#she keeps his spice cabinet the way he likes

[softquietsteadylove]

Can u do a Thenamesh fic where Gil fell first but Thena fell harder? Been obsessed with this he fell first but she fell harder trope🥹

He never thought anything of it. Gil had loved Thena from the moment his eyes met hers. It felt so familiar, like the steam of a hot meal hitting your face after being away. It was comforting, seeing her there beside him. He smiled at her, and he'd gotten the faintest hint of a smile back.

That was it for him.

He never thought about if she felt the same. It just didn't matter--not with their lives the way they were, not with who they were and the mission they had. He loved her. That was it--that was all he needed to know.

He knew she cared for him too. For her lack of words, her actions were always clear in intent, screaming louder than he'd ever heard. They had trust, they had respect, they had camaraderie; fighting with someone demanded that kind of bond. And he knew she cared about him in the way her hand would gently settle against his. He knew in the way she would let him sit next to her, in the little bubble of space she usually demanded to have to herself around anyone else.

He never thought anything of it--never read more into it. If she loved him, then he didn't need her to say it. He understood her better than that.

But for Thena, every one of those little things was like a letter in a sentence--a word in a love letter she'd been writing since she slipped her hand into his.

She hadn't expected it. They were Eternals, and they had a mission. And Thena was nothing if not focused and driven when it came to battle. She was the Warrior Eternal--it was woven into the fabric of her being.

But even being the world's deadliest warrior, that was not all life offered. Even they had time when the battlefield was far away and life was quiet. And the more she got to know Gilgamesh, the more she liked those times.

He had this smile that was like the sun--better, brighter, warmer. For as drab as the planet was for a long time in its early evolutionary stages, Gilgamesh outshone anything Earth had to offer, as far as she was concerned. She came to crave feeling of him sitting beside her after the fight. She wanted to hear his breathing close by when they were on watch under the quiet of the moon. She liked knowing he was there, warm and sturdy, always within arm's reach.

That was what did her in: he was there. Not that he was just there, but that something in her mind - in her very soul - felt him there. He was as present in her consciousness as the air in her lungs or the Cosmic Energy rushing through her veins. And his absences were felt even more acutely.

She wanted to be around him always, so she volunteered for watch duty with him, often lingering long after the typical time for shift changes. She liked being close to him, so she would drag herself to the celebrations and revelry just so she could feel his arm stretched out behind her. It never wound around her, but she could feel how close it was to it. She wanted to lean against him, so she would let him support her after a particularly long and arduous fight.

She wanted to tell him she loved him, so she stayed close by. She held his head on her shoulder when he dozed off and she made sure not to finish her own serving of food until she knew he'd gotten to enjoy enough of his own hard work for himself.

"Hey," he greeted her softly, as he always did. He was a force of nature - as was she - and he could be louder than even Kingo when he wanted to be. But with her, he was as gentle as the wind on a flower. "How was it out there?"

Boring, without him. "Calm."

"Good," he nodded as he reached up to the Domo's kitchen cabinets. His eyes trailed along the spice collection he'd been building over their measly hundreds of years so far on Earth.

He always put them back absently when he was in the moment, wrapped up in his cooking. Thena always snuck back later that night to re-organise them into the order he liked.

He reached up, pulling out a soft bundle of buns--his latest creation, stuffed with melted down palm sugar. He bounced his eyebrows at her.

She rose from her chair, lured by the confection as if hypnotised. Her hands came around his, leaning her head down to take a bite from the bun still technically in his grasp. She looked into his eyes as she chewed, wondering how long it would take him to melt down sugar until it became the beautiful colour of his eyes.

Gil blushed faintly, between staring into those eyes of hers and her holding his hands in her amazingly soft ones. "Good?"

She gulped down the bite, smiling as warmly and honestly as she could. He had that effect on her effortlessly. "Perfect."

"I'll make more," he blurted out in an instant, as if she'd asked and this was his answer. "You finish that, I'll start a new batch."

Thena's cheeks glowed with affection as he pressed the treat into her palms and drifted to the stove, his fingers trailing over her skin for every last second possible. "You're too good to me."

He stared at her, eyes bursting with his love for her. "Impossible."

[murdrdocs]

just thinking thoughts abt luca and his muscles.. i KNOW that mf just manhandles you without even thinking abt it like. ur in the kitchen just yapping away abt some really interesting gossip and he's moving you around if ur in the way with a hand on your arm or waist like you weigh nothing. or you're outside walking somewhere and he's moving you outta the way from some asshole on a bike going dangerously fast and you're not paying attention to your surroundings. he has so much muscle obviously he's not putting it to use if it's not on me 🙄🙄[he makes me ILL]

i got this message and had to pace my kitchen btw casual manhandling; fluffy w suggestive undertones MDNI 18+ w/ LUCA (the bear)

luca's working diligently.

you would've worried about distracting him if he wasn't so visible focused, his head consistently dipped to keep his eyes focused on the cutting board. you don't know how he does it, how he's cooking and responding to your shitty and extremely confusing recollection of drama you heard from a friend this morning. his responses are simple, small nods and verbalized "mhm"'s, but they're effective.

"and then, come to find out, she told her that she was in the wrong, even though everyone knows she was literally just sticking up for herself..." you're getting to the climax of the story, the part that made you gasp and dramatically look around your apartment when you first heard the story over the phone. a smile is growing on your face as you wait for luca's reaction, but before it can come, you have to tell him the best part. and for that to happen, you have to continue speaking.

you don't even realize you've stopped speaking until luca prompts you to continue. but it takes you a second, because you need a moment to recover from how casually he has just moved you.

you've gone from standing in front of the spice cabinet, a place luca needed to reach, to standing in front of the sink. and you could've gotten there yourself if he spoke up and asked you to move, which he's done before. but you were in the middle of your story and he probably didn't want to interrupt you. so instead, he placed his hands on your hips, pushed you against the sink, and turned around to grab whatever seasonings he needed. like it was the most casual thing in the world.

and sure, you figure it is actually fairly casual. he's done it before, the most recent time being just a few days ago when you were furiously texting a group chat, too busy staring at the messages as they appeared to watch the sidewalk for any obstacles. before you could even realize that there was a bike coming towards you, luca had you moved out of the way and a middle finger thrown up towards the biker. it made you hot then, and it makes you hot now.

at your silence, luca looks up from his work.

"love? you were saying?"

you blink dumbly. it takes a second, but you try to recover. you resume your earlier position, arms crossed over your chest and ankles crossed over each other as you lean your weight back into the counter.

"yeah, right. where did i stop?"

"everyone knows she was just sticking up for herself but the other girl thought your friend's friend was in the wrong anyway—"

you take it from there, continuing your ramblings and exaggerating the story more and more as it builds, all while trying to push the image of luca's arms—tanned, big, and tattooed—to the back of your mind until you need that information.

which will likely be later in the night when you hope luca will manhandle you like that again.

[bacchuschucklefuck]

Riz has counted four casseroles this week alone. Five, if one goes by the method of cooking, but Yelen's scary when she's crossed, and calling her burek by its proper name is important to her, so Riz does her the courtesy and doesn't include it in his mental tally.

He holds the tupperware over his head to keep it out if the way as he takes careful steps over the piles of notes in his path. The dockman case just closed, relevant documentations handed over to relevant personnels, evidences dealt with as needed; all he has lying around now is just record of the process and traces of himself thinking through it. Unsurprisingly they still haven't invented a surface more convenient for people under five feet who like to pace to put pieces of paper on than the ground.

Actual records go into the case folder with the other documents. Anything else with at least one side still blank is going to the school kids in the block - they chew through an astounding amount of paper just learning arithmetic. The rest is for the recycling basket.

Later. It's his mandated lunch break right now.

Riz sits down in front of the corner file cabinet. In an office often overrun with papers and strings and sometimes even thumbtacks, he's never really managed to clutter up this exact square of surface like every other ones. Ever since the bottom drawer rattled for no discernible reason a day long past, his eyes have always just kinda decided to slide across the space without acknowledging it.

It's years out, now. Riz doesn't know why he thought it such a big deal anymore, back then. He wasn't scared, he doesn't think. Not anymore. Maybe just uncomfortable with the idea that certain things persist despite all efforts to change.

He opens the tupperware. Dame Carabelle's experiment greets him with enough spice in the aroma alone to knock out a small mammal. When he chopped the vegetables for this casserole he couldn't really imagine the eventual heft of it, evident even through just these few ladles' worth, maybe weighing heavier for being still warm. His folk eat more through the smell and the textures and the aftertastes than the taste itself. His folk's meal is really the cooking rather than the eating. The eating is the meal's end.

"Hey," he tells the file cabinet's bottom drawer. "Um."

It's the anniversary. Riz doesn't know the exact date of his dad's death; nobody currently alive does. He and Mom both use the date of the funeral, though as he moved out to Bastion and then got more directly involved with Interplanar he hasn't really been going to Dad's grave as much. Doesn't seem like very efficient use of his time, catching a train or borrowing a car or spending a whole spell slot on going somewhere he knows Dad isn't at. They're sorta coworkers now. They talk on and off every other week between missions. When he goes now, it's just to clean up the place, keeping the landmark tidy and respectable.

Without that work to mark the date he doesn't really know what it serves anymore. But he still remembers it. Still takes note, absently or not, when it comes around.

There's not really a good way to tell the drawer that. Riz looks for another way to start the... conversation, hopefully. The question at play, he'd guess, is why he's doing this. He's been pretty content ignoring all the rattlings and the knocks from inside and the times it sits slightly ajar without him ever opening it himself; hell, he still uses the three drawers on top of it. Space is fucking precious in Bastion.

Precious enough to finally fix this damn drawer so he gets his turn to use it? Riz asks himself. Is that what we're getting to? Then he dismisses the thought - he didn't manage to fix it the times he actually tried, let alone-- now. When he doesn't really care that much to.

That's probably a good place to start. "'s fine if you keep being in there, turns out," Riz says.

The lunch hours are quiet in the block, sleepy and bright with the brief window of sunlight that manages to break through roof overhangs and extended balconies and laundry lines and climbing vines. Riz's work isn't loud here (the loud parts happen away from his office, if everything goes right), but the fragment of early summer heat reflected in the steady warmth his meal still carries compels him to lower his voice even more. It makes the words feel intimate, in a way he's never been familiar with - if he says something he just says it. He doesn't whisper. If he gives his friends something, he gives it open-palm. He's found out, along the way, that people usually don't think of rituals and courtesies the way he does.

Small voice for a diminished monster. "You know why I think so?" Riz asks. "Because almost two decades ago you kidnapped me and almost killed me, and now you rattle a drawer in my office."

It doesn't sound as much like a taunt as Riz wanted it to; the drawer has made a lot of noises again this morning when he checked the calendar, and he was definitely annoyed at it. Now, though, facing it like this after cooking the whole morning with more grandparents and peers from the block than he can count on both hands to cater for a tenant union meeting, he thinks the annoyance has morphed. Changed shape.

It has the shades of something like pity. Riz is not prone to pity, and especially not at these kinda matters. It's slightly maddening that he coheres perfectly outside of this one spot. That he commands his spaces, except for a drawer.

He puts the tupperware onto the floor between himself and the cabinet. "I know we're aware it's the anniversary," he says at the drawer. "You do this every year. You make a ruckus every time I decide to go do my job instead of mooching off my friends' aircon, and every time I get an invitation to some stupid social thing I want to turn down, and every time one of the old people tries to introduce me to a child or a nibling, because being a bachelor over thirty is weird," he pinches the bridge of his nose. "I have three fucking jobs. I love doing my fucking jobs. I'm forcing funds into infrastructures. You're never leaving, are you."

The drawer vibrates lightly. It's a very, very mild acknowledgement, considering the history of reactions Riz has gotten from this thing. Riz thinks it's emanating joyous agreement, or satisfaction.

It only sharpens the pity. Riz doesn't like that, but it's how it is. That's, ultimately, the lesson he's been taught over and over and over again, just by existing as himself, turned every which way by space after space that don't see him eye-to-eye: it's not like he'd quit living over any of it. It's not like any of it can sand off these fundamental pieces of him.

He's outgrown a lot of things, he's found out. Again, and again, and again. A childhood home, a yearly trip, a monster.

"'s probably scary for you, huh?" He asks. "Because I left."

He thinks he hears joints creak that sound like you did. Probably the way a scorned lover would say it, in a movie or a yellowback. He has no more connection to the idea than he did as a kid. Less, because it doesn't even scare him.

"That's what it is, right? That it's the anniversary, and I'll never be like Dad." He raises a knee from the floor, pulls it back closer to him. Slings an arm over it. "You love to remind me. The thing is, Dad also left. He loved Mom and he loved me, and none of us wanted it to happen, but it still did. Because love does fuckall to make anyone stay on its own."

He's long past being bitter about it. It's just the facts. Once upon a time he looked into the future and the specter of his friends' happily-ever-after casted lightless, fathomless shadow over him. Love, marriage, that kind of devotion, to a fifteen-year-old with more solved cases than friends seemed so eternal. Final.

But you can only watch your friends build up apps' worth of jilted lovers for so long before getting over it.

"You know what I learned?" Riz tells the drawer. "Love doesn't make anyone stay. Project management does."

He stands up, and picks up the tupperware of Dame Carabelle's casserole, that he helped make, that he helped share with a block's worth of neighbors and members of a community he's at home with, and goes sit at his desk to eat. "Last chance to get any," he drops an offer over his shoulder as he walks away.

He doesn't eat all of his share in one go. What he's spared he leaves on the desk when going outside for a smoke break. Baron looks the exact same as when he saw them last, when he catches a glimpse; they haven't grown at all. They aren't there when he comes back inside, but the leftover has gone days-old cold, like someone's sucked the future out of it.

[cameronspecial]

A New Kind Of Normal (Part 5)

Pairing: Dad!Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Relapse

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 3.5K

Summary: After a fight with his dad, Rafe makes another mistake that could cost him everything.

Masterlist

Stella spots her dad easily in the crowd of parents and runs toward him. He picks her up, giving her a kiss on the cheek. “How was daycare, little witch?” Rafe asks. She moves in his arms to look at him, “Good. It was my turn to feed the fishy today.” For the past few weeks, Rafe has been picking up Stella at daycare and dropping her off at the diner. It was tiring at first to drive back and forward from the Outer Banks to the mainland every day, so he rented an apartment close to Y/N’s house to make the journey shorter. Ward wasn’t too pleased when Rafe started working remotely, but Sarah talked to Ward about it. “That’s sounds fun. Are you still mad at Sabrina?” he asks while buckling the little girl. She finds his eyes through the rearview mirror, “Yes, she stole my boyfriend.” “That’s okay, you’re too young to be dating anyway. Boys are yucky,” he laughs at the pouty face she gives him.

——

Y/N is refilling the sugar container when Rafe walks through the door. Her surprise is written on her face because Stella is at her grandparents’, so he doesn’t need to drop her off this evening. She sets the sugar down, “Hey, is everything okay?” “Yeah, just didn’t really know what to do with my time since I’m not dropping Stella off. I thought I’d keep you company,” he states, sitting down at the counter. She laughs, “I remember the first time my parents took her for the weekend. I had a lot of time on my hands and I didn’t know what to do, so I rearranged my spice cabinet three times.”

“That sounds fun. How did you arrange them?”

“By country of origin, and then by taste, and then by alphabetical order, which is how I already had it. So I’m glad to be your spice cabinet for this evening.” 

Harvey comes out from the kitchen and sees Rafe at the counter, “Hello, Rafe. I’ll be with you in just a moment.” “It’s okay, Harv. I’m going to the kitchen to get something to drink. I’ll put in his order in. You can head on your break once you serve your table,” she informs, putting the sugar back under the countertop. Patty receives his order and Y/N heads back out to stay with Rafe. “How has your day been?” she asks, sitting on the stool across from him still behind the counter. He looks up from his phone, “It was a little disappointing. Work was the same as ever and I didn’t get to see my little witch. Seeing you is the best part of my day. How about you?” Her heart flutters and she uses a cough as an excuse to hide the sparkly in her eye. “I like seeing you too,” she says, focusing on the countertop. He gives a little chuckle, “I was asking more about your day, but it’s good to know you appreciate my company.” 

He knows she turned him down for a date and it hurt at the time, but Rafe hasn’t given up hope. She said that she liked him and timing was the only issue. He just has to show her he can stay sober and be in a relationship with her. Her eyes shy away, “Now, I feel stupid. My day was not bad. Business is better than usual, which means more money for me.” “Don’t feel stupid, Buttercup. It’s a simple mistake. I’m glad that business is going well,” he comforts. 

The two engage in smile talk until Patty comes out to give Rafe his food. “Patty,  I could’ve brought out his food,” Y/N protests, moving out of the way so Patty can slide the plate directly in front of him. Patty gives him a warm smile, “I know, but I just love seeing this handsome face.” “Aww, Patty. I love seeing you too. If only I was a few years older,” he plays along. She shakes her head, “If only. I would never dream of taking you for Y/N/N though.” “Patty, he isn’t mine. He is free to do whatever he wants,” Y/N interjects, disappointing Rafe. He turns his attention to Y/N, “There isn’t anyone else that I want other than Stella.” She looks at him with shock, understanding the hidden meaning behind the look in his eyes. “Stella is one lucky daughter,” she states while breaking their eye contact. Harvey calls Y/N over to ask her a question and this ends their conversation. “You love her,” Patty remarks. Rafe nods his head, “I do, but she doesn’t love me.” “Just you wait. She’ll come around. You’re already on the right track. Stella is definitely the way to her heart,” Patty returns to the kitchen. 

——

With Stella away, Y/N decides to give Patty and Harvey the rest of the night off and she would close up shop for the day. What she didn’t anticipate was Rafe staying with her until she closed. He spent eight hours with her at the counter. About three hours in, he commandeered her laptop to keep himself busy as she took care of the customers. He would tell her random facts to catch her attention and tell her a joke to hear her melodic laugh. He would steal glances at her every so often. Unbeknownst to him, she would steal some right back. She told him multiple times that he didn’t need to stay, but he insisted he needed her company to fill the hole of Stella being gone. The last customer leaves the diner and Y/N locks up behind him.

She turns toward Rafe, who still hasn’t left, “Do you want something to eat? You have been here for eight hours.” “I could go for some fries, but only if you eat something too. You haven’t eaten since I got here,” he points out. Right on time, her stomach growls in a long low tone. She didn’t realize she skipped dinner and felt butterflies at the fact that Rafe was keeping an eye on her. “Okay, I’ll be right back.” 

Around fifteen minutes later, she returns with a place full of fries and a burger. She rounds the counter to sit beside Rafe and puts the plate between the two of them. “Do you want to watch a movie?” she questions, pulling her laptop to her to open Disney +.  His hand finds a fry, “Sure.” He lets her pick Ratatouille since it feels like fitting with them being in a restaurant and all. Y/N inspects the fries on the plate and before she can take the fry she decides on, Rafe mindlessly grabs the one she wants. The fry is near his mouth, but she grabs it out of his hand and shoves it in her mouth. “Hey! I was going to eat that, Buttercup,” he complains. She shrugs her shoulders, “I like the crunchy ones, Button. I’m sorry, but I couldn’t let you have this crunchy goodness.” 

“That’s awfully selfish of you. How are you going to make it up to me?”

The pair had unknowingly gotten closer to each other. Their faces are only about three inches away from each other. His breath finds her lips and it takes everything in him not to bring them to his. She stares into his eyes, trying to figure out what he wants her to say. “Well… I don’t have much, but how about I let Stella sleep over at your place next weekend? Does that make you feel better?” she genuinely offers. Upon seeing she is serious, his face turns to joy, “I would love to have her sleepover. I have to get the spare bedroom ready. Maybe get her a few toys and some-.” “Woah, slow down there, Button. She is only there for a night. You don’t need to do too much for her,” Y/N stops his tangent. 

“I know. I just want her to enjoy her weekend with me so she’ll want to come back. So I can prove that I am a good father.” 

“Rafe, no matter what you do, she will want to be with you. You are her father and that’s all she needs.” 

Her right hand finds the side of his face and she plays with the bottom of his earlobe. He leans into her touch, letting himself be comforted after he is a little vulnerable with her. Her eyes flicker down to his watch and she notices the time. “Damn, it’s late. I should probably start walking back home,” she worries, scrambling off the stool and cleaning up their late-night snack. He looks at his watch, “You are walking home? What happened to your car?” “Joshua asked to borrow it and since Stella is not with me, I said it was fine,” she notes as a matter of fact. He helps her clean up and takes out his car key, “I see. I’ll drive you home then.” “Rafe, you don’t have to. You know it isn’t that far for me to walk,” she tries to refuse. He shakes his head, “Y/N, I’m not letting the mother of my child walk alone close to midnight. So, don’t worry about it and let me drive you.” She stops arguing and gets to work quickly cleaning up.

Once she closes the diner, they walk side by side to his car. He notices the goosebumps running up her arm and shrugs off his grey North Face jacket, wrapping it around her shoulders. She whispers a thank you. They get into the car and make their way to her house. He walks her to the door with his fingertips itching to touch hers. At the door, they turn to each other, looking into each other’s eyes. He takes a tentative step forward and she doesn’t move back. He is about to take a chance and lean in for a kiss when the door flings open to reveal Benedict.   

“Finally, you’re back. You sure took your sweet time with closing. Hey, Rafe. Y/N, do you have any mayo? I feel like eating just straight-up mayo,” Benny interrupts, walking away from the door to the kitchen. She pulls away from Rafe and follows her brother inside, devastating Rafe. He slowly enters the house after a few seconds to see the siblings bickering about Benny eating only mayo. The domestic sight makes him feel left out, so he bids goodbye to the pair. He is almost to the door when Y/N catches up to him. “Button, wait,” she calls out, gently grabbing his arm above his elbow. “I wanted to say thank you for keeping me company tonight. And for taking me home. I know you didn’t have to stay and that part of the reason you did is because of me. So thank you.” He looks back at her with a soft smile, “No problem. I have to protect the woman I lo- I have to protect the woman who gave birth to my baby girl.” She caught what he was about to say, nails finding their way between her teeth. “Right, well… goodnight,” she mutters, stepping back into her house. He moves back towards the sidewalk, “Goodnight.” Y/N waits for Rafe to be out of sight before closing the door.

——

Rafe opens the door to his apartment to find Ward Cameron waiting with an annoyed look on his face. “What do you want?” Rafe grumbles, leaving the door open and walking away from it. Ward enters the room, “You can’t keep living here. You need to come back to the Outer Banks.” “No, I don’t. I’ve been keeping up with my work and going back when we had a meeting. So I don’t see a problem,” Rafe argues, going to the kitchen to pour himself some water. 

“When are you going to realize that you are just playing pretend? That you are eventually going to get tired of playing family. It’s better you realized that sooner rather than later.”

“You have no idea what you are talking about. I’m not going to leave my family. You always say that family comes first and that’s what I’m doing.”

“Listen, Rafe. I know you and the only thing that you can stay committed to is coke and the family business. So stop kidding yourself.”

Rafe shakes his head in frustration, “Well, I’ve changed. I want to give my daughter the support you never gave to me but you gave to Sarah.” “When you realize this is all a mistake, don’t come crying to me to fix this problem. I already told you to sign a paper saying you’d only give child support,” Ward warns, heading back out the door. Rafe yells in frustration, throwing a water bottle at the wall. He doesn’t understand the point of his father coming over just to tell him he is going to end up abandoning his family. It drives Rafe crazy that Ward thinks he knows everything about his son when Ward barely takes the time to talk to him. His feelings for his dad come cropping up and he needs something to relieve the stress. 

A knock on the door causes him to stop his tantrum. Shit, he forgot he is supposed to have Stella over for tonight. A second knock comes when he is splashing water on his face to calm down. At the third knock, he opens the door to see an excited Stella and a nervous Y/N. His daughter walks into the apartment as if she lives there while Y/N notices Rafe’s emotion. “Are you okay? She can sleep over next weekend if this is a bad time,” Y/N says. He doesn’t want to talk about it, “I’m fine. She can stay. I could use her company.” She isn’t sure if what he says is the entire truth, but she trusts him to know what he needs and if he needs his daughter, she won’t stop him. “Okay, well call me if you need anything. I’ll be at home all night,” she informs, heading inside to give Stella a kiss before she leaves. Rafe sighs once the door is locked, turning toward his daughter with a fake smile. “What do you want to do, little witch?” She gives him a massive grin and pulls something out from her bag, “Can I practice my face painting on you, Daddy? I can make you into a monster.” “Doesn’t that sound like a great idea? I would love to be your model.”

——

The evening he gets to spend with his daughter is the best he’s ever gotten to spend. They went on a Target run and got a variety of stuff. Toys. Clothes. Food. Board Games. Accessories. Anything she wanted found its way into their cart. He didn’t care about the looks he got for wearing skeleton makeup that Stella put on his face. It may be June, but it is never too early to celebrate the spooky season. They got back home after the shopping spree to make all the food and play all the board games they bought. He had just put her to bed when the bad thoughts started to creep back in. The doubts he is feeling about being a father start to seep through. So far, everything has been great. They always have so much fun. But what happens when the real struggles of parenting start to begin? When Stella won’t simply go to bed because he told her so. When she starts to resist his authority because the newest of having a dad is over. 

His hands are going crazy with fidgeting with his watch. The leg bouncing up and down is the only thing emitting a sound throughout the living room. He goes to call Diana and is sent to voicemail. He wants to call Y/N but thinks twice about it because he doesn’t want to worry her. He knows he shouldn’t but he needs to stop the voices in his head. The DVD case in the TV centre is calling to him. His feet lead him closer to what he shouldn’t be close to. He gets out the case and opens it up to find the little bag of powder. Before this day, he forgot he had stashed it there and that is why he hasn’t got rid of it yet. It’s okay if he has a little bit though, just a little. Maybe if he knows he should control himself, then it will be better than using more. He just needs a little something to stop his brain. 

He forms one line. One line should be enough. The relief he feels, once he snorts the line, begs him to do another. One more couldn’t hurt. He doesn’t realize he has gone through the whole bag until he can’t make any more lines. The energy he feels gets him up and moving. He cleans up the mess they made while cooking and organizes the board games they played. After a while he starts to crash, so he lies down on the couch to try and get some sleep but the coke isn’t letting him. He stares at the ceiling for hours until eventually, the mindlessness of sleep overcomes him, forgetting to clean up the evidence of what he did. 

——

Y/N taps the door as lightly as possible to hopefully not wake up Stella. She wants to help Rafe get breakfast ready for the little girl. The knock goes unanswered, so the next one that comes is a little harder. Rafe opens the door with a confused look that turns to panic when he sees who it is. “Hey, Button. Sorry to wake you up so early. But I thought I could help you make Stells some breakfast. I hope you have some eggs because I was thinking about making some eggs benedict,” she explains, heading toward the kitchen to place down the tote with the food she brought. Rafe scrambles to block her view of his coffee table, “Uh, yeah. The eggs are in the fridge.” He was too late. Her eyes are already narrowed at something in the living room and he knows she saw his last night late activities. 

She heads toward the table to make sure she is actually seeing what she thinks she is seeing. “You relapsed,” she mutters to herself in a calm and worrying tone. Rafe runs to her side, gently turning her to look at him, “Buttercup, I know I did. But I promised it wasn’t that much. I just needed something to stop my thoughts.” Her head starts to shake violently as she yanks her hand out of his hold and walks back slowly toward Stella’s room. The anger she feels is now showing, “If it wasn’t that much, then how come the bag is empty, Rafe? How much was in that bag? HOW MUCH COCAINE DID YOU DO WHILE MY DAUGHTER WAS UNDER YOUR CARE?” The blow comes in twofold. The first, she didn’t call him the playful nickname she always does. The second, she called Stella her daughter instead of theirs. 

“I know I screwed up, Buttercup. But I promise, she wasn’t awake.” 

“You don’t get to call me that right now. I don’t care if she is awake or not. I’m upset at the fact that you did drugs while she was in the house. That she could’ve woken up while you were sleeping and had access to the mess you left. Or worse, you died on the couch because you overdosed. ” 

“Of course, you are allowed to be upset. But it was a mistake. I’m sorry. It will never happen again. Y/N, please.”

“I can’t Rafe. I know that relapsing is sometimes a part of the journey to sobriety and I can forgive that. I can’t forgive putting Stella at risk.”

Y/N walks away in the direction of Stella’s room. All he can do is wait there as he hears the door open. “Stella. Baby, wake up. It’s time to go,” Y/N murmurs, kneeling beside the bed and running her fingers through Stella’s hair. The girl gently stirs, “Why, Mommy? I haven’t had breakfast yet.” “Because, Baby, Daddy needs to go somewhere so we have to go. We can make breakfast at home,” the mother explains, helping her daughter put of the bed. She knows Stella wants to debate more, but isn’t allowed to because Y/N is packing Stella’s stuff as fast as she can. 

Rafe is still standing there when Y/N comes back out with Stella in one arm and the little girl’s bag over the other shoulder. This makes him rush toward her, “Y/N, please. Don’t go. Please.” She ignores him and walks out the door, leaving the food she brought. He can hear Stella demanding to say bye to her Daddy and it rips his heart out as he hears Y/N firmly say no. He slams the door shut, screaming into the oblivion of his pain. 

Taglist: @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming @drewstarkeyswifehoe @kisstaya @magicalyoura @mp-littlebit @loverfu55ii @dark1paradise @sublimepenguinpeach-blog @alyisdead @emeloyy @js-a-writer @kisstaya @optimisticsandwichgladiator

[familyvideostevie]

october second

day two: remus lupin you and remus make soup on a fall day | fluff, a bit suggestive | 1.1k

Sometimes the best days of your life are the most simple ones. Today is one of those days.

It’s barely fall but you’re in the mood. You’ve swapped out your flowered dish towels for ones with bright leaves on them, put out the tiny ghost figurines you bought last year, and you’ve packed away your sundresses in bins under your bed. The windows are open to let in the cool air and you’re standing in front of your fridge in a sweater that’s almost certainly too ragged to wear for another season.

The front door to your place opens and you hear your boyfriend’s keys rattle. “Anyone home?” Remus calls.

“Kitchen!” you call back. You think he laughs but you’re not sure. You’re too focused on how you have…nothing resembling a meal in your fridge.

“You look troubled, darling.” Remus leans on the door frame, arms crossed as he smiles softly at you. “Did the milk do something to offend you?”

You sigh. “I can’t figure out what to cook for dinner,” you say. “I don’t know if I’ve got the right things for what I planned to feed you.” Remus often cooks but you’ve been trying to improve your skill and had claimed tonight as one of your nights.

He shoves off the jamb and makes his way to you. You tilt your cheek up and he brushes his lips against it. Before standing behind you, hand on your hip. “Hm,” he says. “Do you want me to go to the shop? I can. I would’ve if you’d told me before.”

“Well, I didn’t know I’d run into this problem, before,” you retort. He chuckles and you lean back into his chest. Remus is one of the most sure things in your life — yes, that’s his personality, but also he makes an effort to be so for you. And you for him. He is good at soothing your anxieties about things going wrong, about problems and your own fears of all the unpredictable things about life. You, in turn, remind him to slow down, to take moments for himself, to ask for what he wants even if it puts you out. (It never puts you out.)

So, sure, a thwarted dinner is something you can handle together.

“Hang on,” Remus says. He shuts the fridge door and moves away from you, one large palm dragging across your shoulder so he can keep touching you as he looks in one of your cabinets. “Just as I thought,” he says.

“What?”

He grins your favorite grin, the one that makes him look boyish and unburdened. “You’ve got everything we need to make Potter soup.”

“Excuse me?” you sputter. Remus laughs and starts to pull things from the cabinet.

“James’s mum has a really great dish thats basically potato curry but better,” he says. “And I’m good at it because she likes me best and taught me how.”

“I’ll be he loves that,” you say. He grins at you again.

“You should have seen his face when she asked me to help make it over the school holidays when we were 17.”

Remus regales you with stories of boyhood shenanigans as he instructs you on how to help him cook. You chop vegetables, simmer water, gather spices. He’s patient when you’re quite slow at peeling the potatoes and plants a kiss on your temple every time he moves around you. You turn on the radio and try to no avail to get him to dance with you, though he laughs.

“You’re a marvel,” he says once the soup is simmering. The kitchen is warmer than it was, the stove and your efforts heating it up despite the now-evening chill coming in through the open window. You hop up onto the kitchen island and he steps between your legs.

“I slowed you down,” you say. He shakes his head.

“No one has ever had a sous-chef as gorgeous as you,” he says. His palms stroke up and down the soft material of your pants. You brush some hair from his forehead and trace your favorite of his scars down through his brow and across his cheek.

“You know,” you say, dragging out the words. “You didn’t kiss me proper when you came in.”

Remus raises his eyebrows at you. Really? his eyes say. “You were a bit busy being cross at the refrigerator, darling.”

“Excuses, Lupin,” you say primly.

“Lupin?” he scoffs. “Wow, I see how it is.” His hands wander up to your hips and he tugs a little, pulling you forward on the counter. You swallow a yelp.

“And how is that?” you say softly. Remus trails his fingers up your sides, making you squirm, before curling them around either side of your jaw.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” Your boyfriend is often considered the calm one compared to his friends. He keeps them in check, he’s levelheaded, he’s mature. But he’s also a flirty shit when he wants to be. Like right now, it seems.

“Don’t tease,” you whisper. Remus relents, leaning in to kiss you soundly. It’s the kind of hello kiss you’d expected when he came home, the kind he gives you in public. A firm press of his lips, thumbs stroking the soft skin of your cheeks. And then it turns into something else. You hook your ankles around him and pull him even closer as he licks into your mouth with a moan that could have come from either of you.

He kisses you deeper, pulling away only to get a different angle, to press a finger to your pulse point to feel your heart go wild. It’s so cliche, making out in the kitchen after you’ve cooked together, but you love it. You love him.

You don’t know how long passes but when the timer goes off you have to push him away. His lips are swollen and slick, hair a riot, eyes bright despite their blown pupils. “Well,” he says. “You look a bit disheveled.”

You smack his shoulder. “Speak for yourself.” He backs up and you hop down from the counter to check the soup. “Does this look right?

Remus follows you, hands petting down his hair, and nods. “We made a bit much, didn’t we?”

You hum. “We could call everyone to come over,” you suggest.

He laughs. “We just snogged in the kitchen for who knows how long and now you want to invite all of our friends over for dinner? Are you sure you don’t want…something else?” His hand drags up and down your spine.

You shiver and then your stomach rumbles. “I’m hungry,” you say. “You can be filthy later.”

His expression says who, me?

“Plus I want to see James’s face when he realizes someone else can make this better than he can.”

Remus laughs and heads for the phone.

thank you for reading <3 reblog, send feedback, general masterlist here! promptober masterlist, find all fics under #fvspromptober23

[evansbby]

Steve makes sure that Omega doesn't burn herself when she's cooking for him. Like yeah he's a typical strict alpha who wants her to cook and clean, but he also knows that she's just a little baby who can easily get hurt. Him sitting in the living room and watching tv while drinking beer, but from the corner of his eyes he's also watching her, making sure that she doesn't get hurt, doesn't accidentally burn herself or bump into shelfs. He's also very much staring at the way she's only in his hoodie and her little baby ass is peeking out. Also!!! Steve purposely hiding the spices/plates/literally anything in the top shelf where omega can't reach!!! So he's watching her as she's struggling to take out the glass from the top shelf. She's standing on her tippy toes, arms stretched and little huffs leaving her. Her baby ass is full on display for Stevie's hungry eyes. But she's just tooo short. But then Steve finally decides to help when he sees that she's about the climb up on the counter or some shit. He comes up behind her, his beefy chest against her back as he presses her against the counter and breathes in her scent. She sooooo much smaller than him. Steve will all be like, "You should ask Alpha for help, you're just a tiny little baby" etc. While Omega is all shy and blushing. Yk he does the typical move where he grabs something from a higher shelf while his back pressing agaisnt omega. Then they fuck on the kitchen counter! But steve makes sure to turn of the stove, so not to her his baby.!!!

Also we're pretending that Sam and Bucky are not home lmao.

Oooh I can totally imagine Steve pretending to watch the football game on TV when in reality his gaze keeps shifting to omega in the kitchen (she’s cooking him a special game night dinner 😌) Omega is happy and calm bc Sam and Bucky are away on some guys’ trip to Utah or something (Steve didn’t go bc he said he had to help his dad with some work but actually he didn’t want to be away from his omega for that long). Anyways, so omega is all calm and in her element, cooking and listening to music and only wearing Steve’s football jersey and Steve just can’t get his eyes off of her!

And I can imagine omega climbing up on the counter to grab something from the top cabinet and Steve goes all macho-alpha- protective mode like, “What the hell are you doing? Get down from there, you’ll hurt yourself.” And he grabs her and lifts her off the counter and she’s like 😳😳😳 and Steve’s like, “Don’t ever do dumb shit like that again. You could’ve fallen and got hurt.” And omega’s like, “but I always do that.” And Steve’s like, “You’re just a baby, next time you need to get something from the top cabinet, you call me, okay?” And she’s like “…..okay!😳😳” and then Steve starts noticing the stove and how hot the oven is and how dangerous the kitchen is for his baby omega so he starts babying her a lotttt and not letting her down, he just holds her in his lap and tells her, “that’s enough cooking. I’ll order something for us.” And omega’s like, “but Steve! I always cook, and I’m not a baby!” And Steve’s like 😏😏😏😏 “you ARE just a baby omega” and then he gets turned on and fucks her on the kitchen counter the end

[ddarker-dreams]

My Ship In (Not) Five Minutes — HWR Edition

Height difference:

canonically, i make no allusions to HWR reader's height, but my personal headcanon is that she's 5'6. so that'd be a slight height difference since chrollo is 5'10.

Age difference:

chrollo is older than HWR reader by two years. they both hardly act their age though. they'd fit right in at the local senior center. it's especially bad in HWR reader's case... she's extremely out of touch with pop culture and the lingo that comes with it.

First to confess:

chrollo, although his confession is weird and kinda convoluted. it isn't really romantic. it's more of him professing his fascination with HWR reader, saying that getting to know her better has helped him understand himself. which, to someone like chrollo, is essentially the most intimate connection in the making. this is the most genuine he can really get, HWR reader would've doubted him if he was confessing his undying love or whatever. he may have been able to sway her into believing him at first, but eventually, she'd see through it and call his bluff. so his weird confession worked out for the better. she values authenticity and he recognizes he has no choice but to break through his countless façades if he's to have a chance with her.

First to apologize after a fight:

they really... don't have fights? neither of them are the types to give into passionate outbursts of feeling, they both approach things in a calm and rational manner. it's more like a cold war when they disagree on something serious. when the iciness thaws out, they both prefer to kinda move on without outright acknowledging it. there'll be some small, thoughtful gestures on both their parts as a way of making amends. chrollo would be the first to apologize, but this would irritate HWR reader, since he'd be doing it for the sake of it. chrollo knows this and wisely keeps his mouth shut LMAO.

The more popular/charismatic:

chrollo 😔 he oozes charisma. he knows how to read people and get himself in their good graces. HWR reader... simply doesn't care to do that. she can hold a conversation well but doesn't really pay much mind to the other person's feelings. this is why at high society events she keeps her mouth shut as much as possible. chrollo's tact is otherworldly, she swears it's a sixth sense he's developed. he once claimed to be an empath. she faked a cough to cover her laugh.

The best caregiver when the other is sick:

probably HWR reader for the sole sake of her dedication?? she saw her mother degrade physically over the years and it left an impression on her. she knows that what looks small at first can rapidly develop and spiral out of control. she'd hover around chrollo, monitoring him like a hawk. would take his vitals every hour and log them dutifully. make an excel spreadsheet of them when he's asleep. fortunately, both their immune systems are pretty impenetrable due to their body body's unique constitution. there are some health complications relating to corruption, a side effect of the unique blood HWR reader has, but she keeps that under tight surveillance.

Does the cooking:

chrollo learned early on that HWR reader's cooking is... well-intentioned, if not inedible. she went most of her life without cooking, her meals were always made for her by her teacher's specifications. consequently, she looks at cooking as an experiment and wants to see what would happen if she put every spice in the spice cabinet in pasta or whatever. chrollo, being the excellent leader that he is, recognizes her enthusiasm and doesn't dare trample on it. he just redirects her energy elsewhere. he handles the stovetop and lets her do the prep work. the woman can cut fruits and veggies like a machine.

Does the housework:

oh boy. HWR reader 100%. she is a neat freak. chrollo pitches in and cleans up after himself, but HWR reader is the one who goes crazy deep cleaning the entire apartment once a week. she just likes things being nice and orderly. she gave him a cold stare when he didn't take his shoes off when walking into the apartment once. by estella's sisterly advice, HWR reader got rid of her black light when chrollo moved in. estella rightly guessed that this would be 'a touch on the excessive side, dearest.'

Does most of the speaking:

it's somewhat equal, but leaning more toward chrollo, especially in the beginning. he had to pry her out of her shell. she mostly gave short, very polite responses to his questions. he had to do some poking and prodding to figure out what conversations get the most out of her. fortunately for him, he's a fast learner. unfortunately for him, HWR reader (correctly) assumed he wanted something and would've preferred he just come out with it. this mild ire couldn't last long, he's too pleasant a conversationalist. he makes it look like an art.

nowadays, they both speak the same amount. they'll either be silent for hours while going about their own business, or staying up until 3 am debating if albert calmus' the plague was literal or metaphorical. big nerds.

The overprotective one:

hmmmmm chrollo wins this one by a few points. they're both confident in each other's abilities to take care of themselves. honestly, they both kinda like watching one another fight. they think it's hot to watch their partner absolutely decimate another human being. that being said, chrollo tends to pick up on things far more than HWR reader when it comes to social interactions. someone could give her their phone number and she'd just think to herself, 'oh, that's strange.' chrollo recognizes this quality of hers and while he finds it endearing, he's a deeply possessive man. such is the nature of a thief. he'll give the most chilling expressions to anyone eyeing or talking her up. it's one of the few times he allows his bloodlust to seep out. naturally, HWR reader notices this and goes ??? at him, but he just smiles and waves it off.

Designated driver:

chrollo. it's a weird man thing. the first time they ever walked to a car together, he just went straight for the driver's seat without thinking about it. she doesn't have a preference either way. much to chrollo's surprise, HWR reader actually favors motorcycles. she reasons that they get her places faster. chrollo thought this was a quaint platitude until he rode with her on one once. she almost broke the speedometer.

Has good penmanship:

they both have good handwriting, but chrollo's is slightly better. HWR reader writes faster and in cursive. chrollo writes in cursive as well, but he takes his time with it, writing almost like a calligrapher. he can falsify other's handwriting and signatures perfectly too. he also prefers classic stationary, the man unironically writes with an ink and quill. good god. HWR reader is kind of a snob as well. she prefers fountain pens and looks down upon ballpoint pens.

Has more experience with relationships:

neither of them have been in a serious committed relationship before, but chrollo still has more experience. he's done his fair share of schmoozing to intrude circles he intended to rob blind. HWR reader had a girlfriend for a time (karina), an experience that was more like a wild rollercoaster ride than anything else. so this is all very new to her. she doesn't have a solid point of reference.

Sensitive to subtle changes in partner:

chrollo by far. HWR reader finds it mildly disconcerting how well this man can read her. he knows her body language, tone of voice, even the normal state of her aura. he can tell when something's bothering her before she even realizes it. he has enough knowledge to write a dissertation on her honestly.

The one who proposes:

chrollo, in more of a musing, since he asks her all sorts of curious questions. it'd be something like, 'would you ever consider marrying me?' and she'd just go silent for a few seconds... then say yes, she would. neither of them place much importance on the institution of marriage, it just seems kinda nice. they could equally do with or without it.

The one who dies protecting the other:

they'd both die for one another without hesitation, but in all likelihood, it'd be HWR reader :(( it suits her narratively. however, i could never bring myself to write it . they need to be alive and menaces to society together.

Handling conflict:

they're both so stubborn and opinionated without realizing it 😭 surprisingly, this doesn't lead to much tension since it takes a lot to seriously rile them up, but when conflict does arise... it's so icy between them. there's no yelling or gesticulating, just Stares and some dry words. chrollo can occasionally come off as very condescending and she would not take sit there and take it. cursed vibes in the apartment. enough to make plants wilt. this happens infrequently, though.

Relationship attitude:

complete dedication. neither of them is interested in anything casual. HWR reader is viciously loyal to the few people she cares about and chrollo's something of a hopeless romantic. in the beginning, they were both feeling things out, mostly curious to see where it'd go. as they learned more about each other and themselves as a result, their attachment grows to the point they're inseparable. they feel like they complete one another, in a way. they have enough in common and enough that sets them apart to never be bored.

Showing affection:

this does not come easy to HWR reader. she improves with time, but at first, she isn't sure how to express her feelings. the are some urges on her part but she isn't certain if it's proper to act on them. chrollo can tell she's holding herself back, and although he might tease her on the occasion, he's good at gently encouraging her to do as she pleases. chrollo loves classic displays of romance. bouquets of roses, handwritten notes, gourmet chocolates, the works. she likes it more than she cares to admit. he's the most outwardly physically affectionate between the two, often putting a hand on her thigh, wrapping an arm around her shoulder, kissing her hand... he treats HWR reader well. she secretly really likes holding hands but is too shy to admit it. chrollo 100% notices this and reaches for her hand to spare her the embarrassment.

Dealing with jealousy:

HWR reader rarely gets jealous whereas chrollo is slightly more inclined to do so. it's not so much that he doesn't trust HWR reader, but that he's deeply possessive and doesn't appreciate people encroaching on his woman. like he worked hard for this. go away. they're both attractive people, so they inevitably earn attention, yet there's just no competition to be had. how do you one up chrollo lucilfer or miss avalor. you just can't. if someone is shooting their shot with HWR reader, chrollo slides on in, wearing the fakest smile, pulling her close to him by her waist. he radiates this Energy that silently communicates the interloper should scamper off if they know what's best for them.

Attachment:

they're very attached without having to come outright and say it. they travel together, cook meals together (with chrollo supervising so no one gets food poisoning), hell, they'll even grocery shop together. they just like being in each other's orbit. it's nice. one would think they'd get tired of each other, but since they're both introverts, they naturally go into their own headspace if they ever need time to themselves. some days they'll quietly coexist and on others they won't shut up about determinism or whatever.

[kazoosandfannypacks]

chapter summary: ezra and sabine look for a place to hide onboard a shuttle on thrawn's star destroyer, and end up spending a week stuck in a closet with each other. chapter word count: 3.1K a/n: this chapter has been revolving around my brain like a rotisserie chicken for the last week and a half. i hope you guys enjoy it as well!   taglist: @laughingphoenixleader  @accidental-spice  @kanerallels  @piraterefrigerator  @jedi-nurse  @dootchster  @lucasbridger  @redroverrider @light-umbra @commander-tech {if you’d like to be added to or removed from my Sabezra taglist, let me know!}

also on ao3!

Chapter 2: Suun Ca'nara 

 "LS 757, reinforcements have been dispatched to your position."

 Ezra quickly let go of Sabine and knelt down to grab the comlink from the fallen stormtrooper at their feet.

 "Seven-Five-Seven here," Ezra said into the comlink with a fake voice, "copy."

 Ezra turned back to Sabine as he grabbed the trooper's feet. "Help me bring him onto that ship," he said.

 "That's your master plan?" Sabine asked, and despite her doubts, she had already taken the trooper's hands and was helping Ezra carry him onboard.

 "Hide aboard the shuttle," Ezra said, "in a closet, or something."

 "What about you?" Sabine asked.

 "Gonna borrow a few things from ol' seven-five-seven here," Ezra nodded down to the trooper, "I'll let them know that the Jedi and the Mandalorian— that's us— didn't make the jump, but managed to take a few shots at us from the ground and shot 'my friend.' Great shot, by the way."

 "No problem," Sabine said, as they carried the trooper up the ramp into the shuttle.

 "They'll still do routine patrols of the ship after that," Ezra said, "they may come aboard the shuttle if they're feeling ambitious, but there's no way they're checking every closet of every shuttle on this ship for a couple fugitives who aren't even here."

 "Alright," Sabine said.

 "There should be a closet right here," Ezra said, "this one should be big enough for seven-five-seven, and his gear, once I'm done with it, and we'll hide in the one across the hall. It's close enough to the access ramp and the cockpit that we can make a quick getaway if we need to."

 They set the body down in front of the small closet door.

 "I'll go make a sweep of the rest of the shuttle," Sabine offered.

 "Alright," Ezra said, already untying the sash around his robes.

 Sabine took her time searching the rest of the ship, keeping an eye out for stormtroopers. It'd been a while since she really faced any Imperial forces, but she still knew the schematics of the ship well enough to make a thorough sweep.

 When she returned, she heard something in the hallway and put a hand to her blaster as she entered.

 Fortunately, it was only Ezra, dressed in the stormtrooper's uniform, holding the helmet under his arm.

 "Good luck out there," Sabine said.

 "Sabine," Ezra raised an eyebrow, "I thought you were a Jedi now."

 Savine rolled her eyes, "I suppose you want me to say 'may the force be with you?'"

 "It never hurts," Ezra shrugged.

 "May the force be with you, Ezra," she smiled.

 He smiled as well, and nodded as he responded, "May the force be with you."

 Sabine thought she saw him wink at her as he donned his helmet and turned away, but she couldn't be sure. She watched him walk back down the hallway— kriff, the kid had grown up a lot since they first found him on Lothal— then began rearranging the closet.

 It was smaller than closets on these ships usually are— some genius had decided to weld a massive cabinet to the floor on one side, and the closet itself had a shelf in the middle that made it impossible to stand in. Still, the shelf was high enough to comfortably sit beneath, and two people might be able to squeeze into the space next to the cabinet, so she started rearranging the supplies in the closet, cramming everything she could onto the top shelf before ducking inside and waiting for Ezra's return.

— — —

 By the time the closet door opened again, Sabine's eyes had adjusted to the darkness, and the light radiating around Ezra as he stood in the doorway— no longer dressed like a stormtrooper, but in the same clothes she'd found him in— was almost blinding.

 "Got room for one more?" Ezra asked.

 "Maybe," Sabine said, shoving herself as close to the wall as she could. Ezra sat down and slid into the closet next to her, and once he was situated, he pulled the door shut with the Force.

 "This closet definitely wasn't made for more than one person to hide in," Sabine thought, her arm pressed tightly next to Ezra's, "then again, it probably wasn't made for even one person to hide in."

 They both wiggled a little, trying to jostle themselves into a comfortable position.

 "Is this the biggest closet you could find?" Ezra asked.

 "Biggest one near the cockpit," Sabine snipped, "the only other closet like it has your friend in it, and it's barely large enough for him with all the supplies they've got jammed in there."

 "Hey, it's okay," Ezra said, "After all, how long does it take to get back to our galaxy in a ship this big?"

 "A week," Sabine said.

 "Oh," Ezra said, "well, I guess it's like we used to say."

 "What?"

 He put on a fake, slightly dramatic voice as he repeated a code phrase from one of their first missions together, "It's a long way to Alderaan."

 Sabine chuckled nervously.

 "Uh, about Alderaan…."

 "What?" Ezra asked.

 "Nevermind," Sabine shook her head, "You'll find out soon enough."

 "Okay."

 They again tried to shift into a more comfortable position.

 "I know separating a Mandalorian from her armor is almost blasphemy," Ezra said, "but I don't know if I can last a week with your shoulder pauldron jammed into my arm."

 "Sorry," Sabine said, leaning forward to give herself enough room to remove the armor from her shoulders.

 "No, it's okay," Ezra said, "besides, after spending a decade without you guys, what's a little invasion of personal space between friends?"

 "Right?" Sabine laughed, "I guess I'd rather be crammed in a closet with you than be separated by galaxies again."

 "I know what you mean," Ezra said.

 She looked back at him over her shoulder and saw a smile on her face, one she wasn't as annoyed by as she used to be.

— — —

 "This reminds me of a game we used to play on Lothal," Ezra said, a few hours into their voyage.

 "You'd cram into tight spaces for fun on Lothal?" Sabine asked.

 "What? No. Kind of?" Ezra said, "it was called 'Loth Rats.'"

 "You're not selling your argument, Bridger," she rolled her eyes.

 "Loth rats are known for cramming together into tight spaces," Ezra said, "and when you play Loth Rats, one player is designated The Loth Rat and has to hide somewhere, usually an enclosed space. Everyone else goes looking for them, and when they find them, they become a Loth Rat and have to hide there as well. The game continues until everyone's all hidden together there, squished in like Loth Rats, or they get found by the Loth Cat."

 "Sounds boring," Sabine said.

 "Well, we can't all throw knives at a dejarik board and call it a 'game,' now can we, Mandalorian?" Ezra elbowed her.

  "Why not?" Sabine smiled, "it'd be way more entertaining."

 — — —

 Sabine stretched out a little that evening while Ezra was in the 'fresher. They tried to keep their leaving the closet to a minimum, and were fortunate enough that the closet Sabine had found was the one rations were stored in, so they didn't need to leave to find food. However, there were some things you just couldn't take care of in a closet, especially with someone else crammed next to you.

 She sighed a little as the closet door opened again, letting the cold air of the hallway draft into the already a little too chilly closet.

 "Come back to invade my personal space?" Sabine quipped.

 "It's either that or I find someplace else to bunk for the night," Ezra shrugged, "and then squeal on us both when I get found out."

 "Well, when you put it like that…." Sabine slid against the wall again with an exaggerated sigh.

 Ezra sat back down next to her, and they both shifted around a little, until they found slightly-comfortable positions to rest in, some combination of slouching and sitting and just accepting the fact that they'd be incredibly sore when they woke up.

 "Good night, 'Bine." Ezra said.

 "Good night, Ezra," Sabine said, wondering how much sleep either of them could conceivably get in these conditions.

 "It's worth it to bring Ezra home," Sabine thought, "besides, I don't really mind the closeness as much as I thought I would."

— — —

 Sabine woke up (if you could even call it "waking up" after less than five minutes of restless sleep in the last four hours of trying to fall asleep) to find her head had drifted onto Ezra's shoulder. She quietly remedied that, not prepared for the sarcastic commentary he'd make if he'd noticed her nearness to him.

 "Sabine?"

 "Oh no," Sabine thought, "here it comes."

 "Yeah?"

 "Are you awake?"

 "No," Sabine rolled her eyes, "I'm in such a deep sleep in this cramped, freezing closet that I've started sleeptalking in fully coherent sentences."

 She thought she heard him laugh a little.

 "Hey, Sabine?" he asked.

 "Yeah?"

 "What if I put my arm around you?"

 Sabine didn't answer, and he filled the silence.

 "I mean," he fumbled through his words, "not that I want to put my arm around you or anything… and not that I don't either, no, but, uh, it'd be a little warmer if maybe we were closer, and we can best take advantage of the space we're in if maybe instead of sitting shoulder to shoulder, I had my arm around you, you know, as long as that's cool with you, obviously, and then you could, uh, if you wanted, you," Ezra sighed, "you know you can stop me anytime, right?"

 "I know," Sabine smiled, enjoying Ezra's familiar verbal stumble, "and yeah, it would be a bit more comfortable if you put your arm around me."

 "Really?" Ezra asked, his eyes somehow even shining in the dark closet, "great."

 He stretched his arm out behind her, in the space between her lower back and the wall, his hand coming to rest on her side as his arm tightened around her. She already started to feel warmer.

 Her head ended up somewhere between his chest and his shoulder, and it felt the most natural thing in the world for her arm to slip around his back too.

 "How's that?" Sabine asked.

 His response came out with two second's delay.

 "Perfect," he said, like the breath had been knocked right out of him, "and, uh, are you comfortable?"

 "It'll do," Sabine said, not wanting to scare him or herself by admitting how much she enjoyed this necessary snuggle, how much of a refuge he'd become to her. Something about Ezra's presence just felt so calm, so peaceful, like when she was in his arms, nothing else mattered.

 "Suun ca'nara," Sabine thought. That's what her people called this feeling, and there was no word in basic that could've explained it— and if there was, she'd never needed to look for it until now anyways. Nothing in her life made sense anymore, but when she was with Ezra, it was suun ca'nara: all that chaos was put to rest.

— — — 

 Sabine still woke up sore, but she also woke up comfortable. They were still wrapped in each other's arms like they'd been when they fell asleep, but somehow in the night, her other hand had found its way to his chest. His other arm had also closed itself around her, and despite the soreness in her legs, she could still feel how they tangled into his.

 And she'd never felt better in her life.

 She was too groggy to come up with an excuse for this.

 No, of course she didn't have feelings for Ezra.

 No, of course, he was just a good friend, just a brother.

 No, she wouldn't be comfortable if she did this with anyone else, even other people she would've considered her brothers, like Tristan or Zeb.

 No, she couldn't quite say it was just for comfort and warmth.

 No, she'd never felt more at peace in all her life.

 No, she didn't want him to wake up and move away from her and ruin this moment.

 No, she didn't want him to know she was awake now, but still making the choice not to pull away from him.

 No, of course she didn't have feelings for Ezra.

 She could feel how his chest heaved under her hand, with a steady and relaxed rhythm behind every breath he took. He was just as at peace with her as she was with him.

 She tilted her head ever so slightly, just enough to see his face. She had to, had to make sure this was real. How many nights had she dreamed of his return, only to wake up and find him still hopelessly lost?

 But no, here he was this time, really here. She wasn't dreaming. His slight snoring, the lack of feeling in her arm underneath him, even whatever that strange smell was that hung over him now— all of it was just a reminder that this time it was real. He was real.

 What more could she ask for than a moment like this?

 She watched as he blinked back into consciousness. At first, he seemed a bit startled by their accidental intimacy, but as soon as his eyes met hers, he relaxed again.

 "Good morning, sleepyhead," Sabine smiled.

 Ezra shook his head and whispered, his voice deeper in the morning than it had been at night, "I really hope this isn't another dream."

 It was a comment so simple and so pure, and somehow so personal and so passionate, and so humorous in its candidacy. It was so Ezra, and something about him right now made her heart flip-flop around behind her chestplate.

 "Me too," she sighed.

 "If this is a dream though," he whispered, and she almost thought she felt his thumb stroke her side, "it's the best one yet."

 "Dreams aren't usually this cold," Sabine said, and as she did, his embrace tightened a little, "this is real. I'm here, and so are you."

 "And that's never going to change," Ezra said.

 "Yeah," Sabine chuckled, "at the very least, not for the rest of our week hiding in this closet."

 She saw him shake his head, slightly, as if he wanted to say more, but stopped himself.

 — — —

 Each night came with a minor adjustment to their sleeping arrangement. Armor, belts, and shoes were moved onto the shelf to make their space more comfortable. They rested against a different wall so they could stretch their legs better. They shared Ezra's outer robe to keep warm. Toward the end of the week, they'd figured out the troops' rotations for routine ship inspection, and Ezra insisted on running the risk of using the sonic in the fresher, a decision that Sabine definitely didn't disagree with.

 Along the way, they also found ways to pass the time. Sabine caught him up on absolutely everything he missed out on. Ezra told her some legends he'd heard from the Noti. They played a couple word games and stumped each other with riddles.

 And they found themselves in each other's arms a lot.

— — —

 Sabine's fingers tapped mindlessly against Ezra's stomach as she lay in his arms that final night in the closet with him. His head rested on her other arm, and she was fighting the urge to twirl her fingers aimlessly through his hair as well. One of his arms was wrapped around her, with a hand on her shoulder to keep the robe wrapped around them both in place, and the other hand resting close to hers, so close their hands almost touched as her fingers tapped.

 As tired as she might've been, she knew that as soon as she fell asleep, she'd wake up again, and then they'd be back to responsibilities and preventing another galactic war and not falling asleep in each other's embrace— so she tried her best to stay awake and keep this moment from ending.

 "Bet you're excited to get home," she asked Ezra.

 "What?" Ezra joked, "you think I'd rather be back with friends and family I haven't seen in a decade, and real food, an/d a bed long enough to stretch my legs in, than be on the cold, hard floor of a closet on a soon-to-be-stolen Imperial transport?"

 "Well, it'll be nice to get some fresh air," Sabine said, "and maybe an actual pillow."

 "What?" Ezra asked, "am I not good enough for you?"

 Sabine lifted her head off his chest.

 "The pillows back home certainly snore a lot less."

 "Oh, you're one to talk," Ezra said, "I could hear you snoring from down the hall sometimes back when we were on The Ghost."

 "I had a cold that week," Sabine argued.

 "Right."

 "And at least I didn't sneak a Loth Cat onboard."

 "It was one time!"

 "Twice," Sabine said, resting her head again on her sub-par pillow, "I remember the look on Hera's face when she found out each time."

 She felt him laugh beneath her.

 "We sure have come a long way since then," Ezra said.

 "You can say that again," Sabine said.

 The old adage that absence makes the heart grow fonder certainly hadn't been wrong, and a decade is a long time to grow fond of someone again.

 And after so much time apart, they'd definitely earned all this forced quality time together.

 She adjusted her position in his arms a little, trying to get a little closer to him despite the impossibility of doing so with how close they already were.

 Almost as though in response to her unspoken desire, he pulled his arm tighter around her, that hand now resting on her stomach, and his other hand taking hers.

 "I am excited to go back home," Ezra whispered, "but I think I might actually miss this a little."

 Sabine smiled. "I guess there's worse people to be stuck in a closet with for a week."

 Ezra squeezed her hand. "Yeah, I guess so."

 Sabine yawned and Ezra did too.

 "Better try to get some rest," Ezra said, "we've got a busy day tomorrow."

 "I'll do my best," Sabine said, "hard to get rest when your pillow keeps snoring though."

 Ezra gave her half a laugh and turned a little closer toward her.

 "Goodnight, 'Bine," Ezra whispered.

 Sabine smiled into those soft blue eyes she'd crossed galaxies to rescue, the ones that somehow made everything all make sense again. 

 "Goodnight," she whispered, "Ner Suun Ca'nara."

 "What does that mean?" he asked.

 Sabine laughed a little, and shook her head. "I'll tell you later."

 "Alright, then," Ezra smiled, "Goodnight."

 And she almost thought she felt him lean forward and kiss the top of her head before they both fell into a blissful sleep.

[sweet-villain]

Even If It Hurts~E.M~1

Summary: Everyone knows you as the Hawkin's Sweetheart, Dustin is your next door neighbor. Dustin thinks you'll be the perfect match with Eddie.

Author's Note : This is just the first chapter, I just couldn't get this out of my head. The title will make sense as the chapters continue.

" Sweetheart, you'll be late for school if you keep standing there" your mother says as she stops in the door way of your bedroom as you stood by the mirror looking over your outfit.

" One minute, mama" you tell her, looking over your shoulder at her as you adjusted your shirt. She smiled as she headed downstairs into the kitchen where she usually is. You grabbed your backpack and jacket as you headed out of the bedroom making your way downstairs. In the kitchen, your mother stood by the stove while your dad was at the table eating the breakfast he had on his plate.

" Are you going to eat something pumpkin?" your dad asked hearing your footsteps come closer. The kitchen had dark brown cabinets with two double doors. They were filled with dishes, cups and bowls and the other side had other spices and other things your mother needed around the kitchen. Right below those cabinets is the sink with a couple of dishes waiting to be washed. Your mother is standing by the stove with a couple of pots and pans off to the side next to her waiting to be put away.

" I'll be late if I don't go now" you say grabbing a waffle off the plate that your mom has been stacking on and kissing your father on the cheek before doing the same to your mother. You hurried out the door with one strap of your backpack hanging out while the other is on your shoulder as you put on your shoes. " Have a good day, sweetheart!" your mom yells peering at you over the kitchen with her spatula in her hand. She looked at you disapprovingly seeing the only breakfast you had in your hand was the one waffle. You slipped out the door and made your way to your car.

As it roared to life, you hear another door open and your head turns to glance as Dustin Henderson comes running out to his bike. He doesn't see you as he gets on and rides away. You sped off towards the way he was heading, slowing down as you rolled down the window.

" Next time if you need a ride, Henderson. You know where to find me" you tell him. He pauses as he looks over to you. He sees it's you and smiles.

" It's good to see you Y/N! Thank you, I will keep that in mind" you knew Dustin from when you babysat him those months ago, his mother Claudia adores you. The whole town did since you were Hawkins sweetheart. You continued to drive as you see that Mike and Lucas were waiting for him. You waved to them on the way as you drove past them.

The school wasn't far ahead. This was your final year of high school and you couldn't wait to leave Hawkins. You always dreamed of going somewhere like California or Chicago. You wanted the road to lead you wherever. Just not here. Sure you had family here and the town loved you, but your heart was set on getting out of here.

You parked in one of the parking spots at the school. Heads would turn to see you getting out of the car.

" Hi Y/N!" Chrissy greets you as she walks with Jason wrapped around her shoulder. Jason nods at you.

" Hi Chrissy" you greet her. The sun peered down making you squint your eyes as you headed towards the front of the school. Everyone kept looking at you and waving at you. Meanwhile Eddie parked his van just besides your car as he slipped out seeing everyone was looking at something, or someone as he noticed the back of your head.

He tilts his head as he eyes the outfit of your choice seeing converse on your feet paired with black skinny jeans almost identical to his and he sees the back of your shirt but doesn't know what's in the front and he watches as your hair flowed down your back. He noticed the backpack you had one with three pins on it that made his lips turn into a smile. Iron Maiden, Metallica and Montley Crue.

He doesn't recall ever seeing you before. He doesn't because you looked very different last year and the year before that. He doesn't know your name but everyone seems to know you. You had everyone's attention. He shrugs as he walks to the doors of the school seeing the back of your head as you were greeted by everyone.

His locker isn't near yours making him frown as it was itching him to find out who you were. He wanted to see your face so that he can put a name to it. If everyone knew who you were then he should too but he frowns as he tries to peek around the others but no luck as he closes his locker going to his first class.

Your classes go into a big blur and before you know it's lunch. You headed through the doors of the cafeteria with your head held up high. You had brought your lunch with you, looking around to see where you could sit. A hand lays on your shoulder causing you to jump.

"Sorry" the person mutters and you turn around to see Mike and Dustin as they both had trays of their lunches in hand. " Dustin, Mike" you greet them with a smile. " It's good to see you" you add.

" You look so different" Mike says as his eyes roam your face. Dustin nudges him giving him a look with his eyes. " What?" Mike asks him like it was nothing. Dustin rolls his eyes but sighs, " What he means is that you look great."

You chuckled, " It's okay. I know what he meant. Thanks, I guess?" you asked not really knowing whether to take it as a compliment or not. But you shrug it off, " Why don't you sit with us?

Dustin motions over to the table that contained four other guys sitting there. Your eyes roamed over to each one knowing exactly who they were but your eyes stop on the long mane of curls and those brown eyes that seem to lock with yours. A hint of red paints your cheeks as you look away.

" Sure" you nodded following bot h of them to the table. Heads turned seeing you walking closer and closer to the Hellfire table.

" Guys, this is Y/N. Y/N this is -" you cut Dustin off.

" I know who they are" you nodded sitting down next to Eddie who can't keep his eyes off of you. His eyebrows scrunch together as his brown eyes search your face trying to put two and two on who you were. Your name sounded familiar.

" Last year I had worked with Gareth on an English project" you motioned your head to him as Gareth racked his brain thinking on it when his eyes light up as he now understood who you were.

" You used to wear your hair up all the time" he says and nodded his head. " You used to wear glasses too" he adds.

" Wait. Y/N as in smarty artistic, always knew the answer Y/N?" Jeff asked. You chuckled and nodded. " That's me"

" You used to draw all the time in your notebook and on your tests too" Eddie mumbles. " You used to bump into me a lot rushing in hallways" you nodded.

" That's me" you point to the other guy, " we had a class together too" He nods.

Eddie hums as he watches as you take out your lunch. You notice that he's looking. A hint of red paints your cheek as you brush your hair behind your ear and look down at your lunch.

" Welcome, lost sheep" Eddie says as he waves his ring clad hand at the table offering you a small smile. You felt your heart flutter at glance of his smile and those brown eyes.

-

You closed your locker as you packed your things before you were going to head home. In the corner of your eyes you saw green cheerleading uniform with the high pony tail and green ribbon and the back of a jean vest. Eddie and Chrissy. Your eyebrows scrunched up together seeing them smiling at one another and she said something to make him laugh. Her hand was placed on his shoulder and the way he was looking down at her caused you to frown. He looked at her like his heart would jump out of his chest as his eyes shined when he smiled down at her.

You zipped up your back pack as you grabbed one strap heading to the doors to you car. It's been a long day and you couldn't wait to get home to have a hot shower.

You heard footsteps behind you squeaking against the floors of the school as someone caught up to you. In the corner of your eyes, you noticed the black sleeve leather jacket and the side of mane of curls.

" Where you off too, princess?" he asked.

Princess. At the nickname, your heart fluttered.

" Home" you mumbled feeling a small breeze hit your cheek as you looked for your car in the parking lot. It was parked right next to Eddie's van.

" Have a big evening planned?" you shook your head. " Going to watch a movie and do some homework."

" Sounds boring. What movie?" He asked as he walked to the side where your car was as he leaned on it on his side. His fingers tapped on top of the car, his rings making a sound as he does.

" I don't know yet" you shrugged throwing your backpack into the passenger side seat. " Nice car" you eyed it as his eyes grew big seeing the interior of it. " Daddy get it for you?"

You pursed your lips and rolled your eyes.

" No Munson, daddy didn't even pay a dime for this. I did" you kinda were hurt that he thought of you liked that already. Your parents didn't pay for your car at all. You saved up with all the summer jobs you did.

He put his hands up as he stepped back from your car.

" Didn't mean for it to sound like that, princess"

" Look I need to go home"

" Eddie!" a voice called out to him as his head turned to look at it, a smile appearing on his face as Chrissy Cunningham ran over to him with her own smile on her face. She giggled as she almost knocked into him. She had yet to notice you there as she grabbed onto Eddie's arms to steady herself.

" What is it, sweetheart?" He asks her. You scrunched up your face to the nickname he called her as you got into the car and starting it. You weren't about to stand there and listen to them flirt with each other. Even thought Chrissy is dating Jason.

That shower really sounded good right about now. Eddie peaks over Chrissy's head seeing you reverse your car as you drove off without a goodbye or anything else. He frowns feeling like that was rude but his gaze looks down back at Chrissy.

-

Your eyes catch on a familiar van that was parked next door.

" See you, Henderson" your eyes catch a mane of curls as he walks down the path to his van. He hasn't noticed you yet but stops to take a lighter out of his pocket and a pack of cigarettes. His eyes land on you once he lit one up and it hangs in the corner of his mouth.

" I didn't see you there L/N" he mumbles as he makes his way over to you and sits next to you. You can smell pine, cigarettes and something else too as he scoots over that your knee is touching his.

" Now you do" you mumble to him with your arms wrapped around your knees.

" Didn't know you were Henderson's neighbor" you shrugged.

" There is a lot of things you don't know about me" He nods as he looks over to you. He sees that you put your hair behind your ear and the way your eyes are more interested in the shoes you were wearing. They weren't the black converse he saw before, these were different pair with different color.

" The town calls you as Hawkins sweetheart" you nodded.

" I like to help a lot and treat people with kindness"

The corner of his lips light up in a smile. He doesn't know much about you but he knows you're one of many people that Dustin talks about a lot. Well, since today. Dustin had told him how much his mom adored you, that you used to play Dungeons and Dragons with him and the rest of the kids, how you were always thinking about others than yourself, how there wasn't a mean bone in your body, how an amazing person you were and that no one has ever said anything bad about you. How you liked to be quite and times you were loud. You were different than most people.

Eddie sat with you on the steps of your house in silence and you both enjoyed it. He would look over to see you looking either up at the sky or down at your shoes.

" Don't you need to go home?"

He shook his head, " I'm good right here, princess" you looked at him for the first time since he sat down. His brown eyes shined underneath the moon light, his lips were in a small smile and he looked at you as if you were the only thing that he adored at the moment. You felt your heart race and giggled feeling his knee nudge against yours.

You enjoyed his company.

[byrdtrollsunoreversearchive]

Errands

“So this is- another vegetable?” She asks, fingernail tracing down the grocery list.

“It's- well, technically it's a fruit. But it’ll be near produce.” Mondes answers. 

“Right- and this too?” She asks. 

“No, it's a dried spice.” He says. “Look. It’s an intergalactic market. It’s not rocket science. Just look for the stuff with these names in front. It’ll be labeled.” The oliveblood’s eyes trail down the list at gray smudges where Bee touched the paper. He stares. 

“Did you… not seal your paint?” He says. 

“Do what?” She pauses. 

Mondes once again sighs, heading to the bathroom, digging through the cabinet.

“You have to seal that shit- or it’ll get everywhere- and people will either think you wear way too much foundation- or they’ll know you’re trying to hide something.”

The violetblood wrings her hands, but takes the bottle of fixer he’s handed her. 

“You really think trolls would notice a thing like that?” 

“Aren’t you supposed to be paranoid?” He answers, crossing his arms. 

“I’m actually supposed to be trying hard not to do that. According to my therapist” She says, applying the fixer to the layer of foundation they had used to cover her many violet freckles. Suddenly, she pauses. 

“This is a bad idea,” She says. 

“You know, I still helped with groceries and chores, when I was a fugitive.” Mondes answers. 

“I don’t know if I can do it as well as you can” She pleads. 

“I don’t know how much more tired I can get of you weaponizing your incompetence. It’s just groceries. You’ve already gone out with Hanagi- and without paint, even.” 

“Yeah, but I wasn’t like, alone for that” She says, pacing back and forth in the kitchen. “I don't know what half of these things are! What if I’ve forgotten some other stupid thing like the paint sealer!” Mondes sighs, glancing at the clock and back at the front door. The man walks off, muttering something she can only assume to be curses under his breath. 

She stands in the kitchen, glancing down at her hands. The more she thinks about it, this can’t be her natural gray skin tone. It’s way too obvious. Or is she imagining it? She turns her hands over. 

Mondes returns, setting two reusable grocery bags on the table. 

“Fine” he says “I will go with you. Once.” He says. “Then you do it alone.”

“You don’t have to do that,” She answers. 

“Apparently, I do,” He retorts. Walking out of the hive towards the spaceship. 

She swallows, standing a moment before following him out into the moonlight. 

.

.

.

.

.

The market is sparse this early. Mondes navigates it with ease. This grocery store was the closest to his hive- he’s been there dozens of times with how often he cooks. 

“I see,” Bee says, picking up one of the list’s items, recognizing the sign. “It’s a fruit.” 

“Yeah” Mondes explains. “There’s like- red melony flesh in the arms” He says, pointing to the alien produce. 

“Is it good?” She asks. 

“Not raw. I’m using it for pies” He retorts, his eyes trailing over to where one of the cashiers is eyeing the two of them. Bee follows his gaze, and sets down the fruit. 

“Should we get out of here?” She mutters in a lower tone. 

“Cus the cashier looked at you? No, "he says. “I still need rice noodles. You’re gonna get a lot of stares going out in public hemoanon. It’s just what happens.” He mutters back, heading down another asle. Bee glances back at the purpleblood whos still watching them like a hawk, before scurrying after Mondes. 

“Could you stop being so suspicious?” He says, annoyed. 

“I was just walking. Do you think they recognized me?” She whispers frantically.

“Just stop looking at him,” Mondes mutters. 

“We should leave,” She pleads. 

Mondes inhales, grabbing the last of his items. 

“Fine- let's go. Be normal” He says, walking towards the self checkout. Bee, to give her credit, is doing her best not to look at the cashier, but in a way that's somehow even more suspicious, twisting her head to strange angles to keep him out of her line of vision. 

Mondes is counting to ten in his head, scanning his items at a practiced pace, praying this wouldn’t all go to shit somehow. The machine coughs up their receipt, and he grabs it, the two of them heading towards the door. 

The cashier blocks their path. 

“Excuse me ma'am” he says, staring down at Bee. “Could you empty your pockets?”

“What?” She says, staring at the floor. “Why?” 

“So I can see you didn’t take anything from the produce section.” He says. “Saw you pick up those fruits” 

“Yeah- Mondes is buying some, it’s right there in his bag” She squeaks. 

“I said pockets,” The cashier insists. Mondes gently nudges Bee with his elbow. Bee seems to take the entirely wrong message from this, and straightens her back. 

“You know,” She says. “We did nothing wrong! We picked up a fruit and bought it from your store.” She insists. “Mondes paid for it! You saw us at the self checkout!” 

“Bee” Mondes says frantically, trying to nip this in the bud. 

“Did I see that?” the cashier retorts. “I don’t know what I saw,” he says. “Let me see those bags.” 

Mondes, ever the rationalist, hands over the grocery bags. 

“We don’t want any trouble,” He says. “I’m sorry about her- but if you look at the receipt, I’m sure you’ll find everythings in order.” He says. 

The cashier pulls the receipt from the bag, scanning it as if searching for something wrong. Then he takes out several fruits. He weighs the fruit in his hand, and then says. 

“I don’t think you weighed all of these. Wrong price for this weight.” He accuses. 

“That is ludicrous” Bee hisses, and Mondes elbows her again. 

“Sorry” he says. “Honest mistake. We can go over and reweigh them right now. I’ll pay twice.” He says. “I’m a regular- I come here all of the time. We don't want any trouble”

“That’s- illegal! We already paid for that fruit! Your machine weighed it! Roll back your security tapes” She says, pointing at the shop camera. 

“Shut up Bee” Mondes retorts through gritted teeth. 

“Get out of my shop” The cashier says. “Before I call the cops.” 

“Fine” Mondes says, turning to leave.

“We paid for that! The receipts are right there!” Bee insists, yanking the bags out of the cashier's hands. “You just lost two valuable customers” She hisses as she storms off. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Mondes snaps once they’re out of the store doors. 

“I got us our food” She says slowly. 

“I wanted to be able to come back to that market” He insists. “Now I’m gonna have to drive across town! Why could you keep your fucking mouth shut!” 

Bee opens her mouth to retort, but instead stares past Mondes’s shoulder. He picks up what's happening just in time, and ducks before the purpleblood, who apparently followed them out of the store, takes a swing at him with a crowbar. Bee dives in between the two of them, pulling a switchblade from her pocket. 

“You’re not gonna rob my fucking store” The cashier insists. “And get away with it.” 

“We PAID!” She snaps, “Don’t make me attack you!” 

“Oh what, a tiny little girl with a knife? I’m soooo scared. You want me to find out exactly what kind of mutant you are? When i smash your brains into the-” 

And there was probably more to his tough guy monologue, but Bee has already sprung into action, grabbing his outstretched arm and yanking it forward, slamming him into the alleyway and disarming him in one move, she bends back his arm and presses the knife to his throat. 

“We didn’t rob your fucking store” She insists, one last time. “And you saw nothing here, capiche? Unless you want me to slit your throat” She says. 

“Fucking bitch” He coughs. “You and your little friend are banned for life, you hear?” 

“Don’t tempt me” She says, pressing the knife forward. 

“Bee,” Mondes says. “Let him go. More trouble than he’s worth.” He says. 

Bee stares at the man like she’s about to argue, but then loosens her hold, and the purpleblood falls to the ground, sputters, and then runs off. 

“What part?” Mondes hisses. “Of low profile, do you not fucking understand?” 

“I- what was I supposed to do! Let him charge you twice!” She snaps. 

“Yes,” he says. “I have the money.” 

“He attacked us for no reason!” She snaps. “He was bending over backwards to justify robbing us of food we bought! We didn’t do anything wrong!” 

Mondes stares for a long moment, and then his head falls into his hands. She thinks for a second he’s crying, but no, the oliveblood is laughing maniacally. 

“What’s so funny?” She says, slowly. 

He exhales. “Do you hear yourself?” He says. “Do you think about words before they come out of your mouth? Oh my fucking g-d, poor Bee, he made an assumption about you based on your blood color and then doubled down for no fucking reason? That must suck so much for you. I’m playing you nievole blanche on the world's tiniest cello. Can’t imagine what that feels like!” He throws up his arms. “Welcome to the glorious life of a lowblood! Not so fun on the other end, is it? Huh? Give me a fucking break.” 

“I didn’t know it was this bad” She mutters quietly. 

“You didn’t know it was this bad?! You didn’t know it was this bad?!!” He snaps. “You have more than one limeblood sibling!! How far was your head up your ass your entire grubhood! Thank Dia and Calsya for the slap I’m about to give you, for fucks sake!” He rants, raising his hand, jokingly. But pauses when Bee stiffens, flinching, a sudden look of horror crossing the violetblood’s face that twists into his heart like a knife. He stares, slowly, for a long moment, and then lowers his hand. 

“I’m- Kidding” He says, but his voice doesn’t do a perfect job of hiding his frustration. You can almost hear him counting to ten in his mind. “Sorry” the oliveblood spits out like a curseword. “I’m not going to hurt you. I just- you tried to have me executed for less. It’s more than a little ironic.” 

“I’m sorry” She says, “I should have known better. I didn’t mean to get you kicked out of that shop. I’m just, not used to this is all. I panicked.” She sighs. The violetblood stands still for a moment, and then leans down on her knees to start picking up the spilled groceries. He is almost content with that end to this conversation, but she keeps going, she ruins it, because of course she does. 

“You would have been right to slap me,” She says. “I wouldn’t stop you.” 

“No.” he says. “Not how this works. I know you’re an idiot. I know that you-” He pauses, the sentence dying on its feet. 

“You know what?” She says, slowly. 

“Nothing,” He says. “Forget it” 

“What do you know?” She repeats, going oddly still as she packs the groceries. 

“You wanna talk candidly about it?” he says. 

She does not answer for a while. “About what?” She says. 

He sighs. “I know you got abused.” He says. Bee’s movements grind nearly to a halt. 

“You know- the whole, your dad showing up at our hive, suddenly that fleet ladies dead- it’s not hard too- Everyone knows, I mean, even without that, you stumble through life like a scared rabbit hanging by a thread and it makes it so hard to be mad at you when I have every right to be. I just.” he exhales. 

“I knew that. So I shouldn’t have raised a hand at you. Knowing that. So I’m sorry for that specifically. I was right about everything else.” 

She places a box in the grocery bag. 

“I wish you’d hit me” She says, blinking. “At least that would make sense to me.” 

“You’ve gotta fucking- quit with that shit.” he says. “It really just makes me uncomfortable. I’m really not that kind of person.” He says. 

“I’m sorry” She repeats. 

“I know,” He answers. 

“It wasn’t- abuse” She says. “What happened to me.” 

“Bee,” Mondes says. “Who are we kidding here? Anymore? Exactly? Fine. My family has a lot of reasons to hate you. The whole Nandor thing? The whole getting beat up or fucked up mentally somehow by that teacher bitch? That’s not one of them. That’s one of the few things, me and Nesseo and everyone, are on your side about. So why mince words. Why keep defending that dead woman.” 

“I…” She says. “She was nice to me. Sometimes. A lot of the time. It wasn’t all… I’m not gonna make that my excuse. For what I became.” 

“Of course she was nice to you,” Mondes says slowly. “That’s how it fucking works- ask your therapist about, the cycle, or whatever- that’s how they get you. They’ll be awful and then nice and that’s why people stay even when they really shouldn’t.” 

She does not answer, staring at the fruit in her hand with dead eyes, unmoving. 

“I thought you loved excuses,” He says. “You’re really not gonna take this one?” 

“No,” She replies. 

He stares at her for a long time. Trying to sort out the complex emotions tumbling through his mind into words. Failing. Eventually, he decides to say nothing at all, walking over to help her pick up the groceries. 

“I have one more errand,” Bee says.

“Okay” he replies.

.

.

.

.

.

“You kept my aquarium stickers” Bee says, tracing them on the back of the spaceships pilot seat. 

“My quarrel is with you” Mondes says as he flies. “Not with the beluga whale.”

She almost smiles, staring at the open sky in front of them. 

“Besides” he continues. “Das loves them.” 

The two of them are silent for a moment. 

“Are you sure this is the right address?” Mondes says, floating along the shoreline. 

“Yes- the GPS says it’s right ahead” Bee replies, tapping her hand on the arm rest. 

“In the ocean?” He says. 

“Yes, it’s, half underwater, it’s the whole gimmick” She says. 

“It’s half underwater” Mondes repeats. “And they serve food?” He says. 

“I never claimed the man who runs it was intelligent,” She says. 

“Duly noted” He responds. “Oh- that looks like it” He says, pausing over a bridge that leads out to an illuminated pirate ship, that appears to have some sort of hive beneath it, under the water. He parks, the two of them lock the ship and climb down. And they just walk in. 

They are greeted by a server, who begins the most monotone of customer service monologues like the world's least enthusiastic actor, not even looking up from the register.

“Yo ho ho. Welcome to Buckles and Buckaneers. I regret to inform you that the lower deck is closed due to an octopuses infestation” 

“Octopi” Bee says, instinctively. 

“Octopi” Katash retorts, still not looking up at the two of them as she grabs menus. “In other, better news, calamari is half off! Only three caegers! We’re practically giving it away. Table for how many…” The seadweller trails of, having finally made eye contact with Bee. The woman simply freezes, mouth half open, for what seems like an age. Recognizing her instantly.

“Is the manager in?” Bee says softly. 

“Y-yes” Katash stutters. 

“Table for three,” She says. “If he’ll have me” 

[karisomk]

He's just a friend, I swear! Pt. 1 Attuma x Okoye Office AU

Song: https://youtu.be/E-uwulZWpak Pairings: Attuma x Okoye Tags: Romance, approaching smut in p2. ,humor with denial of feelings. Summary:

Sometimes secrets don't stay secrets! W'Kabi breaks up with Okoye and with the combination of the stress of her office job. She decides to take a long two-week vacation in Yucatan where she meets a certain man. Both walk into their relationship as being strictly friends with benefits. Any lingering feels were dropped once her vacation was over. That was until Attuma happens to be the new transfer to her department at her office. Things tried to remain a civil level but Attuma has had enough of that. Translation: Chaak Lool = Red Flower

She was surprised to not see Attuma today, considering the other made it his mission to eat with her every afternoon when they worked together.  The last time they had spoken, she knew he wanted to go out to a restaurant during their lunch break.  And the two spoke about their favorite dishes and favorite restaurants. Raving about Lagos' Chicken Curry, which was her favorite dish, she knew Attuma wanted to try the restaurant with her. This was the most civil conversation they have had so far alone. Finally, Attuma understood that she was in fact a different person at work than on vacation. Or so she thought.  The two abruptly stopped speaking to one another once her vacation was officially over and she flew back home.  She sat with her feelings of not seeing him again, after all both agreed that this was just sex. A point for them to enjoy themselves and to say fuck her ex-boyfriend W’Kabi. That was until Attuma happened to be the new transfer to her department.

Okoye lifted a brow at the sight of the small black to-go containers with a white foam cup that was sealed with a straw on her desk. 

A yellow sticky note was placed beside it that read, "Caught in a meeting but I ordered for you since I wasn't able to ask you to join me for lunch today. Enjoy!"  Attuma signed the bottom of it even leaving a little smiley face next to his name.  Okoye picked up the sticky note, admiring his cursive penmanship before placing it down.  Opening the first large plate container, Okoye perked up at the scent of spices from the Chicken Curry and rice. Opening the second container, she smiled softly recognizing the Malva Pudding. By the time she searched her cabinets for utensils and extra napkins, her stomach growled. Keeping the lights off in her office, she only opened one of her blinds to let the sun in. Enjoying the silence for the hour in a half that was supposed to be her lunch time.

Aneka peaked in while knocking on her doorframe, "It smells good in here. I was going to ask you what you were going to eat for lunch, but I see you already got it. What did you get?"

"Attuma treated me to lunch today and it's Chicken Curry with Malva Pudding," Okoye said moving to grab her drink container.  Tilting it slightly to look at the dark hue liquid threw the plastic lid, "Looks like Kirkrade."

Aneka sucked her teeth before rubbing her stomach, " I swear he's always trying to spoil you! Can I have some?!"

"Now you know you are just making things up; yes sure we will eat lunch together" Okoye started to say.

"Well, he decided to join me and kept on eating lunch with me" Okoye snorted while looking for more utensils and a small plate.

"Okoye… He likes to get you tea in the morning, and you said it yourself it is made just the way you like it. "

"Yes, so? That is very considerate of him to do so" Okoye retorted quickly. But in reality, Attuma knew something about her due to spending two weeks in Yucatan together.

"SO! He is determined to spoil you with food and spend time with you. Your little work husband" Aneka flashed a grin and even laughed when Okoye sucked her teeth at her. Though her heart fluttered, she could never tell her that what she had with Attuma was just a fling. Even if she did like him, their understanding of one another in Yucatan was that they would never see one another again.

And yet, Attuma was now her new coworker that transferred in.

Spreading some of the chicken curry and rice on a plate, Okoye even shared some of the pudding with Aneka.  Aneka was practically humming after the second bite, Okoye chewed slowly savoring the flavors.

"It tastes like it came from Lagos.  Not that many places over here know how to make Chicken Curry correctly."

"Isn't that like your favorite place to go, yeah?"

"Mm, it is. He did mention that he wanted to try it with me one day during our lunch breaks."

"Ah, Okoye. I'm telling you right now to go out on a date with that man." Aneka said in a hushed tone.

"We are just friends; you could be reading too much besides Attuma could be seeing someone. " Okoye countered. Not that she cared or anything, though she ignored the way her chest tightened at the thought.

"I see women attempting to flirt with him, but he's always brief with them but that's not the case with you" Aneka pointed out.

Okoye grew quiet about that, deciding to just eat more of her food, though her mind betrayed her. 

Blankets and towels were neatly spread across the white sand, a picnic basket half empty while clothing from both of them was scattered around them. Large hands that firmly squeezed her buttocks while she rode him slowly, their moans muffled by bright blue waves crashing onto the beach.  "Stay with me Okoye, it is beautiful here and-" he trailed, rolling his hips upwards in emphasis, erupting a moan from Okoye in response. "And we won't be far from one another either."  Attuma gave that crooked smile, his full cheeks showing off his dimples when Okoye swatted at his arms.

"Hey, Okoye. Oi, earth to Okoye" Aneka chimed, waving slightly to get her attention.

Okoye blinked away at one of the many memories she had with Attuma in Yucatan. 

"You, okay?"

"Mm, just a little tired" Okoye lied softly, but luckily Aneka didn't press the issue.  Aneka glanced at her phone, "Hey, I'll catch up with you later. I know Ayo wanted to meet up before lunchtime is over."

“Tell your husband, I said thank you for the food too!"

Okoye parted her lips to deny that title once more, but Aneka scurried out of her office before she could say anything.

Finally finishing her food in peace until she heard another knock on her door, this time Attuma stood in her doorway with a coffee cup and a small box of food in his hand.

“Hey, how was it?” Attuma closed the door behind him, taking up Aneka’s seat near Okoye’s desk with a sigh. Worry showed on his temple and yet he smiled softly at her.

“It was wonderful, thank you for treating me.”

“You’re very welcome, chaak lool”

“What did I tell you about calling me that here?”

“But it is just us right now in your office, alone.” Attuma placed his container on his desk leaning back into the chair.

“Attuma-..”

‘Unless, you are worried about your ex-boyfriend wondering why I call you that.  Does he still bother you like he did when you were with me?” Attuma flashed a teasing grin even as Okoye rolled her eyes.

“That’s none of your business.” Okoye stood up, gathering her empty containers from her desk to toss in her wastebin by her door.

“But it was my business when you wanted me to answer your phone while we were fucking each other. How much you wanted W’Kabi to know that you were no longer interested in him after the stunt he pulled with you. ” Attuma quipped back.

“KEEP your voice down,” Okoye hissed.

Attuma stood up placing his cup on her desk moving close to Okoye, “If someone is listening that would be their fault.”

Okoye placed her hand on her door handle, tempted to just leave him in her office but Attuma placed a hand on the door while he looked down at Okoye.

Closing the space slightly between them, “Chaak Lool. Are you done playing like you don't miss me like I miss you?”

“I don’t miss you, we were just-” Okoye trailed off when she was pulled closer to him, being trapped between the door and Attuma.

She avoided those warm eyes she had come to know well, until she felt one of those large hands grasp her chin to make her look up at him. Her grip still on the door handle only tightened, inhaling his lovely earthy cologne.

“And so, what.  If we were just fucking, that’s our business like before,” Attuma injected quietly, letting his thumb brush against her bottom lip.

Okoye’s lips parted when Attuma moved closer, her legs pressed tightly to cease the throbbing in her sex. She did miss him, so terribly. Touching herself wasn’t the same nor was the few times she did sleep with W’Kabi.

So much for being civil with one another.

Okoye's faint moan was muffled by Attuma crushing his lips against hers, their tongues brushing against one another while she reached to wrap her arms around his neck. Attuma let his hands roam over Okoye, tracing every curve with familiarity and need. Light squeezes to her breast that made her moan slightly against his lips. His hands gripping her skirt, pulling and hiking it up to touch more of her thighs.

Okoye’s desk phone rang loudly, yanking both from their steamy moment with one another. Attuma hadn’t exactly moved but merely pressed a kiss to Okoye’s neck in hope she would just let it ring. But when she pushed past him, he made no effort to stop her but instead sighed to himself.

[sesamestreep]

30 Day Writing Challenge - Day 9

Write about a heated debate (from this list) ➸ set in the Bakeoff AU AGAIN, because after my last fic, I wanted to write more Milly content and also it’s been a rough few days and I need to be silly and self-indulgent or I shall perish!! Based on an Instagram Reel I sent to @firstelevens the other day and that we’ve been spinning into a kid fic concept ever since. It grew out of control and I don’t know if it technically fits the prompt, but it’s what I got for you nonetheless. Bon appetit I guess???

“Euuuugghhh! Daaaaad!”

“What? What’s the matter?” Foggy asks from his spot in the kitchen. That tone of voice from his daughter is never a good sign, but he’s mostly used to hearing it when he and Matt are being particularly disgusting about how much they love each other. As Matt is still in the shower currently, he knows that can’t be the reason.

“What did you put on this?” Milly asks, holding up a piece of toast accusatorially. If she ends up following in their career footsteps someday, her cross-examinations are going to be brutal.

“Cinnamon and sugar, as requested,” Foggy answers, coming to stand across the counter from her. It’s a long way from the elaborate recipes he used to make with his spare time—which he no longer has—and when he was on Bake-Off, but it’s one of his daughter’s favorite breakfasts despite its simplicity. Well, it normally is. She’s currently staring daggers at him, so it must not be her favorite right now.

Milly shakes her head at him, like he’s a moron or maybe, more accurately, like they’re going to have to send him to a home soon if he keeps this up. “Not cinnamon,” she says, holding the offensive piece of toast out to him.

Before he can take a bite (his original plan, to illustrate that she’s being silly and unnecessarily picky), the smell reaches his nose and it doesn’t take an extremely experienced baker to know that’s not cinnamon. He brings it closer to sniff it again and makes himself cough. To confirm his suspicion, he returns to the cabinet where they store their spices and looks at the jar he used to make Milly’s toast a few minutes ago and, yep, there it is.

“Paprika,” he says. “I made you paprika toast.”

“Paprika and sugar,” Milly says, in that same enjoy your time in the retirement home, old man tone of voice.

“They look similar in the bottle,” Foggy says, rubbing a hand over his face. “Same color, I mean.”

“Do they smell the same?” she asks, innocently.

“Listen, you—”

“And are they spelled the same way?” she asks, thoughtfully. “You know, when you read the bottle before pouring it over my toast? You did read the bottle first, right?”

“Mills, I’m not kidding, if you can spell ‘paprika’ or ‘cinnamon’ for me right now, I will give you twenty dollars out of my wallet,” he says. “Otherwise, I don’t want to hear it!”

“I don’t know—”

“Exactly!”

“I’m eight! What’s your excuse?”

“For one thing, my eight year old daughter won’t stop tricking her babysitter into letting her watch scary movies and then crawling into bed with me in the middle of the night because she can’t sleep,” Foggy says, grabbing the plate from her. “How’s that?”

“Don’t throw it away!” Milly calls.

Foggy pauses. “Baby, you don’t have to eat it. I’ll make you more with actual cinnamon.”

Milly looks at him like he’s grown an extra head. “I know,” she says, slowly. “I just wanted to show Dada what you did.”

“Okay,” Foggy says, rolling his eyes and returning the plate. “Just for that, maybe I won’t make you more toast.”

“Sure, starve me for telling the truth. That’ll go over great with the other trusted adults in my life when I snitch on you.”

“It’ll never hold up in court,” Foggy replies, already putting two more slices of bread into the toaster.

“Besides,” she says, ignoring him and popping a sliced strawberry into her mouth. “I don’t crawl into your bed, I crawl into Dada’s.”

“It’s the same bed,” he explains. “Just because you cuddle with Dada and kick me all night doesn’t make it any less my bed. And what’s up with that, anyway? I have it on good authority that I’m the more cuddly of the two of us. Why don’t you ever snuggle me?”

“You want it too bad,” she says, taking a two-handed drink of her orange juice.

“Devil child,” he mutters. His mother once told him, when he and Matt were first looking into adoption, that your children will act as cosmic comeuppance for all the things you put your poor parents through as a child yourself and he hadn’t believed her. Maybe he just thought that, because Milly didn’t share any DNA with them, that his and Matt’s most exhausting qualities wouldn’t rear their ugly heads in her at all. And, boy, love her as he does, he was wrong on that count.

“Dada would never do this to me,” Milly continues, happily. “And he can’t even see! Makes you think, doesn’t it?”

“About looking into boarding schools?” Foggy asks. “Definitely.”

“Mean!”

“You’re saying you’d miss me?”

“No,” Milly says, crossing her arms. “But I’d miss Dada and my friends and my teachers and Aunt Daisy and—ooh, can I borrow your phone?”

“Why?”

“I want to text Aunt Daisy a picture of the paprika toast.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Come onnnnn,” she whines. “She’ll think it’s funny!”

“That’s exactly why I’m not giving you my phone.”

“You’re no fun,” Milly grumbles, sinking down to rest her chin on the counter dejectedly. Her head immediately pops up again when Matt appears behind her. “Dada! Wait til you see what your husband did!”

Matt stops to press a kiss to the top of her head. “Please don’t say your hair because it feels…uh, chaotic?”

“I haven’t even gone near it this morning,” Foggy says, as he fetches the toast that’s just popped out of the toaster. “That’s all natural.”

“Well, that’s something,” Matt replies, coming into the kitchen. “So, what did you do?”

“He made me cinnamon toast,” Milly interrupts, enthusiastically. “Here, try it!”

As with Foggy, the toast doesn’t even make it to Matt’s mouth before he’s frowning. “That’s…not cinnamon, honey.”

Milly cackles while Foggy glares at her. “I made a small mistake,” Foggy says, over the chorus of his daughter’s laughter.

“What is that? Chili powder?” Matt asks, sniffing delicately.

“Paprika.”

“Oh.”

“And I have been soundly roasted for my error,” Foggy says, mostly in Milly’s direction. “So, I don’t want to hear it from you, okay?”

Matt shrugs. “Okay.”

“Apparently, you would never make such a mistake in your life, because you’re a good dad and I’m some sort of rodeo clown who ended up here by mistake.”

Matt looks at him, very clearly stifling a laugh. “She only thinks that because she’s led a charmed life where I almost never make her breakfast,” he says. “Give it a week, she’ll be begging for you back.”

“You’d just let me eat fruit snacks for breakfast,” Milly says, as Foggy puts her new breakfast down in front of her.

“Yes, and then you wouldn’t have all the nutrients you need to learn new things at school and get smart enough to become the first female president of the United States,” Foggy says. “And then where would we be?”

“There better be a female president before I’m old enough,” Milly says, darkly and with a mouth full of toast.

“Better eat a balanced breakfast just to be safe,” Matt says, pushing off the counter to go find some coffee. “And be nice to your dad.”

“How will that help me become President?”

“People skills,” Matt says.

“Surviving into adulthood,” Foggy says, at the same time.

Milly blows a raspberry at him, but eats the new toast without complaint. Matt’s scouting around for the sugar bowl now and Foggy stops him with a hand on his elbow.

“I already put sugar in it for you,” he says.

Matt smiles. “I don’t care what Milly says. You’re the best rodeo clown a kid could hope for, and a very good husband too.”

“Thanks,” Foggy replies, and allows himself to be pulled in for a kiss. He gets to enjoy that for about ten seconds before Milly makes another disgusted noise behind him. He sighs and pulls back. “What’s wrong with the toast now?”

“Nothing,” Milly exclaims. “It’s you two that are grossing me out!”

“Sorry your dads are in love with each other,” Matt says, with a smile and a faint blush. “You live a tough life.”

“I’m glad you understand,” Milly says, as she shoves an improbably large bite of her toast into her mouth without issue. She’s not even finished chewing when she asks, “Will you walk me to school today, Dada?”

“Why? Are you worried I’ll do that wrong too?” Foggy asks, putting an arm around Matt’s shoulders.

“I’d be happy to, baby,” Matt interjects before Milly can say something smart-alecky back to him. “Go get dressed, okay?”

Mill hops down from her chair happily and practically skips to her room. Matt nudges Foggy’s shoulder with his nose.

“What’s up with you two?” he asks.

“I don’t know. She’s just pushing my buttons.”

“Successfully,” Matt replies.

“Yeah, well,” Foggy shrugs. “I slept half the night with her foot in my face while she cuddled with you. I’m a little cranky, I guess.”

“Feeling left out?” Matt asks, smiling, as he turns to wrap his arms around Foggy’s middle.

“I’m definitely the cuddliest person in this household and I want it acknowledged.”

“I agree,” Matt says, kissing him on the shoulder. “Don’t listen to Milly. She’s a maniac.”

“She takes after you.”

“Not true. I love to cuddle with you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Matt says, leaning in to kiss him again.

“We could make that happen, you know,” Foggy says against his lips. “Drop the kid off at school, cancel our appointments for today, play hooky from our responsibilities, stay in bed all day…”

Matt seems to be thinking it over, tempted. “We couldn’t,” he says, not quite convincingly.

“We could. I know our bosses and, trust me, they’d want us to get laid.”

“I’ve said it before but those guys are weird,” Matt jokes. “They’re honestly too involved in our sex lives.”

“Yeah, it’s an HR nightmare,” Foggy replies, kissing him again.

“You two better not still be kissing when I come back,” Milly hollers from the bathroom, where she’s brushing her teeth (or so Foggy guesses from the sound of running water).

“We definitely will be,” Foggy shouts back, as Matt collapses into his shoulder laughing.

“I’m going to go attempt to get our daughter’s hair fit for public appearance,” Matt says, giving Foggy another quick kiss on the lips.

“And I’m going to text Kate that we’ll be in late this morning.”

Matt pauses. “Really?”

“Yeah.” Foggy consults his watch. “Our first appointment is at 11. I can do plenty to you in that amount of time.”

Matt looks a little startled by that, but not in a bad way. “Kate’s going to know what that text means, you know.”

“That just means there will be someone to share in Milly’s pain over us being disgustingly in love after all these years. Unless that’s your way of saying no?”

“Definitely not. Just warning you that we’ll get a lot of grief for it later.”

“I’ll make it worth your while.”

“You always do,” Matt replies, and Foggy’s definitely not being conceited when he says Matt’s tone sounds downright dreamy.

He heads off to help Milly finish getting ready and Foggy tackles the few dishes in the sink while he waits for another pot of coffee to finish brewing. A few minutes later, Milly appears in the kitchen, dressed and with her hair pulled into a neat bun. Neither of them can do anything particularly fancy with her hair, not least because she won’t sit still long enough for all that, but Matt does a good job for someone who’s never had long hair or siblings. A now presentable Milly pulls her backpack and coat off the hook on the wall and stops by Foggy’s side expectantly.

“What do you need, kiddo?” he asks, as he dries his hands on the towel hanging by the stove.

“Hug goodbye,” she says, lifting her arms towards him and he kneels to capture her in a big hug.

When she finally pulls back, she still looks hesitant, like there’s something she needs to ask him. It once again strikes him as crazy how much she reminds him of Matt sometimes.

“What’s the matter?” Foggy asks, tucking a picturesque loose strand of hair behind her ear. “You feel alright? Is all that paprika I fed you bothering your stomach?”

Milly shakes her head, looking away. “I just wanted to—Dada said that his dad would have made him eat that gross toast because they never wasted food when he was little.”

“Did he?” Foggy asks, already making a mental note to kick Matt’s ass when they’re alone together. “Listen, baby, your Grandpa Jack, he…didn’t have a lot of help when your Dada was young. They had to be really careful with their money and Dada was in the hospital for a while…”

“I know,” Milly says, nodding. “I’m just—thank you for making me new toast, instead.”

Foggy feels a lump in his throat that he struggles to swallow past. “Hey, you don’t have to thank me for that, okay? It’s my job to make your life as good as it possibly can be. Even if I have to make you a hundred pieces of toast every morning.”

“That would be expensive.”

“Still,” Foggy says, firmly. “I’m sorry if what Dada said made you upset.”

Milly scrunches up her face like she’s eating the paprika toast all over again. “He said it like it was funny,” she says, mildly horrified.

“God, okay,” Foggy replies, running a hand over his face. Matt would consider that a charming anecdote about his father. Speaking of people who are going to need a hug from him… “Don’t worry about that. Just have a good day at school, okay?”

“Okay,” Milly says, all concern gone as she hops in place excitedly.

Matt appears around the corner then, pulling on his coat. “Ready?”

“Just gotta get my shoes,” Milly shouts as she zooms off in the direction of the door.

“Alright,” Matt says, as he comes into the kitchen. “I’ll be back in a few.”

“Okay,” Foggy says, as he leans in to kiss him goodbye. “Oh, and maybe no more stories about your dad before school, yeah?”

Matt blinks at him. “What? Why?”

“We’ve talked about how sometimes the anecdotes from your childhood that you think are charming and scrappy are actually alarming to the people who love you now,” Foggy says, gently.

“Yeah…” Matt says, uncertainly, before his expression clears. “Oh. Shit.”

“It’s fine,” Foggy replies, rubbing his back. “I already explained that she can ask for as much food as she wants. Just maybe reinforce that with her on your way to school?”

Matt looks pale and queasy even as he nods. “Right. God, I didn’t—I’m sorry—”

“I know. I’m not mad.”

“And you still want to play hooky from work with me, even though I’m the world’s biggest idiot?”

Foggy kisses him on the forehead. “Of course. You’re still a very cute idiot.”

“Yeah, but—”

“Listen, I told Milly it’s my job to make her life as good as possible, and that’s true, but it’s also my job to do that for you. And right now, the best way to make your life better is to take you back to bed and—”

“Ready!” Milly shouts as she skids around the corner. “Are you guys still kissing?! What about my education?”

“She’s right, you know,” Matt says, pulling back and looking a bit better, though still tremulous. “We’re terrible parents.”

“Maybe I should look into boarding schools, after all,” Foggy jokes, crossing his eyes goofily at Milly over Matt’s shoulder.

“I’m never going to be President at this rate,” Milly laments.

“Alright, let’s get you to school,” Matt says, holding out his hand for her.

Foggy leans down to give Milly a kiss on the top of her head. “Don’t let your dad walk into traffic, okay?”

“I won’t,” Milly says, swinging their joined hands between them. “I promise.”

“That’s my girl. Have a good day, baby cakes.”

“You too, daddy cakes.”

“I’ll be back shortly,” Matt says, smiling at the two of them.

“I’ll be here,” Foggy replies, as suggestively as he can manage. It must work because Milly snarls in disgust.

“If you two start kissing again, I’m taking myself to school,” she says, leveraging her full weight against Matt to drag him towards the door. “Or running off to join the circus. You won’t know which until it’s too late.”

“She gets that from you,” Matt says, tiredly.

“I was going to say I think she gets it from you.”

“Maybe she has a point about us being gross.”

“Oh, well, yeah,” Foggy says, with a wink at Milly, who’s glaring at both of them now. “There was never any debate about that.”

[obsidiancreates]

Shawn The Human (Seriously Just Take His Blood)

(These are all separate universes- in each one it's just the focus character who's a vamp. Shawn only has so much blood to recklessly offer his friends, if it was all 3 at once he'd be beef jerky. Tell me Shawn's fatal flaw isn't loyalty and a willingness to do Anything for his friends even if it's questionable and weird- you can't. Also I'm severely sleep deprived so I hope this is good but IDK)

Lassiter

"Seriously, Lassie, you can't keep just draining criminals." Shawn leans against the pillar by Lassie's desk and watches him fill out another report about a perp having an 'accident' while escaping custody on the way to the prison. "If you keep hypnotizing the chief, she's going to build up an immunity, and then where will you be?"

"Spencer, I still have no idea what you're on about." He does, and Shawn knows it- he figured out Lassie was turned into a vampire less than a week after it happened.

"Lassie, what I'm trying to say-" he jogs after the detective, "-is that as long as you don't need to kill to drink, I don't see why you're risking your whole career over this."

"Since when do you care about my career?"

"Since the possibility of you leaving, Jules getting a new partner she hates, and me having to work up a whole new dynamic became real."

"What're you even offering, Spencer?"

"Dude, I have blood!"

That makes Lassiter stop in his tracks. He turns to face Shawn, slowly, with no small amount of disgust on his face. "You want me... to drink your blood? ... Is this a fetish?"

"What?! No!" Shawn tsks and looks away. "Man, don't make this weird. It's just one friend, offering his blood to another more undead-y friend. How much will you even need to take, anyway? I've got like, a gallon of it, probably."

"I wouldn't drink your blood if you were the last human in the entire state of California. It's probably half crappy energy drinks and sluggish with Cheeto dust."

"First of all, Doritos dust. Second of all, what's better for you- blood you don't have to hypnotize the entire department to get away with, or blood that's probably exactly like mine but with more crimes in it?"

"Crime isn't in blood."

"How would you know, you've only tasted criminal blood."

"Not doing it, Spencer." He walks away. Shawn chases after him.

"Lassie! I-I'm serious man, if you keep this up you're going to get caught! I want to help you keep this a secret!"

"Then stop shouting about it!"

"LASSIE!"

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

2. Juliet

"Jules. Are you an undead mistress of the damned, or are you just having a great hair day?"

Jules smiles and rolls her eyes. She figured Shawn would know sooner or later- how couldn't he? He's psychic, the world of the dead who aren't dead are sort of his whole thing.

"How long have you known?"

"Four days- I was making a list of ways to break it to you."

"And you settled on that."

"Well now I feel self-conscious."

"Why're you telling me you know, Shawn?"

"Just, checking in! Seeing how you're doing. If you need blood."

"Shawn." Jules stands up, taking a folder from her desk to the filing cabinets. "I'm not killing anyone."

"I never said you were! And I know you never would. But that can't be easy, still."

"It is, actually."

"H-how?"

"I get Christmas cards from people I arrest, Shawn. It's not hard to convince a few close friends to donate a little blood to me when possible."

"It's not? ... The other day I couldn't even get Gus to give me his half-finished hours-old coke."

"Yes. But that's you, and Gus, and food. So nothing will be reasonable."

"... That's fair. ... But uh, want to add one-one more friend, to that list?"

"That's very sweet of you Shawn, really, but..."

"But?"

"But... your blood seems like it might be a little..."

"Too alluring? Irresistible? Spiced with my incredible magic genes?"

"... Junk-food-y."

"Junk food? Wh- Jules! Between Gus and I, I am not the one who eats things like stick-o-butter-in-a-bun!"

"Please tell me you just made that up."

"I wish I could."

"Shawn, look, I appreciate the thought, but the truth is I'm all set and, well, I'd just rather keep this and my work life separate, as much as possible."

"... Alright. Fine. ... But know that if we're ever out there catching bad guys and you need an emergency snack, my neck is right here."

"Thanks, Shawn. ... Can I get into the file cabinet now?"

"Oh, right."

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

3. Gus

"Dude, seriously." Shawn watches Gus pace the office. "Stop freaking out about it and just bite me. You're going to starve to... well not death, I guess. Undeath? That's already you. Maybe... a coma? But that doesn't seem right either."

"I am not drinking your blood, Shawn. What if that turns you into a vampire too?!"

"Then we'll literally be best friends forever! That's just a win-win, Gus!"

"Well- well what if I can't stop and I kill you?!"

"Then you still just turn me, still a win-win."

"Shawn, this is serious!"

"So am I! Look, we both know there's no way in hell you're going out hunting and stalking and all that stuff, and we both know you're not willing to steal from a blood bank-"

"Those bags were donated for medical purposes, Shawn! There's already a major shortage, I will not be apart of making that worse!"

"Exactly! And you've got one best friend right here, literally sticking his neck out for you."

"No. No way. It's too risky, and too weird!"

"How is this the weirdest thing we've done for each other?"

"Because it's your blood, Shawn. That's supposed to stay inside your body!"

"Well, a lot of it was outside my body after I got shot, and I was fine."

"You told me you passed out a couple times!"

"Okay, I said I fell asleep in the woods once, and got hit in the head after that. Totally different, besides, how much blood loss is actually bad for me anyway?"

"Oh... my gosh."

"Look, Gus, it's either this or something way worse. You're already so freaked out and torn up over this whole thing, I just... don't want to see you pushed to a limit you'll never come back from."

"... Well... I appreciate that, Shawn. ... And I guess I at least know what is and isn't present in your blood."

"Exactly."

"... But biting the neck still feels weird."

"Wrist?"

"Euhhhhh..."

"Well it's not like we can just buy a do-it-yourself-at-home blood drawing kits, Gus. ... Can we?"

"Already looking online."

[crimson-calligraphyx]

Tag List: @cheyfi @kingdomof-omens @daylightlvrs @blade-in-red @ladyveronikawrites @jay02bo @itsmrsfuentes @cncohshit

I scoffed and rolled my eyes, tossing my phone down, and stood from my place on the couch. I returned to the kitchen where my mom and Victoria were having a lively conversation. Not wanting to impede, I simply went back to my task of making eggnog for the holiday, having only the eggs and sugar whipped together. Mom insisted she would start heating the milk in the saucepan while I took Noah's call, but I told her to let it be, knowing our conversation would be short-lived.

"Everything okay?" Vic asks after I slip by them to grab the milk and heavy cream from the refrigerator. "Just peachy," I mumbled, measuring the dairy and pouring it into the pot. I set the burner on medium before turning to the cabinet to grab the nutmeg, "Noah's flight was delayed. Supposedly needed to land elsewhere due to the snow here."

I hear my mom hum sympathetically, placing her hand on my upper back to rub. I shouldered her hand away, not wanting to be touched as I started to stew in aggravation and disappointment. "You know he'll be here, honey," she says calmly. "He's a man of his word." I laughed dryly, sprinkling the spice into the milk. "Sure, he is."

The room became thick with tension, and I felt their eyes on me while I worked away at the eggnog. I kept mine and Noah's dirty laundry packed away with a smile on my face whenever they'd ask how we were doing, but I felt that the facade I displayed was soon going to be torn down. Vic knew me too well for this to go by without some sort of discussion.

Still, I tried my best to keep my walls up and finished putting together the eggnog, placing it in the fridge after covering it properly. I took a deep breath and tacked on a grin before turning to them. "Why don't we open presents?" I asked, hoping to ease the discomfort in the room. I watched my mom's face light up, and she nodded before making her way into the living room where the tree was.

"Liv..." Vic calls my name softly, and I can see the worry strewn across her face when I bring my attention to her. Eyebrows pulled together and lifted, hazel eyes soft as they searched mine for a snippet of what was in my head. I pressed my lips into a saddened smile and averted my gaze from hers, trailing behind my mom before she had a chance to say anything.

We all sat in front of the tree in our matching pajamas, something we always did no matter our age, and handed each other our appropriate gifts. As we tore off the gift wrap, balling it up and tossing it at one another like children, I was able to keep my worries at bay with the laughter that bubbled out of me. The doubts I had were buried deep in the crevices of my mind, forgotten about as I took in the moment for what it was.

I held one of Vic's now-opened gifts in my hands. It was a Homesick candle, the state it represented of course being Virginia. It smelled heavenly; notes of pine needle, fir, and sandalwood. Immediately I'm blanketed in the comforting warmth of childhood memories—my mom's soothing voice, my dad's embrace that I missed dearly, late-night adventures with Vic and Ricky. With a smile, I closed my eyes and inhaled the aroma one more time before putting the lid back on and thanking her. I already couldn't wait to go home and burn it.

Her second gift was less sentimental, but it made me laugh—it was so her. Inside the box sat a silver chain, laid across a card that read 'I'd Help You Bury The Body'. Looking at it closely, there were beads so small that they were nearly flush against the chain in what appeared to be no pattern in particular. However, according to the card, they were strung in a way that displayed the message in Morse code.

I smiled over at her after slipping it onto my wrist, being met with a shit-eating grin. She winked, and I immediately pulled her into a tight embrace. "I knew there was a reason that you're my best friend," I giggled, resting my chin on her shoulder. She squeezes me and slowly rocks us side to side, "Don't fucking forget it, Liv. Miles and time zones away, I'll still find a way to stab a bitch."

At that moment, I realized just how much I missed her. She had been there for me through the thick of it, always encouraging me to stand up for myself. And if I didn't? She had no problem biting someone's head off for me—or anyone, really. I could only imagine what she would have to say if she knew how rocky things have been with Noah lately.

She would, without a doubt, call him up and tell him to pull his head out of his ass amongst other not-so-nice things...but she would also yell at me for drinking because of it. I felt the tears well up just thinking about it. I blinked them away before pulling away from her and thanking her again, promptly handing over the presents I had for her so that the tears wouldn't find their way back.

I had a similar gift, though less vulgar, consisting of best friend necklaces; one adorned with the state of Virginia, the other California. She loved them, but the other gift really won her over, having her throw her head back with laughter. It was a basic T-shirt that read 'ADULT DAYCARE DIRECTOR A.K.A. The Bartender'.

"I took some time putting this together, and I think you'll really like it," Mom tells me as she hands me her gift, a bright smile on her face. I was taken back by the weight of the present, but I returned the smile as I began to tear off the wrapping paper. I soon realized the reason behind the weight—it was a photo album, and jam packed by the looks of it.

My heart swelled as I flipped through the years; there were photos of me as a baby all the way up to present day. My first steps, birthday parties, holidays—my favorite being the year I took the tree down while my dad hoisted me up to top it with the star. There were two pictures of that moment: one as I was stepping into Dad's hands, the other a blurry picture as the tree came crashing down.

I laughed and continued flipping through the album, only for my smile to falter as I reached photos of my wedding.

It truly was a beautiful day; it was everything that I dreamed of, and more. The venue was immaculate, brandished with maroon and notes of silver, the bridesmaids' dresses perfectly matched. The room was filled with bliss, everyone's smiles genuine and bright. I was marrying the man of my dreams, nothing but love and adoration in mine and Noah's eyes as we said 'I do'.

That was the best day of my life, and I felt like I was on top of the world, on Cloud 9. But now? I was falling through that cloud at light speed, and I didn't know how to stop it or slow it down. Things were not the same as they were that day, and I hated it. He no longer looked at me like that, he no longer made a conscious effort in our marriage—it took me breaking down and relapsing for him to notice I wasn't happy.

And even then, things would get better for such a short amount of time that it all felt fabricated, temporary. I was beginning to think that maybe this marriage was temporary, and that broke my fucking heart.

"Olivia, what's wrong?" My mom asks, moving the book and taking hold of my hands, giving them a firm squeeze. "Talk to me baby, why are you crying?" I hadn't realized I was crying until she asked. All I could do was shake my head, not knowing where to begin as the sobs rolled out of my mouth.

"I'm gonna have to beat his ass when he gets here, aren't I?" Vic says, trying to make light of the moment. I wanted to laugh and tell her that it wasn't that serious, but I was too distraught to even crack a smile. I shook my head 'no' and sucked in a choppy breath, trying my best to gather myself as she rubbed circles in my back.

After a few minutes of breathing deeply, I ran my sleeve under my eyes and my nose with a sniffle. "Things just haven't been the best lately," I croaked, my throat raw from how hard I was crying. "What do you mean?" Mom asks gently, taking hold of one of my hands again with a squeeze. "I just feel so alone, so insignificant," I whispered, closing my eyes as tears started to burn them again. "It's all about the music." "Oh, honey," she coos, rubbing my shoulder. "I know it seems that way, but you know that's not true. That man loves you with all his heart."

My lips trembled, once again shaking my head. It sure as Hell didn't feel that way from all the excuses he spewed whenever I voiced my concerns.

"Then why did he take his wedding ring off, mom?" I whimpered, tears rolling down my cheeks. "I found it tucked in my shit when I got back from being on tour with him for a week. And have you noticed the glove on his left hand?" I laughed incredulously when she said she hadn't. "I sure did."

There was a weight in my chest that only got heavier and heavier as they remained silent. Soon enough, that weight pulled my heart straight to the pit of my stomach, churning as the uncertainty of this marriage sank in. The thought of leaving him to never return home, the home that we made our own, made me so sick to my stomach...but maybe it would be easier than hoping things would go back to the way they were.

-

I woke up to the feeling of the comforter being lifted from my body, the chill in the air caressing my shoulder. I kept my eyes shut while the mattress dipped as someone joined me and placed the blanket back where it belonged. I knew it was Noah as he wrapped an arm around me and pulled me against him, kissing my forehead. "I'm sorry," he whispers, followed by a huff as he settles into the mattress. "Me too," I whispered back, still waking up. He rubbed my back, and I relished the warmth that spread from it. "For what, love?"

For doubting that you'd be here, for being an emotional wreck, for drinking.

I sniffled, the remorse heavy and bringing tears to my eyes. "Everything," I struggled to say, trying to hold back a sob. "I told you I'd be here, Liv," he reassures me gently. Another pang of regret hits my chest, "I know, I'm sorry." He moves his hand to my head, running it down the length of my hair, and a comforting tingle runs down my spine. “Shh, enough of that. I’m here now, and we’re still going to celebrate Christmas, even if I’m a day late. Okay?” I nodded against his chest. “Would you like to open your present now? I have it here with me.”

I don't say anything, mulling over his question. He'd have to turn on the light, and he'd know right away that I had not only been crying, but drinking, too.

He huffs and kisses me on my forehead again before getting out of bed and turning the bedside light on. I immediately grimaced from the brightness, a dull ache forming behind my eyes. I rubbed one of my eyes to ease the pain as he turned with my gift in hand, and I watched his face fall when he took a good look at me. I know he knows I've been drinking.

Still, his lips curled up at the corners in a saddened smile as he took a seat, and he held out what appeared to be a wrapped picture frame. I take his gift, giggling at how shitty his wrapping skills still were after three years of trying to teach him how to properly do it.

I sat up before tearing off the paper, my eyes landing on two navy blue hearts, speckled with stars. I gasped, the title reading 'The Night Sky', followed by the dates of our engagement and wedding underneath their corresponding heart. It displayed how the stars aligned at those very moments, and it was beautiful—it filled me with happiness, with validation.

Yet I couldn't stop the tears from rolling down my face from this rush of guilt I felt due to the doubt I still had. Sure, this was a genuine, sentimental gift, but did it make up for all the forgotten dates and lonely nights?

My chin hits my chest as I crumple forward, sobbing, and Noah takes the gift from my hands before scooping me into his arms. I shoved my head against his chest, clinging onto his shirt, and held him against me while he let me cry.

"Olivia, please," he tries, rubbing my back. "What's going on?" He sways us back and forth gently, but I don't say anything. I can't, I didn't know how. "I-I'm sorry if my gift wasn't what you wanted—" "No," I cut him off when I hear the worry in his voice, and look at him through tear filled eyes. "I-it's everything that I wanted." It wasn't a lie; it was what I wanted, but I couldn't help the uncertainty that I still felt.

"I'm not understanding, Olivia," he says, shaking his head in confusion and holds my face between his hands. "What's got you so upset, then?" He brushes away the tears that fell from my eyes. "I'm scared," I say, my voice quivering. He scrunches his brows, still confused. "Scared of what?"

That this marriage is failing, that things won't go back to the way they were. That I'm losing you.

His eyes darkened with sorrow, bouncing back and forth between mine as he searches for an answer. I couldn't stand the anguish strewn across his face and closed my eyes, letting out a cry from how much it hurt me to admit these things.

Noah whispers my name, and I'm met with the same agonizing stare from him when I open my eyes. "What are you scared of, love?" I open my mouth to speak, but the words don't come out. My throat is dry, my heart is pounding in my chest, and all I can do is continue to look at the distraught expression on my husband's face when I finally say 'Us'.

His eyes gloss over, and it was like I punched him in the chest from the gasp he took. For the second time, I broke his heart. And I hated myself for it, but it needed to be said.

"W-what do you mean, 'us', Liv?" His voice shakes, and I know he's trying to keep his composure. "Look at us, Noah," I choked out. "Have things been okay between us? And don't say yes, because you know that that's not true." His lips parted, but he doesn't say anything. "You were barely home before tour, you constantly forgot about our dates, our anniversary dinner. It was like I didn't even matter to you! And then the ring?" I croaked on the last sentence, my throat burning from trying not to cry. "I-I didn't mean for those things to happen, Liv. And I swear to you, I only wanted the ring to be safe," he tries to reason with me. "I wasn't thinking when I put it in your bag." I shook my head in his hands, "I'm sorry, Noah, but I... I don't believe you." I squeezed my eyes shut; I couldn't bear seeing the despair on his face.

He presses his lips on my forehead, and he lets out a sob as he kisses me, feeling the warmth of his breath ghost over my skin. "I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry, Olivia," he whimpers, his mouth still against my forehead. “Please let me fix this. I promise I’ll do whatever it takes. I-I can’t lose you.” His voice cracks, and he rests his forehead against mine. I wrapped my hands around his wrists, holding myself up as I wailed in front of him. I could feel his pulse against my thumbs, pounding with anxiety induced adrenaline, and it made me cry even harder. I knew I was tearing him apart, which in turn was tearing me apart, too.

“Don’t make promises you don’t intend to keep, Noah. I can’t handle another broken promise.”

|Chapter 13|

[padfootastic]

summary: from euphemia to james to sirius to harry to lily luna—traditions passed down through the generations of potters. love in the form of feeding your people, aloo paranthas as a labor of love etc etc

a labor of love

(also on ao3!)

August, 1970

“Jamie, breakfast’s ready!”

Loud steps thundered around the house as her ten year old raced down the stairs. Euphemia didn’t even bother to reprimand him at this point—she knew it was a pointless endeavour. Instead, she made sure the safety charms on the staircase were always updated.

“HiMumGoodMorningWhatsForBreakfast,” James’ words came out in one single whoosh of air and it was only because this was her child that she had extensive experience with that she could decode what he was saying.

She smiled gently while placing the plate in front of him. “Aloo parantha, honey.”

“Yesss,” James hissed in pleasure, a quick fist pumped in the air, before bending forward with his nose mere millimetres away from the paranthas.

Euphemia swapped the back of his head with a ‘tsk’. “James. How many times have I told you not to smell your food? You’re not a dog.”

“Ma, you don’t get it, okay. It smells so good,” he replied with a goofy, cross-eyed expression. “Seriously, whenever I go to heaven, I just know it’ll smell like fried potato and ghee and coriander. Life can’t get any better than this.”

Euphemia could only smile at the innocent look of wonder on her son’s face as he tore a piece off to stuff it in his mouth, hoping it always stayed there. If she had to keep making him aloo paranthas every morning to keep it there, she’d happily do so. 

August, 1976

Sirius huddled closer into the wall, pulling his knees up to his chest and trying to count his breaths so he didn’t go so fast anymore.

It was some ungodly time of the day and he was sitting on the floor, pressed right up against the corner of the living room of Potter Manor, having a minor—really, not a big deal at all—panic attack about…well, everything.

It hadn’t been two days since he’d run away from Grimmauld Place and already the hopelessness was settling into his bones. He couldn’t stop replaying the words and curses and taunts and Reg’s face and—

“Sirius?” A drowsy voice cut through his spiral. He shouldn’t be surprised.

James always had a way of doing that.

“H-Hi, Jamie,” he replied, straightening up and wiping his eyes in a futile attempt to hide the tears he could feel pooling there. It wouldn’t work, he knew that, James always, always knew but he still had to try.

Sure enough, a pair of sock clad feet (adorned in little animated snitches) stopped right in front of him. His gaze traveled slowly, reluctantly, up to see James looking at him with a complicated look on his face. It was a mixture of sadness and frustration and resignation. Sirius hated that he put it there. James wasn’t made for expressions like that—he should always be happy, smiling, and this felt wrong, wrong, wrong.

Before he could do anything, though (not that there was much in his control), a hand entered his vision, palm up in invitation. Without even thinking twice about it—he would always choose James—he let himself be pulled up and straight into strong arms that were the only thing keeping him whole and grounded so far.

The hug ended in less time than it took for him to draw a full, shaky, breath. The abruptness of it left him reeling. 

“Come on,” James said, tugging him in the direction of the kitchen. Sirius followed, confused, letting himself be manhandled into the kitchen stool and watched James take something out of the cooking cabinet.

“Boiled potatoes,” he explained, already moving on to the spice rack. “Mum always keeps some ready to go.”

With quick, practiced movements, James had them peeled and mashed. Another sealed container was retrieved—‘Dough. For the rotis’—and a flat top griddle was placed on the stove.

Sirius watched the whole thing in a daze, unable to identify a single thing but being comforted all the same. It felt almost like a ritual; the rhythmic movements of James’ hands as he rolled the dough into balls, and stuffed them with the potatoes. Watching him smooth it out into a round, flat shape. 

“I didn’t know you were so proficient in the kitchen, Prongs,” Sirius finally said as the kitchen warmed up from his best mate’s ministrations, the smell of ghee-fried dough and spiced potatoes permeating the air.

“I’m not, really,” James shrugged. “But aloo paranthas are—they’re different, you know? Everyone should know how to make them.“

“I’ve never even tried them.”

“Well, then, everyone should have them at least once in their lives,” James said, firmly.

He placed a plate full of warm, steaming—aloo paranthas in front of Sirius and without even knowing what they really were, he could feel the rest of the tension seeping out of him. It’s a temporary relief, to be sure, but that it happened at all is enough to both awe and excite him.

He looked up at James with wide eyes, only to receive a knowing smile in return.

“Have a bite, Pads,” James pushed the plate closer. “I promise you won’t regret it.”

And he didn’t.

As he sat there and entirely demolished four of the wonderful paranthas—after days of not feeling the slightest pang of hunger—Sirius was helpless against the warmth that suffused his entire being, not just from the heat of the potatoes, but from the boy in front of him who’d decided to take a chance on him. Decided to welcome him not just in his arms but his house, his family. 

August, 1995

“Sirius, why are we here?” Harry asked, confused. A minute ago, they were in the garden, talking about something or the other, and then suddenly his godfather had grabbed his wrist and dragged him into the kitchen.

“Because you, my dear Prongslet, have been severely, unforgivably wronged and it’s time to start rectifying that,” Sirius proclaimed, which really didn’t help.

“…huh?”

“You just told me you’ve never had anything but bland, boring British food. Ever.” Sirius stressed the last word, making a point Harry wasn’t quite sure of.

“Yes…because the Dursleys are raging racists and Hogwarts isn’t too creative with its culinary choices,” Harry slowly said, feeling eerily like he was defending himself for…not being able to have a diverse palette?

“Exactly. If James had a grave, he’d be rolling around in it.”

Harry’s eyebrows raised in disbelief.

“Look, I was supposed to do this for you since the day you were old enough to eat solids. That I didn’t…well. Let’s not go there right now. But now that I do have the chance, it’s practically first on the list of my godfatherly duties—“

“What is, Sirius?” Harry asked, slightly exasperated. The man was making no sense.

“Making aloo paranthas, Harry! Come on, keep up, it’s bad enough you’ve gone this far without—any longer and I swear, James will find a way to come back to wring my neck and tie you to a chair just so he could force feed you,” Sirius finished, a slightly haunted look in his eyes like he was speaking from experience.

Harry blinked. What—?

“Now, luckily for us, the boiled potatoes are already done. You’ve got me to thank for that bit of foresight, of course, never go without since fifth year—“

“Why?”

“—because they’re so versatile—“

“Right, of course, how silly of me.”

“Yes. So, now you’ve gotta peel and mash it, and none of that ricer or fork nonsense, either, okay? You’ve gotta really get in there with your hands.” Sirius demonstrated by taking one slightly cold potato from the bowl, expertly peeling and crushing it between his fingers. He kept going until it was almost smooth, with just the smallest hint of texture. Once done, he turned expectantly towards Harry, eyebrow raised and ‘go on’ written all over his face.

Still slightly bemused, Harry stepped forward and gingerly took a potato of his own. Trying to peel it was—not as easy as he thought and everything else faded away as he concentrated on making sure no brown bits remained. It was a surprisingly soothing task. When he had his first potato peeled and mashed, he turned to Sirius proudly.

“There. What next?”

Sirius nodded in approval. “Now, we do the rest of it.”

And standing there shoulder to shoulder, the two of them managed to get through a veritable mountain of boiled potatoes, interspersed with Sirius’ stories of the Potters, a rare, greedy pleasure for Harry.

“Your grandmum, Euphemia, she’d make this for breakfast every so often. It was James’ favorite and she could never resist his great, big eyes—you get that from him, by the way. Not many people could, mind, but it was particularly effective when he wanted to scam some paranthas out of her.”

and “Your dad wasn’t the best in the kitchen, but this was one thing he was absolutely adamant he learn. Spent hours with Effie and Rani perfecting it, as well.”

Once the potatoes were done, Sirius directed him to the spice cabinet. “Now, this is the most important bit, Harry. Everyone makes their aloo paranthas in their own way. You can have different people following the same recipe and all of their final results would still taste different.”

Harry nodded in understanding. It was a bit like Aunt Petunia’s prized Roast Dinner—she always claimed no one else could make it the way she could, not even letting Harry close to the preparation of it. 

“The first time I had this was in fifth year—similar to you, come to think of it—and I’ve experimented after, right? It was so good I had to. I went to many, many places in muggle London—roadside stalls to fine dining, you name it—and not once have I felt the same as when your dad made it with his eyes still half closed and the paranthas a little burnt on the edges and a bit undercooked in the middle. There’s no competition. So. It’s all in the spice, yes?”

Sirius handed him the container of carom seeds. “That being said, the most important bit?”

Harry leaned forward, eager, all hesitation forgotten in the face of a piece of his culture, his family being passed down to him like this.

“You’ve got to—“

August, 2017

“—measure with your heart, okay, Lils?”

Little Lily Luna Potter, only nine but adopting an air of maturity of someone much older, nodded solemnly, taking her dad’s word as gospel.

“This isn’t just food—this is you telling someone you love them. It’s a warm hug. Feeding someone, taking care of them, is no small job. So, forget all this measurements nonsense and just get in there,” Harry finished, nostalgia coating his words as he quoted his own godfather word for word.

“Get in there, Daddy!” Lily-Lu repeated empathetically.

“That’s right,” Harry chuckled, using one hand to ruffle the riotous mane of red curls piled on top of her head. “The next thing to go in is the powdered spices. Which ones are those, again?”

Lily-Lu squinted thoughtfully. “Coriander powder, red chili powder, tyoo-mer-ic, and cumin powder. That’s all of it, right, Daddy?”

Harry smiled at her serious countenance. “There’s just one more you’re missing.”

She frowned, biting her lip and mumbling under breath. “One more? Coriander…chili…cumin…and—and—garam masala! It’s garam masala, isn’t it?” The last few words were said in an excited shout, almost loud enough to startle him but he could only lean forward and place a quick kiss on her forehead in approval.

“Sure is, sweetheart. You’re a quick one, aren’t you?”

“I’m smart, Daddy, you and Mummy say so,” Lily-Lu returned, self-satisfaction radiating from every inch of her little frame

“That’s because you are; the smartest of us all, isn’t it?” Harry teased, while carefully mixing the spices with the potatoes. This one he’d do himself—Lily-Lu’s hands weren’t the steadiest yet.

“Oh!” She exclaimed suddenly, leaning forward. “The salt! You forgot the salt, Daddy.”

Harry blinked in surprise, looking down at his array of ingredients and realised he had.

“Huh. So I have, it seems. Would you like to do the honours, Lulu?” He extended the container towards her, smiling once again at how she was practically vibrating in excitement.

Harry was—not just glad but utterly ecstatic that he could do this, had the opportunity and ability for it. And he had no one but Sirius to thank for it.

Taking care of me even from the afterlife, aren’t you, Siri? he thinks with a silent offering of gratitude to the universe. I don’t think I can ever thank you enough for it, for everything. 

“And now, the absolute final step?”

“The chopped coriander!” Lily-Lu chirped, already reaching forward to clasp a handful of coriander he’d prepared beforehand. She sprinkled it all over their mixture with a high, bright giggle and Harry could’ve spent an eternity in that moment, with his child beside him and the weight of his family behind him.

[kwop-kilawtley]

FANFIC IDEA: A Jacob x Bella twilight rewritten the way it would’ve happened in the real world & what truly should have happened because I will never subscribe to the fact that Edward & Bella were soulmates & that it was true, meaningful love. EDWARD NEEDED TO FACE CONSEQUENCES FOR HIS ACTIONS but alas he never did. He was not meant to be with Bella, he forced himself into her life & manipulated the situation. It was not fate, it was BLOODLUST, selfishness, obsession & stalking. Anyway, this is what should’ve happened tbh.

NOTE THIS IS A WHOLE ASS MESS AND STARTED AS A CONCEPT BUT I GOT CARRIED AWAY. I will be finishing it the concept. But if someone would like to write out a fully fleshed out version of this.. PLEASEEE DO. I have ideas about where it continues too but my hand is about to fall off.

Bella moves to forks Jan 17. Edward meets Bella in bio Jan 18th. 25th van.

(This would be Chapter 8: Ghost in Midnight Sun. This part is in iguana-Edward’s POV. So this is before port Angela’s happens but is after the van. March 7th, 1 month & 2 weeks after Bella moves to forks. Bella goes to the Blacks house every weekend since she moved)

Charlie catches Edward stalking Bella in the bushes while she’s asleep reading her book on the lawn (the fact this is canon btw 🤢) Ofc in canon he is a vampire so he got away with it because of his speed & mind reading but nah that shouldn’t have happened. But in this fic it is a SECOND too late where Charlie already saw him from driving down the block so Edward has to stay & not run bc it’s either Edward getting caught stalking or Edward revealing his secret of being a vampire. Charlie wakes up bella and he confronts him. Bella is very confused by the situation. This time, Edward is able to charm his way out of it making up some excuse that he was coming by to drop off a book of Bella’s that she left in biology (the fucking creep had it in his pretentious little peacoat jacket)but it was a book from her room he took (ok Joe goldberg go off) Charlie let’s it go this time but is still sus.

(Bella’s POV) Bella couldn’t stop thinking about how strange the whole thing was. “Did I really leave that book on my desk in Biology? I could’ve sworn it was the last book on the stack next to my bed.” Alas she believes his gaslighting lies & moves on with her night. That night, Bella & Charlie go to the Blacks house for dinner. She cooks lasagna & it is a cozy time. Jacob is her assistant chef, handing her all the ingredients & of course making her laugh the whole time while their dads watch the game. He is so dizzy & nervous from how pretty she is that he leaves the spice cabinet open & bangs his head in the top corner hinge (cause it’s canon he’s a tall clutz in New Moon). He bleeds a little bit & bella gets nauseous from it but after she pops the lasagna in the oven, she sits him down to blot the wound on his head. As nauseated she is by the blood, she is laughing & he is making fun of her little gags in between. They look in each other’s eyes & Bella blushes a whole lot. She bandages it up (she keeps bandages in her little bag bc of how much of a clutz she is) & then sits at the table next to him. She comments on his long hair, how it’s even longer than hers & asks him about his hair care routine. He gets embarrassed, stammering cause he probably doesn’t take as good care of his hair as he should. He tells her he uses a homemade Quileute shampoo that all the guys get from a sweet older woman on the rez. She finds it sweet. She scoots her chair next to him & starts to braid the lock of hair that frames his face. She asks another question about his hair but he doesn’t answer cause he is just smiling looking at her. He loves her pink cheeks, soft lips, thoughtful & caring nature. He is in heaven. “What? Do you really not use conditioner? And no, grease or motor oil does not count as conditioner, Jake.” He laughs, shakes his head & tells her that he just uses coconut oil. Bella finishes the braid and then runs a finger through his hair. “That makes sense, it’s so soft, maybe I’ll take notes from you. I just use what Charlie gets from the store which is usually something pink and smells like berries. VO5 usually. I DO have a good conditioner though.”She laughs. “I don’t have the heart to tell him it’s probably not the best for my hair. He does his best with me.”

After dinner, they have a bonfire outside with others from the rez, basically whoever wants to show up and join. But bella and Jacob barely notice who is there. Jake gave up his log for Bella & sits on the floor beside her. The height difference still allows him to look down at her. They talk all about their memories as kids making mudpies & Jake brings up how they’d hold hands walking by the water at First Beach because of how clumsy Bella is. “We were so young but I always knew you as the one that would always fall. I was scared that the ocean would suck you up like a toilet or something so I had to hold your hand.” They both blush at this. “No, yeah, I remember. They probably should’ve kept a better eye on us back then because I remember once I DID fall in the water, flat on my stupid face, but you helped me up. Renee definitely did not pack me the right shoes to wear for the beaches & rain.” They talk about Renee a bit & Jake asks how the whole situation made her feel. “Do you think your mom should’ve left like that? I mean, I get it, people get divorced but how does it make you feel. Do you feel better here with Charlie?” Typically this would have Bella get defensive since she is very protective over her mother but it was the first time someone kindly asked her this question & made her think about Renee’s parenting. “I miss Phoenix, its my favorite place in the world and I do miss my erratic mother.” She laughs. “But it’s kind of nice not having to baby Charlie. Sure, I cook for him and help out around the house but I feel a lot more.. relaxed since being here if that’s makes sense? The best way to put it is this: Renee is like my best friend and Charlie is my parent. Is that kind of weird? Renee worries about me like crazy but she’s definitely made me have to fend for myself a lot. It was also pretty lonely living there whereas with Charlie, I think we keep each other company real well. I mean, I think I’m more like him despite me not having spent as much time with him.” Jacob can see the realization in her face that she hasn’t let go in a long time. That she was her mothers emotional support and was generally a lonely kid. They then got distracted because someone brought marshmallows, chocolate & graham crackers. “I cannot remember the last time I had s’mores.” bella says, face all lit up. Jake grabs them two plates immediately seeing how happy she was about it. “Aw man, this is why you shouldve come down here more often, Bells. Life’s boring without s’mores. I’m glad you’ve been coming every weekend though. We got a good little thing going on in our community. Honestly, I can’t imagine what it’s like down at forks high school.” Jacob fakes a yawn. Bella talks about her school and friends and how different it is from Phoenix. “It’s pretty different, honestly. Some of the people are nosy but I can’t blame them cause there’s not much to do here. They were sort of amazed by my mere existence and I kinda of wanted to hide under a rock forever when I first started here. It’s definitely better now but some people are definitely still… strange. Especially that family, the Cullens. I know they have a bad rep here on the rez and I sort of can see why.” Jacob goes wide eyed and then shakes his head. “Man, when will I ever stop hearing about these people. The quileutes have some really out there theories about them. I’ll have to tell you some other time though.” Bella wants to ask what he means but she doesn’t want to pry right now in case anyone listens in on the conversation. She turns dramatically to Jacobs face and burns her eyes deep into his. “Jacob Black, I have a very serious, urgent question for you.”

He looks shocked and his heart races a little bit. He puts his plate on the floor and clears his throat. “Uh, yeah Bells?”

“How crispy do you like your marshmallows?” He exhales & smiles his giant grin as he pops one in his mouth.

Next day is in edwards POV again (y’all know I do not have the STRENGTH to write in his POV rn)He is mentally going insane over bella. It’s been sunny (symbolic of Bella being with her sunny boy Jacob) which has been keeping the cullens from attending school. Edward is running in the woods trying to get Bella off his mind. He eventually gives into his selfish need to see/smell her and excuses it as “making sure she’s safe.” He tracked her scent but it led him to the treaty line. This time he is watching Bella and Jacob hanging out. He knows he can’t pass the treaty line, especially not under the circumstances but he tells himself no one will know. He slips on by to Jacobs little red house and watches behind a car like the iguana he is.

Jacob is working on the rabbit & Bella is watching. They’re eating pizza and she almost chokes from laughing. Edward is losing his mind in jealousy and it’s eating him up to see her so happy with someone else. Someone human, something he could never be. Bella is now acting as Jacob’s assistant with the car like he was doing in the kitchen. But Bella doesn’t know names of tools very well so they just start making up their own names for them. “The pointy one with the red top.” Jacob is teasing her saying he was a much better assistant then she is being. “It’s not fair though! SPICES are very easy to know. They are literally labeled, Jake. I mean what even is this thing?” She holds up a very small tool. They then name every tool a human name. “Okay this one would totally be a Gary. Look at it!.” They then get in a rhythm of this. “Bella, hand me Josephina.” “On it, chief.” She scuttles over to him & he takes the tool. He has grease all over his hands and shirt and wipes some on Bella’s nose. “Hey! C’mon I just washed my face before I got here.” She pouts and scoots over closer to Jacob while trying to rub it off, annoyed. Jacob puts the tool in his hand down on the inside of the hood of the rabbit and looks at her. She sticks her tongue out at him. “Is it off my nose?” She scrubs her nose again & looks the other way, red faced. He puts his pointer finger in one of the belt loops of her jeans and pulls her a little closer. She looks at him a little shocked. Then he lifts his hand up to wipe the grease off her nose. He smiles, strokes her face & says “Xaks óta chi chi”

“What did you say?” He blushes. “Nothing. Just talking to myself.”

Edward was familiar with Quileute & knew what he said. He’s seen enough. Edward leaves the rez and promises never to come back. He will leave Bella alone (he won’t lol)

Then it switches to Jacob or Bella’s POV. A little bit after they got on the topic of Edward & what happened with him just showing up to her house with her book. She doesn’t accuse him of stalking but just says it was odd along with the van incident and the hot and cold behaviors. Jacob is highly disturbed by what bella is saying to him. “Listen, Bella, this isn’t… good. Don’t let that guy get in your head like that. If you think that book was in your stack of books, then it probably was. Does Charlie have cameras? The van thing.. well, it kind of makes sense with what they say around here about them. An adrenaline rush? Come on. And the way he is lingering around you making you feel special some days and then others being mean. If you feel like this guy is actually following you or giving you issues, you can always come here. The cullens aren’t even allowed on the rez because of the legends.” Jacob is trying to make sense of it in his head. Could all of this really be true about them? Bella went on to say that she’s not afraid of him though and thinks he’s just misunderstood. She just can’t stop thinking about that book and the van incident. Jacob is patient with her but tries to put it more in perspective. “If that book was in your room then that means he was in your room. Do you even know what that means?”

A few days pass, edward is outside her house at night debating going into her room again. “One last time. I have to say my goodbyes.” He climbs through swiftly while she’s asleep. He searches through her things and makes note of the book she is reading, does her homework for her in her handwriting that he perfectly emulated. He gets close to her and breathes in her hair. He starts to pout beside her on the bed. “She had said my name in her sleep. She dreams of me. She feels this too. We were meant to be.” He has a full blown breakdown with himself driving himself mad. He had not been careful though. He was so deep in his thoughts & heartbreak, completely consumed by Bella’s scent. Driven into a frenzied state of obsession & bloodlust, he made a grave mistake. he turns around behind him with Charlie’s gun in his face. He almost instinctively ran, since that is what he does best. But again, being caught as a stalker is better than being revealed to be a vampire.

“What. The. Fuck. Are. You. Doing. In. My. House.” Charlie grabs edward and pushes him into the hallway. Edward obviously was not pushed but he had to pretend to be human if he was going to get out of this. “It isn’t what it looks like, Charlie. I’m so very sorry that you had to catch me like this. You see, your daughter is very accident prone and I-“

“Shut the fuck up. ITS EXACTLY what it looks like. I know exactly what kind of sicko you are. I’m taking you down to the station.”

Bella appears at the door, mouth agape. She stumbles backwards.

“Edward w-what are you doing here. DAD! Why do you have a gun?!”

“Bella get back in your room. I’m handling this and filing a restraining order against this creep. DAMNIT, BELLS, Get back in your room.”

Bella has tears welling up in her eyes and runs back into her room, shaking.

Edward is trying to barter with Charlie on the way down the stairs but he’s having none of it. His gaslighting dazzling bullshit is NOT going to work this time. Charlie drives to the station & arrests Edward Cullen for stalking & breaking & entering. He is disturbed by how cold Edwards hands are when he’s getting his fingerprint.

Bellas POV

She’s crying still in her bed. She starts looking all over her room and notices things out of place. She notices the books out of order, her homework done, her clothes perfectly folded, her shoes polished and cleaned. She has never felt so violated in her life. The guy who has been playing with her emotions since she’s been here had just been a stalker all along. She thought she even was catching feelings for Edward. She was completely fascinated by his beauty & charm. The way he saved her life and said her name. She was intoxicated by him, nervous around him. But now she understood why. There was something off from the very start, the way he hated her so much in biology was not normal. She couldn’t understand it at all. She started shaking as she reached for her cell and called Jacob. He picked up after 2 rings.

“Bella? Are you okay? What time is it?”

“I-Jake I’m so s-sorry for waking you. I… cant believe what just happened.” She explained and Jacob spit out “Lock your window. Lock your front door. Do not open it until I call you. I will be right there.”

Her phone rang but she was already at the door since she heard him pull up. She opened the door and came in, locked the door immediately behind him. She threw herself at him sobbing. “Oh, Jacob. I don’t even know what happened. How stupid could I be? He was STALKING me! In my room, watching me sleep. He even cleaned my room and did my homework. I mean what the hell is that!”

“Shhh, Bella, honey. Calm down. It’s okay, Charlie is taking care of it. I’ve got you. Come here I’ve got you.” He lifts her up in one swift movement and pulls her on his lap on the couch in the living room. He pets her hair and holds her close.

“Listen to me right now. He won’t get away with this. He violated you and your trust. How the hell did he get in here?” Jacob peered around and looked for an open window or sign or forced entry. She continued to sob in his hair.

“But I just don’t… understand. He saved my life, Jacob. I’d be dead from that van without him. Why would he be a creep? I just don’t understand it. I cannot understand it.”

Jake signs “he was obsessed with you. And I- I think it’s possible he only saved you from that van so he could have you all to himself.” He gulped. Bella looked up and blinked through tears. “What?”

“The stories, Bells. Have you really never heard them. My dad thinks the Cullens are fucking vampires. I think, maybe, that could be part of it.”

Bella cocked her head and shook her head “and I repeat.. WHAT? Did you really just say VAMPIRES? Jake do you hear yourself?”

“Do you think I don’t know how crazy that sounds. I’ve been hearing this my whole life. I never believed it, but maybe that’s what’s going on here too. Or I’m just sleep deprived and going insane like Billy.”

Bella shakes her head again. “Those are just scary stories. Come on.”

She felt a chill through her body and things started to add up in her head. She looks up at Jacobs concerned face.

“Thank you for coming. Im so sorry you look exhausted.”

“Are you kidding? Of course I came. This is some crazy stuff. I can, uh, stay too. If you want? I can sleep on the couch or we can just stay up or something.” She nuzzled her face in his chest. “I doubt you’ll be able to sleep though. I’m so sorry this happened.” He strokes her hair and cradles her even closer. “I promise I would never, ever hurt you.” He says. “Seeing your face every weekend has sort of been the best thing that’s happened in a while. Just saying.” She looks up at him. “Really? You’re not sick of me yet? Im so sorry for dragging you into my drama I really don’t mean to bring you down.” He puts his fingers to her lips. “Shhhh.”

“I really like seeing your face too every weekend. You know, Jake, you’re sort of beautiful?” He turns beat red and laughs.

“Okay, now I think YOU’RE a little sleep deprived now.”

“You really are. You also make me feel.. safe. I mean I’ve been getting stalked and watched in my sleep by an alleged vampire who I thought I liked and you are the only one I’d trust to be around right now.” Bella forces out a laugh but shivers at the possibility of that even being remotely true.

“You are safe with me. Hey, if the dude is actually a fucking vampire, maybe Sam Uley & my old man will stake him when they hear about this. They get all serious about the “cold ones. We all got your back.”

She grabs his big hand and bites it then hisses like a vampire at him. “What if he bit me in my sleep, oOoOo.”

“God, always coming through with the gallows humor. Only you would be able to laugh in a situation like this, Bells.”

“Only because I have you here, my own personal sun.” She kisses the same spot on his hand where she bit.

TO BE CONTINUED