#like what am i supposed to do when standing for 5 minutes makes me so tired i feel like om gonna pass out

[anotherpapercut]

I had my second physical therapy appointment today and I asked about mobility aids bc I've been using a cane but since my pain is bilateral it's not always super helpful and she told me that the more I use the cane the more my muscles will deteriorate and the more I'll need the cane. then she said I'm way too young to need a walker. not really sure what to do with this

[julesnichols]

Y'know. There were several ups and downs when I was working for the mouse, and the downs were always really, really bad. But like also I'm glad for them because four years ago I absolutely would not have said SHIT about being given a shift that conflicts with my availability and just worked it hoping it never happened again. Now I will talk to all four fucking managers who work throughout the entire day I've been here until one of them listens instead of pushing back and getting pissy about me saying it's not my fault and sure, I'll try to find coverage to be nice, but not my fucking problem if I can't find it, can't work the shift, they can't mark me as a no show and they can die mad about it because they should've thought about it before giving me a shift I can't work 🤷

[bloomzone]

2025 : #1 be disciplined

[ the 2025 glow up serie ? Click here !]

Motivation feels amazing, doesn’t it? It’s like a spark—a burst of energy that pushes you forward. But what happens when the spark fades? That’s where discipline steps in. It’s the routine you build, the habits you cultivate, and the consistency you stick to even on days you don’t feel like it.

So, instead of waiting to feel ready, discipline says, ‘Let’s go, regardless.’ It’s the engine that turns dreams into reality.

"Ask urself right now: What’s one thing I can commit to daily in 2025? Write it down. Small steps lead to giant leaps."

1.Building Your Disciplined

How do u stay disciplined? Start with these three small steps:

✒️.Growth is not supposed to feel good. You’re going to hate it. You’ll feel like quitting more times than you can count. That’s normal. Growth is built in the moments where you want to give up but don’t.

1. Create Clear Goals: Be specific. Instead of saying, ‘I’ll study more,’ say, ‘I’ll study history for 30 minutes every evening.’ BUY A SMALL NOTEBOOK AND WRITE ALL UR GOALS WITH SMALLER ONE TO BE MORE PRODUCTIVE

2. Track Progress: Whether it’s journaling or using an app, tracking helps you stay accountable.

3.Master Your Mindset: Stop waiting to "feel motivated." Understand that motivation is fleeting, but discipline is reliable. Every time your brain tells you to quit, remind yourself: your emotions don’t run the show—your goals do.

2.Excuses Are Lies

Excuses are lies you’ve sold yourself to stay comfortable. 'I’m too tired.' Lie. 'I don’t have time.' Lie. 'I’m just not motivated.' Biggest lie of all.

Here’s the truth: You’re scared. Scared of failure, scared of discomfort, scared of how much effort it takes to change. But let me tell you something: Fear is temporary. Regret is forever. Which one do you want to live with?

No more excuses. You don’t need more time. You need more discipline. You don’t need motivation. You need action. Stop talking about what you want and start doing the work to get it. Right now.

3.look at yourself in the mirror

Look yourself in the mirror tonight and ask: Am I proud of the choices I made today? If the answer is no, fix it tomorrow. And if the answer is still no, fix it the next day. Don’t let yourself off the hook.

2025 isn’t your year unless you make it your year. Stop expecting change to happen to you. You are the change. Get out of your head, get off the couch, and get to work. The only thing standing between you and the life you want is your own laziness. Crush it.

4.Action Plan for a Disciplined Life

Stop acting like you’re doing enough when you know you’re not. If you want that dream college, that perfect GPA, or that career you keep fantasizing about, you need to stop wasting time and follow a real plan. Get up the second your alarm goes off—no snooze, no excuses. Tackle the hardest, most uncomfortable task first thing in the morning because procrastination is for quitters. Create a non-negotiable schedule and stick to it like your life depends on it, because it does. Eliminate every distraction: delete the apps, unfollow the nonsense, and stop treating your phone like your best friend. Hold yourself accountable—write down your progress every day. If you didn’t do anything to move forward, face the fact that you’re the problem. Plan your next day before you sleep, so you wake up ready to win, not wander. And for the love of everything you want in life, stop choosing comfort over progress. Your excuses won’t get you that GPA, that acceptance letter, or that dream job—but discipline will.

breaking this into chunks

1. Kill the Snooze Button: Get out of bed the moment your alarm goes off. No "just 5 more minutes." Those 5 minutes are the difference between starting strong and losing the day.

2. Start With the Hard Stuff: Tackle your most challenging task first thing in the day. Procrastination is your enemy—eat the frog and move on.

3. Create a Non-Negotiable Schedule: Block out specific times for studying, working out, or any critical task. Treat these blocks like appointments with your future self—don’t cancel.

4. Cut Out Time-Wasters: Delete apps you waste time on. Unfollow distractions. If you spend hours scrolling or binge-watching, you’re digging your own grave.

5. Build Accountability: Tell someone your goals and have them call you out when you slack. Better yet, make it public—you’ll hate embarrassing yourself in front of others.

6. Track Progress Daily: Write down everything you’ve done that day to move closer to your goals. If you haven’t done anything, face the hard truth: you’re slacking.

7. Plan Tomorrow Tonight: Before you go to bed, write out your next day’s schedule. If you wake up without a plan, you’ve already lost.

8. Say No to Comfort: Skip the cozy excuses. If it’s not pushing you closer to your goals, it’s holding you back.

Discipline is the foundation of every success story. It’s not about luck, talent, or fleeting motivation—it’s about showing up, doing the hard work, and making the right choices every single day. If you want to achieve your dreams, you need to stop waiting for the perfect moment and start building habits that get you closer to your goals. Cut the excuses, own your failures, and take control of your life. The road to greatness isn’t easy, but every sacrifice, every uncomfortable moment, and every disciplined action will take you one step closer to the future you deserve. You either make it happen, or you watch someone else do it. The choice is yours. The clock is not waiting for u !

@bloomzone ✒️

[cherry-pop-elf]

Kiss It Better Pt: 5

Curly x Reader

SUM: You had been sleeping in the med bay when Daisuke came to find you. Nearly stabbed him, but despite the scare he shared with you some good news! Jimmy managed to open the shipment bay. Now you all can finally get more resources to survive. Right…..?

Warnings: Jimmy, and uh. Actually that’s it. Hmph! Chapter breather again! No real trigger I can tell. Just ya know “it’s a mouthwashing fic” awareness stuff!

Your sleep was miserable. You swore you didn’t even sleep at all. You had just laid there all night, listening to Curly’s painful breathing and flinching at whatever noise the ship caused. No real rest. Only restlessness.

You even heard someone coming down the hallway. Your heart raced, as you gripped your knife tighter under the pillow. There was someone coming, and you had to be prepared. Sure it could be Anya, since she is the nurse.

But what if it’s not?

You would hear the door open, and you tried to look relaxed. Look like you were still fast asleep, and not waiting. Waiting for any sign of proof that it wasn’t Jimmy. Just praying it’s Anya.

So far it didn’t seem so. The foot steps were heavy, like wearing boots. There was also the fact Anya would speak to herself often. Just saying the quietest of things. Just whatever she was thinking. Didn’t hear a an expected ‘oh my-‘ that was gentle and soothing. None of that.

Just heavy foot steps that stood infront of you. Could even feel the body heat coming closer. Made you sweat in fear. The hell was Jimmy going to do? Did he think you were too tired to notice a touch?

Like hell you’ll be next.

You swung the blade right out of the pillow, and was quick to sit up. Panting in a blend of anger and fear.

To your horror it was not Jimmy.

It was Daisuke.

He had managed to fall on his ass just in time. You had been so terrifyingly close to nailing him. You had ghosted his cheek so close you nicked some of his hair right off his head. The small strands now on the floor.

“Oh god, I am so sorry-! I thought you were Jimmy. Fuck, Suke I am so sorry-“ You left the knife on your pillow, as you looked at your hands in disgust. How you were so close to almost seriously hurting your friend.

Typical Daisuke fashion, he laughed it off.

“Don’t worry about it Nakama! I totally get it. You are Curly’s Koibito! Course you were get defensive. I don’t blame you a lick! Pretty impressive, gotta admit. I would even say cool if I wasn’t on the other end of it.” He would laugh away, as he understood the situation.

Strange….He didn’t question you on why you said Jimmy…..

“Oh-! I came in here to tell you something! I figured you were in here, since I knocked on your bedroom door and nothing was responded back. So here’s the deal, Jimmy managed to unlock the shipment door. He told me to round everyone up so we can meet there and enter together.” He explained to you, as he would help you stand up.

He managed to open the door? Finally. His ass was finally being useful. Maybe there was finally something to make these remaining days less terrifying, and maybe extra in case of delays. It was to ideal to expect them to arrive exactly 28 days from now. Never hurts to have extra. Maybe there were better medical supplies! Yeah, also over optimistic but what else did you have left?

“Thanks. I’ll be out in a minute. Need to check over Curly first and all-“ You explain, as Daisuke gave a nod of understanding. Was also going to be used to help collect your thoughts. Damn you needed some proper sleep, but you were too worried for Curly and Anya. Suppose as the spouse of the captain you felt some kind of responsibility.

You don’t even have a role and you still had more respect and nerve to take care of everyone over the new captain.

How peculier.

“I’ll wait outside the door. Give ya privacy and all that.” He said, before stepping out of the door. He even was whistling to make some noise to give you two somewhat of privacy. Damn that guy was such a sweetheart. Even after so much.

Such a ray of sunshine.

You would run through his routine, and used it to help ground yourself. Just things that were familiar and automatic. Just had to get your brain in the game. Wake up a little bit more.

“I’ll be back soon. I promise. I love you, and remember. Just a few more weeks. You can do this. We can return back to those snowy mountains together. You and me. Have your siblings join us even, and watch them face plant over and over from their shitty balance.” You tried to give him hope, and his broken laugh said it worked.

You would kiss his forehead, before tucking away the knife into your robe pocket. Your card ID was in the other, so you didn’t risk damaging it or losing it when pulling the blade out. You also would lay Curly’s head on your pillow, in some kind of hope it could help him get some sleep.

For once he actually seemed to finally rest his eye. Suppose knowing it was your pillow, and having the faintest scent of you, was soothing something in his brain. That special little button to over run certain factors.

Some rest.

With one more Love You, you would now join Daisuke with heading over to the shipment bay. There with Anya and Swansea. Luckily Anya was standing next to Swansea, so that gave you some relief. Did feel a little guilty you didn’t hurry over sooner.

“About damn time you two. What took you so long? Actually, I don’t care. Let’s just get these doors open and finally see what the hell was so important for us to ship over a year’s time frame.” You glared at the nerve he had to talk to you, AND Daisuke, like that.

Even Swansea was shooting him an annoyed look.

“Just open the damn door, kid-“ The eldest of the group warned. “You got it unlocked, go on and open it already! No point in waiting any longer. Let’s see what the hell was so important they had to have it locked down so hard.” He added on.

Jimmy would give an eye roll, before listening to him. With the scanner triggering the override, the doors would finally click themselves to unlock. Sounded like they haven’t opened in years compared to months. Had you a bit worried.

The doors would slide themselves open, and you all were greater to a massive hall. Was just endless boxes. All about the same size, but it was looking into a sky full of stars. Felt like it went on forever. Was so high you swore you could catch a wisp of a cloud.

“Damn….” Swansea muttered, as you all would walk into the shortage volt. A strong stench of mint was quick to hit you all as well. Good to make the eyes water. Had you cough a bit by such an intense flavor overload.

“Smells like someone threw like a mint bomb in here. Phew-!” Daisuke would wave at his face, as Anya seemed to be the only one not really bothered. Suppose years of disinfect use makes you kinda nose blind.

“Wonder why it’s so minty in here.” You pondered, as Jimmy went to grab one of the boxes. Seemed to have some heft, given the weight lifter had to put in some effort to get it down.

Everyone was soon surrounding the box. Just wondering whatever could be inside. What could have been so important to ship, why there is so many, and why the hell the shipment was taking so long to get. Maybe it’s something important so no matter what people would have come for them? That would be nice.

Seems like thank god you found that transmitter.

“Is….is this-?”

“Mouthwash-?!”

Everyone was left kinda speechless. Just there infront of you was a box stuffed with mouthwashing bottles. Just simple, easy to make, mouthwash. Nothing special at all. Just dental hygiene.

Thousands upon thousands upon thousands of mouth wash bottles.

Left you all rather speechless. The hell does someone say? It’s just a bottle of liquid you are meant to spit out. It’s not even useful! And this ship was stuffed with it!

Anya would pick up a bottle, and read off the ingredients. Just trying to find some kinda of use for it. Meanwhile the rest of you were kinda having a crisis.

You on the fact Curly went through all this abuse for something that is not worth dying for. Made your ears ring, and nothing could really get through your head. You just had to process this insanity before you. That this was what would have been your final mission call, and what Curly lost his limbs for.

What pulled you away from the cocktail of mixed emotions was Anya panicking.

You quickly looked over, and say Swansea uncorking a bottle. Just out right drinking it.

“Hey hey-! Stop that-!” You ran over, and managed to get him to stop. Half the bottle was empty though. Was it dangerous to drink that stuff? You knew he had been sober for years, but was he really going to be that desperate for a fix?

People were falling apart fast. You needed to bring everyone back into control again. You wish it could be as easy as telling them the truth, but if Jimmy caught scent that help will come he might do something drastic. Maybe go on a killing spree and say he was the last survivor. Maybe something worse? What could be worse?

You didn’t want to know.

“Swansea, please. We still have plenty of rations, right? We aren’t empty on supplies just yet-“ You would take on the position of leader, since Jimmy sure was doing a shit job of it. Didnt say a damn thing when poor Swansea started chugging.

You would jump up on one of the crates, and used it as a stand to get everyone’s attention. Get everyone to focus on you and listen closely. You had to make a plan. Get gears turning in the right directions.

“We are going to be ok. Like I said, we still have supplies left. Curly can afford to stay in his bandages a little longer than normal with how we keep the med bay clean. He can afford to slow down his pain killer usage. We can stretch the food out longer if we make sure to not waste our energy on things that aren’t absolutely needed. We can afford to wait. We can wait. We will wait. At the very least try and give this another month before you guys all go crazy and say mutiny. Ok? We will be ok. Trust me. Curly and I had been victims of a crashed ship before. We will be ok.”

That was a lie.

Curly never crashed a ship in all his years. Never even crashed a damn bike, but sometimes you need to create fake hope to keep people from eating each other alive. That’s what a captain does. You try and take care of your crew by all means possible. You try, at least.

Something Jimmy hasn’t done at all.

“You are right-“ Anya said, before joining you on the box. She was anxious to speak up, because it made Jimmy focus on her, but she wanted to take care of everyone the best she could as well. She wanted to become a doctor for a reason. To help people. Now was her time to shine.

“We just need to remain calm. Panicking and doing things like chugging mouthwash isn’t going to do any of us good. We are still stable right now. Maybe there IS something useful here. We will look through here, while Swansea and Daisuke keep working on trying to repair what they can.”

You were proud of Anya. Having two calm voices was going to have a heavier impact than just one. Seemed to work on Swansea at least. To see you two up there, holding each other for support.

Just like his girls.

“Fine fine. But ONE month. That’s all you’ll get out of me-“ He warned, before whistling for Daisuke to follow him back to the lower decks. Suke didn’t really want to. Not with the fact Jimmy remained so silent during all this, and just glared at the two on the box.

“Jimmy? Your thoughts-?” Daisuke tried to get him to speak. Everyone now looked to the ‘Captain’ now. All he had to do was scoff.

“You heard them. Not like we have any better shit to do.” He narrowed his eyes at you, being suspicious on how you seemed so damn calm about this realization. You hope he thinks you are just good at playing it cool.

“I’m going to see if I can dig my way through some of the foam in the rooms to find any more supplies we can use.” Finally. Something actually useful from him.

That was when the team split up, and you would join Anya in trying to hunt down possible supplies through the thousands of boxes of mouthwash. Maybe something an employee left behind, or other materials stuffed away.

Once you were damn near the back of the storage vault, and any possible sounds of extra footsteps could be heard miles away, you finally pulled her aside.

You told her everything.

She sobbed into your shoulder in pure relief. Things were going to actually be ok indeed. She just had to let it all out. Probably some mixture of that crying was about Curly as well. You had to tell her that part. She’s a nurse. She needed to know for medical purposes. Such as infection risks and what wounds were reopened.

Didn’t know how long she cried, but it was long enough for Jimmy to get suspicious. Ended up hunting you two down in the vault. Fortunately his foot steps were easy to hear from so far away.

You couldn’t help but feel such a heavy dread come your way. That maybe it was better to hide. You didn’t know why. Something just sounded so off about his foot steps. They were heavier…and faster.

“Shhhh-“ You hushed, and she would wipe her eyes clean. Now she heard it to, and it was making her anxious as well. The two of you looked at each other, before to the shelves.

Time to put that ice mountain training with curly to use.

You climbed up the shelves, and tried to get as high as you could. Anya did her best to follow after you. She would directly follow the path you took, but her foot ended up slipping. She managed to grab your robe, and now you were holding on to dear life to the top shelf, while she tried to get her grip again.

“I swear I heard her crying back here. I know I did. I know her crying better than anyone-“ Jimmy muttered, as he was just under you both. Oh how you were trying so hard to keep your grip. You needed to move so bad, but if you did you risked making noise. You just had to hang on. Hang on long enough for him to leave.

Felt like an eternity, but you could hear him walking. That was until Anya’s sandal slipped off from her trying to get her footing.

The echo it made froze your blood.

You could feel him turning around, and you swore it was all over.

“JIMMY! SWANSEA AND I FOUND SOMETHING!” You could hear Daisuke call.

Thank you Ray of sunshine.

You would hear his footsteps fade away, and now you were finally able to help her up to the top shelf. The two of you just hiding there for a while. Catching your breaths, and shaking.

“Will Curly be ok stationed out in our bedroom?” You asked her, when you two were able to breathe.

“Yes….Yes he should. Just need to make sure he remains on clean fabric, a place to hang his IV, and things like that.” She swallowed, as you would stroke her hair.

“And a standby nurse?” You asked, as her eyes stared up at you with such a relief. A real place to hide. To finally get real sleep.

“Never hurts to have extra help.” She consented, as you two kept holding each other. Deep breaths of that painful mint, and the sounds of the ever creaking ship.

You couldn’t help but swear you could hear your husbands groans from the medbay. Maybe it was your imagination or maybe……

Jimmy was taking his anger out on someone.

You closed your eyes, and prayed it wasn’t the latter.

Just twenty eight more days.

Just…….

28 more days until rescue…..

Tag list: @meheheasasa @letmebedelutional @trashcansally @balanahala562 @dinkyzoop @danart501 @spudfromspace @niyamamiya @silas-222 @lil-writer-523 @ratkidcalledallie @vainillacookie @gumycandyyy @kawliflo @mikeyswifie @sc4rrc @infl1cted @sakui1 @justsomereaderwholikesanime @strawbrysapphic @bittersw33t-lotus @emmathecouchpotato4583 @crysta4rtist @luvsymai @mythraendir @dietcokeandlana @teenie-beanie @chewbrry @letmebedelutional

Like I say, it depends on when you ask and the fact tumblr doesn’t like me tagging certain usernames. Like they don’t even register. So do a solid and reblog to help people I’m unable to tag to see this post! Thank you!

Prev 5 Next

[athenamikaelson]

Klaus Mikaelson x Reader!Soulmate x Elijah Mikaelson PART 5

Word Count- 3.3k

Warnings- Swearing, violence, slight SA, Elijah being a simp.

A/N- This chapter wasn’t much but I wanted to get something out to you guys. NEXT CHAPTER though, there will be a lot of Elijah and reader. I am very excited to write that. And most likely the chapter after that will be the intro of our favorite Hybrid, which I know many of you have been itching for. 

ALSO, I want to thank you all for your support. It means so much to me that so many of you love this series as much as I do.

“Wait, so Rose is dead, werewolves are roaming the streets of Mystic Falls, and some bitch kidnapped you? All in a span of a week. ”

I look up to Caroline who is sitting behind me braiding my hair. She solemnly nods and frowns. 

“Ya, thankfully though Elijah’s witches came in clutch and helped save the day,” Caroline says as she moves my head forward to go back to braiding my hair. 

“Elijah helped,” I question Elena, who sits before me with Bonnie as they paint each other’s nails. Elena had called me an hour ago saying we were having a sleepover at Careoline’s but she never explained why. 

She nods, “Ya, I guess he is keeping his side of the deal.

Bonnie chimes into the conversation but I tone them out. Ever since that night in Elena’s room, my mind has been plagued by thoughts of the suited original vampire. His dark eyes haunt my dreams and when I’m awake I feel as if he’s not far away. I know I’m being delusional but I have these moments where I think I’m going to turn around and he’s going to be standing right behind me. 

“He’s kind of cute,” Caroline’s words bring me back to the conversation at hand. 

“Who?” 

“Have you not been listening,” She asks me, to which I just shrug my shoulders embarrassedly. Caroline and I have started to have an interesting friendship. Unlike my friendship with Elena in which we both have somewhat trauma bonded, my friendship with Caroline is more her talking my ear off and me enjoying not having to talk. I had originally thought that Caroline and I wouldn’t mesh well since I kind of hate people who don’t know when to shut up. But oddly enough we work well together. I don’t pressure her to stop talking and she doesn’t pressure me to talk. 

Bonnie and I on the other hand both talk much so when we’re together it’s mostly in peaceful silence. I think we both appreciate that though with all the hectic things we’ve had to deal with. 

“Elijah. I was talking about Elijah. He’s got that suave gentleman look to him, but he also looks like he’d be a freak in the sheets if you know what I mean,” She jokingly shoves me but for some reason hearing her talk about him that way makes an odd feeling rise in my gut, “He seems like your type Y/N.”

My eyebrows furrow, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Caroline shrugs her shoulder, “I don’t know, just an inference.”

“How about we order food,” Elena pipes up, I’m guessing she noticed the embarrassed look I had on my face and decided to rescue me from that awkward conversation. I send her a small smile as Caroline instantly agrees and Bonnie nods. 

—

Thirty minutes later, Bonnie, Elena, Caroline, and I are sitting on the floor of Caroline’s bedroom eating Chinese food. I watch silently as Bonnie and Caroline argue if we should watch The Notebook or Pride and Prejudice. Elena sits next to me watching and giggling at them. As I sit there silently watching all my new friends, I find myself smiling to myself. For the first time in years, I actually feel as if I belong. As if I’m a part of something. And I like it. I really like it. 

—

RING RING RING

I jolt awake at the ringing of a cell phone and groan as the morning light pierces my eyes. I’m not the only one annoyed from being awoken because I hear Caroline and Bonnie growling at Elena for answering her phone so early in the morning. I can hear some of what she and Stefan are talking about from her position outside the door but decide listening to them flirt isn’t how I want to spend my morning so I throw my pillow over my head and try to suffocate myself. I’m about to doze off when my pillow is ripped off my face. 

“First of all, suffocation really,” Elena glances down at me from her standing position, “Second of all you’re getting a call.” She hands me my phone. I glance down at the unknown number on the screen and groan as I answer it, already annoyed with the caller.

“What do you want Damon?” I asked annoyed as I waited for the vampire to respond. 

“I’m picking you up from your house in an hour you better be dressed to impress Mystic Falls’ elite.”

“What the hell are you talking about Demon?”

“Listen Pukey, I got word that our favorite original is going to be at the Mayor’s tea party and you’re going as my plus one.”

I frown at Damon’s mention of Elijah, “Why me?” 

I hear Damon groan from his end as if all my questions are annoying him, “For some reason, the suited one has a soft spot for you so I’m guessing he would be less inclined to kill me with you at my side. So get your ass ready and be ready or I’ll drag you to the party in your PJs,” Damon pauses for a moment, “You know what, feel free to wear what you’re wearing now. I'm interested to know what you wear to sleep. If anything at all.”

I loudly gag and Damon laughs and then ends our call. I groan and sit up. I turn over my shoulder to see Caroline and Bonnie cuddling together and sleeping. I slightly smile at the sight but freeze up. Elijah. I’m seeing Elijah today. 

—

“Well, don’t you look darling,” Damon smirks at me as I get into the passenger seat of his Mustang, “Elijah’s going to eat you right up.” 

I visibly shake at his words and shoot him a glare.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Elijah doesn’t have a soft spot for me.”

Damon just hums to himself, “Sure. Whatever you say Pukerella.”

—

As we climb the stairs of the Mayor’s house I nervously fiddle with the hem of my dress. I tried my best to find something suitable for the Mayor’s tea party but unfortunately, I didn’t have the funds for expensive beautiful dresses like my peers so I had to settle for a simple white sundress that stops at my mid-thigh. There is dark red lacing that lines the hem. I matched the red thread to a hair ribbon I had and used that to put my hair up. What is making me the most uncomfortable though is that I got this dress a long time ago, so I’ve filled it out in places that are quite visible. 

“Stop fiddling,” Damon says as he grabs my arm in his and holds it to his chest like we’re some cute couple and he’s a gentleman. Both are very much false. I try to shake away from him but his grip only tightens. He leads us up the steps and through the door where classical music fills the room. Many old women converse together as we pass.

“Damon and Y/N, what are you guys doing here?” Jenna questions him as she walks over to us, she notices me and a look of confusion contorts her face as she notices our interlocked hands.

“Hi, you came,” Some blonde woman comes up to Damon and kisses him deeply on the lips resulting in a gag from me. Thankfully the distraction made Damon unlatch his arm from mine so I squeezed past them and go to stand behind Jenna. This doesn’t last long as Damon thanks Jenna for introducing him and his “friend,” as he walks back over to me grabbing my arm and leading me away from them. I almost trip when I see where Damon is leading us. Right towards Ms. Lockwood and Elijah who is unsurprisingly wearing a suit that looks like it was made just for him, which I’m guessing it was. I lock eyes with him and his lips turn upwards into a small smile but it slightly drops as his gaze drops down to my dress. 

Damon and Ms. Lockwood achieve pleasantries and she introduces Damon to Elijah, who still has his eyes locked on me. Damon pulls me closer to him which catches Elijah’s attention. His once soft eyes darken as he stares at the arm Damon has wrapped around my waist.

“Such a pleasure to meet you,” Damon extends a hand to Elijah and I feel as if I’ve lost all the air in my lungs as Elijah reaches his hand up to Damon’s.

“No. Pleasure’s mine,” Elijah claims but as I notice the grimace on Damon’s face as he contracts his now-redden hand from Elijah’s I’m guessing he’s not being entirely truthful. 

“And oh! Y/N, I didn’t know you were going to be joining us today,” Carol finally notices me as she gives me a once over, “This doesn’t really seem like your crowd.”

I bite back the urge to tell her I’d rather be sticking pin-needles in my eye sockets than have to listen to any of the pompous bitches, but just politely smile at her. 

“Oh, Miss. Y/L/N here is my plus one,” Damon chimes up. Carol looks at me suspiciously as if I shouldn’t be here. 

“I didn’t know you and Y/N were friends.”

Damon throws his arm around my shoulder and pulls me closer to him, “Oh, yes. We’re great friends. Practically best friends if you will.” Carol just nods her head as if she doesn’t completely believe it but relents as she turns to Elijah who hasn’t moved his eyes from Damon’s hand. With all the attention my skin starts to crawl and I raise my left foot slightly and kick it down onto Damon’s right one resulting in a painful hiss to escape his lips. His hand instantly drops from my shoulder and within a moment I feel another hand lightly grab my wrist and pull me away from Damon. I’m almost happy until I see the hand that has grabbed me belongs to no other than Elijah. For some reason though as soon as he has pulled me away from Damon he drops my wrist and lets me stand on my own. I know I shouldn’t but I send him an appreciative smile. For a moment Elijah just stares at me blankly before nodding his head, he quickly turns his attention back to Ms. Lockwood but before he’s fully turned away from me I could’ve sworn I saw a light pink hue on his cheeks. Was he blushing? Wait. can vampires even blush?

—

“This is a bad idea, why are you trying to provoke an old ass vampire who could quite literally kill everyone in this building within a blink of an eye,” I frantically ask Damon as he leads me into an empty office in the Mayor’s house. 

“He’s not going to kill us, he made a deal,” Damon responds nonchalantly but from the look in his eyes, I don’t think he truly believes himself either. 

“You’re quite right Damon, I did make a deal,” I whip around to see Elijah coming into the office and shutting the door behind him, “But, I made a deal with Elena, not you. So tell me, what can I help you with?”

“I was hoping we could have a word,” Damon smirks at him.

“Where is Elena?”

“Safe with Stefan. Laying low, you know bit of a werewolf problem,” Damon answers his question. Elijah nods his head. And my eyes watch as his fingers draw circles on the chair he’s leaning on. 

“Oh, yeah. I heard about that,” Elijah responds and I glance up from his hands to see him staring at me with a small smirk on his face. Fuck, please god tell me he didn’t see me ogling his fucking fingers. He taps his index and pointer finger twice on the leather seat in front of him once more as if he knows that’ll answer the question I just asked myself. I whip my view from him to the wall beside me as Damon and Elijah keep talking. Although I can't see him I can still feel Elijah’s eyes burning holes onto the side of my head. 

“I’m sure you did since it was your witch who saved the day.”

“You are welcome.”

“Which adds to my confusion on exactly why you’re here,” Damon stop fucking questioning him before he rips your throat out!

“Why don’t you just stay focused on keeping Elena safe and leave the rest to me,” Elijah turns like he’s about to leave and I release a breath but Damon speeds in front of him stopping him.

“Not good enough.”

I sit there holding my breath, as Elijah stands there still looking at Damon.

“Elskan,” Elijah turns his head to glance at me, “Please turn back to the wall.” 

I don’t fight him on this as I whip back around and continue staring at the wall I had previously stared at. I flinch when I hear Damon hit the wall by the desk. I almost gag when I hear the sound of bones cracking and Damon grunting in pain. 

“You young vampires, so arrogant. How dare you come in here and challenge me?”

“You can’t kill me, man. It’s not part of the deal.”

“Silence,” Within another second a squelching sound hits my ears and Damon starts grunting in pain. I’m glad Elijah gave me the heads up or I’d be throwing up right now. 

“I’m an original. Show a little respect. The moment you cease to be of use to me, you’re dead. So, you should do what I say. Keep Elena safe.”

I hear Elijah’s footsteps retreat towards to door but I hold my breath as they stop.

“Elskan,” I slowly turn and quickly avert my gaze from the bloody Damon and look up at Elijah who is standing at the door, “I will be seeing you shortly.” He stares at me momentarily before speeding away. What the fuck was that supposed to mean?

—

“Why am I here again,” I question Damon as he leads me and Alaric into his mansion of a house. 

“Because I needed a drink asap,” He turns over his shoulder to look at me, “Unless you’re offering?” 

I cringe in disgust as Alaric comes to stand in front of me. 

“Leave her alone Damon,” Damon just rolls his eyes and makes his way to the couch, and pours himself a drink.

“Let me talk to him for a few minutes then I’ll take you home myself,” Alaric sends me a small smile, and even though I know there are no bad intentions in his proposition being alone with an older man I barely know unsettles me. But since it’s getting dark outside and I live on the outskirts of town, I need a ride. Better a history teacher than an alcoholic vampire. 

“Ok, thanks,” I send him a small smile and then turn to Damon, “Where’s your bathroom?” I glance down the neverending hallway.

Damon throws his hand up and waves it around nonchalantly, “There’s like 30 of them, go hunting.” Alaric sends me a sad smile and gestures towards the hallway to our right. I nod and walk away from the men 

After five minutes of walking down hallways and opening up random doors, I find myself in a bathroom bigger than my entire living room. Fucking rich people. After using the bathroom and wiping my face with water to try to wake myself up I start walking back towards where I think the living room was. I freeze though when I notice I don’t hear Damon’s annoying voice, matter of fact I don’t hear anything at all. I get a bad feeling in my gut so I go to turn back around but something smashes into my skull and the world goes black. 

— 

“Ah, there she is. Morning sweetheart,” I frown as an unfamiliar voice grates my eardrums. Mixed with the pounding headache I have I think I’m going to be sick. God, I have got to start taking Tums. I try to move but something cold and heavy is holding me back. I slowly open my eyes to see chains wrapped around me holding me in place in a chair. No matter how hard I try they won’t budge. 

“Aren’t you a pretty little thing,” A man’s voice registers as I look up to see an ugly-looking man staring down at me. The look in his eyes makes my heart drop to my ass. I flinch back as he drags his finger down my face and fight the urge to cry as the finger makes its descent down toward to center of my chest. 

“Leave her alone,” Damon, who I’ve now realized is sitting next to me chained up and bloody, yells at the man. The man only laughs sickly but thankfully lifts his hands away from me.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to hurt her,” He claims but the look in his eyes has me thinking otherwise. Damon must think this as well because he lets out a low growl. 

“He might not hurt her but I will,” I woman’s voice chimes in but before I can find where it’s coming from a sharp pain slashes into my leg and I scream out as waves of agony wash over me. Damon’s yells are all I hear as I look down to my thigh which now has a small dagger in it. Tears involuntarily spill out of my eyes as my blurry vision looks up to see my assailant. A blonde woman stares down at me with a smile, but nothing about it is friendly and warm. Her smile deepens as she reaches her hand back down and within another moment I’m screaming again as she pulls the knife from my leg. 

“You fucking bitch,” I cry out, resulting in a deep laugh from her. 

“Hey, fleabag! Leave her alone alright, I’m the one who pissed all over your kibble, come stab me.” Damon tries to coax the woman. 

She just smiles again, “We want the moonstone. Where is it?”

“Get over it, honey. You’re never going to get it.”

I verbally groan at Damon’s response and try to fight back against the waves of tiredness of feeling. I know with the amount of blood I’m losing that if I go to sleep now I’m most likely not waking up. And there’s no way I’m letting this bitch with dead ends be the reason I meet my demise. 

“Looking for this,” I almost let out a cry of relief as I looked up to see Elijah leaning against a wooden pillar. His nonchalant attitude instantly changes as I catch his eye. His dark eyes furiously move over my face, his nose crinkles (almost cutely), and his eyes look down to my bleeding thigh. My once-white dress is now as red as the ribbon in my hair. 

I try to stay awake as Elijah makes his way down the staircase with the stone in his hands. My eyes keep opening and shutting though as my vision keeps blurring. I hear bits and pieces of screams and bones cracking before I feel the weight of the chains around me disappear and a warm hand raises to my lips. 

“That’s my girl, come now Elskan. Drink.”

—

I wake up in my bed with a loud groan. My hands stretch out beside me as I feel the white fabric of the comforter. Wait. White? I quickly sit up and instantly regret it as a wash-up pain flows through my body. But the fear that I had just awoken in a bed that is not my trumps that pain. What the fuck happened last night? “You’re awake, wonderful,” A deep voice comes from the edge of the room, “We have much to discuss, Elskan.”

[alotofpockets]

Fun facts | Grace Clinton x Reader

5k celebration prompt: “Do you ever run out of fun facts?”

Woso masterlist | Words: 1.4k

-----

A knock on your door interrupted your thoughts. For the past hour you had been debating your outfit, switching between a top every five minutes. But, the knock on your door meant that Grace was here to pick you up for your first date, so the top you were currently wearing had to be the one.

You quickly make your way to the door, not wanting to leave her waiting for too long. When you opened it, Grace’s face lit up. “You look amazing.” You feel your cheeks flushing, already by even such a small compliment. “Thank you, so do you.”

Grace moved into your apartment building a few weeks ago. The thick Liverpool accent had caught your attention instantly when you were making your way downstairs. None of the neighbours that you knew had that accent, so your curiosity was instantly triggered.

What you hadn’t expected to find around the corner was the contents of a moving box scattered over the hallway floor. “A single cardboard box can be reused 5 to 7 times before it starts to break down and lose its strength, yet here I am on my first use with my stuff scattered all across the hall.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at the unexpected commentary as you stepped around the corner. “I think you might’ve gotten the one box that has a vendetta against moving. Clearly it wasn’t cut out for this life.”

The girl looked up, startled but amused. “Ah, so it is the box’s fault, is it? Not my fault for not using proper packing rules, and putting more weight in it than you’re supposed to?”

Within ten seconds of meeting this stranger, you already loved her humour. You crouched down to help her pick up the scattered items. “I mean, who am I to argue with a moving box expert?”

She laughed at your joke, the sound of her laughter like music to your ears. Never had you imagined you’d be able to fall for a stranger so quickly. The way she so effortlessly joked around with you, made you want to get to know her better.

“Oh, I’m full of fascinating facts about boxes, and well just random facts in general. Stick around long enough, and you’ll learn loads!” She stood with her hands now filled with her items.

“Well, if this is how you introduce yourself to your new neighbours, I am definitely interested in sticking around for more. I’m y/n, by the way. Your neighbour who now knows more about moving boxes than she ever planned to.”

The girl chuckled. “Grace, the neighbour who might’ve just exposed her weirdest talent way too early.” With a smile and a shake of your head you say, “I think it’s cute.” You noticed the light flush of her cheeks before she quickly turned her face away from you. “What floor are you on? I’ll help carry your stuff up.”

Since that day the two of you have been chatting every day, whether it was face to face or over text, the two of you were connecting. It was instantly clear to the both of you that it wasn’t just a neighbourly or even just friendly connection, and you wanted to explore it more. 

So, Grace asked you out on a date and now here she is standing in front of your door. All your nerves faded away as you walked down together, and she started talking.

“Did you know that dates involving outdoor activities create stronger connections?” If you had learned one thing over the past few weeks is that Grace had a fun fact on just about every topic. “I didn’t, but it makes sense if you think about it.”

She agreed, “It’s why I wanted to grab some coffee to go and walk through the park on our way to what I have planned.”

“That sounds lovely, and also very adorable, telling me you want to have a stronger connection with me.” You smiled at her as you walked out of the apartment building.

Grace paid for your coffee, even if you told her that wasn’t fair because she was already paying for the rest of the date. “You can get them next time.”

“Oh, you already know that there will be a next time?” You said with an amused smile. “Around 66% of people say that they know within the first thirty minutes if they’re interested in a second date.”

You chuckled, of course she had a fun fact for that too. “Thirty minutes sounds doable for getting the vibe of a person, but Grace we’ve been out for like five minutes.” She smiles and shrugs, “I already knew before I knocked on your door.”

Gosh she was a smooth talker. “I think I may need the remaining twenty five minutes to decide.” You joked back, and the glint in her eyes was enough to make you cave in. “Fine, you got me. I was already thinking of what I could plan for our next date before you knocked on my door as well.”

You continued on your walk, sipping on your coffee, and talking with Grace. If you had only done this for the duration of the date, you would already have considered it a good date. Grace had more planned though, as she led you into town and you stopped in front of one of the buildings.

“Are we going to make pottery?” You asked as you took in the shop’s window. “Close, but no. We’re painting pottery.” Her smile grew when she saw the excitement on your face.

Once you were inside and you were all settled in at one of the tables, surrounded by a bunch of different pottery dishes, paints and brushes, Grace started speaking excitedly about pottery. “Did you know that pottery is one of the oldest human inventions, with the earliest known pieces dating back over 20,000 years?”

With a shake of your head you say, “Wow, that is so long. Isn’t it cool how some things stick around for so long?” She nodded, “Yeah, I love it.”

You decided on a mug for your first pottery piece, while Grace went for a bowl. You thought for a moment on what you wanted to paint on the mug, deciding on some tulips. After dipping your paint brush into the green paint, you fill the mug with the stems and leaves, leaving room to add the flowers in different colours.

“Did you know in the 17th century, tulips were so valuable in Holland that they were used as a currency?” At this point you weren’t even surprised by Grace’s random knowledge on all topics anymore. “That’s crazy, imagine getting coffee somewhere and just paying with tulips.”

“Yeah, it’s so weird to think about, right? They even named the period Tulip Mania.” With the new knowledge about tulips, you fill the already painted stems with red, orange, and pink tulip flowers. 

When you looked over to Grace’s bowl, she had filled the outside with small watermelon pieces, and she was now working on painting the inside of the bowl like the inside of a watermelon. 

“Yours looks so cool!” You say in awe. “Thank you! I love it, and yours too. Did you know that watermelons belong to the cucumber family? Technically they are classified as both a fruit and a vegetable!”

“Do you ever run out of fun facts?” You say with a soft chuckle. Amazed at her excitement over the classification of a watermelon.

“Oh, is it too much? I can stop.” She says taken back. You’re quick to reach out your hand and place it over hers. “Please never stop, I love it.” Her smile grew again. “Yeah?” You nod, “It’s so cool that you have all this random knowledge, and I love that you want to share it with me.”

The rest of the date was amazing, and like you had already said at the beginning of the date, a second date was definitely happening, and you couldn’t wait to plan something for her.

-----

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[tradgedyinwaves]

Touch - Ch. 5

Poly!141 x chunky!reader tw: little stalkerish at the end

Sunday Morning. 

You woke the next day to a bouquet of white lilies of the valley and yellow roses from Price for his “ungentlemanly actions” the night before and you found yourself immediately forgiving him. It was nice to know that despite what Kit had said, you were desired by someone. And how could you hold that against John? 

🪻: I suppose I forgive you. 🥃: How magnanimous of you, little bird. Does this mean I can expect a second date? 🪻: I guess. :P 

Your phone was now constantly blowing up with messages from Johnny and Price. And then Kyle was added, asking for your number from Price who’d asked you and you’d given your permission. You didn’t know what was going on. This time last year, you couldn’t get your husband to even look at you and now three very, very attractive British S.A.S members were clambering over each other for your attention. You didn’t know what they saw in you, but you weren’t going to complain. Eventually, the four of you ended up in a group chat when both Johnny and Kyle decided they wanted to take you out too. 

🪻: Alright. Do you guys even know the others have asked me out? Cause while I’m not complaining, ya’ll are friends.  🧼: Aw Petal. Just a wee competition between mates. 🥃: They’re just worried that I snagged you first, little bird.  👀: Excuse you. We’re giving her options for when she decides she doesn’t want you, old man.  🥃: Kyle, I am barely 10 years older than you. That doesn’t make me elderly. 🪻: -grabs popcorn- This is entertaining. I’ve never had men fight over me before. 🧼: Just you wait, they get worse than this.

And it did.

On Monday, Kyle showed up at your job and insisted on taking you out for lunch, his treat of course.

On Tuesday, Johnny brought flowers to you AND your boss who immediately told you that he was the one to pick. 

On Wednesday, Price picked you up from work and took you to a little bookstore, buying anything you even glanced at.

On Thursday, no one showed up to dote on you and despite numerous messages, no one replied to you.

On Friday, you received a single message from each of them.

🥃: Being deployed. Be safe, little bird. We’ll be thinking of you.  🧼: Heading out for a mission, petal. We’ll miss you. 👀: Will be gone for a bit, dove. Don’t miss us too much. 

On Saturday, you tried to find something to do all day besides checking your phone every five minutes. 

On Sunday, you visited Magda.

When you finally received a text from Price two weeks later, telling you they were home safe and inviting you over, you felt a weight lift from your shoulders. You’d missed them terribly and were eager to see each of them. So after work on Friday, you rushed home, changed into some leggings and an oversized sweater and headed to the address you’d been sent. 

Pressing the buzzer, they let you in and when the door to their flat opened, Price was standing there with a warm smile. Your arms wrapped around his waist immediately, feeling his thick arms coming to envelop you while he kicked the door closed. 

“Aye, lass. He the only one that gets a hug?” Johnny asked as he rose from the couch, opening his arms with a laugh. “Johnny!” You instantly released Price and launched yourself into Johnny’s arms, hugging him just as tightly. He smelled fresh, like he’d just gotten out of the shower and you breathed in the clean scent of him. 

You felt Kyle wrap his arms around both you and Johnny, pressing against your back and sandwiching you between the two. If you thought it was weird that the three guys you were dating lived together, you didn’t say anything.

A few minutes later, you were tucked into the corner of the couch with a steaming cup of tea while you watched Johnny and Price interacting in the kitchen. It wasn’t lost on you how Price’s hand rested on the small of Johnny’s back or the way Johnny’s eyes softened when he looked at Price. You thought to ask Kyle who was taking up the other corner of the couch, but then you caught him gazing over at the other two wistfully and you felt a little like a fourth wheel. 

A door slid shut somewhere down the hall and it startled you before your gaze slid to Kyle with a raised brow. “I assume that’s Simon?” you asked, nodding your head to gesture down the hall. “Yeah, he’s not much of a people person, but he’ll warm up to you the more you’re around,” Johnny replied instead, making you look at him where he came to sit between you and Kyle. “You make it sound like I’m going to be over here a lot,” you replied with a raise of your brow. 

“Well, we’d like ya to be,” Kyle answered this time, a warm smile on his pretty face. But it felt like there was something that wasn’t being said and it put you on edge. Price could feel your apprehension as he went to sit in his armchair, noticing it on the edges of your eyes and the way you straightened up in your seat. “You look like you’re about to spring out of your seat, birdie. What’s going through your head?” Price questioned, tilting his head slightly while his eyes studied you. 

You froze at his words. You didn’t think you’d been that obvious with your discomfort, but Price had a keen eye and didn’t miss much. “I feel like there’s something I’m missing here,” you theorized, staring into your cup of tea like it was the most interesting thing in the room. Price pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, standing from his chair to sit on the coffee table in front of you. Your eyes widened when your gaze lifted to meet his sparkling blue eyes, feeling as though he was about to tell you that they no longer felt the same and you needed to leave. 

“When you work as closely with a team as we do, things…develop,” Price watched you with trepidation while you nodded, urging him to continue. “The four of us, myself, Johnny, Kyle, and Simon, we’re a team in more ways than one,” Price paused, seeing if he needed to clarify any further. You stared at him for a moment, letting his words process in your head.

“So you’re all like together together?” You clarified, bringing your cup to your lips and sipping, using the moment to gather your thoughts. “Aye, petal, we are,” Johnny replied, reaching over to pat your calf. “So what am I doing here?” you asked, trying to figure out where you fit into this with their doting and dates. Kyle’s laugh was light and airy as he moved to sit next to Price on the coffee table. “We were hoping you’d join us, dove. Don’t worry about Si. He knows what’s going on,” Kyle explained, looking at you with those dark, hopeful eyes. 

Who were you to deny these men? They’d treated you better in the weeks you’d known them than anyone else ever had and there was no question about your safety with them. “I don’t know how to do this,” You stated, hand coming out to gesture between the four of you. “I barely know how to date one person, let alone three,” you continued, feeling the shame of your past settling into your chest. 

Johnny’s hand on your calf squeezed and he flashed you a lopsided smile. “We can figure it out, together, if you want?” He offered, hope filling those cerulean hues of his. You looked between each of them, quiet as your mind swirled with questions. The most prominent being the fourth man in the equation, Simon, but you couldn’t be assed to worry about him right now. If they say he knows and would warm up eventually, you believed them. 

“Okay,” you stated, a soft smile on your lips as the boys processed your single word response. The first to react was Johnny, leaping across the couch to smother you in a bear hug while he buried his face in your hair. Price, always the mother of the group, snatched your tea cup before Johnny crushed you, setting it off to the side before pulling Kyle into his side with a wide smile. 

When you left that night, you felt at ease and dare you say it, happy. You were blessed with three men who doted on you, cared for you, treated you as if you were the world to them. Humming a little tune, you entered your apartment and immediately noticed something was different. You checked every nook and cranny, double checking the locks on the windows and even checked the door handle for pick marks. Everything looked right and instead of calling one of the boys, you sighed and shook it off, telling yourself you were imagining it. 

“Si, you’re going to have to face her at some point. She’s going to be around a lot more now,” Johnny chided while the two laid in bed. “I know, Soap, but she’s not ready,” Simon countered, staring up at the ceiling with an unlit cigarette hanging from his mouth. “Are you sure it’s not you who isn’t ready?” Johnny asked, propping himself up on his elbow and looking down at the behemoth of a man next to him. Simon just grunted and slipped from the bed just to shove the window open and light the cigarette. 

“What are you scared of?” Johnny asked as he joined Simon at the window, both of them looking down over the street below. “I just don’t want her to think I’m stalking her or something. It was over six months ago and I suddenly show up again? Not likely. I was lucky to even see her again.” Simon had never been an optimist. And that wasn’t likely to change any time soon, so Johnny let it lie as he rested his head against the man’s shoulder. 

On the roof across from your building, your shadow stood with his skull mask in place. Watching. Waiting.

Uh oh. Reader may be too happy. Hope nothing happens to her.

Thank you so much to everyone who is liking and reblogging this story! I appreciate every single one of you!

[tyinghershoe]

This with bakugo except yall aren't dating and he has a lil crush

I died laughing reading this. I couldn’t NOT write this out.

Bakugo finds out that you’re telling people he’s your babies father.

Above all, Bakugo is flustered!  

Sure, the first shock arose a hint of anger and embarrassment - as expected when your crush is telling people all sorts of things - but afterward, there was an underlying feeling of giddiness, a type of glow as he thought about how “holy shit, y/n talks about me? I'm on their mind?” 

So, it’s safe to say that he isn’t ENTIRELY bothered, but he is confused. You talk here and there sure, being a part of the same friend group does that, but there was never and inclination that feelings were reciprocated, nor has there ever been a moment that could lead to, well, the current gossip you're spreading around now (He doesn’t want to this too much about this aspect though). 

Now here he is, sitting down in the common area waiting for you to walk right in (you come in every day at exactly 5:28 to watch a show with Mina! Not that he memorized that or anything) so he can hopefully get an answer out of you. 

As expected, there you are. Trotting down to sit on the couch while holding on to your favorite snack, you brought the smaller bag this time, which means you won't be staying down here for long. Actually, you won't be staying here at all, as Bakugo stands up the moment you two make eye contact. 

“Y/n, we need to talk,” he says, choosing to ignore the slight shake of his voice. The confused look on your face is all he needs to know, as he does his best to keep a calm attitude. Stay cool, Bakugo! The last thing he wants is for you to think that you’re just as much of a nuisance as his other friends.  

“Sure.” Confused as you are, you still walk towards him as he strides slightly away from the couches and into a more private area. This is for his sake only, as you seem unaffected by his cryptic commands.  

An urge to stay calm sits in the back of his head, and he turns to stare into your eyes. 

“Hey.”  

“...hey?” 

FUCK! He thinks - that wasn’t what he planned at all! “Was that too casual? Should I just be straight up? She probably doesn’t even like me, screw it.” 

“Why are you telling people in your baby’s father?” The twitch of his eye goes unnoticed, and only now does he realize that the situation is as stupid as it seems. There's an echo in the hall, adding amplification to the tension. 

You however look at him nonchalantly and shrug your shoulders a bit. 

“I don’t know. Bored as hell.” 

That’s all that comes out of your mouth, and for a split-second Bakugo thinks that maybe you really are a nuisance, or maybe Denki accidentally fried your head, only that can explain this reasoning. 

“That’s it? You’re telling people that because you’re bored?” He gasps as if that explanation isn’t good enough (it really isn’t), but you are undoubtedly you - so the chuckle that escaped your lips is one of obvious reasoning. 

“I mean what am I supposed to do?” It’s as simple as that, really. It comes off as almost factual: the sky is blue, the grass is green, Bakugo is the father to your baby.  

“Study, train, use a different dude for your damned rumors.” His voice is laced with grit, but the faint hue of pink that is laced onto his ears and cheeks is noticed by you.  

“Like you’d let that happen!” You challenge. 

 His voice hitches for a second. He wants to scream at you, say that “Obviously I wouldn’t! That bastard you’d pick wouldn’t even compare to me! Have fun having an ugly baby with whoever comes next!” but all that comes out is a simple scoff, “As if.” 

You just smile, and feign innocence to the fact that you know he’s jealous. He sighs and looks at his shoes for a minute, grumbling something softly. 

“At least let me take you out first.” the words are so faint you swear you’re hallucinating. But the shifting of his body lets you know it isn’t a joke.  

“Really?” A smile is etched onto your face, and that “unbothered” attitude of yours quickly folds, showing your true excitement. 

“Yes really!” he begins abrasively, “If you’re gonna be spewing some of your weirdo stuff, then at least let me go out with you for real. The last thing I want is some more rumors.” The excuse is aggressive and simplified, but it’s good enough for the both of yall.  

A nod of your head is all he needs for approval, and finally, he can breathe. 

“Tomorrow?” You ask softly, as it is now your turn to act coy. 

Theres a hum of approval, and he turns to leave – which is for the best, there’s only so much giddiness two lovers can take. 

“Tomorrow.” 

He walks away. 

“I’m not retracting what I told everyone earlier!” the halls echo, but it’s now a reminder of the turning chapter. 

Check out my masterlist here!

[logansargeantsbabymom]

Therapy

Logan Sargeant x Fem!Reader

TW: hurt/comfort & cursing

F1 Masterlist

Follow my instagram account (THATS STRICTLY FOR THIS BLOG) for updates on when i post and fun stuff like that!

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Logan's been so focused on working out that he hasn't noticed that his phone has been ringing the past minute and a half, not at least until there's a banging on his home gyms door.

Logan's head snaps towards the door at the sudden noise, taking long but cautious strides to see who's there, opening it only to reveal a less than pleased Y/N standing there.

"Hey," Logan says breathless as he wipes sweat from his forehead "You could've called first"

a scoff leaves Y/N's mouth "I just did, you've blowing me off this past week. I need you to talk to me"

Logan's first season in Formula 1 wasn't the best, he was a bit underweight, not following the diet his trainer gave him and he wasn't managing his energy well in the car which would burn him out and either made him DNF or finish last, which was really getting to him.

"I'm working out, Y/N, I'm busy." he pants, going right back into the exercise he briefly put on hold.

"You're gonna make their weight requirement in the next 10 minutes?" Y/N spat, a little harsher then she intended it to come out but she still stood her ground, making Logan stop and stare at her.

"Thanks you for being so supportive of my work" Logan said with sarcasm dripping from his voice.

"Because you've been such a champion of mine?" Y/N scoffed. It's true, Y/N just recently signed a contract with WWE's developmental program NXT and not even a single congratulation from her boyfriend.

Logan turned around, fire burning in his eyes "What's that supposed to mean?"

Y/N looks back with an icy stare "What do you think it means?"

Logan just stares at her dumbfounded which causes Y/N to pinch the bridge of her nose in frustration before she continues, "I'm sorry, I'm not allowed to talk about my needs? What needs?"

"Did I say that?" His eyebrows knit in confusion as he stares at her urging her to explain.

"You didn't have to say it, it's implied." She rubs her forehead in anger

Logan whips around in utter confusion "How is it implied?"

"You're the athlete and I'm the girlfriend. That's how you feel right?" That causes Logan's hands to cover his eyes and roughly rub his temples as he senses an argument brewing.

Logan absolutely hated arguing with his girlfriend, but ever since his first season started that's all they ever seemed to do. Logan left the TV on all night? Argument. Logan ate something he shouldn't have? Argument. Y/N left her shower towel on top of Logans beach towel? Argument. Y/N forgot to lock the ferret in the cage and now Logan's keys are missing and he's late to a very important William's meeting (he wasn't making it anyway, he took too long acting like Taylor Swift during the ERAS tour in the shower)? Argument.

"Can we talk about this later, please" Logan tries to change the subject so he can finish his workout

"When Logan? When is later?" Y/N raises her voice an octave higher than she intended.

"Not tonight," Logan said, tears of frustration forming on the brims of his eyes threatening to spill.

His response made Y/N's face contort with anger in a way he's never seen before that he made a mental note of never to make her that mad again because he was scared.

"I have been working out all day. I have up since 4 this morning. I have tried to make their weight requirement for a week, and I am nowhere!" Logan yells, those tears of frustration once threatening to spill have now poured out his eyes with more following in pursuit.

"I've been telling you how unhappy I am for months!" tears have now also started flowing out Y/N's eyes as they argue.

"Everyone's unhappy in Miami! That's what Miami is!" Logan screamed has he throws a 5 pound dumbbell on the floor by the bench

"I don't know how to get through to you anymore. You keep shutting me out! You keep putting up these fences!" Y/N's hands tremble in anger as she throws them up, running her fingers through her hair

"I'm not, I'm not shutting you out" Logan states as he wipes the tears from his face but to no avail as more tears spill from his green eyes

"You're a million miles away all the time" Y/N's voice trembles as she lets the tears free flow.

"Actually, I'm right here." Logan says with the straightest face you can have as a crying arguing mess of a man

"Are you Logan? Actually? Cause I know you" Y/N says as the tears slowly stop falling.

"You're right. I've been distracted, but I promise you, after I make this requirement-" before Logan could finish his statement, he gets cut off

"After the requirement?" Y/N whispers in disbelief

"After the requirement!" Logan confirms in a harsh tone

"Everything is after the requirement!" Y/N screams

"Yeah"

"What if you make the requirement and nothing happens? No William's contract extension? You don't go straight to point positions? You're still a bad driver, You still DNF, You don't get signed with anyone else? What then, Logan? What about me?!" The tears that briefly stopped streaming down her face started back up and flowed faster than this time.

"I can't move with you to Orlando. I can't leave my career behind" Logan ripped off the band-aid, he couldn't put off the real reason he's been avoiding this topic, why he's been avoiding Y/N.

"You think I don't know that?" she trembled.

"What," Logan stops, unsure of what she means and what he wants to say next, a million thought in his mind at what his girlfriend just said to him, but not one of those questions are coming out of his mouth right now "What are you...? What is this? What do you want?" he finally manages to choke out

"I guess I just, I wanted you to tell me not to go" Y/N finally lets out and that's when all the emotion she's been bottling up for months comes out, unable to stop the sobs she chokes out. She's a shaking sobbing mess on the floor and all Logan could do was just stare. He knew she'd been hurting at his cold shoulder treatment but he didn't think it hurt her this bad. He couldn't believe that he was watching her hurt this bad because of him and there was only one question floating in the back of his mind...

why don't I feel bad?

[sams-butt-dem0n]

i loved ur hc about breaking up with the gang! could you do the gang breaking up with reader?

The Gang Breaking Up with Reader

DARRY would have the simple excuse of not having enough time for you due to his busy work schedule and taking care of his brothers in the small amount of spare time he had at the end or beginning of each day. You had tried to convince him that you didn't care that the only time you got to spend together was in bed after a long day, but he wasn't having any of it.

"I'm sorry," he says. "I really am. I don't want to do this but it's only fair."

"Darry, how often do I have to tell you that I don't care about you not being here all the time? I enjoy the time we have together already and I know that you're busy and stressed but that's okay. I love you. Please don't do this to me."

"I'm sorry," he repeats, turning to look away from you. "I'm heading off to work in five minutes. I want you out of here before I get back."

SODAPOP would hate to have to break up with you but he feels like it's the right thing to do. It's definitely due to his lack of self-confidence in a relationship since he found out about Sandy cheating on him and moving away. Don't get me wrong, he's confident in his looks and everything but when it comes to relationships, he tends to beat himself up about every tiny detail.

"Y/n, I gotta tell you something," he says, his voice quieter than usual as he stands at your front door.

"Yeah? What's wrong baby?" You ask, confused as to why he was at your house when you were supposed to be at his place in less than an hour.

"Please don't call me that. It'll only make this harder."

You were really confused now. "Huh? Soda what are you talking about?"

"I can't do this anymore." He says, straightforward as ever.

"What?" You ask, tears welling up in your eyes. "Why? What are you doing? Did I do something wrong?"

"I don't know. I don't know if you did something wrong. Tell me if you did won't you?"

"Soda, you sound crazy right now," you say. "Talk to me, don't do this."

"I can't. I just can't How do I know you aren't two-timing me, huh?"

You were shocked at what he just said to you; appalled even. "You think I'd do that to you? You really think that low of me?"

He stays silent. You nod, close your eyes tightly and when you open them again, a single tear rolls down your cheek.

"Stay there," you say, walking away from the door and leaving him standing there for about 5 minutes, wondering if you were ever going to come back.

You dump all of the shirts and jackets and little crafts he'd given you in front of him on your patio and throw a plastic bag at him afterwards.

"I can't believe you think I'd do that," you said. "So much for trust."

PONYBOY was nervous when he realised he wanted to focus more on school than on his relationship. He didn't want to disappoint Darry with his grades dropping since he was with you. He felt as though you held a restriction against him from succeeding even though he knew you weren't in his heart.

"Y/n," he says to you as you're walking him home.

"Yeah?" You ask, turning your head to look at him.

"I- um. I have something to say but I know you won't like it."

"What is it?" You ask. "You can tell me anything, I promise I won't get mad."

"I want to break up." He says, bluntly.

"What?" You ask, stopping dead in your tracks, his house is only a few hundred yards away.

"I need to focus on my schoolwork and you're not letting me do that," he explains, angering you more and more by the second.

"What do you mean I'm not letting you do that? Pony, all we ever do Is read and study whenever we're over at each other's houses," you reply. "And the one day a week where we aren't studying, we spend some time together and out with the gang. Just like everybody else on a Saturday."

"Just respect my decision," he says.

"Respect? Why should I?" You ask, getting angrier by the minute. "You want me to respect you breaking up with me for pretty much no reason because the one you 're giving me makes no sense."

"Just go home," he snaps before turning around and walking away, leaving you standing there, tears rolling down your face.

DALLAS would break up with you right after he gets out of the cooler. He had convinced himself you were cheating on him with Sodapop, similar to Sylvia. You had gone over to Buck's the second you had found out he was free again and walked in with a huge smile beaming across your face. However, when you opened the door, Buck gave you the dirtiest look he could before mumbling something under his breath and watching you walk past him and up the stairs. Weird.

"Hey, Dal!" You exclaim, opening the door and jumping onto his, wrapping your arms around him. "I missed you."

Usually, he would hug you back and kiss you on the head, telling you how much he had missed you too; even when he was only in there for a couple of nights. This time, he shoves you away from him, anger displayed across his face.

"Dal?" You ask, confused. "What's wrong? Did something happen while you were in the cooler?"

"You tell me, y/n. You tell me what happened," he says, snarling at you.

"I- I don't know what you're talking about. I haven't done anything. At least, I don't think I have," you say, trying to think if you had done anything wrong in the three weeks he had been gone.

"Don't pull that shit!" He yells, scaring you and making you jump a little. "I know what you did, you little whore! I know you fucked him!"

What the fuck was this guy talking about. "What!? I didn't fuck anybody! I haven't had sex since a few nights before you got done in, and that was with you."

"Oh, bullshit!"

"Who did I fuck then, huh? Who are you convinced that I slept with?" You ask, yelling in his face, hurt in your eyes.

"Soda."

You almost laugh in his face but remember that probably would be the smartest thing to do.

"Seriously? Soda?" You say. "You really think I would do something like that? How could you?"

"How could I?" He yells. "How could you! You fucked my friend!"

You shook your head and scoffed. "I don't know why I bother. You're clearly not listening to me and you don't want to believe me. Ask Soda about it and then you'll see that I have not laid a finger on him."

JOHNNY breaks up with you after weeks of weighing up the pros and cons. He felt that you were too good for him and someone with a life as messed up as his doesn't deserve someone as perfect and as gorgeous as you.

"Johnny?" You ask, seeing a figure lying on the concrete in the lot as you're walking home late from the drive-in. "Is that you?"

"Y/n," he says. "I'm sorry."

"Why are you sorry?" You smile, helping him up onto a bench, sitting beside him and holding his hand. "You have no reason to apologise."

"I do, though," he says, hesitating before continuing. "I can't keep doing this."

"What do you mean?" You ask, worry clouding your eyes.

"I can't keep doing this. I'm constantly embarrassing you when we're out together; I can tell that people make fun of you for dating me. I'm nowhere near good enough for you. I can't sit here and watch you waste your life away for someone like me. You deserve some rich, fancy soc like Randy or Bob."

"Johnny, what the hell are you talking about?" You say, letting go of his hand. "I love you more than anything. I don't care what anybody else thinks and if you think that I should then why? Why should I care? if they saw you the way that I do then they'd all understand."

"I've made up my mind," he says, not bothering to look you in the eyes as he gets up, his back facing you. "And there's nothing you can say to change it."

With that, he walks away, leaving you sat on the bench with hot tears streaming down your cheeks, leaving red lines on the skin. Cold. Lonely. And confused.

STEVE has some trouble with girls. He always ends up saying the wrong thing and, similar to Johnny, he feels that you are way too good for him to treat you the way that he knows he eventually will. He knows damn well that one day, you'll get sick of him being a dick and leave him anyway, just like everyone else. So why bother waiting until then when he could just end it right now?

The phone rings. "Hello?" You say, picking it up after a couple of dials.

"Hey, babydoll," Steve says, his voice making you smile.

"Hi, handsome," you reply. "What can I do for ya?"

"I have to talk to you about something," he says. "But I want you to hear me out first."

"O...kay?" You say, confused about what is about to happen. "Am I in trouble?"

"No," he chuckles. "But I know I will be soon."

Your smile drops. What is he doing?

"Firstly, I want to tell you how much I love you. I think you are the most amazing woman I have ever met and I want you to know that this is not your fault and I have loved every moment with you." He says, making a tear form in your eye. You know what he's doing.

"Steve," you whisper.

He never shows his emotions like this. the most he's ever said to you is that he loves you and thinks that you're the most gorgeous broad he's ever seen. He has never admitted his feelings this extremely before.

"I can't let you be with me anymore. I don't want to be a part of your life anymore. I know I'll just ruin it. I'll be over tomorrow morning to pick up my stuff. I love you, y/n."

He hangs up. You hold the phone to your ear and drown in the continuous beep of the ending line. You had never been so hurt in your life.

TWOBIT breaks up with you because he finds someone else. I know this makes him out to be a bad person but I feel like he has so much love for you but when he meets this other girl, he knows that if he loved you as much as he thought he did, she wouldn't have sparked so much interest.

"Two," you say, looking up at him. "Who's Kathy?"

He lowers his head, looking at his hands in his lap. "Shit, baby."

"Just tell me," you say, a tear falling onto your cheek.

"She's a girl I met a few weeks ago," he admits. "I bumped into her at the dingo while I was waiting for you and the gang and I realised that I liked her. I'm so sorry"

"Do you love her?" You ask.

"What?" He says, looking at you with watering eyes himself.

"You heard me," you say. "Do you love her, Kieth?"

You only ever called him Kieth when you were upset or angry. Right now, you were both.

He nods, "I think so."

You say nothing and stand up, picking up your bag, putting your shoes on and taking one last look at him. One last look at the man you thought you would spend the rest of your life with. The man who had made you so much happier in the three years of dating you had been through.

And you leave. Never to speak to him or your friends, the gang, ever again.

[queenshelby]

Chemical Reactions (P. 2)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy as J Robert Oppenheimer x Student Reader

Warning: Smut in later parts, Age-Gap, Infidelity

Words: 1,867

Note: The fic is spoiler free and fantasy.

Later that day…

In the lavatory, you inspected your appearance for a moment. You were wearing an embroidered peasant blouse paired with a plain cardigan, a dark coloured skirt and a set of comfortable shoes. Your hair was pulled back in a random clip which, for the meeting with Dr Oppenheimer, you decided to remove. You looked much better with your hair being open and, just as you looked at yourself again, you felt a pang of anxiety, wondering what Dr Oppenheimer was truly thinking of you.

Did he think that you were smart and worthy his attention or did he simply took pity in you because you were a woman?

You then scrunched your eyebrows after a second of thought and adjusted your bag on your shoulder to prepare to face the beast.

For some reason, this man intimidated you and that also, somewhat, aroused you which was a combination of feelings that you never felt before.

Thus, almost hesitantly, you arrived at the lecture room at around 5 o’clock, which was almost thirty minutes after your last class for the day had finished and, when you walked into the somewhat dingy room, you saw him, standing there, looking at am array of calculations.

"You are late” Dr Oppenheimer then remarked without even looking at you at first before, finally, turning around.

"You didn't actually give me a time..."  you began to say as you walked towards him and watched him furrow his eyebrows.

“No, I suppose I didn’t” Dr Oppenheimer acknowledged before turning the chalkboard over so that you could not see his writing and calculations at all.

“Have you figured the problem with your calculation yet?” you asked almost bluntly as, awkwardly, you stood in front of him. Your lab coat was draped over your left forearm while your right hand held your bag's strap to your shoulder.

You kept your eyes forward, directly in line with where his neck met his chest before looking up into his deep blue eyes which, by this point, were full of questions.

“Who says that there is a problem with my calculations?” Dr Oppenheimer then asked almost out of the blue and a short moment passed before he took your coat and bag from your hands, laying them on the nearest table.

“I think that you took a wrong turn somewhere and…” you began to stammer just before released the nervous breath which you did not realise you were holding until he began to speak again.

“Sit, please” he gestured and, just after you complied with his request and sat down in front of his large wooden desk, you could feel Dr Oppenheimer’s presence next to you.

“Do you have a pen and some paper?” you asked and, of course, he did.

“Of course” Dr Oppenheimer said as he placed two white pieces of paper and a freshly sharpened pencil in front of you.

“Now, please show me your calculations” he then said while he stepped back but, even though he decided to give him some space, you could see him out of the corner of your eye, watching you as you worked.

You wrote down formula after formula, directly from your head and whilst this was nothing but theory, you imagined every single reaction in the back of your mind.

You were fast and Dr Oppenheimer’s mouth hung open as he watched you work, focusing intently to be sure that it all made sense until, suddenly, your mind went blank. The proximity was making you hot and you felt yourself burning up under your blouse.

“That’s it?” Dr Oppenheimer thus asked and you shook your head.

“I just lost my train of thought, again…” you said, sounding like an idiot, causing the professor to chuckle.

“Am I making you nervous?” he then asked and, as if you had not already embarrassed yourself enough, you nodded somewhat dumbfounded.

“Right. My apologies. I will just take a seat next to you” he then said before pulling another chair to the table and sitting down right next to you which did not make this situation any better whatsoever.

Of course, he was no longer towering over you, but he was now much closer to you than he was before, acting and behaving almost like an equal.

“Go on then” he said, wanting to resume your work while the heat of his body began to burn you. You squirmed uncomfortably on your stool until you had to put the pen down to take off your cardigan which, by this point, was still partially covering your blouse.

"What is it?” Dr Oppenheimer then asked somewhat concerned but you shook it off.

"Nothing, I am just hot" you said plainly before taking in a deep breath and resuming your calculations which is also when Dr Oppenheimer became more interested in again and decided that he needed a better view.

You were now getting to the point of where you assumed he made a mistake and he was intrigued by the route you were taking in your formula.

“Explain it to me” he demanded, wanting to know why you are calculating the chemical reaction in the way you were and you had no problem telling him, in scientific terms, as to how you arrived at your conclusions.

As such, you talked and talked while squirming around until, eventually, you got back into position and wrote down another formula, which was one Dr Oppenheimer had not considered before and, just as you placed pen on paper again, you felt something touch your neck. Not soft enough to be hair brushing your neck, but not enough pressure to feel entirely deliberate.

“You aren’t even looking?” you then said as you otherwise stayed completely still when felt Dr Oppenheimer adjust your twisted necklace.

“Because you did it wrong” he responded as he picked up the chain and turned the jewellery until the clasp is on the back, where he dropped it back onto the nape of your neck. If you did not know better, you would have thought you felt his fingertips linger a little longer on your skin than they should have lingered there, but you could not be too sure.

“I did? How?” you asked while thinking about the science as well as how his fingertips felt on you, raising goosebumps on your bare skin. Him moving your necklace would have been harmless and platonic if it was not for that hesitation at the end of the action. The half a second too long that his hand remained on you, brushing lightly at the skin on the side of your neck.

“Allow me” the professor then said before taring up one of your pages and giving a plain piece of paper to write on.

He then took the pen from your hand and wrote down what you had written until you took this wrong turn in your calculations, which is where he halted and prompted you to think.

“Think about implosion, not explosion” he said and, almost immediately, the penny dropped and you gently grabbed the end of the pencil he was holding while making sure to let one finger feather a touch onto one of his.

"May I?" you say quietly, feeling his eyes on the side of your face as you looked at the pencil. The whole exchange only lasted a couple of seconds before he released the utensil and you leaned down over the paper while letting your shoulder brush his.

"Is that right now?" you then asked innocently after finishing the formula, turning to look at him as you gauged his reaction. This was the first time you had really looked at him since he first started explaining where you went wrong, and you were not sure what you expected, but it was not this.

Dr Oppenheimer only had his left hand resting on the table now, his chest turned towards you as he searched your face and smiled. You smiled back and held his gaze, trying to think of something to break the moment while keeping the upper hand.

“I am impressed but…” he then began to say and, instead of saying anything to him in response, you remembered the pencil you were holding and quickly moved to hold it between you and him. Without looking at it, he reached forward and covered your hand with his, those blue eyes on the verge of pouring into you. He then slid the pencil out of your hand and leaned down one more time, changing one of your subtraction signs to an addition. In your mind, you honed in on the mistake, cursing his distraction for causing you to make a mistake in front of him.

"Now, you're perfect" Dr Oppenheimer then said nonchalantly as he stood back up.

“Hmm” you stammered while trying not to react to his comment, or the fact that he used your own tactics against you.

Considering the moment gone, you picked up the paper and retreated in order to quickly get out of there as you could not help but think that you made things almost awkward now. Not only did you have more questions now than you did previously, you feared you may have moved you both in a direction that bordered on inappropriateness.

Obviously, you were flirting with him and he was a married man in respect of whom you got no read on when it came to his intentions towards you, because you were so consumed by the moment. You were consumed to his body's reaction to yours, his eyes, his parting comment, saying that “now you’re perfect”…

You then recalled the moments when you feared that your cover was blown, that he caught on to what you were doing, namely flirting with him. Part of you hoped that he thought he was flattering himself, similar to how you have been feeling, but something about this man told you he scarcely denied his ego satisfaction.

To be continued…

Please comment and engage. I love getting comments and predictions pretty please!

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[writerbugg]

Good Luck

Chapter # 4 As Sweet as Sugar Cookies

Platonic Yandere Dc x reincarnated Reader

Wattpad

Prologue, Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4 (You are here), Chapter 5, Chapter 6

Just a spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down. - Mary Poppins

*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*

"No," Tim says crossing his arms. "I have homework to catch up on, I can't play Minecraft with you right now."

Y/n frowns, "But Tim," she whines "Everyone else is busy, and I'm booored!" She complained while tugging at his shirt.

The boy rolls his eye at the young girl's antics, "Fine if I play with you, will you leave me alone?" Y/n nodded furiously.

With a tired sigh, Tim leaves his desk, picking up the game chip. "Thirty minutes, max, you got it?"

Y/n laughs happily, running out of his room and down to the lounging room. Tim smiles, a familiar warmth filling his chest.

_

Tim opens his eyes slowly, the early morning sky peeking through the curtains to greet him. A dream, a memory, a mix of both. Tim groans, what a mess this whole situation was.

Slowly, he lifted himself out of bed, checking his phone to see what time it was.

5:34 am

He let out another tired groan, it was too early to be awake. Sadly, he knew falling back asleep would be impossible. Slipping on some sweatpants, Tim makes his way to the kitchen to brew some coffee.

He makes it to the kitchen, tiredly grabbing the coffee grounds from the cabinet, and making his way to the coffee machine.

Tim watches the coffee slide into his mug, the smell of coffee filling the kitchen, before walking back to the cabinet to get some sugar. While he would usually drink his coffee black, he was in the mood for something sweet.

"Can I borrow the sugar when you're done?" A groggy voice asked him.

Tim jumps, swiftly turning around to see who spooked him. Y/n stands behind him with a bowl of Cheerios.

"..."

"..."

Tim sighed, dragging a hand down his face. "Why are you up this early?" Y/n shrugged, "Couldn't sleep." She answered.

Frowning, Tim walks back over to the coffee machine, which has stopped brewing. Y/n watches, frowning at his lack of answering, before following.

He puts two spoons of sugar into his coffee, stirring it thoroughly, then passes Y/n the sugar. She mumbles a quiet thank you, putting a little bit of sugar in her cheerios.

Tim and Y/n sit with each other, quietly enjoying the silent Manor.

──●◎●──

It was early afternoon, and Y/n was sneaking some of the cookies Alfred had made. They were heavenly, light, and sweet, the chocolate rich and smooth.

Jason enters the kitchen, clearing his voice, and catching Y/n's attention. "Looks like I've caught a little thief," Jason smirked, Y/n giving him a wide-eyed look, knowing she was caught red-handed.

"...You can have Dick's portion if you don't tell."

Jason laughs, before nodding, "OK, deal." He walks over to Y/n, taking a cookie and biting into it. "Mmm~ They are as good as I remember." Jason chuckles, "Plus, Dick has enough sweets, I'm sure he won't mind me taking some of his."

"Oh? Really now?"

Y/n and Jason look at each other before turning around slowly facing the eldest Wayne. He had a smile on his face that didn't reach his eyes.

"You think I've had enough sweets? Can't help but feel like you're implying something, Jaybird."

Y/n makes a break for it, leaving Jason behind. "Wha- You Traitor!!" Jason yells as Y/n makes her getaway.

While running Y/n bumps into Damien, causing both of them to stumble. "What the- why are you running around the mansion? You're supposed to be with Alfred." Damion glares at Y/n, annoyed. She bashfully rubs the back of her head, "I was running from Dick," she admits, "speaking of which, do you know any hiding spots? I think I can hear him coming, he must have finished off Jason." Rest in peace Jason... again.

Damion deadpanned, "Seriously?" He blandly questioned. He grumbled when Y/n nodded, a pleading look in her eyes. Dick has been annoying him recently. So, Damien supposes helping Y/n would be a good way to get back at him. Nodding, he helps Y/n up. "I've got some places for you to hide. Follow me."

──●◎●──

Y/n and Damion hid in a small crawl space behind one of the larger paintings for around twenty minutes.

Sadly, Dick is very set on finding Y/n, so twenty minutes was not enough hiding time.

"I got you Y/n!" Dick picked Y/n up, a squeal escaping her as he spins her around. "I'm going to get you back for eating my cookies," he said playfully while carrying Y/n to the living room. Throwing her onto the couch, then trapping her in a hug.

"Let me go." She whined, trying to get out of his grip. Dick smiles, laughing at Y/n's misery, "No, you ate my cookies. Now you must pay the ultimate price." He cackled evilly.

Y/n frowned, "And here I thought you were a hero who believed in mercy." She said, giving him a betrayed and disappointed look, and making him laugh.

Bruce enters the room with a serious look on his face, instantly killing the mood. He looks at Y/n and Dick, before talking.

"Y/n, Clark is here to visit you."

──●◎●──

@rosecentury

Chapter 5

[steddieas-shegoes]

Request: Hop & Joyce don't really like or trust Steve & he knows it. He can tell by their behavior towards him. Post spring break from Hell, Steve tears into them both after they insinuate that it's his fault for the kids being hurt. Steve YELLING at them in front of the party bc he is injured more grievously than the kids & he once again protected them, to the detriment of himself.

Joyce & Hop are forced to acknowledge that their behavior was cruel. And they have to apologize but Steve doesn't accept their apology straight away.

I am usually such a sucker for Hopper adopting Steve and treating him as his own that this was really difficult. Like, maybe top 5 most difficult things I have ever written. It's kind of short, but I wanted more of the focus to be on people standing up for Steve and Steve standing up for himself than the actual angsty part. My darling, I hope it lives up to expectations! -Mickala ❤️

------------------------------------------------------------

“I guess I just don’t understand how Max ended up like this if Steve was supposed to be protecting them all.”

Joyce’s words echoed in Steve’s head.

She was whispering to Hopper in the waiting room, but it was surprisingly quiet, and easy to hear just about anything.

The kids were asleep on the couches, waiting for any news on Max or Eddie, but the nurses told them it could be hours. Hours were a long time to wait when someone was bleeding out and the other someone had multiple broken bones and was unconscious.

Steve felt untethered, his connection to the earth cut the moment he saw what happened to Eddie, pushed into a dangerous orbit when he saw what happened to Max.

“He’s never really let me down like this. Did you hear Dustin say he thinks he was distracted by Eddie?” Hopper asked quietly.

“What did he mean by that?” Joyce paused. “Oh. Do you think so?” Steve couldn’t see their faces, couldn’t see the way they were having a silent conversation within a conversation. “It wouldn’t be the first time Steve let his romantic feelings get in the way of their safety.”

And that really wasn’t fair.

It wasn’t fair because he always put these kids who weren’t even his first whenever he could. It wasn’t fair because it wasn’t his job to be perfect. It wasn’t fair because they were the adults who should have been here to help and they weren’t.

He could feel tears building up, his vision getting just blurry enough that he knew he needed to walk away or he would start actually crying, and he couldn’t let anyone see that.

Especially not Joyce and Hopper.

Apparently, they already thought so little of him, he couldn’t possibly show them that he was struggling now.

“I think we’ll have to have a talk with the kids about trusted adults. They seem to rely on him for a lot and maybe if we just explain to them that Steve can’t handle it-”

“Excuse me, Mr. Hopper?” A nurse, thankfully, interrupted them.

Steve turned to see a young nurse, probably barely older than him, standing in the entranceway to the waiting room.

Hopper walked over to her, actually whispering this time, as if what was being said right now was a secret, but not the way he felt about Steve.

He glanced over at Steve, then nodded to the nurse. He called Joyce over to them, whispered something, then they both looked at Steve.

He hated what was happening. He was used to being a disappointment to adults, but in a silent way. His parents weren’t really ever around long enough to show their disappointment for long. Seeing it now, on the faces of people he respected and wanted to impress, hurt.

Hopper started walking over to him, his face serious.

“They have Max stable. She may not wake up from the coma, but they’re hoping she makes a turn for the better soon. Eddie woke up a few minutes ago while they were trying to stitch him up and he kept yelling for you. He isn’t quite stable yet. He passed back out as they were trying to put him on oxygen.”

“But they’re both alive?”

“For now.”

“Can I see Max?”

“I don’t think that’s a great idea right now. They’re trying to reach her mom, but the phone lines keep going down. I’m standing in as the adult responsible until she can be contacted.”

“So now you want to be the adult responsible? Not any other time when we needed you?” Erica said from behind them.

She’d been asleep with Lucas and El only a minute ago.

“Erica, it’s fine. I’ll just wait with you guys.”

“No, Steve, it’s not fine.” Erica put her hands on her hips, scowled up at Hopper and Joyce, who had just joined them. “Steve looks out for us every day. Even when the world isn’t trying to end. He drives us to school or from school or to the arcade, he pays for our food at the diner all the time, probably spends all his paychecks on us. And where are the parents? They don’t even know where we are most of the time.”

“But-” Joyce started to interrupt until Erica held up her hand.

“You left your kids to fly to Russia when you knew something weird was going on. You could have died, and then what? You know who would have stepped in? Steve. Because that’s what he does for us. Do you know one of his worst concussions was because he was protecting Lucas and Max from Billy? You know he drove Max everywhere she needed to go all year because she didn’t wanna be around anyone else? How about the fact that without him, we wouldn’t have even been able to get Eddie back here? But sure, blame him for this. It totally makes sense to point the finger at the one person who has protected us over and over again.”

Steve was crying.

The other kids were starting to wake up from her voice getting louder as she spoke, and it didn’t take long for them to realize what was happening.

El and Dustin surrounded Steve, cuddling into his sides to comfort him. He needed it, and he was always willing to accept love from the kids. They so rarely gave it, not because they didn’t love him, but because they were at that age where they didn’t want to.

These kids were his in almost every way that mattered, and he was just grateful that they weren’t hesitating when he needed them most.

“You kids could have died. Steve should have never allowed most of this to happen. He’s the adult, and he let you all go into this without even considering you could die.”

“You think we were just gonna sit around and wait for the adults to handle it? When have we ever done that?” Dustin asked incredulously.

“It’s what you should have done. Steve knows that.”

“Mr. Harrington?” A different nurse was standing in the doorway now, older, definitely less nervous.

“Yes?” Steve responded, wiping his tears away quickly.

“Mr. Munson is in a recovery room. He’s woken up a few times for a minute and each time he’s asked for you. Are you family?”

He was pretty certain hospital policy meant only family could go back, especially during natural disasters, so he lied.

“Yes, he’s my cousin. I can’t reach anyone else yet.”

The nurse smiled, though she probably didn’t quite believe him.

“Right this way, then.”

Dustin tugged on his arm.

“Can I come with you?”

“Sorry,” Steve shook his head. “Not yet. Let me check on him, and I’ll come right back out for you.”

“See? This is what I meant about letting his feelings get in the way! What if we weren’t here? Would you just leave the kids to sit out here alone?”

This time, El spoke up.

“Steve is always putting us first. He can put himself first sometimes. That is allowed.”

Steve wanted to hug her again, but the nurse looked like she was going to walk away, and if he didn’t follow her, he wouldn’t see Eddie.

“Go see him, we’ll be here,” Lucas said from next to Erica.

He nodded at them all, giving them a smile before he followed the nurse without looking back at Hopper or Joyce.

Eddie was asleep when they entered the room, so the nurse whispered to him at the door.

“He’s on a lot of morphine, and he’s still receiving a blood transfusion. He may wake up off and on, but he probably won’t make much sense until they lower the dose. Just be here for him,” she smiled before leaving the room.

Steve turned to Eddie and couldn’t hold back more tears.

He’d let him down. He’d let all of them down.

He was supposed to be the hero, despite the jokes about it all, they all knew he was.

But not this time.

Eddie almost died. Max almost died.

He could feel the bat bite on his stomach burning and itching, like it was already getting infected, but he ignored it.

He could wait.

He sat down on the side of the bed, slowly so he wouldn’t wake Eddie up.

But Eddie’s eyes fluttered open once, then twice, then a third time before they managed to stay open enough to see Steve.

“Stevie?” His voice rasped out, a small smile hidden under his oxygen mask. “You’re here.”

“I’m here, Eds.”

He had to be strong, but his brain was so focused on everything he’d done wrong and if he’d just been faster or got out of the vines quicker, Eddie probably wouldn’t be here and Max would be awake and-

“Stop.”

“Hm? Stop what?”

“Bein’ mean.”

Steve’s brows furrowed. He hadn’t even said anything else, had he? Was he so exhausted that he was actually talking without realizing it now?

“I’m not even saying anything.”

Maybe it was Eddie hearing things. He knew morphine was pretty intense.

“To yourself.”

“What?”

“Bein’ mean to yourself. In your head.”

“I-”

“‘S okay. Me too sometimes. Just gotta stop.”

Steve couldn’t help but smile at the way Eddie’s eyes kept drooping closed as he spoke. He would probably fall back asleep any second.

“I’ll be nice. You get some sleep.”

“You rest?”

“Not yet. Maybe later.”

Steve couldn’t really rest until he knew everyone was home, safe, and sleeping off some of the worst of their injuries.

“Yes yet.”

Steve snorted. Eddie was so high. He knew it was better than whatever pain he would feel when they eased him off of everything, but hopefully he wouldn’t remember all this.

“Sleep,” Eddie said, his hand managing to find Steve’s and tugging weakly on it.

“I can’t sleep here, Eds. This is your bed.”

“Our bed.”

Steve’s cheeks were hot, he knew if he touched them, they’d feel like fire. Eddie just had that way of completely rendering Steve speechless. He’d done it so many times over the last couple of days, Steve lost count.

“I’ll stay right here until your uncle gets here, okay?”

“And after?”

It probably wasn’t smart. It would look weird for him to stay in general, but he also had to get the kids home, try to patch himself up at home, maybe shower before he did some rounds and made sure everyone was taken care of.

“I have to take care of the kids.”

“But they have parents.”

“Yeah, well.”

They were interrupted by a knock on the door.

Hopper walked in, face as serious as Steve had ever seen it.

“I was able to contact your uncle, Eddie. You can go now, Steve.”

But Eddie gripped his hand harder, frowning at Hopper. He seemed more awake all of a sudden, but with the way his eyes kept trying to close, Steve could see it was a challenge.

“I want him here.”

“Eds, it’s fine. He’s not too happy with me right now, so-”

“What? Why? You helped save the world.”

Eddie was looking between Steve and Hopper like an answer would suddenly make itself known, but Hopper was just staring at Eddie, and Steve was just staring at his feet.

He didn’t want to get Eddie involved in this. He just wanted to pretend it never happened, maybe try to look Hopper in the eye again someday, and apologize to Joyce for not keeping the kids as safe as he could have.

But Eddie apparently took the “no running” thing very seriously now.

“Steve? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Just. I kinda let them down, didn’t keep everyone safe.”

Steve shrugged it off, but he knew he wasn’t very convincing, or really even shrugging it off. He still felt the ache of disappointing people in his chest.

“Hold the fuck up. You’re serious?”

Eddie sounded as outraged as someone high on morphine could. His voice was barely distorted by the oxygen mask on his face, and his eyes were nearly at their normal size.

Steve couldn’t look at either of them.

“Steve is trusted by all these parents to keep their kids out of danger, and he brought them headfirst into it. It just made Joyce and I wonder how often they were doing stupid things,” Hopper explained, though he didn’t even sound convinced he believed his own words.

Joyce was walking in just as Eddie was about to speak.

“Steve, I think you should bring Dustin home. Claudia is going to get worried.”

He didn’t need to look up to know that Eddie was glaring at Joyce and Hopper.

“Let me get this straight. Steve provides free rides, and babysitting services, and meals, and fun for your kids damn near every day. He protects them during this shit every time it happens, literally puts his body on the line to keep them alive. Tried to somehow keep them as safe as possible when it seemed like the world was ending this time, did keep them alive, and you’re still finding reasons to blame him?”

They both had the decency to at least look like they regretted it.

But they still didn’t say anything.

“Fuck this. I’m not gonna pretend to know everything about your little Upside Down Club, but I’m in it now. None of us wanna be here, but we are. Steve’s been doing his best for years, since he was a kid, and all you can do is complain that your sweet angels aren’t completely unscathed? This is a team effort, you know that. They volunteered. Steve would have had to lock them in a prison cell for them not to help.”

Steve looked up at Eddie, watched as he started to lose the fire that had overtaken him temporarily, his eyes dulling as the morphine dripped into his veins and flushed through his system.

“Best damn babysitter…” Eddie mumbled as his eyes fell closed.

Steve watched him for a moment, waiting to see if he suddenly woke up again. When he didn’t, he stood up slowly, didn’t want to risk him feeling the bed move, and made his way to the door.

But something hurt in his chest, something he knew wouldn’t go away unless he said something.

He turned to see Hopper and Joyce staring at each other, having a silent conversation.

“I’m used to disappointing people. I’ve been disappointing my parents my whole life. Disappointed friends, Nancy, bosses. But I have never let those kids down. I do my best with them. I try to be there for them the way I wish someone had been there for me. I make sure they’re kids because life handed them a shitty card or whatever and they deserve to still be kids. You can be mad at me if you want, but I know I did my best. They know I did my best.”

He didn’t wait for a response, didn’t want to hear them say anything else about how wrong his decisions were.

But Joyce stopped him from leaving the room, hand on his arm.

“Steve, wait. Honey, I’m sorry. I think…I think we got caught up in the moment and just needed someone to blame.”

“You do the best you can. We know you do a lot for them.”

It was nice to hear, but he couldn’t get over the uncomfortable itch in the back of his head that he deserved more than that.

“Thanks, but I don’t think I can accept the apology right now.” And then the anger really set in. It came over him so fast, he could feel his hands shaking. “A lot of things are out of our control. We all wanna blame someone for this stuff, but it just boils down to the same people over and over. Max is in a coma because of Henry Creel, not me. Eddie is in the hospital because of demon bats, not me. Eleven and Will are connected to the Upside Down because of the government, not me. I’m just trying to be whatever they need, and that’s better than I can say for either of you at this point.” Steve left this time, Joyce dropping her hand from his arm halfway through his loud speech.

Okay, he was yelling.

But Eddie slept through it, and it felt good to get all of that out.

He made his way to the waiting room, hoping everyone would still be there so he could check in.

Everything felt too fresh, too much like Vecna could show back up and take any of them at any moment.

But the waiting room was empty, not even Dustin remained.

Steve did his best not to panic. Their parents had all been contacted, so they most likely had just been picked up and brought home.

“They’ve all been picked up, sugar,” an older nurse said from the front desk.

“Oh. Thanks.”

“They left you a note, though.”

He recognized her as the woman who had been here the whole night, handling phone calls and people walking in like she’d been doing this for decades. Maybe she had been.

He walked over and grabbed it from her, giving her a small smile in thanks.

He walked outside before he opened it, not sure why he was suddenly nervous.

But as he read, he felt tears in his eyes for what felt like the hundredth time that night.

Steve- Go home and sleep. We’ll be okay for a day while you rest. You don’t ever do that. We don’t agree with Joyce and Hopper, and we hope you know you’re the best damn babysitter ever. Love, Dustin, Lucas, Erica, El, Will, Mike, and Max (if she could)

He folded up the note, put it in his pocket, and walked to his car.

He ignored the blood in the backseat, rolled his windows down to ignore the stench of iron.

Knew he would be spending most of his day tomorrow trying to clean the stains out, but figured it would be a good mindless task.

He thought about Eddie, about how quick he was to defend him. About how he’d gripped his hand like it was a lifeline.

It felt that way to Steve.

He hadn’t let Eddie down. He’d saved Eddie.

If he didn’t do anything else right, he’d done that, and nothing Joyce or Hopper said could take that away.

[safination]

Partners in Death…And Life

Part 4: The Radio Stars’ Co-host Just Wants To Do The Dishes

|Part 3: Not Everything You Hear From the Radio Should be Trusted| Part 5: Glimpse of Me and You| |Masterlist| Ao3| Taglist| Parings: Alastor x wife! Reader. Tags: fem!reader established relationships, hopefully not but just in case ooc!Alastor (I'm trying my best, guys) Reader is in hell for a reason, Warnings: Very brief dissection of the human body. Kidneys Summary: After a seven-year absence, you find the man you were married to in life, not only back in town, but also helping... *checks notes*... the Princess of Hell run a hotel aimed at rehabilitating sinners who were sent to the bad place for a reason. It’s me. Hi. I’m the problem. It’s me. I am sorry :D. These past *checks notes* three weeks (yikes) have been really busy for me. But I’m finally posting?

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

The light from the bus stop illuminates Alastor’s block handwriting. Smiles are drawn on the edges of note with different colored ballpoint pens. Dear God, it was like looking at kindergarten art, but you appreciate it nonetheless. Alastor’s instructions tell you that his house is a ten-minute walk from the bus stop.

You flip the note, studying the map Alastor drew.

A bird caws from the patches of trees across the road. There’s no living soul out here besides your own for miles.

You tighten your grip on the straps of your bag, and walk until you find yourself standing before a wooden gate. The hatch unlocks easily, and you hike up the path until you’re stepping on to the porch.

Alastor’s house isn’t much—well, it’s much more than the tiny apartment in the city that you call home, but besides that, he has a very normal looking house. You don’t know why you expect anything different. The flowers on his windowsill brighten the place, and the rocking chairs by the edge makes it homier.

You smoothen your hair, fiddling with the note. A deep inhale, and then another deep inhale, and then another deep inhale, and then another deep inhale, and then another—

Fuck it. You knock on the door.

A beat passes, and then another beat passes, and then another. Oh God, did he not hear your knock? Should you knock again? Your father always said that it was rude to knock twice, but you’re sure the knock should have been heard. Alastor was probably at the back of the house. You’re just going to knock again.

Alastor swings the door open, smiling at you. “You are right on time!”

Soft music plays behind him. The lights inside make his living-room look warm. “You said to be here by eight  . . .  so  . . .  Here I am!” you say with a light laugh. It doesn’t come out as you hope. “I’m very fond of being punctual.” Okay . . . hmmm . . . why did you say that?

You smoothen your hair, and fiddle with the straps of your bag.

 “I admire punctuality.” Alastor smiles at you.

You smile back.

He opens the door wider. “Would you like to come in?”

‘Yes.’

‘Right.’

‘Of course I would!’

All proper responses to his question. It’s a shame you don’t say them. You reach into your bag instead, and shove a paper bag into his arms. “It’s raw.”

Alastor lifts the paper bag, studying it with careful eyes until they flicker to the wet patches at the bottom. “ . . . I’m almost afraid to ask who it came from.”

You step through the door, and take off your coat. “My father, actually.”

Alastor tilts his head. “This is your father���am I supposed to cook him or something?”

“It’s venison!” you say, and run your hand through your hair. “Dad went hunting last week, and he gave me a bunch of meat and well . . . well, I thought you'd appreciate it more than I do. There’s too much for me to eat alone. And it’s always polite to give a gift when you’re visiting a home.”

Alastor secures your gift around his arms, and takes your coat. He’s smiling. You think he’s being genuine—you can’t really tell. “Thank you.”

He hangs your coat on the rack, and ushers you deeper inside his home. Alastor disappears into what you think is his kitchen, but you stay planted in his living-room floor. His house is nice for someone who lives alone. Things all have a place, they’re not necessarily organized, but it’s neat. It makes you smile.

It’s easy to see Alastor between the walls.

This is a home that’s been lived in. You count at least three portable radios in the living-room alone. There are books on the coffee table by the window, and the spines are creased as if it’s been read over and over and over again.

There’s a chair next to the window as well. It has stains, and the cushions sink as if they’ve been loved for decades. You can practically see Alastor in that chair, a warm drink in his hand. He’ll reach across, and twist the knob of the radio that already has his favorite station tuned.

Alastor strides out of the kitchen, your gift probably inside his freezer. “Follow me,” he says with a wave of his arm. “I have something to show you.”

“Oh . . . okay.”

There are photo frames lining the wall of his stairs.

You observe it as you follow deeper into this house. Some are photographs of what you’re going to assume is Alastor, and some are certificates. You don’t have time to poke around and read each and every one of them.

Alastor opens his arms, shaking them as he presents you with a door.

A single door . . . One door at the back of the house. A door you don’t know where it will lead.

You stare at him, and take one single step back. “You’re not going to kill me in your basement, right?”

Alastor laughs at you, wiping a tear for the sake of showing you. “Good heavens no! Why would you ever think that?”

“Because I’m inside a man’s house, and he’s currently leading me to the basement. A man, might I add, dumps bodies in the forest,” you tell him with a wonky smile. “I hope you don’t go around asking every lady to your murder basement.”

“I don’t, actually.”

“My goodness, you really know how to make a lady feel extra special.” You fiddle with the straps of your bag, tightening your grip to stifle the urge to smoothen your hair. “So, how do you want to do this?”

Alastor tilts his head. (It’s kind of cute.) “Do what?”

“You know . . . uh . . . . You’ll  tell me to run,” you say, then motion to the china vase behind. “Then I’ll grab this really nice and expensive looking vase and smash it over your head.”

“Please don’t.”

“And then I’ll make a run for the door.”

He raises his eyebrows. “You weren’t interested in running last time.”

“And I’m still not,” you say. “So there’s no point in killing me.”

He chuckles a bit and his glasses slide down his nose. He pushes it up. “Think of this as a gift! Or more like an offer of partnership.”

“A gift of death?”

“I've already told you I wasn’t planning on killing you anymore,” he says, sighing. “Just . . . just follow me, and you’ll see!”

You huff and cross your arms. “I detest being lied to.”

Alastor opens the basement door. The hinges creak. It appears as if darkness itself lives inside, swirling and eating up whatever light that passes through. “Yes, that’s good to know.”

You take another step back. “That’s a really creepy basement.”

“You haven’t even been inside yet,” Alastor says. He places a light hand on your back, practically pushing you down. “Now, now, don’t be so stubborn.”

You grab the door frames, and push against him to resist. “I’m not going without knowing what’s down there.”

Alastor presses on your back. “If you go down there and see what I’ve prepared, you will feel very silly for causing such a ruckus.”

You push back harder, using the door frames as support. “As first dates go, this is giving really mixed signals,” you say, trying to smile. “I hope you don’t treat all ladies like this.”

Alastor rolls his eyes. “Just the stubborn ones.”

You and Alastor are at a stalemate. He pushes. You push back. The classic dilemma of an unmovable force versus an immovable object. “If you kill me, I will haunt you,” you say, digging your feet into the wooden floors. “I will haunt you, and hide all your tacky bow ties.”

Alastor stops pushing, and you fumble backwards from the lack of his opposing force. He points his nose to the air, straightening his bow ties. “It is not.”

You frown at him. “Oh . . . I’m really sorry.”

“You should be.”

Taking this opportunity, you press against the wall like a hissing cat. “I’m sorry you actually believe that!”

Alastor pinches the bridge of his nose, and takes one deep breath. He strides to you, and the world goes upside-down when he flips you over his shoulder. Alastor carries you like a common sack of worthless potatoes.

“I really don’t like this!” you shriek, angling your head to glare at him. Alastor has a surprisingly really nice back. Like . . . a really, really nice back.

Alastor meets your eyes and smirks. “You’ll like it in a second.”

He tightens his grip around your hips, and his boney shoulders dig into your stomach. You keep your eyes ahead. “You have a really flat butt.”

He pauses for a second. “Stop looking at it.”

“I will do as I please,” you say with a huff, and go limp in his hold as you accept your fate. “It’s just all pointy. Maybe some squats will be helpful?”

“If it’s such a horror to you, stop ogling my buttocks like a pervert.”

“Now you’re just putting words into my mouth,” you say with a weird giggle. “These pants suit you well.”

He shakes you like a wet noodle. “I will drop you.”

“Please don’t.”

Alastor flips you, and your feet land safely on the ground. His basement is totally not creepy, totally not creepy at all. The fluorescent light bulb swaying around totally does not add to general horror. The blacked-out windows, and the spiderwebs on the wood make you not want to sprint to the top.

The cadaver bag on the table makes you stay.

It’s filled. You walk to the table, and observe the lump. Grasping the zipper, you pull it until the face of a dead man greets you. He’s fresh. Killed less than a day ago.

Alastor opens his arms, wide, as if to present to you. “Your studying can all be done right here!”

You stare at him, accepting the smile that creeps on your face. “Really?” you say, and trace this man’s nose with your fingers—his skin is cold. He is cold and dead, and full of organs you can poke around and observe. “You’re going to just allow me to dissect this body?”

Alastor smiles at you. “See?” he says. “You were making all the fuss, and now your smile could light up this very room.”

The laughter starts as a soft giggle that builds into excited glee. “I could kiss you right now.”

Alastor takes a step back. “Please don’t”

You roll your eyes then observe the person lying on this table. He wasn’t as big as the one before. This man still has the colors on his face, a bit pale, but he looks like he could just be in a sickly sleep. “Did you like this person?”

“Not at all,” he says. “He’d be alive if he was.”

“Then do you like me?” you say with a grin, placing a hand on your hips. “All this to get my attention, I see. I prefer being dined first, but not the worst first date I’ve ever been on.”

Alastor glares at you as he makes a face. “Ha. Ha. Very funny.”

“So quick to answer that it’s almost insulting,” you say. “Well, it was your decision to keep me alive.”

There’s a glint in his eyes that pierces your very core. The lightbulb makes a shadow pass over his eyes, and you swear his eyes glow. Every single cell in your body screams as Alastor looks down at you from his glasses with a smile and darkened brown eyes that match his well-kept brown hair. “And I’m currently debating my choice,” he says. “I do not like being mocked. I can still change my mind if I find you a weak link.”

“Oh . . . I . . . oh . . . .,” you say dumbly, coughing a little bit.  The words aren’t doing their job.

“Do you understand me?”

Basements are supposed to be cold—you definitely don’t feel cold right now. “I’m sure you can—I don’t doubt that at all.” To break your gaze on him, you turn to the dead man between you and Alastor. “This man didn’t suffer.”

Alastor’s eyebrows raise. “And?”

“I’m not a total idiot when it comes to . . .  uh . . .  hunting,” you say, tilting the dead guy’s chin to see his neck. It was a bit stiff. “There’s a single deep slice on his neck. He was probably still high on adrenaline when you killed him, but with the other body, you took your time. That guy suffered—this one didn’t”

He crosses his arms. “I don’t see your point.”

“Nevermind . . . just . . . ,” you start and smile a bit. “Thank you for preserving this body so well, but unfortunately, I think I’ll have to refuse.”

Alastor’s eye twitches as he takes a step closer to you. His shadow towers over you. “You’re refusing?”

You zip the man back into his bag. “You don’t need a partner,” you say. “If anything, bringing him back into your house is risky. If it’s my silence you want, you already have it. There’s no need for all this.”

“I never asked for your silence.”

“Yet it’s yours nonetheless,” you say. “Thank you for the gift or offer for partnership, but I’m not interested in going into business with you.”

“Is this not beneficial for you?”

“It is . . . it really is, and every fiber wants to give in but it’s not wise for me to get mixed up with you,” you tell him. “I think you’re mistaking my sin for gluttony. I know trouble when I see it, and I’m not afraid to flee from it.”

Alastor’s face twists as his smile turns into a snarl. “All you could ever want right here.”

“You obviously want something from me,” you say. “I know you’re not above using tricks to get what you want. Although, I don’t understand why you take such time out of your day to do such consuming things.”

He glares at you. “There’s always the chance that you’d say no,” he says. “And I can’t have that happen.”

“I decide if something is worth my time or not,” you say. “I will only ask once: what do you want from me?”

Alastor exhales, and pushes his glasses. “I’d like to watch you work. There’s something I want to confirm.”

You study him for a second. “That’s all?”

“Yes.”

“Then hand me a pack of gloves please,” you say. “I can show you all the things I’ve learned.”

Alastor tosses gloves to your face. It whacks you and lands on the table. You curse at him, and roll your eyes.

There’s a large container of formaldehyde under the table. You don’t know where he got it or how, but still, you take a stray brush forgotten on one of the tables, and brush the skin with chemicals. The sharp smell stings your eyes, but you’ve learned to tolerate it. Alastor scrunches his nose, taking a step back.  

Opening the window would probably be wise, but you could do that later. Your father always did hope that you’d grow out of your bad habit. But with such an exhilarating opportunity, caution is at the back of your mind.

The scapple fits into your palm as if it was made for you. Throughout this Earth, no . . .  not just Earth, but Heaven and Hell as well, nothing will ever be as perfect.

Alastor laughs, not the breathy and light kind, but in a loud and triumphant way. His eyes bulge out, looking like they could pop out any second “It seems I was not wrong,” he says. “You have the most precious smile I have ever seen.”

“Okay?”

Alastor leans closer to you, jerking your chin to face him. “All this time I’ve seen you; I have never seen your smile as true and honest as now.”

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The bristles of the brush tangle on your feathers. It’s a struggle to smoothen the feathers at the back of your head now that you live alone.

The clock strikes an hour past noon, and work will call for you soon. It would be nice to be one time if this motherfucking brush would do its fucking job! You tug on the handle, cursing when it jerks your scalp. The smack of your forehead on the vanity table echoes around the room. The feathers bundled on the floor make you screech. That’s it. It’s over. You are not taking another second of this.

Discarding the brush, you head to the kitchen.

You grab two mugs, and take two spoonful of coffee ground and feed it to the coffee machine. With only a press of a button, you make the most perfectly perfected perfect cup of coffee. You take both mugs and take a seat on that little side table inside the kitchen.

The second mug steams with coffee.

You plop your chin on the table, unable to draw your eyes aways as you stare at it. Making a second cup is a waste of your money. Deep down to your very core, you’re aware that it’s a waste. It strikes you with the gentleness of a plane crash every single morning you make it, and every single night you have to throw it away.

Silence is your companion in this empty house. Where are the days when soft music plays on the radio? Where are the days where light footsteps walk around the carpeted floors? Where are the days of stories over dinner?  These days watching television is the only way to fill that silence.

A knock breaks your pathetic moping.

The knocking starts out soft and hesitant, until it’s replaced with loud banging.

Swiping your mug from the table, you stride to the front door and swing it open. Charlie and Alastor stand in front of you, big smiles on their faces.

Your husband pushes a small ugly statue right up your face, presenting it to you with a self-satisfied smile. “I was told it was polite to bring a gift to a person’s home,” Alastor says. “Do you like it?”

“Oh no . . . ,” Charlie says, frowning a bit. “I didn’t bring anything.”

Alastor places a hand on her shoulder. “No worries then! This gift shall be from the both of us.”

The mug slips from your hold. Charlie catches it, not a single drop spilling, and plops it back on your hand. You blink at Alastor and frown. “Why are you knocking?”

“We’re here on super serious business talk,” he says, wrapping an arm around Charlie’s shoulders to bring her closer. “Charlotte here has something to ask you.”

Charlie smiles. “Just Charlie, actually.”

You shake your head, tightening your grip on the mug. “No.”

Alastor tilts his head. “No?”

“No, this is your home,” you say, opening the door wider. “There’s no need to knock.”

Alastor and Charlie step inside, and you take a sip of your coffee—a long, drawn out sip. Alastor walks to the shelf nearest the door, placing your ugly little statue on the shelf that’s meant for all other ugly knickknacks. It blends in with all the other gifts Alastor’s given you.

Charlie’s eyes bounce around the walls, eyes wide as she looks around. “Wooooaaaaah,” she says. “This is a really nice house you guys have!”

Alastor glares at the television. “Why, thank you!” he says. “I put in a lot of care into how it looks. It seems you’ve redecorated—I don’t like it.”

“Oh, you never do,” you say. “Let’s move to the kitchen, shall we?”

Alastor’s ears straighten. “The kitchen?” he echoes. “Oh yes. Let’s go the kitchen.”

Alastor hooks his arms around yours, pulling you to the kitchen. There’s determination set in each step. You and Charlie take your seats by the kitchen table. Charlie continues to look around. You see it in her eyes as they flicker around to count each radio.

It seems you’ve made a mistake.

Alastor goes straight to the refrigerator, and swings it open.

With horror, you watch as his gaze observes each level meticulously, humming as he does. There’s not much to look at, considering the only thing inside are a couple of eggs, empty plastic containers that you’ve been too lazy to wash, last week’s takeout, and a couple of sauces and condiments.

When he finally closes it, your shoulders sink as you exhale . . . until, of course , Alastor wraps his fingers around the freezer’s handle.

“Would you like anything, Charlie?” Is the first thing that comes out of your mouth. “I think we have juice or lemonade—”

“We don’t have any of those,” Alastor says, and his gaze bears down on you. “It makes me wonder what will be inside our freezer, my love.”

Charlie smiles brightly. “I don’t need anything,” she says. “I had tea with Rosie this morning, and Alastor and I had lunch on the way here.”

“That’s wonderful to hear,” you say, chuckling nervously. “You know what? It’s such a hellish day today, and it would be a waste to spend it here. Why don’t we move to the garden?”

“No.” Alastor crosses his arm. “We are staying right here.”

You sulk in your seat, drooping a little. “ . . . okay.”

Finally, Alastor opens the freezer door. His twitching eyes and pursed lips tell you everything you need to know about how the next fifteen minutes will go. Carefully, with the tips of his fingers, Alastor pulls out one of those microwave meals you buy at the grocery. He glares at the frozen chicken nuggets and pork cutlets, and all the processed frozen food you store there for easy meals.

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” you say, giving him your most innocent smile. “And I barely eat those anyway. Those microwaved meals are just there for the occasional meal, I swear!”

Without uttering a single word, Alastor opens the cabinet under the sink where the trash can stays, and pulls it out. Empty microwave meals fill the brim. He raises his eyebrows at you.

“Oh dear . . . ” Charlie winces. “That’s a lot, even for me.

You sulk deeper into your chair.

Alastor inspects the cabinets above the sink. The only things that greet him are a bunch of pots and pans. Relief pours into you . . . until of course, Alastor grabs the largest pot at the back of the cabinet and opens it, smashing any sense of relief with a metal bat.

Alastor pulls out a large pack of instant noodles. “Do you have anything to say for yourself?” he asks. “I remember telling you that I don’t like you eating these.”

“But they’re delicious,” you say, pouting a bit.

“These aren’t healthy,” he says, pinching the bridge of his nose. “They’re full of chemicals!”

“Everything is full of chemicals!” you counter. “And I only had a few. The dosage makes the poison.”

Alastor opens the trash can and tosses what was supposed to be your dinner. “The plastic said it was a pack of twelve?”

You cross your arms. “And? I don’t see your point.”

“There’s only two left.”

You fiddle with the handle of your mug. “I . . . I was busy . . . ?”

“We’re all busy,” he says and you could pick out the faintest sound of static. “Not a single fresh fruit or vegetable, or any proper meats. Have I taught you nothing?”

Your pout deepens. “Do we have to do this in front of Charlie, my deerest?”

Charlie raises her arms in surrender. “Don’t look at me,” she says. “Aren’t you a doctor?”

“Yes, one would think . . . .,” Alastor trails off. His eyes land on the second mug of coffee on the table, and his neck tilts to angle until it snaps. Static scratches that air until it warps. His eyes darken to reveal radio dials. “Expecting a guest today?”

You blink at him a bit dumbly, and take a long and drawn-out sip of your coffee to try and compose yourself. It doesn’t work. “I don’t make coffee for guests.”

Charlie panics a bit. “There, there Alastor,” she says. “No need to get all crazy!”

Alastor’s antlers grow. “I’m aware you don’t. So, who is it for?”

“Oh . . . .” Dumbly blinking at him continues, and the words don’t seem to be doing their job.

Alastor leans closer, his voice morphing a bit. “I’d appreciate an answer, my love.”

“It's yours,” you find yourself saying. “ . . . If you want it, that is.”

He blinks at you. You blink at him. Charlie blinks at the both of you.

Gone are the growing antlers, and the static that buzzes your skin. Alastor stands before you with that never ending smile, perfectly normal—well, as normal as he can be. “You weren’t aware I’d be visiting.”

You frown at him. “It’s not a visit if it’s your own home.”

“I didn’t tell you I’d be coming home,” he says. “Why make one for me?”

The heat on your face makes you turn away. “Just take it, deerest.”

“Taste lovely as always!” he says, taking a swig. Your frown turns into a soft smile as your watch him drink. “But don’t think you’re getting away from this conversation.”

“It really isn’t my fault.”

“Oh, really now?” Alastor raises his eyebrows. “I’m positive I taught you how to cook nutritious dishes.”

You flick the mug, and a soft clink echoes a bit. “I still cook proper food for myself,” you tell him, showing him your saddest smile. “But . . . I find myself hating the dishes.”

Alastor twirls his microphone, and it strikes the ground with a soft thunk. “And you think saying this will get you off the hook?”

You stick your tongue out. “Is it working?”

Alastor sighs at you, and turns to the ticking clock. “We’re wasting time—go talk to Charlotte.”

Charlie smiles awkwardly. “Just Charlie, actually.”

With a triumphant smile, you turn to Charlie. “So,” you begin, “what business are we going to talk about today?”

It’s Charlies turn to sulk into the kitchen chair. “Extermination is a month away,” she says. “And Adam is heading straight to the hotel first! It’s just one bad event after another because Heaven refuses to listen, and I’m running out of options.”

Alastor steps behind you. Suddenly, a brush combs through the back of your feathers, smoothing those parts of your head that you’ve never been able to reach by yourself.  Sometimes, you think Hell gave you feathers so someone could brush it for you. A part of you warms at the fact that you didn’t even need to ask your husband to smoothen your feathers. It’s a job he’s been doing since you first spawned in hell, and it seems it’s work he’s keen on continuing.

“Extermination,” you echo. “I love the extermination. There are so many desperate and poor souls who want to keep their limbs. I get rather busy—prime deal making opportunities right there.”

Charlie winces a bit. “Oh dear . . . um . . . okay. That sounds fun? And a little violent.”

Alastor speaks up from behind you, still running a brush through your feathers. “We can from Cannibal Town! Charlie was able to convince Rosie’s people to take arms.”

“Then, what brings you to me?” you ask, stiffening your back as you try not to lean into the brush that combs through your feathers. Alastor always was better at preening you. “I’m not much of a fighter.”

“Alastor suggested that I ask for your help,” Charlie says. “He said you’re one of the few people who knows how to fix wounds that come from Angelic Weapons.”

You bat your eyes at Alastor. “Spilling all my secrets, I see.”

Alastor glides the brush over your hair, leaning close to your ear. “Oh, not everything.”

You laugh and glance at Charlie. “In front of a guest, my deer?”

Charlie cringes with the most hilarious frown.

“It’s just a matter of counteracting the holiness of their weapons,” you say, clearing your throat. “After that, it’s purely medical.”

“How is that even possible?”

Alastor trails through your feathers, and it tingles and flutters. You keep your expression emotionless. “I’m surprised you don’t know this,” you say. “Did Belphegor never tell you?”

“No, she didn’t.”

“Well, eons ago, Belphegor found out that angelic weapons are considered holy, and that’s very bad for a Sinner,” you explain. “So, she and a bunch of her team found out that if you cut off the holy site or embed a large amount of Sinner energy, one will be able to treat it.”

Alastor leans closer, butting into the conversation. “I prefer it when you cut it off.”

“Of course you do,” you say with a chuckle. “I wouldn’t expect anything else.”

“Embedding the wounds with your magic takes too much energy from you, and because of that you always come home to me with sunken eyes. That is, if you don’t pass out before you reach the front door,” Alastor tells you. “I don’t understand why you go out of your way when they’re not worthy.”

“Worthy?”

“Yes, worthy,” he says. “Had they been competent, they wouldn’t need to go to you in the first place. It only proves that they’re weak.”

You smile at his words. “I guess I never thought of it that way.

Charlie rolls her eyes at the both of you. “So, you could help us?”

You twist, turning to Alastor. “I think you’ve gotten all my feathers straightened out,” you say. “My love, can you do me a favor?”

Lightly, Alastor taps your head with the tip of his cane. “Of course, how can I help?”

“I think the plants need some watering.”

The brush on Alastor’s hand dissolves with a poof. He leans closer once again, trailing your cheek with his finger until they hook on your chin. He captures you with his stare, and you allow him to trap you. He presses his lips on your cheek, and disappears into his shadow.

You take an even longer sip of your coffee.

Charlie massages her forehead, eyes twitching. “Dear Satan, it’s like watching my parents all over again! I can leave, you know,” she says, snorting. “Give you two a little privacy?”

“Oh, don’t bother,” you tell her. “There wouldn’t be enough time.”

Her brows furrow. “Time?”

“After all, extermination is in a month,” you say, brightening your smile. “We’re going to need at least two.”

“ What the fuuuuck,. ” Charlie whispers underneath her breath, her voice a pitch higher.

“Every couple of years, there will be certain seasons where it takes six!” you say. “Sinner bodies are just so exhilarating.”

Charlie chokes on her spit, and her eyes bulge. “Are you serious?”

“Hmmm, I could be—who knows?” You raise your mug to toast, and take a drink.

“You’re joking,” Charlie says. “ . . . Right? Please tell me you’re joking.”

“My dear, is that a question you would want an answer to?” you ask. “Would you be prepared if the answer happens to be no ?”

Charlie sinks deeper into her chair. “Okay, then! Moving on, now.”

Leaning on your palm, you laugh. “My deerly beloved husband wouldn’t give all this information for free,” you say. “What did he ask for?”

“We made a deal.”

Your hands drop to the table. “Oh Charlotte,” you say. “That was a foolish mistake. You don’t know what Alastor does to the so—“

“I still have my soul!” Charlie exclaims, balling her fist. “From Vaggie! From you—his own wife! I did what I needed to do to keep my people safe . . . Sorry.”

“You shouldn’t be so reliant on Alastor,” you tell her with a small smile. “You can’t trust him.”

“He’s given me no reason no to trust him, and . . . ,” Charlie trails off. “And Alastor is my friend.”

Your smile brightens a bit. “Friend?”

“Yes?” Charlie says. “Everyone at the hotel is my friend, and he’s been a tremendous help.”

You place your hands over Charlies and give it a squeeze. “Convince me to help you.”

“W-what?”

“Alastor isn’t asking me to go play medic in the middle of a warzone.” Your brush your feathers out of your face. “If he was asking, I would say yes without a second thought because that’s who we are, but he isn’t asking me, Charlie, you are.”

Charlie hums, placing a finger on her lips as she thinks. “I heard from Angel that you and Alastor got married whe—“

CRASH!

She grips the table, eyes wide as she looks around. “What was that?”

You take a long and drawn-out sip of coffee, contemplating your choice for marriage. “Nothing to be worried about,” you say. “That was just my television.”

“Your Tv?” Charlie frowns a bit. “Did . . . did Alastor just throw away your Tv?”

You laugh, swatting your hand in the air. “Not at all!” you say. “It probably tripped out my window—those picture boxes are always so clumsy.”

Charlie raises her eyebrows. “You’re saying that your Tv . . . just tripped out the window.”

You smile at her. “You were saying something?”

She sighs, massaging her forehead. “You got married when you were alive, but continue to stay together. It’s very rare for Sinners to do such a thing,” she says. “And with all of that . . . uh . . . Alastorness.”

“It’s alright, you can just say bat-shit crazy.”

“I’d prefer not to,” she says with an awkward laugh. “So, how were you able to stay together for so long

“Are you . . . ,” you trail off, blinking. “Are you asking me for relationship advice?”

“A bit? If that’s okay,” she says. “Rosie already helped but, well, she did eat her first husband.”

“I don’t think I can be of much help.” Your lips purse. “Alastor and I don’t exactly have the most conventional marriage.”

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1927

“Do you like it?” Alastor offers you a spoonful of the simmering sauce.

You lean closer, shifting from your seat on his kitchen counter. Alastor dips the spoon in your opened mouth. “It’s spicy,” you say, lips twisting when you cough. “Is it supposed to be like that?”

Alastor tilts his head. A lock of his hair falls to the side. “No . . . it’s not.” He takes back the spoon and dips it into the pan. Alastor coughs as soon as it hits his tongue. “How many peppers did you add?”

Your legs sway, and the heels of your foot tap the cabinets below you. “I added what was written on the recipe! Exactly twelve peppers.”

Alastor twists the stove’s knob, killing the fire. “Take a look at the notebook again,” he says and reaches over your legs, grabbing his book full of recipes. “If you use these things called ‘eyes’ and ready, you’d be able to see that it says, ‘one to two’!”

“No, it does not!” you huff, grabbing the notebook from him. You read through the list of ingredients. There, near the bottom, pass the four cloves of chopped garlic, half a shallot, and a pinch of pepper, ‘one to two peppers’ is scribbled with blocky letters. “Oh . . . that’s my bad. Yeah, that’s on me.”

Alastor adjusts his sleeves, pulling it back up his forearm. (Hmm, not a bad look.) “There’s no point in teaching you how to cook this if you don’t know how to read!” he says, eyes twitching. “Go . . . Just go over there and let me fix this.”

“I already said I was sorry!”

“No, you did not!” Alastor says, throwing his hands into the air. “What you said was,‘Oh . . . that’s my bad. Yeah, that’s on me’, actually.”

“Yeah, that’s on me,” you repeat with a snort. “That’s my bad.”

“Get out of my kitchen before you ruin dinner.” He leans on the counter, crossing his arms. You hum to yourself. Alastor should pull his sleeves up more. “Go set the table or something. And wash your hair when you get home—it smells like chemicals.”

With a huff, you do as you're told.

You slide off his counter, opening the cabinet and grab two bowls with one arm and reach for the table placemats with the other.

Two sets of utensils, glass cups, and paper napkins. It’s one more set than what you prepare when you’re at your own home. Two . . . Two. It’s becoming quite the word in your vocabulary.

There’s a proper table waiting to be used in the other room, but this smaller one you’re setting, with its fraying edges and turmeric stains suit the both of you much better.

Three ice-cubes bobble at the top of Alastor’s water. It’s how he likes it. It’s funny. You don’t remember Alastor disclosing this particular information. It’s just something you noticed one day, and you’ve never stopped noticing. What else have you unconsciously learned about him, and what have you unconsciously taught him about you?

Alastor walks to the table, a large steaming bowl in his hands. He places it between the bowls, and you reach into the drawer for a ladle.

The taste tingles your tongue. It’s good. Better than anything you could possibly make for yourself.

You reach into your pocket and toss a handkerchief at Alastor’s face. It lands on between his hair. He tilts his head, shaking it, and the cloth slides on the table. “It’s yours,” you tell him, taking a spoonful of your food. “Thanks for dinner.”

Alastor studies how his name is embroidered in near letters, thumbing the music notes framing it. “Dinner was a way to thank you for this week’s meat.”

He tosses back the handkerchief. It smacks your face.

You peel it from your skin, and trace the letters you’ve threaded during your very scarce free time. “I can’t go around with a handkerchief that has your name on it.”

His smile widens. “Why not?”

“People would think I’m a fan.” You hand Alastor the handkerchief this time. “Just take it as a gift then.”

Alastor takes it from you, and places it into his pocket.

You hum into your spoon with a pleased smile. “Hey Al,” you say. “Tell me what you did today.”

Alastor takes his time chewing and swallowing his food. “As you can see,” he tells you, “I’m eating.”

“I’m bored,” you say. “Eat while you talk.”

He reaches across the table, and his fingers catch on the knob of the radio to turn it on.

Classical music plays out of the speaker. It was correct to assume that Alastor pre-sets radios to play his favorite stations. Although, you didn’t imagine that each of his many radios would have their own specific station. A different radio for different stations. You questioned Alastor about it, but he didn’t say much.

Once the bottom of the bowls has been scraped into your stomachs, you take the dishes and go to the sink.

Your nose scrunches at the sight of the piled dishes. Alastor watches you with a smile. You turn away when you notice.

Alastor takes a container from the cabinet above your head. He’s warm. Always warm.

He takes two containers, placing the leftovers inside. And there it is again, that word—Two. Not one, but two. One for him. One for you. You didn’t ask for leftovers. You’ve never asked at all. Alastor will just hand you the container like it’s the most automatic thing in this world for him to do.

You take the first of many bowls, and rinse the stubborn pieces with your hands. “There’s too many dishes,” you say. “It’s like you have one for every ingredient. Did you really need to use separate ones for each and every ingredient we used?”

He leans on the counter, slotting himself next to you.  “I don’t like mixing the flavors until it’s time to add them.”

Alastor adjusts his pulled sleeves and crosses his arms.

The bowl slips from your grip.

“Oh . . . I . . . uh . . . sorry,” you say, picking up the bowl. “I mean, you really didn’t need one for the salt and pepper. They already come in containers—why couldn’t you just, I don’t know, eyeball it?”

“Eyeball it?”

“Yeah, or feel it with your soul or something,” you say and pick up the measuring spoons to show him. “You had to measure three pinches of salt instead of actually just pinching it.”

Alastor laughs, and strands of his hair slide down to his eyes. “And how did it taste?”

Your shoulders slump when you sigh. “Good.”

He bumps his shoulders with yours. “That’s just the way I was taught.”

“Well,” you start, “your way creates more dishes for me to clean.”

Alastor pivots from the counter, and takes his place in front of the second sink. He grabs the dish you’ve already rinsed and sponges it with soap. It’s quite the system you’ve created. You grab a dirty dish, rinse it, and pass it on to Alastor who cleans it with a sponge.

The next minute goes something like this:

Alastor flicks water at your face. You ignore it.

Flick. Ignore.

Flick. Ignore.

Flick. Ignore.

The water damps your hair. You kick his leg. “Stop that.”

Alastor drenches his hand under the faucet, letting his fingers accumulate water. He flicks it at you.

The grip you have on the plate tightens. “I am going to smash this on your head.”

Alastor raises his eyebrows. He glares. You glare back. He cups his hand under the faucet like a bowl. The water pools between his hands. He throws the water at you. It hits your eyes, blinding you. That does little to stop you.

You grip the plate, swinging it in his direction.

The plate doesn’t connect with anything . . .  Sadly. You rub the water out your eyes, and find Alastor kneeling on the floor with a triumphant smile.

Alastor stands up, brushing dirt from his pants. “You missed.”

“You ducked.”

“I can’t believe you actually did that,” he says. “What if you actually hit me?”

You pass the plate to Alastor before you scratch the urge to swing at that smug smile of his. “Hey Al,” you say. “Tell me what you did today.”

Alastor closes the faucet. “You always ask me that.”

“That’s because you say it in entertaining ways,” you say. “It’s boring to wash the dishes without something to distract me.”

Alastor soaps the dish. “Your lessening attention span worries me.”

You roll your eyes at him, and flick water at his face. “Please?”

“Since you asked so nicely,” he says. “I find myself having no reason to deny you.”

Alastor’s glasses slide down his nose. He leans close enough for you to smell his perfume. He’s warm—always warm. It takes a second for you to understand. You dry your hands on a stray towel and fix it in place.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

1928.

The metal bench cools the back of your neck.

The sun blinds your eyes, but you keep a steady gaze on the afternoon beams. When was the last time you felt the heat of the sun kiss your skin? As the seconds tick by. As the birds fly above you. As the leaves fall from their stem, melting on this bench seems like a heavenly idea.

But as the clock will eventually strike. But as the birds will eventually find their nest. But as the leaves will eventually land. So, too, must you eventually go back to work.

A shadow blocks the sun.

It takes a second for your eyes to adjust. Alastor’s upside-down face smiles at you. “Good morning to you!”

With a yelp, you swing your forehead forward.

Alastor leans backwards, narrowly missing your head by centimeters. “Not the greeting I imagined, but hello to you as well,” he says. “The receptionist said I could find you here.”

You twist, turning to him with a frown. “Are you okay?”

Alastor slides over the bench, and takes the free seat next to you. His legs cross. “Why would I not be, okay?”

There’s some bag slung over his shoulder, but that’s not important right now. Your eyes trail his body. Hair? Fixed. Smile? Wide. Clothes? Perfect. “You’re at a clinic.”

Alastor swats his hand. “I was in the area.”

That classic city stench attacks your nose, but it’s just nice to feel the way your hair sways from the breeze. “You’re not going to kill me, right?”

Alastor nudges his leg with yours. “You say that every single time!”

Your smile turns smug. “I’ll stop saying it when it stops becoming funny.”

Alastor rolls his eyes, showing it off to you. “It never was.”

“It is to me,” you say and wave your hands in the air. “Just imagine this, the great Alastor had to stalk me!”

“I am great, but remind me again,” he begins, propping his arm on the bench to lean on it, “how long did you have to follow me?”

Sighing, you lean your head on the backrest to count the clouds. It’s nice to be able to see actual clouds for once instead of the drawing of children who wait. “ . . . Three months.”

“Exactly,” he says, and you hear the smugness in his words. “And I didn’t need to do any stalking—you led me straight to your house.”

You blow a raspberry at him. “Why are you even here then?”

Alastor props his legs on your lap. You push him off. He brings it back. It’s not worth fighting him right now. “I actually was in the area,” he says, and hands you the bag slung over his shoulder. “The director thought it would be a grand idea to bring the staff out to lunch.”

You unzip the bag, and packed lunch greets you. And there it is again. Two. Two. Two. One for you. One for him. Maybe both for you? “Al, tell me why I’m currently looking at two packed lunches?”

Alastor beams at you, and slides his legs off your lap. “I accidentally cooked too much today,” he said. “I thought it would be a grand idea to share.”

Your frown. “But . . . you already ate.”

“Oh . . . I was already planning on dropping by,” he says. “It was quite the stroke of luck that you’re only taking your break now, and that we happened to have lunch nearby. I thought I’d bring you a treat.”

Questions bubble on your throat. “Thank you, Al,” you say instead. You open the container and take a bite, savoring the taste. “It’s delicious.”

Alastor leans closer, and picks a leaf off your head. “That’s because I actually followed the recipe.”

You point your spoon at him. “That was just that one time!”

He smiles at you, chuckling softly. “Three actually.”

Before the clock strikes, it will tick. Before the birds find their nest, they will fly. Before the leaves hit the ground, it will fall. And before you eventually go back to work, you will eat on this bench, Alastor to your side.

He stares ahead. As you eat, you watch his eyes flicker. It goes from the kid then to a plant then to an old lady. This, you don’t question. You’ve stopped wondering what he could possibly be thinking years ago.

Alastor leans closer to your ear. “Do you see that lady?” he asks, voice low. His breath tickles your skin. “That one over there with the feather on her hat?”

You scan the people around the area, spotting the lady old enough to be your grandmother. A scarf wraps around her neck, despite the sun beaming with the afternoon heat. She lazily walks around. “What about her?”

“Do you think her name could be Edith? She looks like an Edith,” Alastor says. “She probably had three children, and married young when her parents forced her to marry this ugly but rich man she could never love.”

Alastor brought you lunch. Alastor brought you lunch. Alastor brought you lunch. It’s like a mantra that plays in your head. There’s no reason not to play along whatever nonsense he’s spouting. “Sure, why not?”

“But no!” he exclaims into your ear. You jerk away and shove him with an elbow. “Oof . . . .Edith just had to defy all expectations, and she chose to elope with her childhood sweetheart. He’s not the richest man, but they survived.”

“That’s sweet.”

“And to this day,” he says, “everyone still calls her, ‘Edith the Penguin’.”

“Edith the penguin?” you echo. “Now I’m just confused.”

Alastor’s eyes shine. “Because she walks like a penguin with their ass on fire,” he snorts. “Your turn, now.”

Alastor brought you lunch. Alastor brought you lunch. Alastor brought you lunch. Alastor brought you lunch. Alastor brought you lunch. Alastor brought you lunch. Alastor brought you lunch. Alastor brought you lunch. Alastor brought you lunch. And you would love to be brought lunch again.

“Fine.” You place your spoon down, and look around to the first person who grabs your attention. “That little kid over there—His name is Thomas, and he likes balloons.”

Alastor blinks at you. “And?”

You take your time chewing and swallowing your food. “That’s all.”

He gawks at you, and rolls your eyes. “It must be so boring to be you.”

“It is not!” You huff at him, and kick his leg. “I am a very interesting person, I’ll have you know.”

“Oh really, now? Thomas, and he likes balloons?” Alastor says,and points at the kid with twitching eyes. “He’s holding a balloon!”

You wave your arms, the spoon still in your grip. “So, he probably likes it!” you say. “Thomas wouldn’t get a balloon if he didn’t like it.”

“I pity your sense of imagination.”

Alastor brought you lunch. Alastor brought you lunch. Alastor brought you lunch. And you would love to be brought lunch again.

You swallow what remains inside the container, and pack it up. “Is this what you do when you zone out as I’m tal—and you’re doing it again, aren’t you?” you say. “You are an incredibly judgmental person.”

“It’s called using my imagination. Something you apparently don’t have,” he says with a snort. “So . . . tell me what you did today.”

You raise your eyebrows at him. “That’s my question.”

Alastor shrugs, taking the closed container and zipping it inside his bag. He hands you a tissue. “Well, I’m asking it now.”

You prop your arm on the bench, leaning on it. Alastor’s hair spikes out in odd places today. It must have quite the trek to the clinic. “I’m not as good a storyteller as you are.”

He props his arms on the bench, mimicking your pose. His eyes stare straight into yours. “ I don’t need a story,” he says. “I just want to know what you did today.”

You press your palm on his face, pushing him away from your face. The sun’s heat is really getting to you. Alastor’s nose crinkles as he rubs it. “Why would you even want to know what I do?”

Alastor props his elbows on his knees, observing the people around him. “You always ask me what I did,” he says. “I want to know if there’s something special about it.:

“There’s nothing special about it,” you tell him. Was there actually? You’re not sure. “I just like knowing, and it always entertains me.”

Alastor meets your eyes with a wide smile. “Then tell me what you did today,” he says. “Entertain me.”

The clock ticks closer. The birds are already close to their nests. The leaves are already floating to the ground. You are already close to going back to work, closer to this moment becoming nothing but a distant memory. “That was my first meal of the day.”

Alastor’s eyebrows furrow and his lips twist into a hard scowl. “That’s not healthy.”

You shut your eyes and sigh. “I never said it was.”

“How would you live without me?”

Remember, Alastor brought you lunch, and it would be nice if he could bring you lunch again. “I’m going to hit you.”

Alastor bumps your knees with his. “Lovely,” he says, and you can hear the smile he’s wearing. “I’m sure it will be very painful because you’re so full of energy right now.”

Eyes still shut, you bump his knees back. “I’ve been busy,” you say. “And don’t roll your eyes at me.”

Alastor hesitates for a second. “First of all, we’re all busy,” he says. “Second, I didn’t roll my eyes.”

“You did—it was audible,” you tell him with a soft chuckle. “Anyway, there’s nothing new with my day. It’s just the usual, people to see, files to file, blood to draw, pee to get on me.”

Alastor digs his finger into your cheek, twisting it as he presses down. “Wow, you really are a horrible storyteller.”

You know what, maybe you don’t need Alastor bringing you lunch. You peek open an eye to stare at him. “I’m going to smash a plate on your head once we start doing the dishes.”

Alastor mashes your cheek like some button. Over and over and over and over again. You swat his hand, and he rubs it with a grimace. “Were you planning on dropping by today?”

You place an arm over your eyes, blocking out the sun. “Will I have to do the dishes?”

“You don’t have to specifically do the dishes.”

You comb through your hair with your fingers. “That wouldn’t exactly be fair to you.”

“If you're so insistent, we can find something else for you to do,” he says. “I mean, if you hate it so much you don’t have to do it.”

“I don’t hate it,” you say with a sigh. A church bell sounds. It echoes through the buildings and through the trees. “Al . . . I’m tired.”

“I know,” he says, and you hear how softly he chuckles. “Your eyes are drooping so low I could fill the entire ocean in them.”

“I want to sleep, Al.”

“I know.”

“I hate this job.”

Alastor pauses for a second, and he bumps his shoulders with yours. “You don’t.”

The clock hasn’t struck yet. The birds haven’t flown to their nests. The leaves haven’t reached the ground. And so too will you stay in this moment of time.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

1929

Footsteps creak on the wooden stairs. The sound is ignored, just like every other thing that isn’t relevant to you.

The dead cadaver under you has weird kidneys. The one on your palm is too small for a kidney that belongs to someone of his size. You take your scalpel, slicing it to observe the cross section.

“It’s time to stop,” Alastor tells you. Ignore. Ignore. Ignore. Him and his smile is not important right now. “You’ve been here all night.”

“Leave me alone,” you mumble. The human body continues to be amazing. The medulla is clearly outlined. The colors of its cells were so different from the cortex. “ . . . Kidneys, Alastor. He has weird kidneys. Hehehehe weird kidneys . . . ”

Alastor says your name in a way that forces you to listen.

“ . . . Oh . . . yes?” you say a bit dumbly.

“It’s nightfall,” he says, and the tone of his voice buzzes your skin. “Come on now, do as you're told. Be upstairs in fifteen minutes.”

It’s not an easy task to do as Alastor says, especially when this man’s left kidney is a whole different size from the right. However, with a frown, you slot the kidney from the opened chest cavity, and pack up the body.

You step out of the basement, and walk to the kitchen.

There’s a plate waiting for you on the table. It’s still hot. Muffled music plays from the porch, and you see Alastor’s outline through the windows. Taking your plate, you step out the front door and into the outdoors.

(Something you really need to start seeing more.)

And oh . . . he’s not listening to the radio. Alastor plays the recording of his show. It was a present you got him a few months back.

You take your seat on the matching rocking chair.

Alastor watches you settle into your seat. He turns the volume down. “Tables were invented for a reason.”

The chair rocks when you swing your legs. “It’s nice out here,” you say, and take a bite of vegetables. “The sky is much clearer. It helps that there’s no stench of piss.”

He turns to you with a small smile. “That’s because you live in the city.”

The wind blows your hair into your face. You push it out of the way. “Hey, Al,” you say slowly. “Tell me what you did today.”

“Why should I?”

You lean back into the chair, letting the rocking sway you. “Well, you got home late,” you say. “I had to use my keys.”

Alastor leans back on the chair, using the tips of his shoe to rock himself. “Yes, that was the point of the keys,” he says, humming. “It would be a shame to come home to another broken window.”

The taste of the vegetables mixed with the meat makes you smile in delight. “Are you still holding on to that?”

“Always.”

“I paid you back, eventually,” you tell him, pointing your fork at him. “Why are you still holding a grudge for an honest accident?”

On his cheek , where it’s always been and where it’ll always be, his smile strains. “You expect me to believe that a rock smashing my window was an honest accident.”

You offer him your most innocent smile. “Yes.”

“Well, I hope your windows are much sturdier then,” he says, mimicking your smile. “One of these days, I might cause an accident.”

The stars twinkle in the sky. There’s a vast amount of knowledge those gassy balls hold. Maybe your life would be less horrific if you were interested in the stars instead. “In my defense, you were late.”

Alastor pinches the bridge of his nose. “You couldn’t wait fifteen minutes?”

You take another bite of your meal, and sway happily to do a little dance. “Just . . .  okay? Just tell me what you did before I finish my meal.”

Alastor reaches into his pocket and tosses a keychain at you. It lands between your legs.

You set the plate on the coffee table between you, and hold the keychain to the light. It was a cute, little cartoon alligator. “What’s this?”

“It’s yours.”

“I can tell that much,” you say, twirling the gift between your fingers. “You never give me nice knickknacks. It’s always the ugly ones

Alastor huffs at you. “That doesn’t sound like my problem anymore,” he says. “I thought you would appreciate something that looks halfway decent one and for all.”

“I find the ugly ones really charming, actually. They’re very funny to look at,” you say. “So, where did you get this?”

Alastor clasps his hands, resting it on his stomach as he rocks himself. “Saw an advertisement. Went to the zoo.”

You scrunch your face. “That’s all you’re going to tell me?”

“Go finish your meal.”

You pocket his gift, and grab the plate on the table. “Master of storytelling right here, ladies and gentlemen,” you say, barking a laugh. “I figured you would love the excuse of hearing yourself talk.”

Alastor ignores you, reaching for his notepad instead.

You watch Alastor as he writes on his notepad. The breeze sways a strand of his hair. His lips twist when he thinks, just like he’s doing right now

Your eyes fall on your plate, to where vegetables and meat were carefully tossed together. Alastor cooked today—he always cooks.

When you finish, you’ll grab the plates, and begin the mountain of dishes. Even when dish soap stings your fingers, even when the feeling of wet food grosses you, and even when thousands of dirty dishes wait for you . . . it’s something you don’t mind.

Once this meal is finished, you and him will step inside. He’ll properly tell you about his day, and you’ll take the pan and scrub it.

Ah . . . there it is again. That word—Two.

But it’s not two of anything. It’s simply just two. You and Alastor.

“You’re frowning,” Alastor says. He stares at you from the corner of  his eyes. “Why?”

It’s weird.

Very weird.

You don’t . . . You don’t understand. How do you say the words you do not know how to explain?

It’s almost as if . . . “We should get married.”

Alastor’s laughter rings across the open land. “No.”

The inside of your cheek stings from how you bite it. You turn away to hide your flushed cheeks. “I . . . It just came out, okay?” you mumble. “I’m really trying not to be offended that you turned me down without a second thought, and with a laugh as well.”

Alastor turns back to his notepad. “Don’t be,” he says. “I’m nothing you want.”

The moonlight reflects off his brown eyes.

“Sometimes . . . ,” you begin, and a small smile appears on your lips. “Sometimes I wish you see yourself the way I see you.”

Alastor laughs at you again. “You’ve been having such thoughts about me?” he says. “What an absolute honor! I’m deeply flattered.”

“And then you say words like that, and I immediately know it’s not worth it

Alastor lifts his eyes from his notepad to peek at you. He fixes his eyeglasses. “You don’t actually think we should get married.”

To be infuriating, you take a bite from your plate, savoring each flavor with drawn out chews.

“I have no idea,” you say. “But . . . I mean, why not? There are many good reasons for me to marry you—it’s advantages for me, and everyone already thinks we’re dating.”

Alastor turns back to his notepad, shaking his head. “That’s the most absurd idea I’ve ever heard.”

“What, being in a relationship with me?”

“Yes.”

“That’s twice you’ve managed to offend me.” You laugh to hide your frown. “But that friend of yours. The feathery one from the lounge you like taking me to.”

Alastor tilts his head. “Mimzy?”

“Ah yes, her,” you say with a hum. “She asked me if you um . . . uh . . .  well, if you liked vanilla or hot and spicy.”

“If I had to answer, Id say hot and spicy?” Alastor says, and you laugh at the confusion on his face. “I got a bottle of this pepper flakes infused with old. It was quite the treat.”

“That’s exactly what I figured you would say,” you tell him.“Unfortunately for you, Mimzy was talking about sex.”

Alastor scrunches his face.

“Oh don’t make such a face, there is absolutely no need to be afraid of the prospect of such activities.” The final bite of your meal bursts with so much flavor that you revel it for a second. “Al, let’s get married.”

Alastor glares at you. “No.”

You place the plate on the coffee table. It can be  washed after this conversation. “Why not?”

He points his pen between you and him..“We aren't even dating,” he says. “And . . . I can’t express such passionate displays of affection.”

You rock the chair with your shoe. An owl hoots from somewhere beyond the trees. Huh, you weren’t aware owls lived in this area. “Don’t be a child—just say sex.”

Again, his face scrunches. “I will not.”

“It’s a really good thing,” you say, sighing, “that no one’s asking.”

Alastor searches for your eyes. He holds it. It was only ever his to hold anyway. “I’m not even sure I’m interested in romance.”

You look around, whipping your head. “I think I’m missing the part where someone asked.”

“Be serious.”

“Okay fine. This is me being serious because I am when I say that all I don’t need your romance—Al, you accepted me for who I am, and to me? That is enough,” you say with a soft smile. “You are all I could ever ask for.”

Alastor stares at the stars, his eyes capturing each one. “I can’t love you like a husband should.”

The stares are really beautiful. Each shines in their own way. Alastor sees the beauty in them, but you aren’t going to be beaten by a gas ball.

Tonight, you will be the only star Alastor should keep his gaze on.

“Alastor, look at me.”

He keeps his eyes on the stars.

Huffing, you stride to his chair, and block his view of the night sky.

You plant your arms on the armrest for support, and inch your face so close that you are the only thing he will see. “Alastor,” you say his name, voice oh so soft, “look at me.”

Oh . . . his eyes are browner than you thought. It’s a deep and dark brown that pulls you in.

“You can love me in ways that matter.” You press your forehead against his, and close your eyes.

There are more words to be said, but right now you and him stay in this moment of time. Just . . . for . . . a second.

“I will never force you to love me in ways you cannot,” you whisper. The ends of his hair brush against your skin. “Alastor, I could never reject the type of love you can offer me. I can never deny you.”

Alastor caresses your cheek with the back of his fingers. “Friends don’t get married.”

Impulsivity was such a bad habit of yours. It’s a fact that makes you bear the consequences, but consequences be damned. You take his hand, holding it in yours. The pads of his fingers have different textures. Some are smooth. Some are rough. But the whole thing warms you to the touch.

It’s unfair. He’s unfair. How could something as simple as taking his hand intoxicate?

Your lips hover over his skin, brushing it a little. Alastor doesn’t pull away. With a smile that Alastor always seems to put on your lips, you plant a soft kiss on his ring finger.

“We aren’t normal people. There’s no reason to force ourselves into a conventional relationship.” You meet his eyes with a smile. Every word you utter brushes your lips yo his skin. “This marriage will be defined however we want. You offered me a partnership in death . . . .This is me offering you a partnership in life.”

You press your lip on the back of his hand one final time, and return to your chair.

Alastor doesn’t speak.

You rock yourself with your foot, enjoying the sway of the chair.“There is that added benefit that the police won’t be suspicious of a doting husband.”

Alastor scrunches his face. “Doting husband?” he echoes. “I thought we wouldn’t be having a normal marriage.”

“That doesn’t mean a lady doesn’t want to feel special,” you say, snorting. “I’ve always dreamed of a doting husband.”

Alastor rips a page out of his notepad. He folds it with his hands.

His vets match his shoes today. The hair on the back of his head sticks out and curls. Did he take a nap today? “I could be like this every single night,” you say softly. “You and me. The two of us under the stars until our hairs turn gray.”

Alastor’s gaze stays locked on the piece of paper he’s folding. “Why me?”

You stare at him with a smile, and lean your face on your palm. “Does it need to be said?”

Alastor glances at you with those brown eyes of his. “I’m asking.”

“It’s because . . . It’s . . . I . . . ,” your trail off. How do you summon the words to describe something you don’t understand?

There’s a smug smile on Alastor’s lips. “What, is it because you love me?”

“Would it be so bad if I did?” you say, chuckling into your arm. “But . . . well, I don’t exactly know how to properly say this.”

“Just open your mouth,” he says, rolling his eyes, “and let the words do it’s job.”

“I wouldn’t mind doing the dishes with you for the rest of my life,” you tell him, and your cheeks tingle. “Maybe even past life. Can you imagine that? You and me in hell, doing our dishes together.”

There’s an odd look on his face. “Sure.”

“We can listen to the radio,” you say. “And I’ll ask you about your day, and you will tell me the wildest and most grandiose story while we clean a pot.”

Alastor smiles at you. “You hate doing the dishes.”

“I do not.”

“You do. I see it—I always do,” he says with a soft chuckle. Alastor taps his nose. “Your nose scrunches every time, yet you never ask for help.”

What expression are you making right now?

You bring your legs to your chest. “I’m willing to give up everything for dirty dishes if it means I have you as a companion for the rest of my life.”

Alastor turns back to whatever he was folding.

You hide your face in your legs, face flushed and warm. “Say something . . . please,” you say, whispering. “I just poured out my heart for you

You hear Alastor rise from his seat. He places a hand on your head. “Today’s dinner . . . ,” he says, and his voice is the softest it’s ever been. “Did you like it?”

You smile even if he couldn’t see it, and lean into his hand. “It was one of the most delicious thing I have ever tasted.”

“I wouldn’t mind making it for you for the rest of my life . . . if you’re willing to wash the dishes with me for the rest of yours,” Alastor says, and you think this is the most honest thing he’s ever told you. “It’s yours. Even if you don’t want it, this is yours now.”

You peek out of your knees. Alastor’s smile is soft. He opens his palms and your eyes flicker to them. He shows you what he’s been folding. It’s the paper of his notepad folded into a ring—a paper ring.

“Do it again,” you say with a beam that could rival the stars. “Ask me again.”

Alastor caresses your cheek, the back of his finger brushing down your skin. “Doting husband?”

“Exactly,” you say with a laugh and lean into his touch. “You catch on very quickly.”

Alastor takes your hand in his, and his thumb brushes over your ring finger. Does he feel your skin the way you feel his? He kneels on one knee and the paper ring is presented to you. “Would you do me the honor of accepting my hand in marriage?”

You insert your ring finger into the paper ring. “The honor would be mine, my dearest.”

Alastor stares at you.

You stare back.

 The moment your eyes settle on one another, laughter echoes across the land. It’s loud and breathy, and it echoes so far that the local wildlife gets disturbed. Alastor settles back on his chair, rocking himself.

Alastor calms down first. “Oh . . . uh . . . Should we share a passionate kiss?”

The stars shine above you. Not a single gas ball can beat the brightness of your smile. “Do you want to?” you ask. “Be honest, my dear.”

Alastor hesitates for a second. “Not particularly—Do you?”

“Maybe? Sometimes?” you say with a shrug. “I could live a happy life without such passionate kisses.”

“Really?” he says, and the surprise in his voice makes you laugh. “You would be fine without one?”

“Well, since you’re so insistent, I’ll allow a kiss.”

Alastor snorts into the air. “And where and when would you want such a kiss?”

You hold him in your gaze. There’s so much to learn, so much to figure out. It’s alright. There will be time. “Anywhere and anytime, you want, my love.”

“You’re going to give me control?” he asks. “Is this not something you would want as well?”

“I’ll make this easy enough for you to understand,” you tell him, tracing the paper ring around your finger. “I demand a kiss whenever you are completely and perfectly and incandescently happy.”

Alastor hums, looking away to study the woodcarving on his chair. He picks on them. “I supposed if you need anyone to fulfill your needs I only as—”

“Just say sex, my dearest,” you say, and Alastor sinks into his chair with a huff. “That will never happen. This isn’t a friendship, my love. I am entering a relationship with you. No matter how unconventional, it is still ours.”

Alastor locks your eyes with a pleased smile. “Good.”

The rocking chair rocks you into a small lull. “My dear.”

“Yes?”

“My love.”

Alastor sighs. “Yes?”

“My dearest,” you say. “Would you want to share a bed?”

Alastor stays silent. There’s hesitation on his face. You see it in the way his lips twist. You see it in the way his eyebrows furrow. You see it in the way he leans back on his chair to stare at the stars.

“Okay then, we can circle back to that later,” you say with a soft chuckle. “How about a room—Do you want to share one?”

Alastor raises his eyebrows, staring at you with silent judgment. He is a book that you are allowed to learn. There’s so much to read, and so much still left to be read. That’s okay. There’s time. No matter how long. You have time.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that, we can share a room without sharing a bed,” you exclaim, throwing your hands into the air. “We can even have bunk beds. That would be cool. I’ve always wanted a bunk bed.”

Alastor rests his face on his palm to look at you. There it is again, the breathy and light laughter. “We are not sleeping on a bunk bed.”

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Charlie’s smile slowly morphs into a frow that you cannot decipher. It makes sense that you can’t. Afterall, she is not the book you’ve spent your life learning to read. “You . . . You don’t actually love each other?”

There’s a frame hanging on your kitchen wall that says otherwise.

It holds an art piece you embroidered for the sole purpose of giving it to your husband. The color of the wooden frame compliments the colors of the thread as if it was carefully chosen to match. The one here in the kitchen is but one of many frames around the house. Alastor keeps every single item safe beneath the glass to to be admired.

There’s a shelf standing on the living-room carpet that says otherwise.

It holds ugly knick knacks that Alastor bought for the sole purpose of giving it to his wife. It’s a pain to dust the shelves, but not a speck of dirt touches its surface, as if it was carefully taken care of. The one in there in the living-room is but one of many shelves around the house. You keep every item spotless to be admired.

“We’re not heartless,” you say. “Alastor and I don’t have the same relationship you and your girlfriend have.”

Charlie sways in her seat, a hand rests on her chin when she hums. “ I am so sorry,” he says. “I think it’s great and all that, I’m just having trouble understanding.”

“It’s not exactly for you to understand.” You take a sip from your mug.

“So it’s not a relationship,” Charlie says. “Sooooo, is it like a really really deep friendship?”

“The lines between us are so blurry that it’s become deeper than friendship,” you admit with a small smile. “I just know that my soul is connected to him in ways I do not know how to tell him.”

“Is that really possible?” Charlie asks. “To just . . . love each other so differently?”

“Can our relationship not just . . . exist?” You lean on your palms. “Do you really think it’s so impossible for two people to just . . . to just look forward to cooking and washing the dishes together?”

Charlie’s eyes brighten. “I think I’m starting to understand,” she says. “So like—”

“Charlie . . . if I sit here and answer all of your questions, we’re going to waste time.” You play with the fiddle of your mug. “You didn’t come here for relationship advice.”

“Oh . . . yes.” Charlie sits there. Her smile slowly falls into a frown. “I’ve been thinking of how to convince you to help me, but I can’t think of a single thing to say, and I don’t want to force you either.��

You raise your eyebrows. “You haven’t exactly asked for my help either.”

Charlie blinks at you. “ . . . Huh?”

You raise your mug to toast to her. “If you want my help, just ask for it.”

Charlie grabs your hand with a tight grip. “Please, help me,” she says, voice shaking. “I don’t want to drag Cannibal Town into an all-out war without knowing there was a way to keep them safe.”

“Sure, why not?” You pull your hand away.

A loud squeal bounces off the walls.

Charlie pulls you into the tightest hug you’ve ever experienced. She hauls you with all the strength of a hellborn princess.  Your feet drag against the floor as she pulls you out of the kitchen and into the living-room.

Charlie drops you with a wince on her face. She stares at the broken window, and the obviously missing television.

You trip out of her hold.

Alastor wraps his hand on your shoulders, steading you against him until you find your balance. His touch lingers on you.

The television shaped hole on your glass window makes your eyes twitch.

Alastor steps away from you, twirling his microphone. It strikes the floor with a harsh thunk. “Oh, yes that,” he says. “It seems there was an unfortunate accident.”

“Oh, really now?” you say, placing a hand on your hips. “I would love to know exactly how that happened.”

Alastor’s smile widens, and his arms wave the air. “The clumsy boxed tripped right out the window.”

Your smile strains. “That is rather unfortunate,” you say. “What a shame, I rather liked that television. It’s been a constant companion, and never has it once disappeared on me for several years.”

Alastor glares at you.

You glare back.

“I would love to help you clean this mess,” Alastor says with that triumphant smile of his.

Would a second broken window be worth trouble if it means there would be an Alastor-shaped hole?

“Perfect!” you say. “I’m sure you still remember where we keep the broom.”

Alastor boops your nose. “Unfortunately, the cannibals will be meeting us at the hotel,” he says. “I think it’s time we take our leave. Say goodbye to my wife, Charlotte.”

Charlie opens her mouth to correct him. She changes her mind at the last minute, choosing to sulk with a wave instead.

Alastor opens the door, allowing Charlie to step out first. She strides to the flowerbeds, kneeling to observe the plants.

Alastor stills by the door frame.

He inches close enough for you to reach him. The fabric of his lapels smoothen as you adjust its fit on him.

A breeze tussles Alastor’s hair. You swipe the stray locks, brushing his hair away from his forehead, until . . . until the x that marks the gunshot catches your eyes. Frowning, you thumb the mark, caressing it with oh so soft touches. There was a time where you believed that you and him had all the time in the world. Death laughed at you that night.

Alastor watches you, taking your wrist to pull it away.

He leans closer, and picks a feather on your head. “Will you indulge me?” he asks. “There’s just something I want to ask of you before I leave.”

“Say it, and it will be yours.”

Alastor pokes his cheeks, mimicking a smile. “Just one of these from you will do—Something to power me through the day.”

With a soft chuckle, you widen your lips to show him the brightest smile you can muster. “Is that much better, my love?”

Alastor presses a kiss on your cheek. “Indeed,” he says. “You’ve been frowning for a while now.”

Your eyebrows furrow. “Have I?”

Alastor boops your nose. “You have,” says. “What’s troubling you, my dear?”

“It’s nothing serious to you,” you tell him with a shake of your head. “It’s nothing worth listening to.”

Alastor taps his fingers across his microphone. “It’s not nothing. Especially when you frown like that,” he says. “If it’s serious to you, it is worth listening to.”

“Sometimes . . .I still find myself wondering how you feel,” you say, smoothening the feathers on your head “Even after being married for so long, there are times where I still do not know

“You’re not a mind reader,” he says. “If you want to know, you should just ask.”

“Alright then,” you say with a smile. “How are you feeling today, my love?”

Alastor caresses your cheek. The back of his fingers brush down your skin until it hooks around your chin. You tilt it to the side, offering your cheek, ready for him.

Alastor tugs your chin, adjusting your face until your eyes are drawn into his own. And oh . . . Has he always looked at you like this?

Alastor inches closer, his nose nudging against your own. Your heart thumps in your ear.

A minute has never felt so long as you stay frozen. It’s a whole minute  if his lips brushing inches above yours. It’s a whole minute of his finger stroking the skin of your chin. It’s a whole minute of feeling his breath on your skin. It’s a whole minute where inches of space separate your

Alastor tortures you with the simplest of sensation that intoxicated you to your very core. You don’t move away, not from him—never from him.

Your eyes close when Alastor presses his lips across yours.

The taste of this morning’s coffee is dizzying. The soft tickles of his breath make your fingers curl around the fabric of his coat. You were never a poet. It’s Alastor who was better with his words. You cannot describe the way he kisses you with sweet metaphors or soft analogies.

Alastor pulls away.

You inch closer to chase him, until self-control takes over. It splashes you with the warmth of a bucket filled with ice.

Oh . . . oh.

There are words to be said, questions to be asked. The heat tingling of your cheeks and the electricity buzzing your lips make it hard to find the words.

You bury your face into the fabric of Alastor’s chest, curling into him to hide how red your face flushes. The back of his coat crumples when you grip it.

Alastor wraps his arms around you, tightening the hug. His finger stroke your shoulder blade. “Does that answer your question?”

You inhale into his clothes. It’s warm. He’s warm. So warm that int transfers to you. “No, not at all,” you mumble. “Where did you learn to do that?”

Alastor leans back, pushing you away to search your face.He stares at you.

You stare at everything but him.

Alastor squishes your cheek, giving it a light shake. “Stop demanding things from me when you’re not going to remember.”

“I did no such thing.” You swat his hand away. “Will I be seeing you soon?”

Charlie catches your eyes. She quickly glances away before eventually looking back. You bring out your hand, folding your fingers to indicate the number two. Charlie cringes so deep she creates a double chin.

Alastor brushes feathers out of your face. “You wouldn’t need to ask if you accepted Charlie’s offer to stay at the hotel,” he says. “ I was given a room there. I think you would like it . . . but, there’s still thousands of unused rooms if you wish to stay somewhere else.”

“My deerest, are you asking me to stay at the hotel?”

Alastor’s silence makes you chuckle.

With the tips of your toes, you reach to press a kiss on his cheek. “I will see you soon.”

“You always will.”

Charlie and Alastor leave with a wave. You close the door before they reach the gate, leaning on the door. The wood does little to settle the way your skin buzzes. Demand a kiss? You would never do such a thing.

The clock strikes. It’s time to leave for work. You take your coffee mug, scrubbing it with soap. (If you drop it twice, then that’s your business.) You open the cupboard, placing your matching mug next to Alastor’s clean one.

Today . . . Today will be a good day.

For today, there’s no need to throw away cold coffee mugs.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Next Part: |Glimpse of Me and You: Part 1| First of all, you will never catch my Alastor cooking jambalaya. It’s a great dish, I know. But I refuse to fall into the curse. Part of the reason why this chapter took so long to publish, besides work getting in the way, was because I didn’t know how I would want Alastor and Reader to love each other. Like do I make it purely romantic?  But I like keeping this as canon as possible. And I know that Alastor is only canonically ace. This problem struck me until I realized that to be accepted is to be loved. So I decided to write a story that will make me happy to show you. There are so many other fics with pure romance, and I wanted to respect Alastor’s asexuality and everyone who relates to him. This is my love letter to him and to you. Also, I’m just going to put it out there, just in case someone might ask why there’s a kiss on the lips? This is a reminder that you can define a relationship any way you could want. I debated whether that kiss should be on the cheek or on the lips. A cheek kiss isn’t inherently romantic, so I could have just done this. The lip kiss just felt…correct. I wanted to showcase that the relationship between Alastor and Reader isn’t a conventional one, and that it’s fine to have one that differs from what is considered normal. So the best way would be to take something that everything thinks is very romantic and twist it in a way that it could mean something different. And thus, any kiss before and after this chapter really just means that Alastor is completely and perfectly and incandescently happy.

Taglist: @mybrainautocorrect @ray-rook @teavibesaf @valentique @qardasngan @tobyisher3 @amoraneuro @okay-babe @holymusicialmothman @lyralibra @alastorssimp @aestheticglas-blog @slaggylemon

[justwhisperingfantasies]

The One That Got Away -3-

Characters: Reader, (Y/N), and nicknames babe(s). Jensen Ackles. Jared Padalecki. Eric Kripke. Lily (o.c) Brett (o.c)

Warnings: Language, Angst, A little fluff,

Summary: With just a little over 4 weeks before the wedding everyone keeps reminding you that you're marrying the wrong guy.

A/N: When I tell you i was screaming at my screen the entire time i wrote this i am not exaggerating. I really don't like this guy! Hope y'all enjoy it.

Please don't copy my work

Like, comments and reblogs are highly appreciated

Feedback is always welcome. Just please be nice.

If you would like to be added to my tag list click here

Part 1

Part 2

2012

“Are you sure you’re, ok?” Lily questioned through the phone.

“Yes. If this is what he wants who am I to stop it.”

“That’s not what I asked babe.”

You sighed. Honestly no. I’m not. But what am I supposed to do.” You filled the shot glass on the counter again. “Charge in the church tomorrow and beg him not to marry her? I think he’s made up his mind. I mean obviously if the pussy is worth throwing a 4-year relationship away for, you just have to put a ring on it right?” you slammed the shot glass to the counter, as the sweet burn trickled down your throat and then you bit into a lemon.

“How many tequila shots have you had?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“How many?”

“4.” You filled the glass and took the shot. “5.” You poured again. “6”

“I’m putting on my shoes. I’ll be there in 15 minutes. Please stop doing shots until I get there.”

“Lil. Its fine.” Your doorbell rang. You looked toward the door with furrowed brows “Are you here?”

“No, who is it?”

“Well, I have to look first.” You peeked out the small hole. “Lily,”

“Yes?”

“I think Jensen is standing on my porch.”

“What? What do you mean you think?”

“What do you mean, what do I mean I think?”

“Come on, I know you are home. Please just open the door.”

“He wants me to open the door.” you whispered into the phone.

“So, open the door…”

“What if it’s a trap?”

“Babe!!” Jensen yelled as he banged on the door.

“Hold on!!”  you yell back.

“Jared, do you have your key?” you heard Jensen

“Jared is with him. He’s getting a spare key.”

“Oh my god. Open the damn door!” Lily yelled through the phone.

“Why is everybody yelling at me?” You took the phone away from your ear to see why it was beeping. “Jared is calling me.”

“Answer it.”

“K.” you tapped the green icon and put the phone to your ear but stayed silent.

“[y/n]?” Jared sounded confused.

“Yes?” you whispered.

“Why are you whispering?”

“I think Jensen is on my porch.”

“Are you drunk?”

“A little, but J.p I really think it’s him.”

Jared chuckled. “I know it’s him. and he’s not on your porch anymore. We are sitting in my car in your driveway.”

“Why?”

“Because you didn’t answer the door.” You heard Jensen’s voice but couldn’t make out the words. “He wants to talk to you.”

“Why?”

He repeated the word. “Hold on. here.”

“I need to talk to you.” Tears started to form as you heard the sorrow and desperation in Jensen’s voice.

“You are.”

“No. I want to see you. I need to see you.”

“Shouldn’t you be getting your beauty sleep in? big day Tomor.”

“Baby please.”

You hung up the phone as you blinked back the tears. You took a deep breath and swung the door open after unlocking it. Not waiting for him, you made your way back to your shot glass.

You slammed your shot glass down as you heard his boots coming closer.

“How many have you had?”

You swallowed. “Not enough.” You turned around to him standing in the doorway. “Why are you here Jensen?” you asked as you leaned back against the counter.

“I had to see you.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, “You had to see me the night before your wedding?” he nodded. You scoffed. “Why? Had to rub it in my face one last time?”

Creases formed in his forehead as the confusion showed on his face. “When did I ever rub this in your face?”

“Oh? You haven’t been parading her around set, you haven’t been posting cute little selfies on Instagram,” You could feel the tears start to gather again. “You haven’t.”

“I get it.” he cut you off. “I’m sorry. I didn’t so any of those things to hurt you.”

“Well, doesn’t matter now does it. tomorrow you get to be the luckiest guy and say I do to your dream girl.” You said, rolling your eyes and reaching for the tequila again.

“Yea, I’m the luckiest guy in the world.” His tone dripped with sarcasm.

“Then why? If you feel that way, why the fuck get married to her?” He stayed silent as he watched you take your shot. “Do you still love me?” you asked, you turned around.  Your breath hitched as those damn green eyes stared right back into yours. Just say yes you begged him in your mind. Say yes and everything else won’t matter. We could start over. We could get back to us. The way it should be.

His eyes fell to the floor “[y/n] I will always love you.”

“Then leave her. We can start over.”

With tears glistening in his eyes, he lifted his gaze to meet yours again. “Believe me I wish it was that easy.”

“But it could be. Fresh start, clean slate. The last couple years erased, gone.” You pleaded as you made your way over to him. His head leaned into your hand as it slid onto his cheek. You lifted yourself onto your tiptoes, inching your lips nearer to his. His finger wrapped around your arms, stopping you.

“I shouldn’t have come here. I am so sorry,” he stepped back, his shoes squeaked as he spun and started for the front door.

“Jensen!” he stopped. “Can you honestly say you love her more than me?”

“No.”  you heard him murmur as he walked away

Reader's Pov

 The memory faded as Jensen stirred, his arm finding its way around your waist while he cuddled into your back, burying his face in your hair. “Are you still mad at me?” he asked in a soft voice.

“No.”

“You’re still a bad liar, babe.”

You sighed, “I guess I should be used to you turning me down by now.”

“It’s too early for all that attitude.” He tightened his hold on you. “But I’d rather you wake up full of anger than regret.”

“You can’t cute your way out of it.”

“Wasn’t trying to.”

“Right.” After placing his arm behind you, you got out of bed. You strolled over to your suitcase and unzipped it.  

“Come back, you know I did the right thing.”

“Yeah, I know.”  You rummaged through your clothes, finding a comfy outfit for the plane ride.

“And you’re still mad, why?”

“I said I’m not mad.” You picked up your clothes and walked toward the bathroom. You could feel his eyes on you. Stopping at the door you sighed. “I’m really not, the last couple of days has been rough and being around you is stirring up old shit.”

As you turned the shower knob half way to the engraved H you heard “Like what?”  You turned around and narrowed your eyes at him. You stepped back to the sink and grabbed the Advil off the counter. “Like the night before you wedding…”

“That’s not fair, you know why I couldn’t.”  You stayed silent as you filled the plastic cup half full. “I really thought she could fuck with my life.” You raised your eyebrows as you took a drink to swallow the pills. “Do you really think I would have walked out that door if I thought I had another choice?”

There was a knock on the bedroom door. “Yeah?” you yelled.

“You decent?” Jared yelled with a chuckle.

“Yes.” You yelled back.

He opened the door. A cup carrier with 2 hot coffees in his hand. “Man just like old times huh?” he walked over to the bathroom doorway. “For you.” he reached your coffee out to you.

“Thanks love.”

“You are welcome, my dear.”  He held out the last one to Jensen “And for you honey bear.”

A smile spread across Jensen’s face as he rolled his eyes. “Thanks, sweet cheeks.” Jensen turned back to you. “We’ll finish this later.”

“Can’t wait”

After getting dressed you scrunched your damp hair a couple of times and decided to let in dangle naturally. You grabbed what was left of your coffee and went to join your friends in the common room. As you settled into the armchair positioned opposite Jensen across the coffee table, the staring contest started. Jared and Lily ‘s eyes darting back and forth as if they were watching a pink pong game.

“So, what the hell happened last night?” Jared asked finally, breaking the silence.

You smirked with raised brows. “I think he was asking you Ross.”

Just as Jensen opened his mouth to answer there was a knock on the door.

Jensen’s pov

He noticed her brows knit together at the sound. “Y'all expecting someone?” Jensen asked.

Lily shook her head, “Nope.” [y/n] said as she got up. He watched every muscle in her body tense when she opened the door.  “Hey.” She exclaimed in total shock. A wave of nausea washed over him as he heard “Babe! What are you doing here?” Then she stepped into the hallway and shut the door behind her.

Jensen’s eye snapped to Lily once the door latched. Her jaw was practically on the floor. “Was that?” Jensen asked. Lily nodded, her mouth still gaping open.  He huffed “Motherfucker.”

“Someone wanna fill me in? “Jared asked

“That's her fian”

“Lily shut up.” Jensen raised his voice.

“Her what?!” Jared’s voice raised, “She getting married? “

“Really Lily?” Jensen put his face into his hands.

“Well, you knew so I thought he knew too.”

“Someone start talking right now!” Jared demanded.

Readers pov

“Surprise!” Brett said with a smile.

“What?” you said confused. He never did anything like this.

“I missed you. So, I hopped on a plane and came.” Right or is it because I’m here with Jensen you thought.

You jumped when Jared yanked the door open. “You’re getting married?!”

“Fuck.”

“Yea I’d say. You are getting married in a month and you didn’t tell any of your friends?”

“Oh, her friends know. Just not her old friends.”

“Really Brett?” You asked irritated.

Jared scoffed. “Really fucking nice.” He started down the hallway

You sighed and went after Jared. You had to power walk to catch him. “Jared please.” You pleaded he didn’t stop until he reached the elevator. He hit the call button.

“You were in my wedding [y/n].” he turned around. “In it.”

“I know.” You blinked back tears.

“You were bridesmaid #1.”

“I know.”

“I know we aren’t as close now but God damn not even an invite?”

“it’s not like that.”

“Then please enlighten me.”

“I didn’t have a choice.” confusion mixed with the anger in his face. “Brett said if I invited any of my Supernatural buddies, he wasn’t showing up.”

“He’s threatening you like that and you’re still going to marry him. Come on [y/n] I know you ain’t That stupid.”

“Would you rather I marry the guy that cheated on me?” The tears began to flow down your cheeks.

“Allegedly. He doesn’t even remember it.”

“She was pregnant J.p”

“Believe it or not Jensen isn’t the only guy that can knock someone up. And there’s no way he would threaten you into not inviting your ‘old friends’.”  He got in the elevator and pushed the door close button. You wiped the tears from your face and started back.

Your sadness turned into anger as you looked up and found Brett standing there. “Wanted to make sure giaganto didn’t try anything.”

“Are you kidding me?” fucking great you thought as you seen Jensen walking your way.

“Are you ok?” Jensen asked as he approached you.

“You told him?!”

“It just kinda slipped out.”

“Damnit Jensen!”

“Babe, I’m sorry.”

“She’s fine.” Brett said putting his arm around you.

“Was it bad?” Jensen ignored him

“I said she’s fine.” Brett said a little louder.

Jensen turned to him with a huge grin on his face “I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Jensen.” He said sticking his hand out.

“Yea I know  the ex.” Brett said rudely as he shook Jensen’s hand. “Brett. The guy that’s marrying her.”

“Yea, I heard.” Jensen’ crossed his arms over his chest. “Congrats, She’s quite a catch.”

“Yep, that’s why I put a ring on it.” 

Jensen began to stroll off. "Just make sure you keep her smiling. You wouldn't want some other dude coming in and winning her over again." With that, Jensen continued on his way.

“See this is why I don’t want them at our wedding. Nothing but fucking drama.” You rolled your eyes and walked back to your hotel room.

Jensen’s pov

“I know you’re mad Jared, but you know she loves you. It’s all that stupid cockbag she’s with.”  Jensen said trying to calm him down after Jared told him everything that happened in the hallway. “I don’t understand what she sees in him and I’m not just saying that as a jealous ex-boyfriend.”

“That’s why I’m pissed.” He said as they loaded their luggage into the SUV. “She shouldn’t be with him.”

“I couldn’t agree with you more.”

“So, are you gonna do something about it?” Jared asked.

“I’m gonna try my damnest J.p”

“Speak of the devil.” Jared pointed, Jensen followed his finger, and there she was breath taking as always. Jared flipped his pointed finger and motioned her over. She dropped her jaw and pointed at herself mouthing the words me.

“Shut up and get over here.” Jared yelled. She smiled and started walking.

“So, you don’t hate me?” she asked Jared once she got close. How could anyone hate her Jensen thought to himself.

“I could never hate you,” Jared said wrapping his arms around her.

“Awe Padalecki, ya big ol’ softie.” She said nestling into the hug.

“Now that dickface you plan on marrying is a whole other story.” Jared said as she stepped back.

“Can we have 5 good minutes before the 2 of you gang up on me?”

“I didn’t even say anything.” Jensen remarked.

“I know you’re just waiting to jump in with your opinions.” Did she really expect him to just stand back and watch the love of his life marry someone that would treat her the way Brett does,

Jared sighed. “We aren’t trying to gang up on you or tell you how to live your life. But damnit [y/n] we love you and we know that you know you deserve better.” Jensen pressed his lips together, raising his brows he nodded.

“I love you too,” the 3 of them looked over to the doors as they heard Brett’s voice, he had his phone up to his ear yelling at someone.

“You gonna come to the Toronto Convention?” Jared asked with a grin.

She smirked. “I might pop in.”

“I’ll see ya then.” He said hugging her again before getting in the back seat.

“Well.”

“Now there’s a deep subject Ackles.” She giggled

He shook his head and smiled. “So, 5 weeks huh?”

“More like 4 weeks 5 days.”

“Wait?” he pulled out his phone and opened the calendar. “October 13th? Are you kidding me?”

“Yea, I didn’t pick the date.”

“Does he know?” he asked. She replied with a nod. “You’re telling me this motherfucker pick our anniversary for your wedding date intentionally?” another nod. “And you are ok with it?”

“Well, I was pissed at you. I agreed because I was trying to cover up something bad with something good.”

He laughed. “That’s how he convinced you?” she sighed. “So, 4 weeks, 5 days?”

“Babe!” Brett yelled, shoving his phone back in his pocket.

“I gotta go.” she leaned for a hug.

“We’ll just see about that.” He whispered into her eat as he squeezed her.

Reader’s Pov

You took a deep breath trying to calm the butterflies as Jensen released you from his embrace. You smiled and turned to walk away.

“I’ll see you soon.” He called after you.

You glanced back. He flashed his wide grin.

“Geez, I thought you were going to make out with him.” Brett sneered,

“I mean I can go back; he’d probably be down.”

“You’re think you’re funny?”

“I think I’m adorable.” You said with a smirk and walked through the doors.

“Where is Brett sitting?” Lily asked as you sat between her and the window of the plane.

“Last row.” Thank God. He’d been bitching now stop since you hugged Jensen.

“Would you ladies like anything to drink?”

“Coffee please” you said together.

The flight attendant smiled. “Coming right up.”

Lily turned back to you. “So today was fun.”

“Freaking tons!” you said in a sarcastic tone.

“Did you and Jared make up?”

“Yes.”

“Yay. Did you invite him to the wedding?”

“You know I can’t.”

“That still kinda bugs me. Its your wedding you should be able to invite the guy that’s been like a brother to you for half your life.

“Lily, I’m already getting this shit from Jensen and Jared. I don’t need you to start your shit again.”

She sighed. “Ok then. Tell me. How was last night?”

You smiled. “ it was super fun. I  got to hang out with some friends. Did some tequila shots, watched a good band perform live.”

“Jensen Ackles fucked my brains out.”

You raised your brows with a chuckle. “False, actually.” She pressed he lips together and furrowed her brows  as she tilted he head. “ I’m not lying. We made out a little, when clothes started coming off he stopped.”

“You’re serious?”

You chuckled again. “Yes!”  She nodded her head gesturing for you to continue. “ He said he didn’t want it like this. He said he had to win me back first.”

Lily put her hand on her chest as she swooned.

“Yeah. Yeah. I still can’t believe he told Jared about the wedding.”

“Uh about that.”

You sighed as you laid your head back on the seat. “ should of ordered a beer.”

“It’s my fault.” She explained what happened while you were in the hall with Brett. “ I am so sorry, I really thought he knew.”

“Oh Lily.” You said with another sigh. “it’s fine. Jared and I are okay.”  

“You still have to tell me what happened in that hallway.” Her eyes grew as wide. “what does he mean allegedly”?

“I don’t freaking know!!! And why say you’re knocked up by Jensen Ackles if you aren’t really knocked up by Jensen Ackles. I know Alan. Give the situation the first thing he would tell Jensen is to get paternity test done.”

“Yes, but she didn’t know Alan until after they got together. I know for a fact he didn’t introduce them until like a week before he purposed.”

“Huh. Do you know if he went to any doctor appointments with her?”

“It’s Jensen, I would put money on him going to the doctors. I know she showed everyone ultra sound pictures.” You sighed. “ whatcha thinking?”

“I think we are putting way too much thought into this.”

Eric was waiting at the gate for you guys. “Hey boss!” You shouted grabbing his attention.

 “There’s my girls!”

“oh look who survived a whole weekend without us.” You joked.

“Just barely. And it was pretty touch and go for a minute there.”

You chuckled. “How are my sets coming?” you asked as you waited for Brett.

He raised his eyebrows. “My sets are coming along wonderfully.”

“Let’s not forget who designated them.”

“Eh. I’ll give you that one, but you ain’t showrunner yet.”

“Yet being the key word in that sentence” you said with a grin.

“Brett!!” Eric said as he walked up to the group. “How was your Vegas trip?” Eric asked in a sarcastic manner.

“Very short, but I got to see my baby earlier than I would have.”

You saw Eric roll his eyes as he spun on his heels “ Baggage claim?”

“Shot gun!” Brett yelled as he stepped out the door first. “Here babe, let me help you.” he said taking your bag.

“Thanks.” You smiled at him. What the hell has gotten into him?!” you thought.

“So [y/n],” Eric said as you sat down in the middle seat beside his. “I have the legal team writing up Jensen’s contract now. Should be done in a couple days. I was thinking of maybe doing a short table read with him and some of the cast before he sighs. Just so, he’s sure.”

“Yeah, we could set that up. I know some of the guys want to meet him.”

“You think you could reach out to him tonight and see when is best for him?”

“Is that really in her job description Eric?” Brett asked.

“If she wants to see how to being a showrunner is, yes.”

“I will Eric. It’s fine.” You shot Brett a glance that clearly said he should shut up.

“Alright, I’m gonna have Steve drop me at the studio. Go home unwind. I’m gonna be there let if you guys wanna come check out the sets.”

“I don’t understand why it has to be you.” Brett complained as he shut your apartment door.

“It’s my job.” His phone started to ring. “Same reason why you are always catering to her.”

He rolled his eyes, “Yes she’s not my ex though.”

“Well get over it. He already said yes.”

“Angela.” He said answering his phone. “I’m on my way.” He hung up his phone.

“It’s my job. Get over it.” he used your own words against you and walked out the door.

You sat on your couch with a huff and pulled out your phone.

[y/n]: Wanna go check out those sets?

Lily: I’ll pick you up in 10 minutes. 😊

You hit the back icon and opened Jensen’s conversation.

[y/n]: Call me when you get a chance.

The three dots show up almost immediately after you hit send.

Jensen: Missin me already?

[y/n]: Harty har har. I got a message from the boss.

Jensen: Having dinner with my folks. Can I call in like 30 minutes?

[y/n]: No rush.

You jumped to your feet when you heard Lily honk. You slipped your coat back on and locked the door behind you.

Your jaw dropped as Eric walked you onto the first set. “It’s amazing!! They did such a good job!”

“And over here is the pod where Soldier Boy was being held.”

You stepped inside and your phone started to ring. “Ross! You will not believe what I’m doing right now.” You said practically bouncing.

“Hey sweetheart. What are you doing?” he matched your enthusiasm.

“I’m standing in the pod, where Ben was held.”

“Is it bad ass?”

“Yes! They did such a good job, I can’t wait.”

He chuckled. “I wish I could see your face right now.”

You poked your head out; No sign of Eric. “You have to be quiet. And you can’t tell anyone.” You tapped the facetime icon and turned the volume of the call down.  “Look how freaking cool this is.” You switched the lens and held your phone out slowly moving it around the pod.

“That’s pretty badass babe.” You switched the lens back to selfie and gave him big. He laughed. “You’re cute when you excited.” You rolled your eyes as your cheeks turned pink.

“Shit I think I hear Eric, hold on.” you switched the call back to voice. “So how are Alan and Donna?”

“Good. They say hi.”

“Jensen...”

“Don’t worry. I just told them that we are going to be working together again.”

“Ok. Give them my love next time you talk to them.”

“I will. So, what’s this important message from Kripke? And shouldn’t he be the one calling me about this?” he asked in a playful tone.

“Well maybe he had his showrunner in training call you?”

“Are you serious?!”

“It’s not like official, but he has been showing me some stuff and giving me more responsibilities.”

“Babe!”

“I know!”

“A freaking showrunner!”

“I know!”

“Ah!!”  His excited scream made you laugh.

“So, he is having Legal write up your contract now. He said he would like to do a small table read. With you and a few of the cast members before you sign just so, you’re sure.”

“Well, I don’t think I’ll need the table read, but if it makes him happy, I’ll do it.”

“Alright, when are you free?”

“I can fly in Thursday.”

“I’m not doing anything Thursday night.”

“Not even watching the game with your ol’ Dallas buddy?”

“Ok I’m not doing anything work related Thursday night.” He laughed, “So I’ll call Seth and have him set up your flight and send over all the info.”

“Sounds good sweetheart...”  He paused for a second. “Seriously though [y/n] I am so fucking proud of you.” you couldn’t help but smile as tears swelled in your eyes.

“Thanks Ross.” You sniffled.

“Go enjoy your sets. I cannot wait to see them.”

You giggled. “Bye Jensen.”

“Bye Babe.”

“Is that smile because of the set or because of him?” Lily asked

“Maybe both.”

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[greeneyed-thestral]

I MET MICHAEL SHEEN. 16/03/24, National Theatre

So, if you've read my post about booking tickets to see Michael, you know all about my what-ifs. But the day was finally here.

I arrived at the National Theatre, followed all the Nye signs and here's the Olivier Theatre. I made my sister buy me the show's programme, hoping I would be able to get it signed.

I find my seat, I'm not in the centre but the stage still feels very close and you can see everything (amphitheatres are always the best).

Lights out. The audience is in religious silence. Can't believe I'm actually here, this is happening.

[skip this part in smaller font, if you want to avoid spoilers] In the words of Staged, he really loses himself in his roles. First of all, it's great to hear him speak in a Welsh accent.

But then we also see him turning back into a child, and you can totally believe he's young and innocent again. His stutter feels so real, his struggle and sadness too. The entire ensamble is great during the classroom scene, where they all help Nye against their bullying teacher (using those big canes to make him look scary really works). Hearing young Nye confessing that at times he thinks he 'shouldn't exist' because of who he is was a gut punch; Michael's delivery of that whole part is incredible, in that moment he really becomes a little boy that allows himself to feel vulnerable and says something dark to a friend. The way he jumps while saying "I can visualise and enunciate!" made me wanna jump too, he was ready to give up and then he found the solution through books, it's the joy and relief you feel when you realise that there is another way and your life is not over.

Now, I've watched musicals all my life and let me tell you that man is meant to be in one. He opened his mouth and all I could see was someone that had been waiting a long time for the occasion to show his talent, truly showstopping. He was so free and happy and confident, singing and dancing spectacularly. I couldn't stop smiling and giggling, we all clapped.

It's clear he means every word he says, and when he points and shouts his political arguments at the audience, those who feel called out must be shaking; I thought 'This is how people in Ancient Greece must have felt everytime they went to the theatre'. His Nye is inspiring, passionate, someone you'd want to follow, he stands up for what he believes in and lets nothing get in his way.

We get to watch him flirt, on all fours, waggling his 'tail'; everytime we think we've seen all he's capable of, he does something like this and surprises us.

But most of all, we see him being scared, first of having to do something, and then of not being able to do enough for all of us. At one point everyone has requests for Nye and I was expecting him to shout "Heal yourselves!" like Jesus in JCS, it totally conveyed what it must have been like to be in his role at the time, overwhelmed with daunting responsibilities.

In general, I appreciated the fact that it wasn't a linear biography, they chose life moments that have universal situations everyone can relate too, like they do in bio-musicals. I loved the staging. The colour palette is so recognisable; the curtains and the beds are used in many different ways so everything is explored at its full potential.

He is on stage basically all the time for more than two hours (sometimes twice a day, can you imagine?). Also barefoot and in his pajamas from start to finish, he looks like a teddy bear you just want to hug and protect.

He bows, looks at Nye's achievements, then leaves the stage.

Standing ovation, applause. I go back to the theatre lobby, I was supposed to wait for my sister, but she's late. Meanwhile, a fan asks me how to get to the Stage Door. I start too fear that I'm going to miss my chance if I keep waiting inside, so I decide to go on my own. After no more than 5 minutes, he's outside with us. Forget Nye, I am living my fever dream. He has just finished his second show of the day and yet he's smiling and listening to each and every one, signing and taking pictures. I know many have said this, but he really is an angel.

My sister arrives, and as soon as I'm sure she has the camera ready, I make my way to him. The two girls next to me who were speaking to him needed a pen and I lent them my sharpie, so I got my chance to look generous in front of him.

And suddently it was my turn. This is as much as my scrambled mind allows me to remember: I tell him I'm Francesca and I'm from Italy, he asks me how long I am going to stay, I confess that I had arrived that morning and just to see him, that I would be leaving already the following morning. I can't even focus while he's signing my programme, I just want to find the right words. I manage to say how I enjoyed seeing his passion, all these different sides of him and how watching him sing and dance has been the highlight of my evening. We take a picture together, I feel his hand on my shoulder and I realise my arm is around the waist of this person I love. I had to thank him again, telling him that he only deserves good things and that we are so lucky to have him. He wishes me a safe trip home, and I melt. I leave and I can't stop trembling. On my way back to the hotel I hold on tight to my signed programme and the sharpie that was in his hands just moments earlier. Only later I will realise that he's also written 'Ciao!', 'love' and 'X', without me asking for it or anything! Seeing him act live was a big gift already, but what followed outside was beyond my dreams. I can't look at the photos without blushing, the way he looks at me in the video and then also strokes my arm for a moment, I mean pinch me now.

The more I think about it, the more I can't believe it happened.

I want to thank everyone that under my first post pushed me and encouraged me to see the pros of doing this, I share this beautiful moment of my life with all of you. <3