, when Crowley woke to scroll through his mobile and grumble for an hour before promptly returning to sleep.

In October, he’d managed a short conversation from the doorway, Crowley’s frown increasingly sour. He’d walked away for a few minutes, and returned to find the demon snoring again.

And now it was the end of January.

Nine months together. That really did make them the same household, and certainly neither of them could be considered at-risk. Quite the opposite, in fact. Which meant…

Aziraphale stepped into the bedroom.

He nearly made it to the bed before Crowley woke, jerking his head up slightly. “Wuzzzat? S’it over?”

“No, not nearly. Things got quite bad for a bit there, but…I think they’re looking up. They’ve started vaccinating, you know.”

“S’good.” Crowley lay back down. “S’what? Another month?”

“Oh, no. It’s going quite quickly but…autumn, I should think. Certainly not before June.”

“Right. June.” He closed his eyes.

“But—” Aziraphale took a step forward, fingers hovering over the side of the bed. “I just – that is—”

One golden eye cracked open, and the smallest hint of a smile stretched across Crowley’s lips. “S’your bed, Angel.”

“Ah. Yes. Right.” Aziraphale straightened his waistcoat. “Jolly good.” Crowley kept watching him.

“Oh, alright.” He tugged back the corner of the blankets and sat, quickly removing his shoes. Waistcoat folded on the bedside table, by Crowley’s glasses. Bowtie, too, and unfasten the top button of his shirt. That should do. He pulled himself under the blankets and lay back.

Crowley had, apparently, already fallen asleep.

“Well. I see how it is.” Aziraphale felt very foolish.

Then Crowley’s arm shifted, stretching out across the space between them. “C’mon,” he grunted.

Aziraphale hesitated, until Crowley’s arm started to shift again. Panicked that the invitation might be withdrawn, he surged across the distance. Crowley’s arm guided him closer, pulling him all against the demon’s side, to rest his head on Crowley’s shoulder.

“S’better?”

“Ah. Yes. That’s…that’s very…yes.”

“Good.” His hand settled somewhere near Aziraphale’s hip, his face turned so that hot breath rolled across Aziraphale’s forehead. “G’night, Angel.”

“Yes.” Aziraphale rested his hand on Crowley’s chest, feeling the beat of his heart, the way his ribs rose and fell with every breath. “Yes. Good night, Crowley.”

Aziraphale rarely slept, and didn’t fall asleep as quickly as Crowley did. But, he reflected, studying the demon’s profile, it would still be time well spent.

[writingwithciara]

Around The World And Back  ~Luke Patterson~

summary: a ghost falls in love with his best friend, but not without its consequences [lyrics from Around The World And Back by State Champs are what inspired some of the dialogue] 

word count: 1.6k

pairing: luke x reader

warning: mention of death

note: [lyrics from Around The World And Back by State Champs are what inspired some of the dialogue] song lyrics are bold & italicized

masterlist

been around the world and back this year

Being a ghost had it’s perks. You could go wherever you wanted and never be seen. You could do whatever you wanted without any consequences. Well, mostly anything. 

For a ghost, falling in love was hard. It was even harder if the person you fell in love with just so happened to be your best friend, and one of the few lifers that could see you.

Luke was one of the unfortunate ghosts who found his affections for a live human, growing exponentially and without warning. Aside from Julie, y/n was his best friend. She believed in him when he couldn’t find the strength to do so himself. 

Unbeknownst to him, he was falling in love hard. 

And when he figured it out, he fled. Like, completely disappeared. No trace. Not even Alex or Reggie could find him.

He spent a lot of time exploring and trying to comprehend the pain he began to feel, knowing he could never physically be with y/n, if she even felt the same.

told myself i want to face this fear

When he finally returned to LA, it was 3 months later. 

Standing outside of Julie’s garage made Luke feel like he was about to meet a bunch of strangers. He wasn’t even sure they would welcome him back instantly.

Taking a deep breath, he walked through the open door.

“-and then we can....Luke?” Reggie was in the middle of an intense conversation with y/n when he spotted his best friend behind her. 

The minute his name was spoken, y/n turned her head and suddenly, everything came back. Every feeling, every memory. They all came rushing back to her brain as she stared at the ghost boy before her with tears in her eyes.

“Hey.” he weakly spoke, making a quick eye movement to his feet.

“What are you doing here?” she responded.

“I came back to see you guys.”

“It’s been 3 months and you couldn’t even say goodbye, Luke.” her voice was breaking and it was killing him.

“There’s too many ways to say goodbye.” he sighed and took a step towards her, only to have her jump back, nearly knocking Reggie over as he tried to help support her weight. “But it’s quite the opposite this time.”

“If there’s too many ways to say goodbye, why couldn’t you have used one of them? If you wanted to leave so badly, you should’ve at least told us why.” she looked up at Reggie and he nodded. 

“Look, the reason I didn’t say goodbye was because,” he took another chance to approach her and smiled when she didn’t back away. “Oh god. How am I supposed to say this without it hurting either of us.”

“I don’t know. You tell me.” she folded her arms and glared at him. All she felt was anger towards the ghost who broke her heart.

“Reggie, can you give us a minute alone?”

“Yeah, let me just-”

“No. Whatever you have to say to me, you can say in front of Reggie too.”

“Fine.” Luke shook his head and took a deep breath. “The reason I didn’t say goodbye was because I was scared. All you lifers get to do all these amazing, wonderful things and us ghosts get nothing good in our lives.”

“So now I’m nothing good? What the hell, Luke? I thought I meant more to you than that.”

“You do. I swear you do. And that’s why I couldn’t say goodbye when I left. When I left, it was because I found out I’m falling in love and it’s scaring me. Ghosts aren’t supposed to fall in love with a human. It doesn’t work for either party.” By now, Luke was pacing.

“I know that it can work. And if you would’ve stopped to think for a few minutes, you could’ve at least told a certain someone how you were feeling. Maybe they would’ve told you that being in love with someone outside of your ‘species’ wasn’t totally insane. They may have just told you that they have been having those feelings too.” 

“What are you talking about?”

“It came to me in a dream, but I realized that I was also falling in love with someone outside of society’s ‘normal standards’. I fell in love with a ghost and, believe it or not, that ghost is you, Luke. You running off for 3 months made my whole world fall apart. I felt like I lost everything, And I thought that you just didn’t want to be around us anymore.”

“I’m sorry I made you feel like that. It was never my intention. All I wanted was time to figure out how I felt and to see if I could get rid of these feelings.”

“And did it work?” she let go of Reggie and slowly approached Luke.

“Nope. I’m still in love with a lifer.”

“And I’m still in love with a ghost.” she smiled through her tears and pulled him in for a kiss. A kiss where their lips actually connected, something that they’ve never been able to do. Reggie watched in amazement as Luke began to glow. True love must be what connects them to the lifers. 

~~~~~

A year down the road was when everyone realized just how short a life could be. 

Luke sat on the balcony hanging over the coffee shop. He watched as all the cars passed by. It was something that always calmed him down. It also helped him organize his thoughts.

He was supposed to be meeting y/n on the balcony to celebrate her getting into a good college. She had wanted to go to Stanford her entire life and when she finally got the acceptance letter, she threw a party to tell Luke. He asked her to meet him at her favorite coffee shop for a smaller celebration and since he wasn’t able to poof somewhere with her, she had to drive.

He was sitting alone and looking up at the sky, waiting for her when all of a sudden, he heard a loud crash from below. Fearing the worst, he glanced down.

There was a pile up of cars just outside the cafe. Luke poofed down and searched the wreck for y/n, hoping she wasn’t part of it. But when he saw her car at the back of the crash, her unconscious body still at the wheel, he nearly broke down into tears.

His emotions ran higher when the paramedics informed each other that there were no survivors.

Watching them wheel her body into the ambulance made him break even more than he ever thought he could. It wasn’t the fact that she was dead. It was the fact that she may automatically crossover and not spend any time as a ghost, meaning he would never see her again. 

If that was the case, his last words to her would’ve been ‘I’ll see you in 10 minutes’ instead of ‘I love you’.

When he arrived back at Julie’s garage, the rest of the band and Flynn were all sitting with their heads down. They heard him enter the room and all their attention went to him.

“Is she-” Alex began to ask but Luke nodded before he finished and they all broke into tears. Julie and Flynn pulled the boys in for a group hug as they mourned the loss of their best friend.

“Oh god. I’m gonna miss her sweet smile.” Alex sat at his drums and looked at the sticks y/n had gotten him for his would’ve-been-birthday. “She was the best.”

“Yeah she was.”

At this point, Luke hadn’t said a word. He looked at the guitar she would play as he taught her the right notes to a song.

“Luke, you okay?”

“No.” he sighed. “I never got to tell her I loved her.”

“Yeah you did. A year ago when you came back after being gone for 3 months.”

“I said I was falling in love. That didn’t mean I loved her. It meant I was working towards it.” he began to pace and his anger started rising. “Now I’ll never be able to say it.”

“Say what?” 

Everyone heard the voice and they all turned towards Luke. Their eyes widened and he spun around quickly.

Y/n was standing in the doorway of the garage. Flynn, being the only one to have processed the situation, went over to her and tried to touch her but her hand went through her arm.

“Yup. Another ghost.”

This new information made Luke feel intense feelings. He ran to y/n and was quick to pick her up and spin her around. Instead of the sad tears he was shedding just mere minutes ago, he was letting all his happy tears flow out of him. He had never been happier to see someone dead.

“So, is anyone going to answer me?” she giggled as Luke set her down. 

“I forgot what you asked.” he smiled. “I’m just so happy to see you.”

“I just wanted to know what you said you’d never be able to say.”

“I thought I would never get the chance to say I love you.”

“But, you did, didn’t you? A year ago.”

“Apparently, that time didn’t count. He said he meant he was working towards it.” Reggie chimed in, causing y/n to giggle.

“Oh.”

“But I do love you. I really really do.” 

“I love you too..” she smiled. “I feel like we’ve been around the world and back this year.”

when you believed in me, it brought us together. everybody says that it won’t last forever

[x-starshines-x]

Second Chances- for @unbeknownsttotheworld

1700 words

K+

ships: luke x reggie, julie x flynn (mentioned)

tw: they’re dead??

 They were warming up to rehearse with Julie, and Reggie smiled at him from across the garage. He wasn’t sure how it happened, but the realization hit him like a ton of bricks. He loved Reggie.

He’s always been an affectionate person. At any given time he could be found sprawled across his friends’ laps or draped over their shoulders. It was just natural for him to be physically close with his friends, but it was different with Reggie. With Reggie, it was hands cupping faces, hugs that lasted just barely too long to be casual, and lingering glances at lips when the other wasn’t looking. It was clear blue eyes, crooked teeth smiling at him, sitting close enough to knock shoulders and knees, and lyrics that were far too personal to leave his songbook. He’d written countless songs about Reggie. It was expected, he wrote about whatever he was feeling. There were songs about his dreams, his home, hell - there were even a few about his short-lived relationship with Alex, but most of the songs he’s written in the past three months have been about Reggie. When he’d presented the lyrics to “Crooked Teeth��� to the band, Alex gave him a sly smile, and Bobby nodded at him. Reggie, however, clapped Alex on the shoulder and teased them about how cute it was of Luke to write a song about him. He really was in love with an idiot.

Even after 25 years, he still felt the same about Reggie, which made sense because it only felt like they’d been dead a few months. With their less than stellar home lives, it had always been an inside joke between him, Reggie, and Alex that if they had to die they’d do it together, but none of them had ever actually expected it to happen like that. How they died didn’t even matter now that they had a second chance. They could play music together, and do what they couldn’t do when they were alive. Alex had genuine love with Willie, which is something that seemed out of his depth in the ’90s, and Luke still had Reggie. He’d taken his feelings to the grave, but now that they were back, he was not about to let that opportunity go so soon.

_______________________________________________

He told Alex first, the next day. It was only fair after he’d been dealing with Luke’s pining for over 25 years. He found him in the garage, looking over some sheet music at the piano.

“I’m in love with Reggie.”

Alex looks at him with a flat expression. “Figured that one out, have ya, Lucas?”

“Oh, c’mon Alex, you could at least pretend to be surprised.”

“Nope, not after putting up with both of your shit for so long,” he responded, smiling. “Anyway, why are you finally talking about it now? Not that it’s not a welcome change from your normal ‘staring-at-him-till-he-looks-at-you-then-looking-away’ thing.”

“First of all, I don’t do that-”

“Yes you do.” he interrupted.

“-Second of all,” he resumed, ignoring Alex. “I just realized that we died, and I never told him how I feel. I literally took my feelings to the grave, and now we have a second chance, so I’m not gonna waste it, ya know?” he explains, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand and sitting down on the piano stool.

“That’s surprisingly smart of you,” Alex smirks. “But really, I’m glad that you’re finally doing something about this. If not for your own happiness, then for my patience.”

“That’s sort of my issue though, I don’t really know how to tell him.”

“Why don’t you just- and I’m just throwing out wild ideas here- talk to him?”

“It’s not that simple, Alex! It has to be perfect. He’s too important for me to screw this up by tripping over my words and looking like a dumbass.”

“But you are a dumbass.”

“Alex!”

“Okay, okay. But to be fair so is Reggie,” he relents.

He lets out an overdramatic puff of air and lays his forehead on top of the piano. “He is! But I love him, and that’s why it has to be perfect,” he mumbles.

Alex reaches over and runs his fingers through Luke’s hair, smiling at his friend’s dramatics. It’s then that Julie walks in, finally home from her date with Flynn, looking over her shoulder at the house and shaking her head.

“Reggie’s messing around in Carlos’s room and I can’t tell him to stop without looking insane,” she says, grabbing her phone from her backpack. When she finally looks up and sees the scene playing out at the piano, she stops.

“What’s going on here?” she motions at Luke.

Luke lifts his head and nods once at Alex’s questioning glance.

“He’s in love with Reggie.”

“Oh my gosh, finally!! I didn’t wanna say anything in case you thought it was weird but you guys are so cute!”

Luke’s head shoots up from the piano, looking between Julie and Alex, his own bewildered expression matching Alex’s.

“You knew?” they ask in stereo.

“Uh, duh. It’s so obvious when you guys play together, and not even a blind person could miss the way you both stare at each other when you think the other’s not looking.”

Alex is nodding at her points, but Luke himself still hasn’t processed the fact that she knew.

“So what’s the problem then? You figured out how you feel, now all you have to do is tell him!” she continues.

“Apparently, that’s exactly what his problem is,” Alex answers, “He doesn’t know how to tell him.”

Julie gives them a confused look and fixes her gaze on Luke. “Why don’t you just play one of your songs for him? I’m willing to bet that you have at least 7 about him in your songbook.” she offers like it’s obvious.

“Are you crazy!? None of those songs even begin to explain how I actually feel about Reggie.”

“Then just write a new one,” she says, once again as if it was the easiest thing in the world.

“It’s not that easy!” Luke responds for what feels like the hundredth time.

“But it can be that easy if you stop overcomplicating it,” Alex adds.

Julie nods, “Exactly! All you have to do is put your feelings for him into a song, and we already know you’re great at that.”

“Maybe I can make that work,” he pauses to think, feeling his confidence rising, “Okay, yeah. I can totally work with that! Thank you guys!” he grins at his friends, standing to pull them both into a big hug.

When they finally pull apart, Alex poofs into the house, offering to keep Reggie distracted so Luke can write in peace. Julie starts grabbing her stuff to head inside, but is stopped by Luke.

“Actually, do you think you can stay and help me with this? Um, if you’re not busy or anything.” he asks.

“Of course! Where do we start?”

_______________________________________________

“It’s perfect, thank you so much Julie,” Luke says sincerely.

In the end they finished the song in just a few hours, repurposing lyrics and melodies and lyrics from songs Luke wrote about Reggie in the ‘90s, adding modern touches and lyrics where they were needed. If he was being honest with himself, it was probably one of the best songs he’d ever written, on par with “Unsaid Emily” and “Stand Tall”._ “Second Chances” _took everything he loved about his relationship with Reggie and put it into words.

“I’m happy to help.” she responded sincerely, “Now I’m gonna go find Alex and tell him to send your boy in. Good luck, Luke.”

He felt the nerves begin to set in as she left, this was really it. He was gonna tell Reggie how he felt or die (ha) trying. He didn’t have to wait long before Reggie was warping into the garage.

“Hey, man! What’s up? Alex says you have something to show me.” he says cheerily, smiling in that way that makes his eyes crinkle around the corners, and Luke’s heart is beating in his throat.

“Uh, yeah,” he swallows, “Come sit here for a sec,” he says, patting his hand on the sofa.

Reggie makes his way to the sofa, sitting casually. He spots Luke’s guitar resting behind where Luke himself is sitting on the stool.

“Oooh! Are you playing a new song for me?” he asks excitedly.

“Yeah, I just finished it, it’s called_ ‘Second Chances’._” he answers, picking up his guitar and settling into his natural position, feeling it’s familiar weight.

He closes his eyes and starts playing the intro of the song, it’s soft but full of energy, and he feels his nerves melt away as he starts the first verse. He gets all the way to the pre-chorus before opening his eyes, but still doesn’t look up at Reggie.

His confidence builds as the music swells leading up to the chorus, and when it hits, he finally looks up at Reggie, locking their eyes and singing directly to him.

“In the whole world of missed opportunities, you’re my second chance.”

He continues singing and playing, but gets up to sway with the music, Reggie following his lead. After another minute, they’re dancing around the studio and around each other. The energy in the room is electric and they’re suffocating and breathing more clearly than they ever have at the same time. The song eventually comes to an end with Luke strumming the final chord and letting it ring, and breathing deeply. Before Luke can move his guitar, Reggie is pulling him in for an uncomfortable, clumsy kiss and it’s perfect. Luke’s guitar is still between them, it’s teeth clashing and sweaty skin, and they’re both out of breath from dancing around, but it’s perfect.

“I’m guessing you didn’t hate the song, then.”

“Are you kidding me? I loved it, Luke.” is Reggie’s response, burying his face in the crook of Luke’s neck.

Luke pulls away to set his guitar down, and grabs Reggie by the back of his neck pulling him in for a much better kiss this time.

“Hey Reg,”

“Yeah Luke?”

“Spend your afterlife with me?”

“Of course, dumbass.”

[adhd-disaster-willie]

seventeen and strung out on confusion; chapter 3/4

chapter 1

chapter 2

So for the sake of this fic, we’re pretending that Alex is actually the youngest and he turned 17 right before the Orpheum. :)

This chapter is a little short, but writers block has been killing me recently.

Warnings: Mentions of homophobia

---

July 7, 1995

Alex remembers Luke once telling him that it would be cool if the weather could shift to match your mood. Like if you were sad, it would start raining in the middle of July, or if you were happy, all the clouds would clear. Alex thought that was stupid, until he woke up on his 17th birthday with the sun shining on his face and not a cloud in sight. It was summer in California so he wasn’t really expecting it to be a gloomy morning, but nonetheless, he’d been hoping it would at least be a little cloudy.

Now, Alex had nothing against birthday’s in general; but considering it was his first birthday away from home and living in a garage (not to mention, having to sleep next to Luke who talked in his sleep and could not stay still. He and Reggie had done rock paper scissors in figuring out who’d get the mattress in the loft and who’d have to sleep on the pull-out with Luke. Alex had lost) he wasn’t feeling very celebratory.

Alex pulled his blanket over his eyes, half-hoping he could just sleep through the day, but apparently his friends had other plans.

“Alex!” Luke called, tossing himself onto the bed and almost sending Alex careening over the edge.

Alex yelped and shot up, glaring at Luke. “What the hell, man?”

“Happy birthday!” Reggie piped up, waving enthusiastically from the loft, promptly followed by a soft shriek, likely from Bobby slapping his shoulder. “What?” Reggie whispered. “I’m just-”

“Dude,” Bobby hissed, nodding his head in the direction of a miserable, exhausted Alex, with horrible bed-head that did nothing to help the fact that he already looked like a vampire that’s just been pulled from his coffin after 100 years. Reggie opened his mouth in recognition, before closing it and smiling apologetically.

Alex pulled the blanket back over his head as if he were a disgruntled 12 year old being forced to dress as a sheet ghost. “Can I go back to sleep now?” He asked from inside the blanket.

“Nope!” Luke replied, pulling the blanket off of Alex’s head and earning himself several mumbled curse words. “We’re going to keep you distracted all day-”

“I’d be pretty distracted if I were sleeping,” Alex grumbled.

“We’re gonna make gingerbread cookies since those are your favorite and you love baking-”

“I was having a really good dream.”

“And Bobbers found an ice-skating rink that is somehow not melted-”

“Why would it be melted?” Reggie asked. “They have like… stuff to keep it frozen right?”

“I was a fish. In the dream. Surprisingly calming.”

“Wait what keeps it frozen though?”

“The water was pink,” Alex sighed, sinking further down until he was hanging off the edge of the bed.

“Sciencey stuff,” Reggie replied to Luke, very matter-of-factly.

“You guys weren’t in the dream,” Alex mused. “Probably why it was so quiet.”

His three friends turned to him now, faces contorted in various degrees of offense. Alex only continued to scowl at them.

“Low blow, man,” Bobby said, shaking his head remorsefully.  

Luke clapped Alex on the back and grinned. “Well! It’s a great thing we woke you up, cause now you don’t have to be a boring fish with no friends.”

“I had friends. Fish friends.”

“Doubt it. Now stand up.”

“What if we just practice. I mean we’re playing the Orpheum in like two weeks-” Alex was interrupted by Bobby’s hand over his mouth.

“Shut up, dude! Do you know how much persuasion it took to get Luke not to make us practice all day?!”

“A lot,” Reggie clarified, looking at Alex with wide eyes. “He gets the loft mattress for a week,” he sighed dismally.

It took several more minutes for Alex to be fully dragged out of bed, and it wasn’t for another hour that he was dressed and standing in Bobby’s kitchen, glaring at the oven.

Alex’s stomach tied itself in knots and he fiddled anxiously with the hem of his shirt. He knew his friends had good intentions, and they really were just trying to keep him distracted. But Alex did not want to bake. Especially not gingerbread, even though they were his favorite and he hadn’t them since… Well he hadn’t had them since the day he’d been kicked out. But he wasn’t gonna tell the band that and ruin this for them. Staring at the ingredients they’d already taken the time to lay out (and in order of what got mixed in first too! Just like Alex liked it), Alex’s mouth felt dry and bitter.

Baking had been his and his Mom’s thing. It was the only “feminine” thing she let him do without glowering at him. And every December, they’d spend days making hundreds of gingerbread cookies to pass out to friends and neighbors. Last year, he didn’t get to help make the cookies and every one he ate tasted like cardboard. Alex settled his hands on the edge of the counter in a futile attempt to stop them from trembling. These were just cookies. Stupid cookies. And at least they weren’t making the cake his mom had made him every year for the first 15 years of his life. Lemon with chocolate frosting, Luke hated it but Alex had always refused to cave and make a normal chocolate cake. But this wasn’t the cake, so there was no need for Alex to get worked up. And yet, his whole body felt like it was made of tightly wound springs and he just wanted to cry.

“I feel like that’s not enough sugar,” Luke mumbled underneath his breath. “Alex, come look at the recipe, that’s not enough sugar, right?” He poked Alex’s shoulder and earned no response.

Alex shook his head, not really processing what Luke had asked over the buzzing in his ears. He looked down at the counter again and felt sick. So he ran. It wasn’t until the three other boys heard Now or Never begin very aggressively that they shared a knowing look and jogged off to the garage.

Alex was only half paying attention to his movement, it really was muscle memory at this point. He choked back tears, guilt rising like bile in his throat. They were only trying to help, and he’d ruined it. But he couldn’t make gingerbread; it would only remind him of the way his parents unconditional love gained conditions as soon as he stepped out of line, as soon as he didn’t quite fit into their nuclear family. He almost scoffed at the thought, because really, his family had been far from perfect, they were just good at keeping things shoved underneath the rug. But apparently Alex being gay was too big a dust bunny for them to sweep up.

A sudden cough from the entrance of the studio snapped Alex from his trance. His drumsticks fell quickly to his sides and he looked up, swallowing thickly and trying to rid himself of the lump in his throat. Reggie stopped wringing his hands together to wave and offer a weak smile. “Hey Lex,” He said quietly.

Alex sighed, running his hands over his face. “I’m sorry,” He said. “I- I know you guys were only trying to help but I just-”

“We know,” Luke interjected, earning a glare from Bobby. “Don’t look at me like that! I’m making it so he doesn’t have to explain and start crying again!” He stuck his tongue out at Bobby before continuing. “Gingerbread… we uh, we didn’t think it through.”

Alex nodded. “Thanks,” he whispered sincerely.

“Do you still want to bake though?” Reggie asked. “We can make something else-”

“Can we just practice?” Alex twirled his drumsticks. “I’m already ready.” He smiled hopefully at his friends, two of which let out frustrated groans. Luke was beaming comically.

“Aw man, but then I gave up the loft mattress for nothing!”

“Dude, I’ve been sticking up for you all day, but Lexi. Come on.”

Luke slapped a hand over each of their mouths. “Practice sounds great!” He shouted. “I mean, don’t you guys want to make Alex feel better?”

Reggie and Bobby shared a look. Alex tapped his cymbals lightly and smiled. “Can’t forget the-”

“The Orpheum, we know!” Reggie whined. “But that’s two whole weeks away and my hands are still cramping from yesterday. We practiced for 6 hours!”

“6 hours,” Bobby repeated grimly, shuddering.

Alex grinned wickedly before standing up and throwing an arm each over Reggie and Bobby’s shoulders. “Come on, it’s my birthday.”

“You can’t just suddenly be okay with it being your birthday! That’s not fair!”

“Nuh uh, birthday card is illegal. And just yesterday you almost hit Luke for asking you to play that one drum line again,” Bobby reminded him. But he was already slinging his guitar over his shoulder.

Reggie picked up his bass, pouting. “On my birthday, I’m gonna make you and Luke practice alone while Bobby and I watch.”

“For 6 hours,” Bobby tacked on.

Alex shook his head and laughed. “Deal.”

They never made it to Reggie’s birthday.

---

...sorry about the last sentence, please don’t hate me :)

The next chapter will be about Alex coming out to Julie, because mlm and wlw solidarity and also I can’t write a fic without Julie in it, that’d be treason.

Taglist: @stars-soph, @thatsmyverb

chapter 4

[iamthehousethatfloats]

This is absolute crack, but apparently it’s Scrooge’s birthday today (in some random canon - I don’t even know) so I bashed this out because why not?

It’s likely riddled with errors but ah well. It’s only his birthday for 10 more minutes in England so here, have it!

🎉🎉🎉

Scrooge McDuck had finally reached the end of a long old 8th of July. His board meetings were done, business deals concluded, and best of all, he’d made it through a whole working day without any one wishing him a ridiculous -

‘HAPPY BIRTHDAY UNCLE SCROOGE!’

Ah, so close.

His family burst into his office, the boys and Webby clutching balloons and streamers, Della and Donald grinning as they swapped his top hat for a party hat to match their own.

‘Ahhh you thought we forgot!’ Dewey cheered, mistaking the disgruntled expression on his uncle’s face for stunned.

‘We were gonna wait until you came home to surprise you but then we figured you’d be expecting that so it wouldn’t be a surprise at all,’ Huey explained.

‘So we brought the surprise to you instead!’ Webby cheered, twirling around in a mess of colourful streamers and glitter.

‘Yes, yes,’ Scrooge rolled his eyes. ‘Colour me surprised.’

‘You haven’t even seen the best part yet,’ Della grinned. ‘LP! Bring in the cake!’

On cue, Launchpad kicked open the door of Scrooge’s office and wheeled in an absolutely enormous cake, taller even than him. The tiers wobbled precariously in rhythm with LP’s warbling delivery. The kids, Donald and Della all joined in, building to the final line with relish.

‘Happy biiiiirthdaaaaay, Uncle Scroo-ooge, HAPPY BIRTHDAY TOOOO YOOOOOUU!’

Scrooge stuck a finger in his ear to check his ear drum was still in tact - he was seated next to Donald after all. When he extracted the digit, satisfied everything was in working order, he noticed the ominous silence and frowned.

Something odd was going on. Della and Launchpad were staring between each other and the cake, wide eyed and grinning slightly manically. Donald was starting to sweat. The kids were all glancing at each other, shifting awkwardly.

‘Alright, what joke am I missing?’

‘HAPPY BIRTHDAY MR MCDEEEEE,’ Launchpad began to sing again, even louder than the first time. ‘HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU!’

‘Yes, thank you Launchpad,’ Scrooge said tersely. ‘I heard you the first time.’

‘TO YOUUUUUU!’ Launchpad sang again, slightly desperately. Donald edged closes and gave the cake an experimental prod. Nothing happened. He looked back at Della nervously.

‘Oh, this is not good.’ Della said.

‘Oh no, it’s every worst nightmare come at once!’ Launchpad cried. ‘We baked Mrs McDee alive!’

‘Mrs?’ Scrooge spluttered.

‘Calm down LP, the cake was already baked when Goldie got in, at the very least we suffocated her in frosting.’ Della reasoned.

‘Not a bad way to go,’ Donald remarked, while Launchpad looked set to dive in head first.

‘Let me make sure I have this right,’ Scrooge interjected, and all eyes turned to him. ‘You brought that hellacious hooligan into the Money Bin, and left her unattended in close proximity to my entire fortune - with a diversion, no less?’

‘We didn’t leave her unattended, she was with LP... oh, yeah. Okay.’ Della realised their error as she spoke. The man in question was currently half way through escalating a hollow birthday cake in an attempt to rescue a woman who definitely was not there. ‘She said she wanted to surprise you!’ Della objected.

Scrooge rolled his eyes. ‘Aye. Well, that she did.’

‘Uh, guys?’ Louie, who had been quiet so far, had trundled to the far side of the cake for a closer look. He pointed to a Goldie O’Gilt shaped hole in the side of the cake, directly opposite the Launchpad shaped hole in the other side. ‘Looks like we’ve been conned.’ Louie said helpfully, with a slight grin. He had to admire a master at work.

Scrooge immediately slammed his hand down on the security button at the side of his desk, sending sirens wailing and red lights flashing. ‘This is a security breach, the Bin has been compromised,’ he said into the intercom. ‘All operations will shut down until further notice. NO ONE is to come in or out until the culprit has been apprehended.’

As security personnel rallied, shutting down the bin floor by floor and searching fruitlessly for the thief, the Duck family inflicted their merriment upon their miserly uncle anyway, whether he wanted it or not. Almost an hour later, there was still nothing to report, and so Scrooge begrudgingly agreed to open up the Bin and let everyone go home for the day.

Well, almost everyone.

‘Right you lot,’ he said, fixing his family with a stern glare. ‘It’s Binventory for the lot of ye.’

‘Binventory!’ Della and Donald chorused in dismay, as the kids and Launchpad all groaned.

‘Aye, and a detailed one at that. You brought that diabolical deviant in here, and you’ll be the ones to find out what she’s stolen. I want every piece of gold in that Bin catalogued - and make sure what you count is genuine too. That mendacious minx is not above the old switcheroo or two.’

‘Yes Uncle Scrooge,’ the resigned sighs and grumbles didn’t bother him one bit as he marched his family out of his office and down to the Money Bin, ready for a long night of his very favourite thing; counting up his fortune. Perhaps he would be considering this as a good birthday after all.

After an hour or so, he left them to it, set on returning to his office to watch another sweep of the security cameras to catch a glimpse of Goldie’s retreating figure in the corner of a frame. He told himself it was because it would help him figure out what it was that she had taken, it was nothing to do with him wanting to see her or anything. Nope, nothing like that at all.

He trudged wearily up the steps to his office, and he knew something was wrong when he saw the lights were off. He was certain he’d left them on - he knew he was coming back after all. He gripped his cane slightly tighter, before stepping through the door and reaching for the switch, flooding the room with warm golden light.

A large piece of cake sat untouched on his desk, two small forks beside it on the plate. In his chair, lounging about like she owned the place, was Goldie O’Gilt. His heart skipped a little in his chest.

‘Oh no, you caught me,’ her eyes sparkled mischievously as she licked frosting off her fingers. ‘I was trying so hard to hide.’

Scrooge swallowed heavily, taking a measured breath before closing the door behind him.

‘I thought you’d be long gone by now,’ he commented casually.

Goldie grinned. ‘And miss blowing out your candles? Please, Scrooge. It’s like you don’t know me at all.’

Scrooge rolled his eyes, glancing at the security screens beside his desk. Judging by their progress in the Bin, he had at least another hour until his family would come looking for him.

‘What did you steal?’ He quizzed her sharply.

‘Your heart,’ she shot back, with a wink. She licked another finger clean of frosting.

‘You’ve got that all over your face, you know.’ Scrooge told her, unable to ignore the fire kindling in his belly as her grin turned even more wolffish.

‘Why don’t you come over here and have a taste? It’s your cake after all.’

Scrooge paused... for about half a second. Just long enough to click the lock of his office door closed behind him. He crossed the room in three paces, and he had her in his arms before she could even open her mouth to make another retort. It wasn’t long before they were both covered in cake.

‘Happy birthday, Moneybags.’

As it turned out, it was a very happy birthday indeed.

[nubnubblr]

If You Do. 32 Handcuff Hideaway

THEA

         "Do you have any classes for the next hour or so?" I asked Shawn. Everyone recovered quickly but there was still concern in their expressions that Mackenzie was going to walk back through that door and Shawn's world would fall apart.

"Nope," he shrugged taking a huge bite out of a burger.

"Does that mean you want to be my knight in sweaty armour?"

"That's gross," Charlie pulled a face.

"Where do you want to go?" Shawn ignored her comment.

"I want to do some shopping," I smiled sweetly.

"But you're crippled," Junsun smirked.

"The correct term is disabled and that never stops you," I retorted.

"How am I disabled?" he frowned.

"You're disabled in the brain," I huffed.

"I think that's referred to as being 'on the spectrum'" Austin commented.

"Fine, I'll go with you shopping," Shawn nodded devouring the rest of his meal.

"You're ditching me?" Charlie frowned.

"No, Doobin said he was having trouble remembering your choreo on top of the other classes he's taking, I figured you were going to help him out and that would have left me stuck here," I sent her a slight smirk.

"He doesn't need my help," she gave me a warning look.

"Actually, some help would be great," Doobin nodded.

"Seriously?" she asked in a flat tone.

"I mean if you don't want to, I'll just go ask one of the other students," he shrugged.

"Oh, come on, throw the kid a bone," Austin sided with Doobin. I had to cough to cover the laugh that almost burst from my throat.

"Fine, but you better pay attention because I'm not doing this again," she huffed.

"Right," but Doobin and I mumble together.

CHARLIE

         I knew that he didn't want me to help with the choreography, he could do it in his sleep. But I wasn't going to boost his ego any more than it already was.

"So what part of the choreo is confusing your little brain?" I sighed following him into an empty practice room.

We have a few around the building, they were just small 5x3 meatre rooms with a mirror covering one wall and a door, there were no window and the rooms where soundproof so that several students could practise at the same time without disturbing or being disturbed by anyone. The doors also had locks on them, convenient.

"Why don't we start with something you know isn't small?"

"You're attitude?" I raised an eyebrow.

He just smirked, let out a slight laugh, then his face turned dark with lust, he took a step towards me and instinctively I took one back leaving me pressed up against the wall, with nowhere to go. His lips connected with my neck and a small moan escaped my lips, I felt his smirk on my neck before he relocated his mouth to mine. I wanted to curse myself for giving in so easily but the logic in my brain evaporated the longer Doobin's lips assaulted mine.

"If you want me to stop just say so," his husky voice whispered inside my ear. I didn't trust my voice so I just didn't say anything, he waited a few moments before taking my silence as permission to continue.

I was lost in my train of thought as we slid to the floor, he stretched my hands over my head with one hand, logic slammed back into me when I felt the cold metal clamp around my wrists.

"What are you doing?" I frowned.

"Having a little fun,"

"What if someone tries to come in?"

"The door is locked, and the room is soundproof. But if you want me to unlock you then that's fine, just thought it would be fun," he shrugged.

I don't know why, and I wasn't even sure when I had decided it would be fine, but the words seemed to fall from my mouth before my brain had the chance to run them through a logic filter. Instead of saying what I should have said, being the responsible adult and his teacher, I said;

"Leave them on,"

BM

         I wanted to throw everything, I had to step away from my desk so that I didn't throw anything breakable or important. I was trying to function on barley any sleep, Austin has stolen so much money that I wasn't able to give a lot of shifts out to my staff and I even had to let a few go. They were understanding about the whole situation, but not being able to use my staff meant that I had to cover the shifts. Thea still came in and worked the kitchen, but she didn't say anything to me, she just showed up, did her job, and left. So my day usually went; up at 3 a.m, work at the bakery until 6a.m, come home and get a few hours sleep, usually 3 or 4, then wake up but no later than 10 a.m, set up the bar, re-stock the shelves, do ordering, open, serve customers until closing at 1a.m, clean the bar, maybe eat something, quick shower, sleep for an hour, and repeat.

So, I was overworked, overtired, understaffed, and severely stressed. I had been to the bank about a loan, but they felt like I was too much of a risk, I had reported Austin to the police, but I wasn't hopeful about getting my money back, I should probably talk to one of the boys about it because I know they would help out in the bar but they hadn't been home since I slept with Olivia, it was pretty clear they know about it, also I vaguely remembered hearing Charlie's voice.

I'd been feeling guilty about that since it happened, not just because of her technically being Sam's girl-whatever, or because it was Jae's bed, or even the whole Thea situation. Don't get me wrong, I felt bad about all of that, but I had also realised that I had kind of been seeing Somin, and I mean, we weren't dating per say but it's not okay to show someone that you're interested in them and the go and slept with someone else. That's not the type of person I am, but I haven't really been acting like myself lately.

Pushing my friends away, keeping secrets, sleeping with strangers, getting angry for no reason. Okay, not for no reason, but in from the point of view from everyone else it is for not reason because I haven't told them what's going on.

Maybe I should just sell my car.

THEA

         "I still don't understand why you haven't already done your Christmas shopping," Shawn frowned at me as we made our way back to the dance studio. We had been gone about an hour and a half, long enough for Mackenzie to be long gone, and for Charlie and Doobin to have finished, 'dancing'.

"I have most of it done, shut up, like you have any Christmas shopping done," I huffed defensively.

"I only have to buy for a handful of people, and I'm not Miss Overly Organised, which is why I'm surprised that you're Christmas shopping wasn't don't in like July," he retorted.

Okay, it was actually already done, but in September, not July. I just needed a reason to get Shawn to stay out shopping when he was insisting on my getting off my foot. Besides I found some things that I just had to buy for Charlie.

"Maybe you should have used this time to do your Christmas shopping,"

"I still have time,"

"Christmas is in like 8,"

"Yeah, that's 8 days full of time to buy things,"

"When there is nothing left in the shopping centres that qualifies as good gifts, you'll regret waiting," I shook my head at him.

"It's the thought that counts," he tried to counter,

"And apparently they're the last thought," I retorted.

"Has anyone ever told you that they can only handle you in small doses?" he huffed at me.

"All the time," I nodded as we walked into 1Million, well technically I hobbled but I wasn't about to admit that.

"Shit. I have a class in 10 minutes," Shawn groaned.

"I thought you said you were free?"

"I forgot about it, I'll catch up to you later," he rushed off.

I looked around for Charlie, she didn't seem to be anywhere maybe she was still with Doobin? Her car was still out the front, and she wouldn't leave me here anyway. She had to be with Doobin, I should probably find them before Shawn stubbled across them.

"You're back," Doobin nodded towards me, he was standing in the doorway of one of the classrooms. I looked around him to see if Charlie was in there. She wasn't.

"Yeah, have you see Charlie?"

"I have," he smirked.

"Okay, stupid question. Do you know where she is?"

"Of course," he nodded still smirking.

"Well are you going to tell me?" I sighed.

"She's in that room," he nodded towards one of the practise rooms.

"Thank you,"

"Thea," he called as I turned away from him.

"What?"

"You might need these," he handed me a set of small keys.

"These look too small to unlock the door," I thought out loud.

"They're not for the door," he smirked, I frowned and began to ask him what they were for but he turned and walked into the classroom, that Shawn was teaching.

I headed over to the door he had pointed towards turned the handle, but it was locked. I thought he had said that the key wasn't for the door. I knocked just in case I had the wrong door. Then realised that the rooms were sound proof so I wasn't sure she would even hear it, so I rattled the handle.

CHARLIE

         The door handle turned and shook, if whoever was on the other side was calling me, I couldn't hear them, the downside to a soundproof room. Did I risk opening the door to see if it was Doobin with the keys? What if it was one of the other boys? How did I explain being naked and handcuffed in a practice room? I didn't. Which left me with no other option but to wait until Doobin decided to come and save me. Even though he is the reason that I'm stuck in this situation to begin with.

My phone started buzzing in my pants pocket on the floor. I maneuverer my way towards them and somehow managed to answer the call, only because it was Thea. I hit the loudspeaker button.

"Hey,"

"Hey, opened the door,"

"Why?"

"Because Doobin gave me a key and said that you would need it,"

"Where is he?"

"In Shawn's class,"

"And where is everyone else?"

"How am I supposed to know?"

"So, if I open the door, you're the only one out there?"

"Well, other than the reception staff but they're all busy. Why are you being weird?"

"Okay, I'm unlocking the door, but hurry up," I sighed working my way to my feet. I unlocked the door and quickly ducked behind it just in case anyone looked over to see what Thea was up too.

"Why are you being so weir..." Thea started at me.

"Close the door!" I snapped.

She pushed it closed and tried to cover a laugh with a cough. May have actually worked, if she didn't just laugh instead.

"What?" was all she could manage to get out between laughs.

"Shut up and give me the keys," I snapped.

"And you think you're going to be able to unlock those cuffs by yourself?" she raised an eyebrow once she stopped laughing, although she still managed to chuckle at me.

"Yes," I cursed the doubt that found its way into my voice.

"Do you want me to uncuff you?" she giggled.

"I want you to stop being a jerk, but I guess I'll take the uncuffing," I sighed, she held her laughter until I said uncuffing, for some reason she found that hysterical.

"Thea!"

"Oh, wait, I have the perfect thing for you!" she beamed.

"Like the keys to these cuffs?"

"Yeah, yeah, in a second," she rolled her eyes rummaging through the bags in her hands.

"Bro, I'm literally standing here naked," I was starting to get a little annoyed.

"Yeah, I know, I'm about to fix that,"

"You could just give me the damn keys and I could get dressed!"

"Yeah, but that wouldn't be nearly as entertaining. Ah! Here it is," she smirked pulling a jacket from one of her bags.

"I have clothes over there,"

"Yeah, but this works sooo much better, I saw this in a shop and had to buy it for you, because you're technically Doobin's professor, I got you a professor jacket, with elbow pads!" she unfolded the grey checked jacket, brown patched covered the elbows.

"I hate you, now uncuff me,"

"Argh, fine," she rolled her eyes.

THEA

         I uncuffed her and she basically kicked me out of the practice room, she's so touchy sometimes. I watched Shawn's dance class through the glass door. Doobin seemed pretty pleased with himself, he caught my eye through the door and smirked at me, I suppose that the fact I was the only other person who knew about the two gave him a small kick, considering that he could basically brag about it with one look.

"Let's go," Charlie came out of the

SAM

         "I want food," Jae whined lounging across the edge of the couch.

"Then go get something," I shrugged.

"Are you kidding me? The last time I took food out of that crazy dwarfs kitchen she withheld food from me for like a week,"

"It was an hour, and that's because you were so annoying she didn't want to listen to you anymore,"

"Yeah, well, it felt like a week,"

"Then order something,"

"That takes too long to get here, and it costs money,"

"You can wait until she gets home,"

"Can you message them and see how long they're going to be?"

"Why can't you do it?"

"Because I don't know where my phone is," he whined

"You're literally staring at it,"

"Shh, busy," he muttered scrolling through Tumblr.

SAM: Hey, where are you guys? Jae is complaining he's hungry and I'm worried he is going to eat me.

I wasn't expecting her to reply so quickly but she replied before I could relock my phone.

CHARLIE: Just waiting for Thea to get her braces off, not sure how long it will take.

"Charlie doesn't know how long she is going to be,"

"They went shopping, how much can two poor girls even buy?" he huffed.

"They're at the dentist, Thea is getting her braces off," I rolled my eyes. He paused, looked at me and smirked.

"Come on," he stood up.

"What?"

"We'll go get food, Thea is going to be in so much pain when she gets back," he beamed.

"You don't need to sound so happy about it," I frowned.

"Yes, I do. Do you know how easy it is to annoy her when she's in pain, and then she does that thing where she get huffy and hurts herself, it's hilarious, but I'll even buy her food to make up for it,"

"Really?" I looked at him sceptically.

"I mean, you'll pay for it because I lost my wallet, but sure," he shrugged.

"Of course, you did," I rolled my eyes.

"I think I left it next to or on my bed, so it may as well be lost, who knows what naked parts of BM have touched that," he shuttered.

"Okay fine," I sighed.

"Keys," he held his hand out.

"Why?"

"Because you still can't drive? Do you think I'm going to walk there and like go into the building with those people?"

"Those people? Who are also going to buy fast food because their too lazy to cook for themselves?"

"If you were supposed to cook for yourself they wouldn't have invented cars and drive throughs, are you going to mope around here daydreaming about Charlie or are you going to come on this adventure with me?"

"We're going on an adventure?"

"It's modern-day hunting, come on Samwise," he stood.

"Does that make you Frodo?" I raised an eyebrow following him.

"I feel more like a Gandalf, wise and magical,"

"More like Radagast," I commented.

"Charlie likes him better anyway," he shrugged.

CHARLIE

         The boys weren't there when we got home, or at least Sam's car wasn't and he still can't drive so unless Jae decided to go out and take Sam's car, which wasn't likely.

"I thought the boys were staying again?" Thea frowned.

"Maybe they went to get a change of clothes," I shrugged.

"Hopefully they don't come back, the last thing I need right now is Jae and his stupid face,"

"Are you sure you two don't have a thing for each other?" I raised an eyebrow.

"If by 'a thing' you mean do I want to stab him with a sword? Then yes, but if you mean in the general sense, then I would rather stab myself with a sword," she pulled a disgusted face.

"You two just seem really interested in where each other are," I shrugged.

"I am in enough pain right now; do you have to make me want to vomit as well?" she sighed.

"Shouldn't you be pain-free after having your braces off?"

"You would think so, after two years with the pressure moving my teeth you would think the release would be amazing, not painful,"

"Then again, it's been two years of pressure, what happens when you release the pressure after you hurt yourself?"

"Intense pain," she groaned collapsing into the couch.

"There are painkillers in the kitchen, do you want me to get them?"

"I'll get them, hot coffee might help with the pain," she sighed.

"Alright,"

"Do you want water in the kettle?" she asked.

"I'm good," I shook my head.

She just nodded leaving the room, I checked my messages to see if Sam and sent one letting me know where he had gone, he hadn't.

CHARLIE: Hey, where are you guys?

SAM: Jae decided he would have me buy us food, he thought it would be entertaining to get things Thea can't eat and eat it in front of her.

CHARLIE: Forget his wallet again?

SAM: Apparently he lost it

CHARLIE: I bet you it's in his pocket

"Where are these painkillers?" Thea asked, she walked into the lounge room pulling the door with her.

"On the shelf about the kettle,"

"They're not," she shook her head.

"Maybe they're in my bedroom," I got up, she turned around to leave the room, the door handle wouldn't turn.

"Not funny," I frowned at her.

"Not kidding," she frowned back.

"Seriously?"

"I must have hit the lock on the way in,"

"You locked us in the lounge room?"

"I mean not if your bedroom window isn't locked," I thought about it, I had locked it a few nights ago, there was a breeze that came into my room and the window only stayed securely closed if it was locked.

"Is yours?" I raised an eyebrow.

"Paranoid," she pointed at herself.

"So you locked us in the lounge room," I sighed.

"I mean only technically, we can just call one of the boys to come to save us," she shrugged.

"Jae and Sam only went to get food, they'll be back soon,"

"See, we're fine," she shrugged again.

"I'll text Sam and ask them to hurry up,"

SAM

         CHARLIE: Hey, can you guys be quick, Thea locked us in the lounge room

"We don't need anything else?" I asked as Jae pulled out of the parking lot.

"No, why? Do you miss Charlie already?"

"No, the girls are locked in the lounge room, Charlie wants us to come save them,"

"How did they...?" he because.

"Thea," I cut him off.

"Of course," he shook his head.

"Well, let's go to the Zoo then," he smirked, which probably meant he wasn't going to save them straight away.

"The Zoo?"

"Their lounge room is basically entirely windows, which means we can eat and enjoy the show,"

"Charlie will kill you,"

"Probably," he shrugged not seeming too phased by the idea.

[flowerfan2]

Group Texts Are Ridiculous (Or, Five-0 Starts a Group Text)

McDanno, T, A03, 6k so far

Summary:  After Steve leaves Oahu to go find himself, Five-0 starts a group text to keep in touch while Steve’s away.  Picks up after the end of Season 10.

Notes:  This story is set in the present, following 10x22, but there’s no COVID in it...  I wanted it to be fun.  The story is complete and will be posted over the next few weeks.  Many thanks as always to my awesome beta, @perryavenue.

Chapter 3

June 25, 2020

JR:  What’s the name of Steve’s vet, the one he sort of dated?

QL:  If you and Tani were considering a threesome you could have let me know.

TR:  News to me.  But I suppose we could talk…

JR:  Shut up.  Eddie’s hurt, do you know the vet’s name or not?

TR:  Oh no, what happened?

JR:  I’m not sure, we just got back from a run and he’s limping a little.

DW:  Don’t go anywhere.  Keep Eddie still, I’ll be there in ten.

JR:  Shouldn’t I take him to the vet?

DW:  Just called them.  Stay right where you are.

JR:  Danny, Eddie’s fine, I can just put him in the truck.  He probably just stepped on something sharp.

QL:  Is he bleeding?  You should elevate his leg.

JR:  No, he’s not bleeding, it’s not that serious.  

TR:  Can you tell which paw it is?

JR:  Of course I can tell, it’s the foot he’s holding up when he tries to walk.

DW:  Did you not understand the part about keeping him still?  Walking is not keeping him still.  Sit with him, don’t let him move.

 JR:  We’re sitting on the couch, don’t worry, Eddie is fine.  He’s licking my face.  Normal Eddie behavior.  I think he actually forgot about his foot.

 TR:  Doesn’t hurt to be careful.  Junes, where did you take Eddie anyway?  Just the beach?

 TR:  Junes?  You there?

 JR:  Sorry, had to let HPD in.

 TR:  Wait, why is HPD there?

 JR:  Apparently Danny sent them.  With flashers and sirens.

 TR:  Of course, that makes sense.

 JR:  Um, no it doesn’t.  Eddie is fine.  And Five-0 isn’t supposed to use HPD for personal stuff.

 TR:  Yeah, we never do that.  

 SM:  What the hell happened to my dog?

  July 5, 2020

 LG:  I hate all of you, but especially Tani.

 TR:  It was just lemonade, Grover.

 LG:  No, it was iced tequila with one lemon slice floating on top.

 TR:  Party lemonade.

 LG:  It’s not very patriotic to get your elders drunk.

 TR:  No one said you had to drink it.

 LG:  Pretty sure you said anyone who doesn’t taste my lemonade has to go home.

 TR:  I had already had some lemonade when I said that.  I can’t be held responsible for my actions.  Face it, you’re a lightweight.

 LG:  Clearly not true.

 TR:  Then why did Renee make you leave early?

 LG:  We had another party to go to, as I told you last night. Where is everyone, anyway?  I thought Junior and Quinn were on today.

 TR:  I’m sure they’ll turn up any minute.

 LG:  Junior is still asleep, isn’t he?

 TR:  The lump under the blankets just cursed at me when I thumped him, so no, not totally asleep.

 LG:  Tell him to get his ass in gear and get to work.

 TR:  He says his head is exploding and he wants to die.

 LG:  Requesting a sick day, then?

 TR:  I’ll come in instead.

 LG:  Seriously?

 TR:  It’ll be better than listening to Junior puke all morning.

 LG:   I didn’t need to know that. How come you’re all chipper?

 TR:  I drank a bunch of water before I went to bed.  Like you’re supposed to.

 LG:  Hey, did Danny ever show up last night?

 TR:  Nope.  

  July 11, 2020

 LG:  I’m at the dock, which way should I go?

 DW:  Towards the boats.  The big floating things.

 JR:  I can see you, keep going the way you’re facing, then head south when you get to the end of the

row.

 LG:  South?  Sorry, forgot my compass.  

 DW:  Just listen for the music.

 TR:  I can’t believe you know the words to Taylor Swift’s greatest hits. At least my music is relatively current.

 DW:  Grace was just the right age.  It got stuck in my head.  

 JR:  And now it’s stuck in ours.

 <i>TR has changed the name of the group text to</i> <b>Shake It Off Dance Party</b>

 QL:  Be there soon.  Just found Jerry wandering in the parking lot.

 JG:  I wasn’t wandering, I was organizing my gear.

 TR:  What kind of gear do you need for a boat ride?

 LG:  You do realize you are asking Jerry this.

 JG:  By the way, thanks for including me today.  I’ve missed you guys.

 DW:  We miss you too.  But if you could all hurry up, that would be great.  I’d like to leave the dock sometime before it gets dark.

 QL:  Do you guys do a Five-0 summer outing every year?

 TR:  Nope, first time.

 QL:  Really?

 TR:  Yeah, generally we get enough excitement at work.  And Danny has some issues with boats.

 DW:  I actually enjoy boats, when there isn’t any gunfire, or sharks, or poison. I only have issues with <i>Steve</i> and boats.  Steve isn’t here, so we’ll be fine.

 QL:  So much to unpack there.

 JR:  Didn’t Steve set this up?

 LG:  He surely did.  The boat belongs to a friend of his.  I think he thought we all needed some cheering up.

 TR:  You mean he thought Danny needed cheering up.

 DW:  If Steve wanted to cheer me up he wouldn’t have sent me on a boat trip with all of you.

 LG:  Ouch.

 JG:  We may have a slight delay.

 TR:  What did you do?

 JG:  I didn’t do anything.  But Quinn was texting and walking at the same time and tripped.

 DW:  Is she ok?

 JG:  She didn’t fall in the water.  But her phone did, and she’s kind of pissed.

 LG:  Well we’ve got beer, that might help.

 JG:  Now’s she in the water.  She’s trying to find the phone.

 JG:  Quinn can hold her breath for a really long time.  Kind of impressive.

 LG:  For pete’s sake, what’s the point?  She’s never going to find it, and it’ll be ruined anyway.

 JG:  I said the same thing, but she didn’t listen.  Now she’s going to talk to the harbormaster.

 TR:  To report a dropped phone?

 JG: I don’t know, she just told me to wait while she went to talk to the harbormaster.

 TR:  It’s not like we need our phones for fishing.  We probably don’t get service out there anyway.

 DW:  Hardly matters.  At this rate we’re never leaving the dock.

  July 17, 2020

 SM:  Send help to this address ASAP. My phone’s dying.

 DW:  WTF Steve?

 SM:  Tow truck kind of help.  Flat tire.

 DW:  It’s four in the morning here.

 SM:  Oh, sorry.  Got up early. Not that early.

 DW:  Way to give me a heart attack.

 SM:  Sorry, didn’t mean to.  You okay?

 DW:  Course I’m okay.  I’m in bed, asleep.  Or at least I was asleep.  Now Eddie’s awake too and thinks it’s time to get up and go for a walk.

 SM:  Wish I was there.

 DW:  What?

 SM:  In bed, I mean.  Instead of stuck on the side of the road.

 DW:  Where are you, anyway?  You haven’t mentioned lately.

 SM:  Near Yellowstone.  Been camping. Did some hiking into the backcountry.

 DW:  Sounds suitably outdoorsy.

 SM:  Yeah.

 DW:  Your phone doesn’t seem all that dead.  You could have called AAA yourself.  

 SM:  I wasn’t sure how long it would hold out.

 DW:  It’s okay.  I miss you too.

  July 18, 2020

 JR:  So we’re all ignoring that conversation, right?

 TR:  Yes, because we work for them, and we have better things to do today.

 TR has changed the name of the group text to Luau Luau Luau

 JR:  Good to know you’re excited.

 TR:  Just cross your fingers there aren’t any murders in the next six hours. I want to be there when the pig comes out of the pit.

 SM:  You guys are doing a real luau?

 TR:  Yup.  Kamekona dug the imu.  Or had someone else dig it, probably.  But that sucker’s been cooking for hours already.

 JR:  Hey Commander, how’s it going?

 SM:  It’s good, Junior.  Thanks. How’d you get Kame to cook you a pig?

 TR:  It’s to thank Danny for helping him with some kind of permitting problem for his new place in Kapolei.  Kame found out Danny had never done the whole pig in the ground thing, so he decided to show him how it’s done.

 SM:  You’re telling me Danny got up at dawn to put the pig in the imu?

 TR:  I can’t swear to it, I wasn’t there.  But that was the plan.  

 LG:  I was there.  And no, Kame didn’t do any actual digging, he got Nahele and his friends to do it.  We did have to carry some rocks.

 TR:  What do you think, Lou?  Pretty cool, right?

 LG:  I am in favor of anything that combines fire and meat, you know that about me.

 SM:  Danny must not have gotten any sleep at all.

 DW:  That’s why they invented coffee.

 SM:  How much did Kame charge you for it?

 DW:  Nahele brought us all coffee from Island Vintage.

 SM:  What, did he come into some money?

 DW:  I paid him back, you dunce.

 SM:  I can’t believe you guys are putting together your own luau.

 DW:  Makes you miss home, doesn’t it?

 SM:  Sure does.  Danny, you’ve really never been to a luau?

 DW:  Not really.  Seemed kind of touristy.

 TR:  That’s why you have to do it yourself.  I made chicken long rice last night, and Junior’s bringing the lomi lomi salmon.

 JR:  I wanted squid but Tani likes salmon better.

 SM:  Good luck getting Danny to eat squid unless they’re deep fried.

 DW:  I’ll have you know I haven’t had a fried fish in ages.  I’ve been grilling mahi almost every weekend.

 SM:  You have?  That’s awesome.

 JR:  He does a good job with it, too.  It’s never dry.

 DW:  Thanks, Junior.

 SM:  Clearly my healthy eating has finally made an impression on you, Danny. I’m so proud.

 JR:  I think it was his doctor that forced him into it, but whatever.

 SM:  What do you mean?  What’s wrong?

 DW:  Nothing’s wrong.

 SM:  High cholesterol?

 DW:  Shut up, I can eat whatever I want.  I’m just choosing to be more aware of what goes in my mouth, that’s all.

 LG:  Right, that’s why you banned malasadas from the office.

 TR:  Maybe he’s just trying to maintain his girlish figure.  

 JR:  Are you really trying to lose weight, Danny?  Because you’re as thin as I’ve ever seen you.

 LG:  I’m not sure they sell those slacks in extra-slim, you better be careful.

 DW:  Can we please stop talking about me?  

 SM:  Seriously, is everything all right, Danny?  

 DW:  You guys are ridiculous.  See you later at the beach.  You can ogle me there as I stuff my mouth with kalua pork.

  July 21, 2020

 JR:  Tani, you up?

 TR:  You know you can just come home and get into bed with me, you don’t need to say dumb stuff like that.

 JR:  Honestly I just wanted to know if you were awake.  It’s one o’clock in the morning.

 TR: LOL sorry.  Yeah, Quinn just left and I’m trying to clean up.  We tried to make fancy margaritas and it looks like Whole Foods’ fruit section exploded in my kitchen.

 JR:  What’s a fancy margarita?

 TR:  You know, you add in something that tastes good and something that tastes bad.

 JR:  That can’t really be the recipe.

 TR:  It seemed like it.  Grapefruit and rosemary – who wants rosemary in their margarita?

 JR:  Ok true.

 TR:  Strawberry and jalapeno was pretty good though.  But we put too many jalapenos in.

 JR:  Sounds dangerous.  How many have you had?

 TR: A good amount.  When are you coming home?

 JR:  Don’t know.  Adam and I are still parked down the road from the restaurant where the victim died yesterday.  Danny thinks whoever was responsible, the assistant chef probably, will break in tonight.

 TR:  Sounds fun.

 JR:  I’m bored out of my mind.  Ran out of things to talk about with Adam about two hours ago.

 TR:  Let’s play fuck, marry, kill.  

 JR:  Okay.  But let’s text just us, okay?

 TR:  Smart.  Okay, you go first.  Celebrities, fuck, marry or kill.

 JR:  Any celebrities?  That’s kind of broad.

 TR:  Ok, celebrities named Chris.

 JR:  You’re really making me go first.

 TR:  You’re the one who said you were bored.  I could just throw all this crap into the sink and go to bed.  But I’ll go first if you want.

 JR:  Okay.  

 TR:  And obviously no getting mad, right?

 JR:  Obviously.

 TR:  Fuck Chris Hemsworth, marry Chris Evans, kill Chris Pratt.

 JR:  That was fast.

 TR:  I may have thought about it before.  Now you go.

 JR:  Fuck Christina Aguilera, marry Chris Evans, kill Chris Noth.

 TR:  Very enlightened.

 JR:  Everyone wants to marry Chris Evans.

 TR:  Agreed.  Okay, next. Marvel characters.  

 JR:  That’s kind of an overlap, isn’t it?

 TR:  Only with a few of them.  We’ll say no repeats.  You go first this time.

 JR:  Fuck Wonder Woman, marry Black Widow, kill Loki.

 TR:  Sure you didn’t reverse Wonder Woman and Black Widow?

 JR:  Nah.  If I’m going to spend my life with somebody I want her to have some depth, you know?

 TR:  I’ll revisit that when I’m less drunk.  Okay, fuck T’Challa, marry Tony Stark, kill Fury.

 JR:  Fury?  He’s a good guy.

 TR:  I didn’t like the way he faked his death.

 JR:  You confuse me sometimes.

 TR:  I think that’s okay.  Any sign of the assistant chef?

 JR:  No.  And Adam seems entranced by some game on his phone.

 TR:  Animal crossing?

 JR:  I think it’s some kind of card game app.  Jerry mentioned it.

 TR:  Why play cards on an app instead of in person?

 JR:  Maybe because you’re stuck at work at one in the morning.

 TR:  Fair.

 JR:  Okay, let’s do another round.

 TR:  Fine.  Five-0. Present or former members.

 JR:  No way.

 TR:  Come on, you must have thought about it.  

 JR:  No getting mad?

 TR:  Obviously.  And we can’t say each other.

 JR:  Obviously.

 JR:  You go first.

 TR:  Fuck Steve, marry Danny, kill Catherine.

 JR:  Again, you do this really fast.

 TR:  These answers aren’t hard.

 JR:  Didn’t know you hated Catherine so much.

 TR:  She screwed over my imaginary fuck buddy and my imaginary husband, so, yeah.

 JR:  I feel like you know more about this situation than I do.

 TR:  As with all things.  Come on, your turn.

 JR:  This is hard.  And very unprofessional.

 TR:  You cannot leave me hanging.

 JR:  Fuck Quinn, marry Steve, kill Adam.

 TR:  He’s that boring?

 JR:  He’s that boring.

 TR:  You know Danny thinks I’m just like Steve.  In the good ways.

 JR:  I’m aware.

 TR:  You only said Quinn because you couldn’t think of any other women on Five-0, didn’t you?

 JR:  Ok fine.

 TR:  Be honest, who would you pick?  Really?

 JR:  There’s no way you’re getting me to put that in a text.

 TR:  It’s just us, come on.

 LG:  No it’s not.  

 TR:  Oh shit.

  July 22, 2020

 DW:  Ok, regarding last night’s text message fiasco, I’m incredibly disappointed and have no choice but to run this by HR.

 TR:  Wait, we have HR?

 DW:  No, actually.  But I talked about it with Steve and we laughed our asses off.  Try to rein in the sex talk just a bit, okay?  And maybe don’t mention actually killing people in our group text.

 JR:  Sorry, sir.

 TR:  Sorry, boss.

 DW:  And Junior’s right.  Everyone wants to marry Chris Evans.

[shamelessselfpromotingsite]

Free Read I hope you love my short story below.  If so, please review it on my twitter account or here. @lindeenen.  Enjoy THIRTEEN By Linda Deenen Thirteen claps, fingers fully extended, not to fast, not too slow, followed by thirteen emphatic blinks. This is how I start every new activity. It’s not lost on me how ridiculous I appear to anyone forced to watch this senseless ritual.  Hell, I don’t want to watch this senseless ritual, let alone perform it, but I’m powerless to stop.  Two years ago, after the death of my husband, the clapping started.  Thirteen, no more no less.   Yes, of course, I saw my doctor. (My boss politely insisted.) Doc assured me it was a traumatic stress disorder manifested from my grief and said I should give it time.   Time didn’t help. Instead of getting rid of the clapping, my routine expanded to include thirteen comically precise blinks, performed immediately post clap. This new affliction didn’t garner as much sympathy,as you might think. People around me, now suspecting it was an attention getting tactic, were becoming annoyed. My physician soon recommended I speak to a psychiatrist to help resolve the internal conflict I was having.  Personally, I think she was incapable of sitting through one more appointment with me and passed me on for another to bear. Thirteen claps and thirteen blinks.  The psychiatrist found it fascinating. The specific number and precise aspect of my affliction were things he hadn’t encountered before, but was certain we could figure out together.   “Do you feel uneasy if you don’t clap thirteen times exactly?” he asks me, inquisitive eyes boring into mine.  “Have you tried twelve times to see if that would work as well?”   A lock of dark hair breaks away from the carefully coiffed style and slides attractively over his arched eyebrow. His lips are pursed, expression concerned, his head nodding encouragingly as I explain I’m unaware of when the clapping will start or stop. He appears less sympathetic when I reveal that the act leaves me no more or less satisfied than I’d been before. Neither did it relieve stress nor create euphoria. His jaw drops with outright disbelief, when I mention that the episodes occur even while I’m sleeping and actually wake me up. “Most, uh, no, that’s not right.” He struggles “Really, I have to say all of the syndromes I’ve treated over the years were initiated by the patient.  They might be in denial and blame something else, but ultimately, with my help, they realize they’ve created these behaviors to counteract a buildup of anxiety within them. “   He shifts his bulk uncomfortably in the massive black leather chair and feigns interest in a small squeak from the cushion. I assume he’s searching for the correct words to tell me I’m crazy. Not a surprise really, I suspected as much and would actually be happy with a confirmation. “Ahem” Having given up on the inscrutable creak, he clears his throat and pontificates.  “The subconscious mind is quite capable of bringing things to the surface when we aren’t paying attention, for example,” he gestures sideways, “sleeping.   Thoughts, memories, that kind of thing, but initiating gross motor movements, like clapping, shouldn’t happen.” He lowers his chin and peers at me from under his bushy eyebrows. I smile and shrug.   “You’re likely waking up anyway when you start the clapping routine.” The corners of his mouth turn up as he intertwines his fingers and rests them on his plentiful paunch certain the mystery is solved. “Do you understand?” I understand. He thinks I’m either faking or exaggerating. Been there, heard that. I smile and shrug. He glances at his watch, probably hoping my session is finished.  It isn’t, there’s still an hour left.  He emits a loud sigh. “I won’t be able to help you if you aren’t open with me and since you either can’t or won’t discuss your feelings, I think we should try hypnotherapy.”  He stands up smoothing out the wrinkles in his tan linen pants. “Why don’t we move to the couch so you can lie down.” I knew I shouldn’t be flip, but given his pompous attitude, I can’t help myself.  As soon as the clapping and blinking stops… I smile and shrug. He rubs roughly at his scalp as if something there is bothering him. Mission accomplished, I stand up and move to the couch. When the clapping and blinking allows, I close my eyes and focus on his voice directing me to relax. I’m just acknowledging that the tone and cadence of his voice might actually put me to sleep, when I hear him insisting that I open my eyes. When I do, he’s standing above me, forcefully snapping his fingers and calling my name. I want to sit up in response to his emphatic request, but I’m unable to comply.  None of my muscles respond, not even to clap or blink.   I’m not unsympathetic to his distress at my not obeying his demands, but this is something I haven’t experienced before… inertia. My life has changed dramatically in the two years since my husband’s death, and not for the better. I lost my job for spending too much time performing a ritual that not only disrupted my performance but that of all those around me. Worse than the job was the loss of my constant companion, my beloved Australian Sheppard, Kitty, who stood by my side at the funeral home and the gravesite, giving me support.   Yeah, that one sucked, but my clapping and blinking was eating up so much of my time, I had none left to take him on walks or even feed him.   Grab his bowl – blinking – get the leash – clapping – put on a shoe, blinking, etc., you get the picture, and It’s not like I just left him on a street corner or something. Hmm… well I guess I kind of did. I gave him to the homeless guy who had installed himself at the off ramp near my home.  It seemed like a win – win to me.  Kitty would get walked back and forth all day and the homeless guy would attract more sympathy because he had another mouth to feed. My point being, it seemed to the doctors and even to me, that at least some of these events should have caused me stress, but, not so.  Except for the clapping and blinking, I’m having the time of my life.  Of course, I am using the life word loosely, because the here and now is where I am.   Sleeping, I don’t dream, awake, I have no memories or regrets and I don’t waste any time looking forward.   Emerging from my self-indulgent reverie, I notice the psychiatrist is red in the face and has given up snapping. Maybe his fingers cramped? But he still, obviously wants me to get my ass off his couch. I give it a try and, surprise, surprise, the clapping starts, only this time, it’s not thirteen precise claps, it’s a frantic slapping of limp palm flesh against limp palm flesh, in a flurry of unstoppable blows.  What the hell, this is fantastic.  I can hardly wait for the blinking to start. The psychiatrist, apparently unwilling to wait for the astonishing show my blinking will make, grabs my hands, which immediately puts a stop to the clapping.   I wait. I wait.   Nope, no blinking starts.  A shiver of disappointment at having been denied this heretofore unseen spectacle, rushes through me.  Seriously, what is wrong with me? I’ve obviously given up control to the seriously stricken psychiatrist, because he has raised me up from his couch, taking time for a quick glance to make sure I haven’t soiled his lounge, and moved me forward to my previous perch by his desk. Suprisingly,  he doesn’t reclaim his position of authority upon his leather throne, but maintains his unwelcome hold on my appendages and kneels before me like a peasant in supplication. I want to look away but for the first time in recent memory, I have a shaky, queasy feeling I assume is the one called, anxiety.  Fearful now, my heart beats fit to burst, and I desperately try to pry my fingers out of his sweaty grip. “Don’t panic,” his warm breath flutters on my cheek and he moves his hands on top of mine, pressing them heavily into my thighs.   I’m positive if he releases them,  thirteen claps will appear, but he doesn’t give them a chance.  As if reading my thoughts, he presses harder into my legs. “I can see you’re feeling uneasy, but I would like you to do something for me” his insipid, half smile looks hopeful. Not likely, my inside voice quips, but focusing is getting tough. Another time, I might have enjoyed the wobbliness of feeling semi drunk but now, I am concerned. Uneasy? I’ll see your uneasy and raise you one hysteria. Heat is streaking up my limbs, threatening to vaporize me. I have a primal urge to flee.  I order my legs to stand, but not one neuron makes an effort to perform this feat and I remain a prisoner in my body. “Can you  picture your husband, before he became ill. While his body was being ravaged by cancer, you had many conversations with him about his impending death and how much he wanted you to survive.”  I could feel the hair on the back of my head moving softly back and forth.  Was he patting me? I really need to leave. Even the years of clapping, blinking, clapping, blinking, did not distress me llike this, in this moment, I’m terrified.  I don’t know why, but I can definitely identify this emotion as terror.  What’s happening? Dully, I understand that while I have been focusing on my terror and need to get out of here, a sticky, heavy haze has oozed in my right ear and is blanketing my thoughts.   Nope, not happening, no friggin way. I’m in control and I ‘m going to leave. I see now, I made a huge mistake coming here today and as I am apologizing to the doctor for taking up his valuable time (huge effort expended vocalizing that lie by the way), he interrupts me. “Julie, you know this body is not yours” he proclaims loudly as he stands, hands on hips, legs spread defiantly. “What the #**k?  I don’t have to sit here and listen to these ravings.” Well, ultimately I do, because nothing works yet, no feet, no legs and definitely no arms or I’d clock him up the side of his head - no hollow apology to follow. “Julianna, now is the time to assert yourself.”  He looks remarkably like a tent gospel healer ,raising his arms over his head while making this proclamation.  I wonder stupidly if my smiling might help him out. He seems pretty upset. “If you don’t at least try, you’ll remain a prisoner of this pseudo-personality for the rest of your life.” I’m having trouble figuring out who the heck he’s talking to, or about, since my focus is still slipping.  I don’t like being called Julianna. My name is Julie. Why’s he not calling me Julie? “Your husband showered you with his love and trusted you to recover.  You’ve let him down.”  The doc is sitting on the side of his desk now accenting his points by pounding on the dark wood. I’m furious. “Stop it.  Stop talking to me!  We’re happy the way we….” What? What did I say?  We?  We who? “No, I misspoke, I meant I. I’m happy the way I am.” But still he continues. “Under hypnosis, I met the real Julianna. I know you want to be free.  You told me that when Tom died, it felt safer to let Julie take over, and I understand that impulse.”  His voice feels cool, like a summers rain, soothing, but dangerous, as if concealing a shaft of lightening, waiting to strike. I just know this train isn’t stopping any time soon.  The doctor adjusts his tie, tugs on the gold tip of his belt, confident, and gaining momentum. “Julianna, you didn’t just hide, you disappeared and when you wanted to come back, it was too late.  Julie was too strong.  She has no interest in your life and does whatever amuses her day to day. “ “One day you managed to push through enough to make your hands clap.  Thirteen times. One for each year you and Tom were married.  But no one paid attention and focused on the other signs Julie was exhibiting.  They couldn’t know clapping was just the tip of the iceberg.  You got a little stronger when Julie’s boss forced her to see a doctor and you were able to move your eyelids as well.”   He slides down to a squat in front of me and I see him touch my knee, but I don’t feel it. Funny. “You’d have won this battle eventually Julianna, but it might have taken years.  Now, with hypnotherapy, I’ve seen you and I won’t let that happen.  The time is now, Julianna, now, please.” I’m using all accessible effort to keep my sluggish attention on the shrink because I deem him to be the immediate threat. Wrong! All this time, covertly, I’m being pressed gently, but steadily out of the light and into a dim corridor of interminable length. My heart rate quickens but then I realize, it doesn’t feel that bad, being in the cool dark, and for a second or 2,  I’m seduced into relaxing the emotional control I’ve maintained for two years. With my eyes closed, I see a crack has appeared in my wall. I know I need to shore it up but a friendly soft breeze floats across my cerebellum and feels amazing. I succumb and allow myself to be beguiled and soothed. When the sensation ends, a deep sigh escapes my lips and I try to raise myself to my former level of attention.  It’s not there! I try again, squinting my face with effort, but I can make nothing work. Within that brief respite, I allowed myself to be conveyed.  Now you’d think I would have an answer to “Conveyed where?” but I don’t.  I’ve no sense of what or where I am, except for the certainty that I’m in a confinement.  Am I doing this? I whisper to myself. I attempt to sense the edges of my inky cubby; it feels the size of a postage stamp. A tiny stamp hidden away in the corner of some museum, never to be found.  Sounds are all dampened and dull, as if the energy has been sucked out of them. Adrenaline floods my system in fear of my invisible shackles; it pumps and beats looking for a way to escape my body. I can scarcely make out the form of the psychiatrist now.  He appears to still be talking. No surprise there, I reassure myself as I impotently battle to maintain control. With no limbs available to me, my battleground is the grey matter nestled in my skull.   With sticky toes, I climb one wiggly hill after the other, moving forward to the front, where I used to live.  Each footfall squishes deeper, preventing me from gaining ground. I rest, trying to sense the doctor. I find him, an indistinct presence, very close. But now, I discern he’s got a smile on his face, and he’s holding someone’s hand, saying “Welcome back Julianna.” My vision goes black, I want to reach up to see if my eyes have been gouged out, but my hands are stuck in the viscous guck separating the lobes. The effort is too much. It’s all too much and as I allow my cheek to finally rest on the neural tissue and dendrites that surround me, I hardly notice as I disappear.

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

Save A Horse, Ride A Cowboy

Summary: After the reader’s date doesn’t show up at a bar one night, she gets to know the man sitting at the other end...

Pairing: Cowboy!Jensen x reader

Square: Clothes Sharing

Word Count: 4,000ish

Warnings: Mature (language, smut)

A/N: Written for @spnkinkbingo . I left this one a bit opened ended on purpose to possibly return to... 

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” you groaned at the bar, your friend Julie giggling in her seat beside you. “Online dating. I’m meeting I guy I met on an online dating site. Oh my God.”

“Hey. I met Barry through that site! Now we got the whole white picket fence and kid at home thing going on,” she said.

“The guy was supposed to be here like two hours ago,” you groaned. “He ditched. I can’t even get a date online. I’m hopeless.”

“Uh, bartender? Another shot of whiskey for my girl,” she said. You held up two fingers, Julie laughing. She frowned when her phone lit up, tilting her head back. “And the baby just went full mess mode, both ends.”

“Go save your husband,” you said. “This guy’s not gonna show.”

“Don’t drive home if you keep knocking them back like that,” she said.

“I won’t. See you at work Monday,” you said, giving her a wave as she stood up. “I’ll take another beer with those shots.”

“Vodka straight,” said a guy, sitting down right next to you an hour later. You looked around the bar top, mostly empty except for a guy in a cowboy hat nursing a bourbon around the bend. “You the internet chick? Hallie?”

“And this is as far as this goes,” you said. “Go away.”

“Come on, Heather. It’s-”

“You’re drunk and smell like you’ve already been on a date so I’m passing. Now leave me alone,” you said.

“You were-”

“Pal,” said the guy in the cowboy hat, tilting his head up so you could see a pair of dark green eyes looking over in your direction. “Every hear of the term no means no? The lady said to get so I’d get gone.”

“Who the hell are you?”

“Sober enough to whoop your ass for starters,” he said. The internet guy stared for a moment before he waved off the bartender and left. You got a nod from the cowboy before he went back to his drink.

“I had it handled you know,” you said after a beat. He smiled and looked into his glass, sipping on it slowly.

“I’m sure you did,” he said. “Didn’t mean anything by it. Just trying to even out the douchebaggery of the world is all.”

“You talk weird,” you said. He chuckled, pointing for a refill.

“You talk weird. You got the accent around these parts, not me, honey,” he said. “That how they flirt wherever it is you’re from? Insult the man first?”

“I’m having a bad enough night without you getting on my back,” you said.

“Apologies,” he said as he got his drink. “I’ll take an order of your nacho fries for my friend here too. Put it on my tab.”

You raised an eyebrow at the guy, watching him give it right back.

“Well a thing like you need’s some food in there to soak up all those drinks before you head on back home for the night,” he said.

“I kind of want to be drunk right now, thanks,” you said.

“Great, you’re drunk. By the time you leave, you’ll be in a right state to now,” he said.

You blinked at him, opening your mouth to say more but nothing came out.

“Miss?”

“You know I’m not going home with you, don’t you?” you said.

“I’m not that kind of man. Not until the third date at least.”

Three Dates Later

“Fuck, Jensen,” you growled, ripping off his belt and feeling his hands all over your face as soft country rock played on the radio in his truck.

“Hey. I didn’t take you out for a picnic date under the stars for some front seat-” he said before you leaned back, blinking slowly at him. “It’s too small up here. Come on.”

He grabbed your hand and used one to hold his pants up, pulling you back outside and onto the blanket near the dwindling fire. You shoved off his flannel and Jensen lay back on the blanket, holding it up to you as you cocked your head.

“You got goosebumps, silly,” he said.

“Cowboys. You always gotta be so thoughtful,” you said, pulling it on before you resumed shoving off your shorts and underwear, climbing on top of his cock as Jensen sighed.

“You want to be cowgirl,” he teased.

“Oh my…” you groaned, Jensen chuckling as he rested his hands on your hips. “Isn’t it the cowboys that normally do the riding?”

“I much prefer this,” he said. “If only we had some Big & Rich on…”

“I bet you’ve never used that one before,” you said.

“Only on the girls I like,” he said, flashing you a wink. “Uh, Y/N?”

“This isn’t like your first time is it? That’s cool just...” you asked, Jensen shaking his head. “You don’t want to do this anymore?”

“No, I do. You look very beautiful right now is all,” he said. “Extremely beautiful.”

“You’re sweet,” you said, leaning down to kiss him, Jensen wrapping his arms around your back and slowly thrusting up into you. “You don’t do this often, do you.”

“Am I that bad?”

“No! No, you’re great. Please continue,” you said, Jensen rolling you to your back as he hovered over you, getting a better angle to pump his hips. “I meant...you’re a bit flirty and cocky but you’re a gentleman.”

“I’ve slept with a handful of women, all of them beautiful, all of them were my girlfriends when I did it too. Never had sex outside before though,” he chuckled. “You might be bringing out a side of me I didn’t know I had.”

“Anybody get your flannel?”

“Nope. Nobody got my flannel. That’s my favorite one too, you know,” he said.

“I must be special,” you said, fluttering your eyes closed when he fell into a nice deep rhythm. “Mmm.”

“Those little sounds are nice and all but no need to be shy. Where’s that girl that was in the truck tearing my clothes off?” he teased.

“She’s right here. We can do that on date four if you’d like,” you said.

“How do you know you’re getting another date, honey?” he asked, giving you a short kiss and his rocked his hips deep inside you.

“Just a feeling, cowboy,” you said, rolling your hips up to met his, his head dropping to your shoulder. “Don’t stop now. We’re just getting started.”

“Hey, honey,” said Jensen when you answered your phone the next day.

“Cowboy,” you said, smirking as you glanced at his flannel in your laundry basket.

“Listen. I apologize in advance but I’m gonna have to cancel our date tonight.”

“Oh,” you said. Shit, you’d probably been too forward the night before. He was a quieter guy and you’d probably scared him off.

“I know it’s last minute but could I take you out for lunch in about half an hour instead? We can postpone that other thing until another time,” he said. “If you’re busy that’s okay.”

“No. No. I just had chores planned. I’ll meet you there.”

“Hi, Jens,” you said, sliding into the chair across from him, Jensen leaning over to peck a kiss on your cheek. “Barbeque. You sure do know the way to a woman’s heart.”

“They got some tofu imitation stuff or something if you don’t eat meat,” he said. “You got the salad and pasta the other times we’ve got out so I wasn’t sure.”

“I like barbeque. But that’s very considerate of you,” you said, grabbing a menu.

“I’d much rather be going out tonight.”

“Jens, it’s cool, honestly. A lunch date is great.”

“We got a last minute rodeo tonight apparently,” he mumbled, eyes scanning over the plates on offer.

“A rodeo?” you asked. He smiled and nodded, returning his gaze to the laminated paper. “What kind of rodeo?”

“A few horses. That stuff is boring,” he said, taking off his sunglasses when the sun went behind some clouds. “You see anything that looks good?”

“I think I’ll get the number three platter,” you said.

“A woman after my own heart. I was thinking the same thing,” he said, putting the menu down.

A few minutes later your order was in and you were sharing a basket of fries, sipping on your iced tea.

“So you said you work on a ranch before. What’s that like?” you asked.

“Like you imagine I figure,” he said. “It ain’t all that interesting.”

“I work in an office. It’s way more interesting than what I do,” you said. He didn’t take the bite though and only hummed, munching on a fry. “So are you a ranch hand? That’s the right term, right?”

“Yeah. I’m not one of those though, not traditionally. The ranch I work on ain’t that large. I got my own house and all,” he said. “On the edge of town.”

“Nice. I’m still saving for one,” you said. “I’m not a huge fan of living in the city.”

“Really?” he asked. “You seem…”

“I seem what?”

“Like a city girl. Like you always get all prettied up for dates,” he said.

“...well it’s a date so I want to look nice,” you said, narrowing your eyes a split second.

“Sorry,” he mumbled.

Your food came out not too long after, the two of you making small talk for most of it, Jensen a bit stiff until you were heading out.

“Hey,” he said as you both paused to head back to your car. “I didn’t mean...we got two differents kinds of lives is all, Y/N.”

“If you want out, just say so,” you said.

“You’re kind of sensitive you know.”

“Back at ya,” you said, crossing your arms. “I didn’t realize you got a thing against someone putting on makeup and heels for a date.”

“I don’t.”

“Then what’s the problem.”

“I...don’t think we have that much in common,” he said.

“I’m starting to see how this works for you. After you get sex, you ditch the girl, hm?” you asked.

“I don’t think we’re compatible,” he said.

“Yeah. Me either. Thanks for lunch,” you said, taking off back to your car.

You finished up your chores when you got home and we’re just tossing the leftovers of a TV dinner in the trash when your phone rang.

You rolled your eyes but answered anyways.

“If you want your precious flannel back, text me an address and I’ll send it in the mail, okay?” you asked.

“I’m sorry for what I said earlier,” said Jensen. “I...there’s stuff you don’t know, stuff that’s too soon to bring up. I’m sorry for how I acted. I mean, you put away a half slab of ribs and a plate of brisket and pulled pork...that’s an attractive woman on it’s own. I just...I screwed up. I keep screwing it up. But you’re the first woman that’s ever tried to learn more about me. Like you were trying to ask stuff about what I do and I brushed you off cause I’m not like the guys in suits walking around your fancy office building. I know what I am. I got scared and I’m sorry.”

“...I wouldn’t date you if I had an issue with you. I don’t care that you wear plaid and cowboy boots on every date. I dress up because that’s what I was taught. You do what you do because of how you were raised. The only problem I have is when someone tries to judge me for it,” you said.

“I understand,” he said, the phone quiet for a few seconds. “You can keep the flannel. It’s okay.”

“You’re not going to ask me out again?” you asked.

“I’d rather spare myself the humiliation if that’s alright with you.”

“Jensen. Ask me out again,” you said.

“Why?”

“Just do it,” you said.

“Want to come to the rodeo tonight?” he asked. “I won’t be able to hang out much since I’m working it.”

“Yeah,” you said, smiling as you walked into your bedroom and to the closet. “Anything I should know in particular?”

“I’d use the staff entrance so you get in for free. Other than that, I suppose not,” he said.

“I’ll see you soon then, cowboy,” you said. “And Jensen? There’s nothing wrong with getting scared you know.”

“I’ll see you soon, honey.”

You found a parking spot with only a little bit of trouble, feeling a little out of place as most people headed for the main entrance. You skirted around to the side, the guy at the door letting you in once you gave him your name.

The smell hit you first as you walked around on the hay covered floor, someone walking by with a horse. You could see a bunch of stalls, some filled with them, some empty, some with people inside too.

After walking back through them and only getting lost about three different times, you felt a tap on your finger.

“Your Ackles’ new girl right? I’m Jared. I own a few of the horses at the ranch he works at and he asked I take care of you tonight,” he said.

“And I thought Jensen was tall,” you laughed. “Yeah, I’m Y/N.”

“Nice to meet you. I’m sure we’ll be seeing a lot of each other,” said Jared with a big smile. “Come on. I’ll set you up.”

“Uh, not to show how little I know about this stuff but what is this exactly?” you asked.

“Tonight they’re doing an impromptu horse rodeo. It can differ depending on the animal and event but tonight it’s barrel racing up first, that’s what my horses are running in. That’s like young girls, normally teenagers, they got these barrels set up out in the arena and they have to get the horse out of the gate and then they sprint out around the barrels and come back in. Fastest wins. Then they got the classic saddle bronc event, you know, a horse with a saddle on and it tries to buck off the rider? They got that and then bareback which is the same thing mostly but no saddle. Jensen’s going to be helping with set up and the horses,” he said.

“So it’s like a sport kind of,” you said.

“Yeah. Not much different than a football game. Well, a little different but it’s the same idea,” said Jared. “Let’s go grab a snack, get into the fresh air for a minute.”

The fresh air smelled like dirt and beer to be honest but Jared got you each a beer and a box of popcorn for himself, nodding over to the bleachers. You followed him up, Jared settling down as he pointed across the way.

“There’s our boy,” he said as you spotted Jensen in his hat talking to a young girl. “That’s Zoe. She’s riding my biggest boy, Ape, tonight. First time in a competition. He’s probably giving her a pep talk.”

“So Jensen trains horses too?”

“No...sort of. He’s kind of...there when training happens. His job is to take care of the horses so wherever they go, he goes,” said Jared. “That’s only part of his job. He does other ends and ends. Most ranchers do.”

“He had a date tonight,” you said, Jared chuckling.

“Yeah. I found out after I told him about the rodeo. I told the dumbass to pick the girl over work next time,” said Jared. “Sorry about that.”

“No, it’s fine. I think some good came out of it. Cleared up some things,” you said.

“Good. I’m gonna go say hey to the riders. I’ll be back in a jiffy.”

The rodeo had turned out to be more fun than it had any right to be and Jared kept you entertained and explained a few of the rules or points when you didn’t quite understand. You were a little grateful when Jensen didn’t participate in the rancher’s competition for a bit of prize money, especially when one guy got tossed nearly ten feet.

“Alright,” said Jared when you were back near the staff entrance, his hands finding someone in a cowboy hat and spinning him around. “Ackles, go hang out with this sweet girl. I got the horses for the night.”

“You sure?” asked Jensen.

“I’m sure. Go get her a drink,” said Jared. Jensen nodded and gave you a shy smile, showing you out of the building and into the night air.

“Sorry I was so busy tonight,” he said. “Jared said you had a good time.”

“I did,” you said, Jensen’s smiling growing as he looked you up and down. “I wore jeans and sneakers. No make up either. Must be the end times.”

“I deserve that,” he said.

“I’m all for not wearing heels,” you said. “Just don’t assume things about the kind of person I am, okay?”

“I got the message,” he said. “So can I get you that drink?”

“Jensen,” you said when you got out of your car, parked behind him in his driveway. “This is your house? Your house?”

“Uh, yes?” he laughed. “Come on. Oh, I do have a dog just a heads up.”

“What the…” you said, following him to the front door and inside. Somehow the house looked even bigger once you were in the foyer area, Jensen pulling off his boots and tucking them into a mudroom. You kicked off your sneakers, a small dog running over, sniffing and wagging his tail.

“Hi baby boy,” said Jensen all high pitched, the dog jumping up and Jensen catching him in his arms. He was blushing a little when he carried him over to you, holding the dog up. “Harrison, this is Y/N. Y/N, Harrison.”

“He’s adorable,” you said, the dog licking your nose, tail going a mile a minute. “Hi buddy.”

“Alright bud, why don’t you go on back to bed. It’s past your bedtime,” said Jensen. The dog snorted and took off down a hall, Jensen chuckling as he poked his head in and saw him tucked away in a bed in the laundry room. “He’s a goof.”

“I wonder where he gets it from,” you said, following Jensen into a large open kitchen. You raised an eyebrow as you looked around, Jensen grabbing a bottle of bourbon from the countertop. “I may have to get into the ranch business myself.”

“I’m the exception, not the standard,” he said, sliding over a glass. “I appreciate you going tonight and all.”

“I liked going tonight and all. You’re a hard nut to crack, Ackles,” you said.

“Want to drink out back?” he said. You followed him outside to a screened in patio area. It was beautiful out there, Jensen smirking when you kept looking around. “It’s nice out here.”

“Yeah it is,” you said.

“Jared tell you how we met?” he asked. You shook your head, Jensen nodding.

“You guys go to school or something?”

“No. No. We met in LA,” he said.

“LA? That’s different.”

“I grew up with ranching. I knew the ins and outs of it by the time I was in high school. One day, a got spotted by one of those agent people when I was hanging with a few buddies at the mall. I was like no way but I talked to my parents about it and it was legit and everything so I got into modeling. That turned into more modeling which turned into more modeling and you get the picture.”

“So you haven’t always been a rancher,” you said.

“No. I stopped for a few years there while I was in LA. I made a stupid amount of money and hung out with people I really didn’t like. Except for Jared. He was cool. It’s where I had those other relationships I was talking about. Get told you’re a dumb hick enough, you start to believe it,” he said.

“Anybody smart enough to leave that kind of environment isn’t an idiot,” you said.

“I’ve been back a few years. I never make it past a first date nowadays,” he said as he turned his head. “I’m gonna make more mistakes like I did today. Assume things. I can guarantee it.”

“Well no relationship is perfect. When you’re ready to tell me the rest of that story, you will. Until then, I will be extremely jealous of this kickass house,” you said.

“It’s actually a rental,” he said. “I’m looking to get a house built.”

“Got a builder lined up?” you asked.

“I have a piece of land but not a builder. I need one of those designers everyone I talk to tells me. I’m complicated apparently.”

“Nothing wrong with getting what you want. That girl that was at the bar with me the night we met, her husband is one of those. A designer,” you said.

“A dude designer?”

“Mhm. I can give you his number. He can definitely make it the feel you want without being too man cave,” you said.

“Maybe I will. I’ve been looking for a house for years though so I wouldn’t want to get his hopes up.”

“Looking to get back into the modeling game?” you asked.

“Never. I don’t see the sense of spending all that money to build a house and then have a lady come in someday and hate everything about it is all,” he said.

“That’s why you get a designer to help. Plus you don’t want to be with a chick like that, trust me,” you said, sipping on your drink.

“You look real beautiful like that,” he said after a beat.

“Oh yeah, I’m so hot,” you laughed, fixing your zip up around yourself.

“See when I tell you you’re beautiful and you’re all dressed up and covered your face in creams and blush and all that, you believe me. When you’re just you though, you don’t seem to believe that,” he said. “That’s kind of a real shame since I think I like this look on you even more.”

“You got your secrets, I got mine,” you said.

“Very true. You are beautiful though, honey,” he said.

“Thank you, Jensen,” you said quietly. “So beside dealing with horses, what other kind of stuff do you do on the ranch?”

“I’m going up to my parents tomorrow to help out with a few things. They’re out of town so no need to worry about bumping into them if you’d like to hang out,” he said.

“I’d love to.”

[nerianasims]

Billboard #1s 1966

Under the cut.

Simon And Garfunkel – “The Sound Of Silence” -- January 1, 1966

This song is beautiful and thoughtful and I love it. People apparently talk about its naivete, but it's more a sermon than a political tract. And, above all, it is gorgeous and interesting music.

The Beatles – “We Can Work It Out” -- January 8, 1966

You'd have a better chance of working it out if you weren't blaming the whole fight on the other person, Paul. But that's so often the case. Thinking you're the only one trying, when the other person is trying just as hard, and you're talking past each other. I really like John's interlude, which also makes me think he's the one fighting with Paul. It happened plenty. This isn't a top tier Beatles song, but it's good.

Petula Clark – “My Love” -- February 5, 1966

Her love is greater than any other great thing in all of the entire universe, apparently. Sunshine? Oceans? Stars? Nothing compared to how great she is at love. Petula Clark could always sing, but by the time the chorus comes around the second time, she sounds sort of embarrassed. She doesn't hit the notes with her normal confidence. It is a thoroughly embarrassing song.

Lou Christie – “Lightnin’ Strikes” -- February 19, 1966

Well I'm creeped out. This belongs a few years back, if it had to exist at all. It starts with "You're old enough to know the makings of a man" -- just how young is she? Young enough not to smack him with a brick when he tells her he just can't help but cheat on her since that's what men do, but she needs to stick around waiting for him and not do the same. If she does, he promises he'll marry her... eventually. Plus falsetto. I hate this song.

Nancy Sinatra – “These Boots Were Made For Walkin'” -- February 26, 1966

And this song is a good answer to it. Lyrically, it's the pinnacle of what a country song can do. "You keep thinking that you'll never get burned/ Ha!/ I just found me a brand new box of matches/ And what he knows you ain't had time to learn." The narrator's cheating scumbag whom she's in the process of dumping is so low, she's not even bothering to get angry with him. She's got a new, far hotter guy anyway. Musically, the instruments are themselves a Greek chorus making fun of the guy and heralding the singer's triumph. Love love love it.

Staff Sgt. Barry Sadler – “The Ballad Of The Green Berets” -- March 5, 1966

More machismo, but of the lawful rather than chaotic variety this time. This must have made a lot of people very angry at the time, but it also must have felt triumphant to a lot of others. "Fearless men who jump and die" -- that's not good! It's The Old Lie! A man dies because apparently that's just what Green Berets do, and his last request is that his son be a Green Beret too. For what? The song doesn't even say what they're fighting for! There's a line about dying for those oppressed, the same bullshit we've been fed for so long, but absolutely no details. Because it's a death cult. Oh, and the song is musically terrible too. This is horrific.

The Righteous Brothers – “(You’re My) Soul And Inspiration” -- April 9, 1966

It's another heartbreak song from The Righteous Brothers. She wants to leave, but she's his "soul and inspiration." I would like it better if it weren't a heartbreak song. It doesn't have to be. The chorus would go perfectly well with a song about how happy they are together. Meh.

The Young Rascals – “Good Lovin'” -- April 30, 1966

He says his doctor has prescribed "good lovin'". He's got the fever, you've got the cure. This could easily be creepy. It's not, because it's so fun. It's a seduction song where the seducer is trying to make his target laugh, which is the right tactic if you're light about it. Fun, good song.

The Mamas And The Papas – “Monday, Monday” -- May 7, 1966

John Philips was one of the worst people in pop music, and that's saying something. The Mamas and the Papas were a good group musically, though. This song is about how Mondays typically suck, but the narrator is happy because this Monday morning, his girlfriend is still here. And then Monday evening, she's left. He doesn't sound too upset. I find this song repetitive and boring.

Percy Sledge – “When A Man Loves A Woman” -- May 28, 1966

I don't like this song. Sledge's version is obviously better than Michael Bolton's, but the problem is the lyrics. The song doesn't say so directly, but the implication is that a man should never fall in love with a woman because she'll bring him nothing but pain. Nope.

The Rolling Stones – “Paint It Black” -- June 11, 1966

The song is about depression, specifically the depression coming from the sudden death of one's romantic partner. Which makes it a love song, in a way. It's rock, and it goes hard, and it's more achingly sad than thousands of schmaltzy songs about the same thing. It makes me cry every time. Amazing, heartbreaking song.

The Beatles – “Paperback Writer” -- June 25, 1966

This became a #1? It's mean and petty. Someone who has made it as thoroughly as it is possible to make it should not be scoffing at the little people trying to claw their way up. Musically it even sounds kinda half-assed, for the Beatles. Very much a lesser Beatles song.

Frank Sinatra – “Strangers In The Night” -- July 2, 1966

He and some woman were strangers in the night, but fell in love at first sight and became lovers, and are still together. I love the song. Sinatra was getting older, and that comes through -- his voice doesn't have the modulation and delicacy it did when he was younger. At the same time, that age gives the song a lot of heft and truth. "And ever since that night/ We've been together/ Lovers at first sight/ In love forever/ It turned out so right."

Tommy James And The Shondells – “Hanky Panky” -- July 16, 1966

His girlfriend fucks. And he shouts this fact to us over and over and over and over and... okay, look. I understand being thrilled with your first relationship in which you get sex. A lot of sex. A looooot of sex. But it's generally much more interesting to the people doing it than the people being told about it. Dull.

The Troggs – “Wild Thing” -- July 30, 1966

I don't understand anyone who doesn't start dancing, even just in their chair, when this song comes on. It's a rocking love n'sex jam with an ocarina in it. There is nothing not to love.

The Lovin’ Spoonful – “Summer In The City” -- August 13, 1966

This song comes down to: It's hot in the city during the day, but cooler at night, plus you can pick up chicks at night. The lyrics are a big nothing, but the music is great. Somehow the song got associated with the various protest movements happening at the time. Is that gonna happen with W.A.P.?

Donovan – “Sunshine Superman” -- September 3, 1966

It just occurred to me that R.E.M. may have been inspired to write "Superman" by this song. It's the same basic premise, except that unlike R.E.M., Donovan doesn't realize he's being egotistical to the point of being scary by saying he will use every trick in the book to get this girl. Well okay, "Donovan" and "scary" are tough to put in the same sentence. The song is musically great. Think about the lyrics for a minute, and they're disturbing. I don't really know what to do with this.

The Supremes – “You Can’t Hurry Love” -- September 10, 1966

"Love don't come easy/ It's a game of give and take." Yep. And if you do try to hurry it, you're likely to end up with one of the jerks from the first few Supremes hits. Normally I would say to avoid getting advice from pop songs, but I'll make an exception for "You Can't Hurry Love." This is a welcome evolution, and an excellent song.

The Association – “Cherish” -- September 24, 1966

Glurge. Such glurge, I thought this was a 70s song before now. I actually cannot listen to the whole song. The music hurts me somehow. So I read the lyrics to see what they are, and blurgh. It's about how he can't figure out how to say he wants her and none of the other guys really care for her and that's it I'm done. Atrociously bad.

The Four Tops – “Reach Out I’ll Be There” -- October 15, 1966

A phenomenal song. You need a hand to hold. Yes, you. And The Four Tops will be there for you. Huge numbers of pop songs -- a plurality, at least -- are sung to "you." But this one feels like it really is. Levi Stubbs is going to be there for you. And this song has been there for me throughout my life.

? And The Mysterians – “96 Tears” -- October 29, 1966

So, this guy renamed himself ?. I would expect a song that involved someone named ? to be much odder. Maybe it was at the time, though the organ sounds mostly like Baby Elephant Walk (though not as good.) ? speak-sings that he's gonna get the person who dumped him back, and then he's going to dump them, and they'll cry 96 tears. That is odd, admittedly. Why 96? That doesn't sound like very many. One good cry would probably do it. The organ is the most interesting thing about the song, which is sadly not nearly weird enough for the band's name.

The Monkees – “Last Train To Clarksville” -- November 5, 1966

One of my friends was a huge Monkees fan when we were teenagers. She was born in 1977. The Monkees were on Nick at Nite (I think), so I did see a few episodes. She watched them religiously. She insisted their music was great, and I was like... really? Sadly, I was snobbish about it, and entirely because the show was so doofy. Their music really was pretty damn good. Though this song sounds like the younger brothers of The Beatles trying to copy them. Still, they did a pretty good job of it.

Johnny Rivers – “Poor Side Of Town” -- November 12, 1966

The narrator's girl left him to be with a rich guy. The rich guy discarded her, so now she's back on the poor side of town. The narrator rubs it into her face for a verse and a half, but then he says that to him she's "the greatest thing", and he doesn't blame her for trying. By the end of the song, he says he and the girl will be able to make it together. The lyrics are good. Unfortunately, the music and singing are dull. Someone should take these lyrics and make a much better song out of them.

The Supremes – “You Keep Me Hangin’ On” -- November 19, 1966

For once, Diana Ross gets to be appropriately angry at a jerk. By the end of the song, she's commanding him to get out of her life. I have been where she is in this song, and it ties you up in knots. It deserves more of a full opera than a high-energy dance song. But this song is still great.

The New Vaudeville Band – “Winchester Cathedral” -- December 3, 1966

This is a British music hall song. Whether you like it will depend on whether you like that very singular genre. I do, in small doses. If it had been a #1 hit at any time when I was listening to radio, I'd have hated it. I can only identify "Winchester Cathedral" out of the lyrics, and the rest don't matter anyway. The song is fun and annoying in equal measure, and hearing it once every five years or so sounds about right.

The Beach Boys – “Good Vibrations” -- December 10, 1966

This is my favorite Beach Boys song. Musically, it's astonishing. It's the song that persuaded me of the "Brian Wilson is a genius" stuff I kept hearing. It also has much better lyrics than most Beach Boys songs, as they are like the lyrics of a typical pop song. Except with a lot more "om bop bop" and the word "excitations." It sounds like it's going to have a slow, soft fade-out, and then the main chorus comes roaring back. One of the great pop songs.

The Monkees – “I’m A Believer” -- December 31, 1966

I think this is the best Monkees song. He didn't believe in love, then he "saw her face", now he's a believer. Has he even talked to her? Doubtful. That's okay, it's not meant to be anything but a cheery pop song. The beginning guitar does sound sort of like George Harrison, but the rest of the song is a bit more distant from the Beatles than "Last Train to Clarksville." They sound like a confident, real pop group, though they weren't allowed to play the instruments on it, which most of them were not happy about. They still ended up participating in a memorable song.

BEST OF 1966: This one is hard. I was tempted to make it a tie between about a half dozen songs. I think I have to give it to "Paint it Black" though. Maybe. Then again, "I'll Be There" is a heartlifting titan. And "You Can't Hurry Love" is timeless and something more people need to hear. And "Good Vibrations" is a musical triumph. Then there's "The Sound of Silence." And... discuss amongst yourselves. WORST OF 1966: No question. "Ballad of the Green Berets." Nothing in any year is worse.

[spooderson]

Will you still need me?

This is my attempt at an angsty fic? Basically, Peter is having a lot of anxiety about his future as son to Tony and Pepper, because they’re having a baby of their own. And that must mean that he won’t be needed anymore once the baby is born.

(this is a part of a series that I’m writting.)

read on ao3

It had been a month from dad’s birthday. A month of knowing that Pepper was pregnant. A month of knowing that Tony and Pepper were going to have a child that is 100% theirs. A month of knowing that he was getting replaced. A month of dreading the day when they sit him down and tell him to pack his bags because they don’t want him anymore.

During the month Peter’s summer break had started, he had hung out with Ned and MJ a few times and patrolled almost every day from breakfast to dinner or, most of the time, until bedtime. Tony and Pepper hadn’t really said anything about him being out all the time, just sharing a few worried looks when he would tell them that he’s heading out for the day.

However, June was coming to an end and with it Peter’s days spent avoiding his parents. When he came back from patrol on the last Friday of June, his father was sitting on his bed.” This is it,” thought Peter “this is the moment he says that they don’t want me anymore and tell me to go.”

“Peter. We need to talk” started Tony when Peter jumped down from the ceiling and removed his mask, exposing his unruly hair that was falling in every which direction.

“Oh, okay-y. Can I just go change into pajamas first, please?” said Peter, while trying to hide the wavering in his voice.

“Sure, kid. I can wait a little longer”

Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say, as Peter visibly flinched when he heard the words leave Tony’s mouth and then scrambled to get his pajamas from the closet and all but ran to the bathroom, shutting the doors after him. Tony looked at the closed door with worry in his eyes, but then just sighed thinking that after their little chat that they were about to have, everything would go to normal.

After a good ten minutes Peter emerged from the bathroom, with his hair now falling in damp curls from the shower and clad in his hello kitty pajamas.

“Get in here, kiddo” said Tony patting the space in the bed next to him.

Peter quietly gave a shaky nod and climbed into the bed and under the covers, trying to avoid touching Tony and thinking about how different his life will be after this talk. He was about to become homeless – maybe Ned would let him stay with him for a few weeks while he tried to get a job and rent a place to live. And what about food, would a minimum wage job be enough to satisfy his crazy metabolism and pay for rent and bills and other necessities?

Peter was ripped out of his spiraling thoughts by Tony:

“So, me and Pepper were thinking about things. And we decided that we should go on vacation for one last time as a family of three.”

“Wha-at?” asked Peter, who was very confused about all of this, were they planning to take him on one last vacation before sending him away? Maybe they were doing this, going on vacation with him, so they would feel less guilty by sending him away.

“You heard me. Me, you and Pep are going on vacation. To Italy. We’re going to Rome and Venice and a few places in between. Of course, we can go somewhere else if you don’t want to go to Venice or Rome or whatever. You choose.”

“That sounds fine. But, why?”

“We think that after the schoolyear you had and all the shit we’ve been dealing with here at SI we deserve a break. Plus, after the baby is born, the vacations won’t be as laid back. So, really, it’s our only chance to go on a proper relaxing vacation for at least the next five to ten years.” Explained Tony as if it were obvious.

“Oh. Is this all you wanted to talk about?”

“No, me and Pep noticed that you’re acting strange. You’ve been avoiding us for the past month. Dum-e is getting really sad without you in the lab. Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, I’m alright. Just want to get the most out of the summer break, spend more time patrolling.” Answered Peter, not wanting to tell him that he’s been avoiding them in fear of Tony deciding to kick him out right then and there. Maybe with this vacation he could convince them that he can be good and not a bother, and then they would decide to keep him at least until he graduated high school and then he could move away to college and never bother them again. And if not…Well, either way, it was worth a shot.

“If you say so, kiddo. We’re going on Monday, so you better spend the weekend hanging out with your friends – what were their names? Fred and PJ? – and packing up your suitcases. And don’t look at me like that, we’re going to be gone for more than half of July, you can’t just take one little suitcase for that long.”

“Okay. Can I go to sleep now? I’m really tired.”

“Sure, just don’t forget, tomorrow is pancake Saturday. Me and you are going to make breakfast. Goodnight, Petey, don’t let the bedbugs bite you” smiled Tony, then left the room, turning the lights off and closing the doors.

He walked back to his and Pepper’s bedroom, where she was sitting in bed, waiting to hear how the talk went.

“So, did you tell you why he’s like that?”

“No. he said that he’s fine. That he’s gone all the time because he “wants to get the most out of the summer break”. Apparently, that means completely ignoring us.” Tony sounded rather frustrated.

“Maybe he’s confused. I read that adopted kids sometimes feel like they’re being replaced if their adoptive parents get a child that is biologically theirs.”

“Hmmm. Maybe. But it’s Peter, he knows how much we love him. Hell, we made him the heir to SI, could he really think that just because we’re going to have another little child running around, we don’t want him? And that we’ll just turn our backs on him?” continued Tony, while getting comfortable in the bed. Once he stopped moving around, Pepper cuddled close to him.

“I hope whatever this is, that we’ll fix it during the vacation. Maybe he just needs to see that we love spending time with him, and then he’ll stop worrying?”

“Maybe”

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

“Peter honey, we’re going to be late. It’s time to go!” urged Pepper from the elevator.

Peter had moved all of his suitcases (there were only 2) to the hallway, and then when he was about to enter the elevator his eyes had gone really wide and he had run back to his room, throwing the doors closed.

“Do you think I should check on him?” asked Tony, even though he had already started walking towards Peter’s room, not waiting for an answer. “Pete? You okay in there?”

“Wha-?! Yeah! I just remembered that I forgot my phone charger and now I can’t find it anywhere…”

“Pete, let’s just go, we don’t want to keep everyone waiting. We can buy you a new one once we land in Rome. And during the plane flight I’m sure that either I or Pepper will lend you one of ours.”

“Oh-kay. I’m ready then.”

With that over with, they got into the elevator with Pepper and all their luggage and went down to the garage where Happy was waiting for them with a car, ready to take them to the airport. Peter stayed quiet throughout the whole car ride, opting to stare out the window and ignore whatever the adults were talking about.

„Pete? We’re here” said Tony with worry in his eyes, Peter hadn’t said a word through all of the car ride and even Happy was throwing worried looks at the kid every now and then.

After Peter finally realized that they were at the airport he scrambled out of the car and went to the jet, that was waiting for them to board. Once inside, Pepper ushered him to her side.

“Whatcha thinking about?” asked Pepper while trying to get comfortable and getting Peter to put his head on her shoulder. She knew that that and playing with his hair were his two main weaknesses if you wanted to get something out of him or stop his anxiety.

“Nothing. Just kind of tired, I guess.” lied Peter

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I think I’ll just sleep for a bit.”

“Okay” sighed Pepper and shot Tony a worried look.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

They had just arrived in Rome form the airport and Pepper had made them unpack everything. That’s how Tony and Pepper found out that Peter had taken the Spider-man suit with him. And they were not pleased.

“Peter, we can’t have Spider-man show up wherever me, you and Pepper are. Someone may figure it out then. Do you WANT the world to know that you’re Spider-man? Are you ready for that?” Tony wasn’t holding back from voicing his frustrations. He had snatched the suit from Peter the moment the suitcase was opened, and he saw it in it.

“Peter, you understand that you cannot be Spider-man in Europe, right? It’s too risky for Spider-man to show up wherever we are. You said you want to be the friendly neighborhood Spider-man, and well, Europe isn’t your neighborhood.” tried to explain Pepper.

“I just thought, what if something major happens? And the avengers are needed?”

“You’re not an avenger” and “You’re too important to me, you wouldn’t be anywhere near the fighting if that happened” rang out through the hotel suite at the exact same moment.

“But- “

“Nope, no buts. Friendly neighborhood Spider-man stays in his neighborhood. We’re not superheroing in Europe.”

With that the discussion was over and Tony stormed of to the master bedroom, no doubt to go and hide the suit somewhere where Peter wouldn’t be able to get it.

“You know we only want the best for you. And this is a vacation. We’re supposed to be relaxing. So go take a shower and meet us in the living room, I’m craving pizza”

“Okay, Pepper”

Pepper just shook her head while watching him walk to the bathroom and went to get ready herself. He hadn’t called her Pepper in quite a while, and now it was back. Something was oh so wrong.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

They were staying in a fancy hotel in the middle of the city, so it wasn’t a long walk to the pizza place, that Tony had said “has the best pizza in town, ask any local and they will say the same”.

Once seated at one of the tables outside Tony and Pepper shared a look and turned to Peter:

“So, how do you like Italy?”

“Oh, it’s amazing! Did you know that aunt May was italian? She said her family was from Ancona? I think? Yeah… Anyway, Rome is beautiful, the fountain in front of the hotel? The one that all those people were taking photos in front of? Also, I read that there’s this hill from which you can see the city skyline? And all the famous places? Can I go there one evening? That way you both get some alone time and I get to take pretty pictures of the city to show Ned and MJ?”

“Petey, we’d love to go there with you. Maybe tomorrow if you won’t be too tired. “ gently said Pepper.

„Why would I be tired?“

„The jet lag, kid “

“Oh”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was the evening of the next day and they all had just woken up a few hours earlier. The jet lag had gotten them all and now they were hungry, tired and not at all tuned into the italian time.

They went to get some dinner and then Tony suggested going to the hilltop that Peter had mentioned yesterday. Peter had argued that they really don’t have to go somewhere just because he thinks it might be pretty and that he’s okay to get a taxi or use public transport to get there, but he was quickly shut down by both his parents who were quick to reassure him that they also want to go there to see the view.

In the end Tony had driven them to the hilltop – they had gotten lost on the way there, because apparently google maps weren’t as reliable as they thought and now Tony was seriously considering creating his own navigation system. Peter and Pepper had slept in the backseat through the whole drive.

After parking, Tony had gently shaken awake Pepper and Peter and Peter had run off to set up a blanket for them to sit on while Pepper and Tony slowly walked after him.

“Do you think we should gang up on him and get whatever’s bothering him out now?”

“I think that the sooner we know, the better. I can’t stand to see him like this – anxiousness suits nobody.”

“Okay then, after the sunset.”

“After the sunset.”

With this they had finished their walk to where Peter had set up the blanket. Tony had straight up plopped down while Pepper sat down more carefully.

“Everything alright?” asked Peter.

“Yes, darling. Just a little tired. Being pregnant isn’t as beautiful and comfortable as people make it out to be.”

“Oh. Anything I can do to help?”

“Everything’s fine. Just sit and enjoy the view. And maybe some sandwiches, you must be hungry.”

After that exchange they all sat quietly for some time, just soaking up the last rays of sunshine and enjoying the view and each other’s company. Peter had been right, and they could in fact see most of the Rome’s famous places like the Spanish steps and some churches. It was breathtaking. Once the sunset was 10 minutes away Peter took out his camera that he had built with Tony after the man had learned that Peter was into photography and was using some ancient camera that he had gotten from Goodwill for 10$.

Peter took a ton of photos of the sunset and the view from the hill. Then, he turned the camera to Tony and Pepper, who were both sitting hand in hand on the blanket, Peppers head on Tony’s shoulder. They were both bathed in the warm light from the sunset. They looked almost ethereal – like two goods from some ancient civilization, who sometimes came to earth to soak up it’s beauty and just be together, without any worries pressing down on them. Peter desperately wished that he could stay with them forever in this worry free dreamlike place, but the memory that they were here together, so happy and relaxed, would have to suffice.

Looking at the picture he had just taken one more time, Peter slowly walked back to Tony and Pepper. After sitting down, Tony hugged Peter to himself and only let go when he was sure that Peter would stay pressed into his left side.

“So, kiddo, we noticed that you’re acting strange. And we wanted to know why. You know you can tell us anything, right? We really want you to talk to us. So please, talk to us? Let us help you.” started Tony.

“I can’t talk to you about this. So just- just stop asking”

“Why can’t you tell us? We’ll love you whatever it is. There’s nothing in the universe that could make us hate you or forget you.”

“Don’t lie to me, there is. Will be”

“Is this? Is this about the baby?”

“NO! I mean, yeah. But no. Just – just… When the baby is born, you won’t need me anymore. And I’ll have to leave. And I – “

“Peter, you’re worrying yourself for no reason” interrupted Pepper “we’re not going to replace you with the baby. And you won’t be forgotten either… We would never throw you out…”

“Petey, listen to what Pep said, we love you so so much. We’d never want to get rid of you or to replace you. You’re our son. We will love you whatever happens. Nothing is going to change that. Us having another kid means that you get to be an amazing big brother, not that we don’t want you anymore. Got it?” continued Tony.

“Ye-yeah” stammered out Peter, who was full out crying at this point. There were tears and snot running down his face. How could he believe that Pepper and Tony would throw him out? He knew that they were one of the kindest people he ever met, and that they loved him. And yet he still believed that they could do something as cruel as throwing him out… He was an awful son, wasn’t he?

“Really? Because I will repeat myself until you start believing it. I mean it. And you’re not a bad person or a bad son because you thought that we would throw you out. It’s just anxiety, saying all these things to you. And it’s okay. Happens to me too.” Tony carried on.

“Wha- what do you mean it happens to you too?”

“I mean that I also get all those thoughts, that I’m not good enough, that no one loves me and so on. But they pass. And I get help. And we can get help for you too, if you want.”

“What help?” asked Peter. “I don’t think regular anxiety medication would help me. Also, I think it could be a hindrance to being spider-man.”

“I was thinking just seeing a therapist once or twice a week for starters. And then we’ll see.”

“Oh.” And then “Wait! You said I get to be a big brother?!”

“Of course. Who else would you be to the baby? You’re our son, Peter.” smiled Pepper.” Our firstborn, even if you aren’t biologically ours. And the fact that you aren’t biologically ours doesn’t mean a thing. You’re as much our son as the baby is going to be our kid.”

“Okay. Thanks, mom. Thanks, dad. I love you.”

“We love you too.” murmured Tony into the boy's curls and pulled him even closer to himself.

[h-styles-babes]

Harry Styles Blurb/Request #7

I had a request a little while ago to do some prompts from a list I posted on my blog. I’m not sure if the person who requested them wants me to tag them in this, since they PM’d me instead of sending an ask, so I’ll leave them unmentioned unless they request to be tagged. Anyway, thank you so much for the request, darling! I’m slowly working my way through the other requests I got from that list. Onward!

24. “It’s six o’clock in the morning, you’re not having vodka.” & “Don’t argue, just do it.”

Harry Styles was pretty much a household name. He was famous for his rise in One Direction, then for his extraordinary solo career and his phenomenal performance in an Oscar-winning film. He was seen as pretty much the nicest person in Hollywood—or anywhere, really—and you would be hard pressed to find a person with something bad to say about him. He donated millions to charities, he went out of his way to fulfill as many Make-a-Wish requests as possible, he never said a bad word to anyone, even those damn paparazzi that harassed him on the daily, and he was the first celebrity you’d worked with that always shook hands with everyone present when he walked into a room. You’d never met anyone like him before, and you honestly didn’t want to work for anyone else ever again.

Being his personal assistant, though, you saw a different side to Harry than the general public saw. That didn’t mean you admired him any less, because he’d never done anything or asked you to do anything that was questionable or shady. He was exactly the same as he portrayed himself to the public as he was in his private day-to-day life. Except he was much weirder than anyone who didn’t personally know him would ever expect, she believed. And he was much more the typical early twenty-something male than people probably would like to believe. He certainly didn’t party as much as he used to, but he could still get drunk with the best of them, and he was currently the most drunk Y/N had seen him in a long time.

It was post-tour, and they had just arrived back in the UK from being in Italy for about two weeks. While it had been mostly a vacation for Y/N, since there wasn’t much planning to their trip, aside from when he went on his fancy yacht trip, she had been there to make sure Harry was where he was supposed to be when they weren’t wandering around town or lounging on the beach. Now that they were back on their home turf, there weren’t many obligations Harry had, so there really wasn’t any reason for Y/N to be with him often. She spent most of her day in her own flat, catching up on the shows she’d missed out on while touring the world with Harry and the rest of his crew. Season eight of Shameless had just been released on Shameless, so she had every intention of finishing all twelve episodes in a few days before she was back to searching for something else to do with her downtime. She was positive Harry would be back to filling his schedule within a few weeks, so she was going to enjoy it while she could.

She’d only been out of Harry’s presence for fifty-four hours when she got a phone call from him on a Friday night, or Saturday morning, rather. It was nearing four in the morning, and she was on the last episode of Shameless, and she was determined to finish it. She wasn’t really even tired, since she’d been lounging around all day drinking coffee and sitting in front of a fan while streaming her show from her laptop to her telly.

Y/N paused her show and answered right away. If Harry was calling her in the middle of the night, it must have been something serious, and she had better answer. Or he could be calling to ask her if she wanted to go with him to the taco place a few blocks over that was open until two in the morning because he was craving horchata and cilantro. (He had called her just after midnight after his first show in LA back in July, with a real hankering for King Taco. There were only two in all of California, and while he’d heard the one somewhere in the Inland Empire was good, he knew the original one in LA was the best. It was necessary for his stay in LA. And who was Y/N to deny her boss his craving for Mexican food in the middle of the night? She wasn’t a monster, after all.)

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” she’d answered.

“Y/N?” That definitely wasn’t Harry, and Y/N sat up in her seat, suddenly more alert than she had been.

“Mitch? Why have yeh got Harry’s phone?”

“Harry is beyond drunk. I’d take him back to his place myself, but the car’s full. And I don’t want to send him home alone. Who knows if he’d actually even get there.”

That was the most Y/N had heard Mitch utter at once in the entire time she’d known him, so she knew Harry must have been in a state. She could hear yelling in the background that sounded distinctly like Harry, and Mitch shushed him and told him he was on the phone. Harry giggled and made a slurred shushing sound, and Y/N could just imagine him pressing his forefinger to his pursed lips. She smiled.

“Where are you lot at?” she asked, already reaching to slip her trainers on, once that Harry bought for her when they were in America. They were just Vans, but he had a matching pair, and she had been endeared by his excitement when he revealed them to her before one of his shows. He had been so happy that he’d gotten her shoe size correct without even having to ask her.

“Just a pub a few blocks from Harry’s place.”

That was all the information Y/N needed to know exactly where it was that Harry was. It was a low-key, quiet pub that was a lot like the ones he’d gone to in Holmes Chapel, he had told her. He preferred it to the loud clubs that were more popular in London because it was familiar and more his speed than the thumping music and writhing mass of bodies that came along with larger clubs. She’d been to it many times with him, enjoying the ambience of the wooden floors and glossy top of the bar. She knew the location well.

“Be there in ten. Hold tight and make sure he doesn’t do anything to hurt himself. Lord knows he’s a clumsy drunk.”

As promised, Y/N pulled up into the car park of the pub ten minutes later, not having changed out of her pajama shorts and tank top. She hadn’t even thought to put a bra on, and she was regretting it now as she stepped out into the chilly London night. That was the last thing on her mind when she saw Harry, though, leaned up against the side of Sarah’s car, looking like he was giggling uncontrollably as Mitch made sure he stood upright.

When Mitch caught sight of her, a look of relief passed over his face. She jogged up to them and slid Harry’s arm around her shoulder, attempting to take some of his weight so Mitch didn’t have to work as hard.

“I know you’re technically taking time off. I couldn't think of who else to call, though.”

Y/N brushed him off. “I’m his PA, I don’t really have time off.”

“Button!” Harry shouted when he finally opened his eyes enough to spot Y/N talking to Mitch. Apparently, he hadn’t fully realised that he’d had his arm slung around her as she helped Mitch steady him. He tightened his arm around her and squeezed her into his side in a sort of hug-cuddle.

“Hi, H. Had a bit to drink, yeah?” she greeted, flashing him a smile.

Harry raised his free hand and pinched his forefinger and thumb together. “Just a little.”

“From what I saw, he had several shots of tequila and a few mixed drinks. But I wasn’t with him the whole time,” Mitch informed her.

“Fabulous,” she muttered. Telling from how far his lids had lulled, he was incredibly inebriated, more so than she’d ever seen him, as far as she could recall. “Well, thanks for callin’ me, Mitch. Thanks for takin’ care of him. I’ll get him home.”

“Don’t wanna go home. Wanna go to yours.” Harry looked down at her with bleary eyes and pouted.

“Don’t yeh wanna sleep in your own bed?” Y/N enticed, sending a nod Mitch’s way when he gave her a look that asked if she had it handled. When she confirmed, Mitch made his way toward the driver’s side of his car, and Y/N started ushering Harry across to her car.

“Nope. Wanna cuddle up with yeh in your bed. So soft and warm, petal.”

“Oh, boy,” Y/N chuckled. Harry was typically a very affectionate man, but it was at a whole new level when he was drunk.

He was a touchy fellow, too, so the way he was nuzzling his nose into her head was no surprise to her. She couldn’t deny the way her tummy fluttered at his little gestures, but she quickly squashed it down. She was his PA for Christ’s sake. He paid her to be around him and figure out his life. She would deny it to anyone else, but she couldn’t deny it to herself that she fancied him a bit. It was nothing major, she’d convinced herself, just a bit of schoolgirl crush on him, because he was undeniably attractive and she knew how incredibly kind and lovely he was personally. She’d properly dealt with it for years now, so she let little things like his cuddling and hugs and terms of affection slide right off her back. It may have smarted a little, but she did it.

“Please? Don’t wanna go to sleep alone,” he pouted.

“I’ll stay with yeh until yeh fall asleep,” Y/N promised. She’d never slept with Harry before, aside from the odd time or two when they’d fallen asleep on a couch together, and they usually just ended up with their heads on each other’s shoulders. Y/N knew Harry was a cuddler, and she didn’t know how that would go over when he was asleep in a proper bed. Plus, she was his employee. Sleeping in a bed together wasn’t exactly appropriate.

“Don’t wanna wake up alone, either,” he argued. They had finally reached Y/N’s car, and she quickly flung the door open and started guiding Harry into the passenger seat. She glanced around quickly to make sure there weren’t any odd fans or paparazzi lingering about, trying to snap pictures of Harry in his extremely intoxicated state, but the parking lot was empty, and the people who were walking by were uninterested in Y/N trying to get a drunkard home.

“How about I take yeh home, put yeh to bed, and I’ll stay in a guest room?” Y/N offered, knowing Harry wouldn’t quit until he got his way. He was stubborn by nature, and his drunk mind had no way of tampering it down like he did when he was sober.

He huffed as Y/N reached across him to buckle him in. “Fine.”

She smiled at him before shutting the door with a sigh. She had a long night ahead of her.

Y/N figured it would be easy enough to get Harry up to bed, and sound asleep within ten minutes of walking in the door. She had been sorely mistaken.

Harry wanted something to eat when they got to his house, so Y/N had obliged him and made him an egg white omelet with some veggies he already had cut up and topped it with hot sauce. He’d sat with a content little smile on his face as he ate it and Y/N made herself a cup of tea. It had already been a late night and the time she’d been awake for the day was starting to wear on her. She was sure she’d be asleep by the time her head eventually hit the pillow in Harry’s cushy guest room.

She’d began to gather him to go upstairs, but he’d insisted on getting himself something to drink. Thinking he was just going to pour himself a glass of water, Y/N had left him to go in search of a charger for her phone, which was nearly dead. When she came back three minutes later, he had a very large bottle of vodka in his hand, the other trying to steady a glass as he attempted to pour. With a groan, Y/N darted over and grabbed both objects from him, dancing out of his reach as he protested.

“It’s six o’clock in the morning, you’re not having vodka,” she told him, capping the bottle and pouring the bit he’d managed to get into the cup down the sink.

“Oi, that’s expensive liquor,” he protested, trying to grab for it again, boxing her into the counter with his body.

“Don’t care. S’not like yeh can’t afford it.”

“Not the point,” he grumbled, pouting as Y/N filled up the glass with water. She turned in his arm, presenting him with the glass with a smile.

“Drink that down now, then head up to your room and get changed. I’ll bring another glass up to yeh in case yeh get thirsty while you’re sleepin’.”

“I don’t need t—”

“Don’t argue, just do it,” she reprimanded, using her mothering voice. It worked on every man she came across that needed a little forceful direction, and Harry was no different. He pouted, but he did as she said, downing the glass in a few gulps before handing it back to her and turning to head up the stairs.

Y/N took the time to refill his glass and find a few paracetamol tablets and clean up her mess from cooking in order to give him time to get undressed and under the covers in peace. For all the times Y/N had seen Harry in just his pants, it had never been when it was just the two of them in his bedroom, and she really did not want to experience that right then. It was one thing to see him nearly naked while she was helping him get into a suit for a show or a photoshoot, but it would have been entirely different if he was plastered and in his own home, trying to get into bed.

Luckily, when she made it up to his room, he was already tucked under a sheet, only his chest and shoulders visible, nearly asleep. He smiled sleepily when he saw her, and she returned it as she set the pills and his water on the nightstand.

“Don’t need to puke or anythin’, do yeh?” she asked, mostly teasing. She was sure Harry could hold his liquor, but he had consumed quite a bit from what she’d gathered from Mitch, so she just wanted to be sure. She couldn’t have her boss choking on his own vomit and dying in the middle of the night. She’d feel awful, not to mention she’d never get hired again.

“Nope. Feel fine, just fuzzy,” he told her, closing his eyes completely.

“Did yeh brush your teeth?” she asked. “Wash your face?”

He peeked one eye open at her, pouting out his lips. “Yes, mum.”

Y/N smiled. “Good. I’ll be down the hall if yeh need anything. Goodnight, Haz.”

“Yeh sure yeh don’t want to cuddle up with me? M’bed’s comfy.”

While the slur to his words should have sent Y/N instantly scurrying away, afraid of the possible turns this conversation could take, she stayed rooted in her spot beside his bed. His offer was tempting, but Y/N was very aware of their separation as employer and employee. And drunk Harry wasn’t someone who’s suggestions she typically took seriously, because they were often ridiculous. This was the same man who thought jumping into the stream that ran around the bungalow they’d stayed in in Jamaica at nearly two in the morning was a good idea.

Eventually, Y/N sighed and flashed him a closed mouth smile. “Be good, Harry. Go to bed, sleep this off, and I’ll see yeh when yeh wake up.”

Harry pouted and muttered back a goodnight as she flicked off the lights and headed to the guest bedroom that she used when she stayed over. They’d had many late nights planning his schedule together, having powwows with Jeff and Harry’s label trying to nail down touring and a promo schedule and any other events he needed to attend. These lasted well into the night, and Harry was always concerned about people driving back so late, so there were always rooms available to those who wanted it. He was a very thoughtful host, and Y/N was very thankful for it.

The first rays of sunlight were already slotting through the cracked blinds when she settled into the bed finally. She pulled the curtains to ensure nothing would wake her up unnecessarily before nestling herself down into the plushy pillows and bedding the mattress was dressed with. She was so comfortable and so exhausted from the events of the last few hours that she fell asleep only moments after she closed her eyes.

Her last thought was that she hoped Harry would take the pain relievers she left out for him and not remember anything that he suggested tonight in the morning. It was enough that she would have to live with the memory. She didn’t need Harry walking around with it too.

Y/N wasn’t sure what hour it was when she became conscious again. The room was dim from the blinds, but she felt rested enough, so she supposed it was probably early afternoon. She had every intention of reaching out and taking a look at her phone for the time, but she was stopped when she realised there was an extra weight on her.

There was an arm slung across her waist and another one under her neck, acting as a pillow. A warm body was pressed against her back and she could distinctly feel the puff of breath against the back of her head, lightly rustling her hair.

Y/N knew it was Harry. Which was a relief of sorts, but her body also tensed with the realisation. When had he gotten in here? How had she not noticed that he’d curled up in bed with her? Had he realised what he’d done, or had it been executed in a drunken stupor?

Whatever the answers, Y/N wasn’t waiting around to find out. She couldn’t deal with this. She couldn’t deal with whatever awkwardness that would ensure once Harry awoke to find them in the same bed together. Drunk Harry’s wants and Sober Harry’s wants were on two completely different spectrums, she reckoned.

So, as carefully as she could, so as not to disturb Harry too much, she slipped out of bed, put her shoes back on, grabbed her phone, and dashed out of the room. She was in her car back on her way to her house in five minutes, her heart beating erratically and her palms a bit sweaty.

She hoped Harry was drunk enough the night before to block out memories of what exactly happened. Y/N didn’t need this affecting her relationship with her boss. She loved Harry, but her job was more important than her emotions.