#so I’ll finally buy a Mac!

[myrxellabaratheon]

Not me trying to see how the gif making app of my iPad is because I need to gif some specific scene from apology tour but I don’t have space on my pc for Photoshop

[gucciwins]

something new

wembley brings love and celebration 

Word count: 5190

A/N: posting something for the first time in months (since april) and I am very excited for you to read.  please let me know what you think. I enjoyed writing and promise I'm already working on the next thing 💜 asks

_____

Wembley Stadium.

It’s a place you had heard many stories about and even attended a show in 2019 as a gift for your father to watch his favorite band, Fleetwood Mac. This entire week has been remarkable, but tonight is the final night. You are here supporting your boyfriend, Harry, and because it’s the last night, there will be a celebration after with the attendance of everyone who knows Harry from family, friends, and workers.

When you first met Harry, you didn’t know he was Harry Styles. Many people would ask how you could not recognize the Harry Styles, but when you met him, he had a full beard and hair full of messy curls. He was dressed in mini running shorts wearing a black jumper and bright running shoes. The reason you spoke to him was his shoes. This brand is known for its style of color combination and lightness in weight, making it the running shoe. You had been debating buying a pair, and his looked well-loved. It wouldn’t hurt to hear an opinion from someone who wasn’t an online user.

“Excuse me,” you called out softly behind him.

He jumps and moves away from the counter. “Sorry, was I in your way?”

You do your best not to melt hearing his deep voice; it was comforting for some odd reason. You smile and shake your head. “No, uh, actually. I’m sorry to bother you. This is actually such a silly question now.” You pause, debating walking away while you can, but he encourages you to continue. “It’s about your shoes. Are the Hoka’s worth it? The online reviews have not been able to convince me, and I’ve read too many articles at this point. Yours look like they’ve seen a few miles,” you point out.

Harry looks down at his shoes and laughs, “so they do.” He meets your eye, stepping closer and away from the counter. “I’m on my fourth pair,” he confesses sheepishly.

You wince, knowing the price for these shoes is not cheap. “Are you constantly running? Are they easily worn out?”

His face reddens, and he fiddles with his necklace. “No, uh…I like having more options to match my outfits.”

You laugh, “that makes sense.” You pause. “Does that mean picking my first pair will be harder? I saved for one pair, and my pocket will hurt if I decide to bite the bullet.”

“I debated a few choices at my computer and ultimately bought two pairs. They were orange and yellow. Bondi are a good first choice.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” You notice the barista, Lily sliding a coffee on the counter and gesturing it’s his, meaning it’s time for you to go. “Sorry for bothering you, but this was very helpful. Sorry, I never got your name. I’m Y/N.”

“Harry. It was no bother.”

You doubt that.

“Bye, Harry.” You collect your bag and walk out, knowing you were going to overthink buying these shoes, and Harry would never leave your mind.

To no surprise, you’re back at your favorite coffee shop the following day, but this time dressed in your favorite jeans and a cardigan your grandma helped you knit over the summer last year. It’s pastel pink with flowers placed randomly all over. You didn’t dress cute for a guy. You dressed cute for yourself. At least, that’s what you kept telling yourself. Lily is a good friend, and after walking your iced latte to your table, she sat down for a moment.

“Nice conversation yesterday?” She ponders.

“Mhm…nice fellow.”

“Was surprised you bothered him?”

You look at her, confused. “Was it rude of me?”

“Some would say so.”

“I’m confused. We talked about shoes. What did I do wrong?”

Lily stares at you, trying to see if you’re joking. “Y/N, be serious.”

“I am.”

She looks around, leaning closer. “You spoke to Harry Styles. Popstar sensation. Most loved man on the earth.” Lily sees you processing her words, and before you can make rebuttals, she pulls her phone out and shows you a photo of Harry, the guy you met, under a Harry Styles update page.

“Well, shit!”

“Yeah, he at least looks interested in your conversation.”

You roll your eyes, “geeze, Lily, thanks for making it seem like it’s awful to talk with me.”

“Not what I meant,” she apologizes.

“It’s fine. The beard threw me off.”

“He’s a regular here. Comes every other day.” Lily excuses herself needing to get back to work, and with that reassurance, he wouldn’t be coming in; you enjoy your coffee.

You took out your laptop and began to work while keeping an eye on the door. Pretty soon, you got deep into your research and didn’t even notice when the door chimed, signaling someone knew had entered.

“You look really focused. Are you working?” Harry had walked up to your table, startling you.

The truth was you were not working, although you should have been; it was a Wednesday morning. You feel your cheeks warm up, knowing you’ve been caught. “Won’t lie to you, Harry. I’m looking at shoes.” You turn your screen to let him see you have a page pulled up for running shoes with multiple open tabs.

Harry laughs in surprise and gestures to the empty seat to join you. You move your bag, and he happily slides in. You move your laptop closer to him, giving him a better view.

“Those are cute.” You had been looking at a lilac pair.

“Right! But look at these.”

Harry frowns when you switch the screen to display a cherry-pink design. “Now, that’s a tough choice.”

“Ugh…I know. I’ve been alternating back and forth.”

“Okay, close your eyes,” he orders.

You look at him skeptically but do as he says.

“It’s a sunny day which is just a miracle here in London,” you laugh, and he continues. “You’re out on a walk deciding where to go for the day when a stranger points out your shoe is untied. You bend down to tie it. Now what color are your shoes?”

“Purple,” you answer without thinking.

“Well, there you go.”

“That was helpful, Harry. Thank you. Are you a therapist or something?”

“In another life, I would be.”

“Well, what do you do now?” You ask, genuinely interested.

Harry looks at you, confused as if you’re really asking the question. “I sing for a living. Uh…” he feels embarrassed sharing this for some reason. “I go on stage and perform.”

You frown, looking at him closer. “From my eye level, you look like a rugged Harry Styles.”

Harry looks amused. “Rugged. Huh, I thought the beard was good.”

“It is,” you quickly agree. “Sorry, I’m used to seeing videos of him—well, you clean-shaven.”

“I’m on a break. It’s a nice way to let go.”

Right.

You were at a crossroads now because you liked Harry. He was friendly and easy to speak with, but would this new information change everything for you?

“Maybe we can go on a run when your shoes arrive?” Harry suggested.

Your eyes lit up, “really?”

“Mhmm…I like running around the park.”

“Oh, I love finding new trails,” you gushed. “I bet you have found the best-hidden roads.”

Harry shrugs, “we’ll have to see.”

“Uh… I’m sorry for not recognizing you. I don’t know if that was weird or not.” You decide to apologize.

“You’re fine, Y/N. When you came up to me, I thought you wanted a photo, but clearly, my shoes were more interesting,” he teased. “It was nice being just Harry.”

You smile sheepishly at him, “you’re still Harry to me. Feel like you’ll turn into Harry Styles when you’re clean-shaven on stage.”

“Not for a few weeks, then. I have shows in Los Angeles at the end of January,” he tells you because he wants to bask in being just Harry for a few weeks more.

“Oh, fun,” you wiggle your eyebrows at him.

“Mhmm…” Harry waits for you to ask more, but instead, you turn the conversation to his workout routine.

From then on, conversation flows easily. You tell Harry you’re the oldest of three. Two younger brothers who live to embarrass you whenever they get the chance but love when you drive them around. You tell him about your job in publishing and that you worked your way up to being an editor. It’s a job you love dearly. Harry lets you ramble on, asking questions and wanting to learn more. He learns you’re allergic to mushrooms. Your first tattoo was a cherry you got at eighteen on an impulsive night out. That you’re the only family member in generations to be born left-handed.

Harry shares that he loves to travel because it gives him a place to miss and come home. He loves his sister and calls her his best friend. That he’s too competitive and loves a long game of Scrabble. He dreams of having a pet dog but does not want to commit when his life is on the road. You mention your family dog, Woodstock, named after the iconic yellow bird from the Peanuts comics. A yellow Labrador who runs up to strangers, always asking for belly rubs. You promise to take him to visit.

Your friendship with Harry grew from there. You would meet most mornings outside the coffee shop for a run and then for a coffee that turned into hours of conversation. You liked Harry and reckoned you liked him more than a friend, but there was no way you would change that dynamic and instead settle to be his friend. When Harry showed up one day clean-shaven, you were taken aback because it made him look younger, and it was as if you were seeing him for the first time.

“Don’t recognize me anymore,” he teases.

“I could spot those green eyes in a sea of people,” you promise him.

Come April, a shift in your dynamic happened. Harry wanted you to work out with him and his trainer. You thought he was crazy, but really Harry was dying for you to meet his friends. They couldn’t stop teasing him that you were made up.

“Harry!”

You both turned and found a man in a white shirt and shorts, similar to Harry, approaching you. Harry welcomed him in a hug before going to stand next to you. “This is Y/N. Y/N, Brad.”

Brad shot you a smile, “pleasure to meet you.”

“You as well.”

“It’s nice to put a face to a name. He can’t shut up about you,” Brad confesses.

“Oi! Stop that.” Harry frowns, but you can tell he doesn’t mind.

You end up having the worst workout of your life. Brad, not taking a moment of pity for you until he finally called it quits an hour later. You threw yourself on the grass, closed your eyes, and took slow breaths. You heard Harry laughing above you but did not acknowledge him.

“Come on, petal. I’ll buy you a coffee,” Harry offered.

You peeked one eye open, “and a scone?”

“I’ll get you all the goods you want,” Brad chimes in. “You were a trooper out there.”

“Fuck, I never want to work out with you again,” you huff.

“Don’t think we will if he has a say,” Brad points to Harry. “Never seen him so angry.”

“She’s my friend. Didn’t want to explain her death to her parents.”

After that, it seemed you only saw more of each other until one night at your home, Harry made a move you didn’t see coming. After the film finished, Harry turned serious.

“Y/N?”

“Harry, what is it?” You ask, concerned.

“I like you.”

You sigh in relief, “gosh, you scared me. I like you too, silly. You’re my best friend.”

Harry shakes his head. “You’re not listening to me.”

“Heard you loud and clear.”

He sighs, frustrated. “These last few months as your friend have been amazing. I feel so lucky you approached me to talk about shoes. While I enjoy being your friend every time we get together, these feelings I have continue to grow, and I can no longer keep them to myself. I like you, and I want to see where this goes.”

You sit there shocked because you never expected Harry to reciprocate your feelings, but he is pouring his heart out for you. “Harry,” you breathed out. “I-I-I like you too. I have for some time, but I didn’t want to lose you.”

“Me either, but Brad said a person as amazing as you would not wait around for me.”

You laugh, “tell him I’m a fool because I think I would have waited a lifetime for you.”

“I know it’s too soon to ask you to be my girlfriend seeing as we haven’t been on a date, but—”

You interrupt him. “Why can’t we say this is our first date? If we think about it, every time we have spent together could be considered a date.”

“Do you end a first date with a kiss?” He asks sheepishly.

“Only if it’s you,” you promise him.

When your wine-stained lips meet his, you feel a wave of peace surround you knowing that it might be soon, but the universe sent Harry to you. He was your other half. He made you better. You pulled him closer, loving the closeness this kiss brought you. Harry sighed, ending the kiss. You went in for a second kiss needing more of him for a little longer.

“Petal, baby. I’m here,” he spoke against your lips.

You giggled out of breath. “Sorry, I think I like you a little too much.”

Harry leaned his forehead against you. “I feel the same.”

“Good, let’s kiss some more and then have a sleepover.”

“Don’t you think it’s too soon, petal?” Harry asked.

You frowned, “you slept here two nights ago.”

Harry sighed, “you’re right.”

It wasn’t until a week later you made it official. Life was perfect, and you were happy. Harry knew starting a relationship as he began touring wasn’t the smartest option, but he was close to home and promised to check in at every chance. In each city he visited, he picked up a souvenir for you as a reminder he was thinking of you. It was cheesy, but he wrote you postcards from each city because even though they wouldn’t arrive quickly, they would remind you of him when you did receive them. It only made you like him more and knew you were falling in love quickly. There was no stopping it.

While you joined him at his special show at Slane Castle, you didn’t have the chance to meet many of his family, mainly only the band. They welcomed you with open arms, and how Harry never stops talking about you. It made you nervous. You hoped to live up to his words because these people and his band members meant the world to Harry.

____

Now being here to celebrate four sold-out nights at Wembley, it felt overwhelming knowing Harry’s entire family and friends from his childhood would be here. You’ve known Harry for months but loved him like he’s always been yours. It was a joyous day, but even that wouldn’t take away your nerves for the final night of seeing Harry shine on stage.

“No one is going to believe I didn’t recognize you when we first met,”  you tell him as the driver drove down a road that arrives at the back of Wembley, away from the crowd.

“Course they will.”

You give him a deadpan look, “you’re basically the face of the UK. A prince, some would say.” You sit up and clear your throat. “Oh, how’d we meet. Well, I met him at a coffee shop and asked him about his shoes.” You rolled your eyes, “sounds fake to me.”

“Good thing it’s the truth. Plus, I thought you were cute. Would have never worked up the courage to walk up to you, though.”

“Stop. You’re only saying that.”

“Nope, I mean it. Brad and the band like you.”

“I hope they do,” you muttered. “Only people I’ve met now. I’m meeting everyone.”

“You met Mum and Gem,” Harry reminds you. “Spent time with them for three nights.”

You sigh because, for a moment, you feel Harry doesn’t understand how overwhelming this is. Everyone here knows Harry. They know Harry from Holmes Chapel, and they know the amazing person he is. You feel happy to know and love him, but they’ve got a lifetime of Harry, and you’ve got months. It differs for everyone because you would move mountains to ensure he was happy. Except, everyone doesn’t know that. They don’t know you.

“Y/N, petal will you look at me,” he begs softly.

You take a deep breath and allow yourself to meet his emerald eyes. Harry takes in the worry shining bright, and smiles. “Petal, I love you. I know you love me. You remind me every moment we’re together and when I’m away. I don’t doubt it. My family knows you, maybe not your physical form, but they have heard stories and seen endless pictures. They will love you because I love you. If you get overwhelmed, you can always sit back and watch, they’ll understand. Most importantly, I will understand. I wish I could hold you as Mum introduces you to everyone. I told her to hold off, but she’s excited. Brad will be on the floor, and I know you enjoy that. You’re in safe hands.”

“I love you. Thank you. I know it’s your day, and I’m making it all about me.”

Harry shushes you, “hey, hey. We’re a team. Your feelings are just as important as mine. Now give me a kiss.”

You loved him, simple as that. He was the missing piece in your life.

___

The show was like no other. Harry, from the moment he got on stage, radiated happiness. The fans were the loudest they had been all week, filling you with so much joy. Anne told you to join her at the family box, but you decided to be on the floor as close to Harry as possible by the Jonny pod; you noticed Harry favored the side more, knowing his dear friend was in the audience tonight. From surprise songs to dancing and Mitch receiving his Grammy, you knew it would be a night you would never forget. As Harry began his encore with “Sign of the Times,” the rain started falling, and so did your tears. The fact that over 90 thousand people were here for Harry said enough. They chose to spend their evening with him, and he delivered to make it memorable.

You didn’t even notice that Brad captured a photo of you staring at Harry on stage with a giant smile and hands over your heart you would only see later when Harry made it his lock screen. Harry thanks the crowd for a magical night stating over and over again that he’s never been happier.

Brad wraps an arm around you and walks you towards Harry, who’s sharing long hugs and meaningful words with his bandmates. This is the man you love, and there’s nothing you’d change about it. You followed Harry to the dressing room, wanting a moment alone before the madness. Harry bounces around quickly to change, removing the overalls and shimming them down his waist. He slips on shorts, throws on a random shirt, and puts on his new Adidas Love on Tour sweater with his initials.

You lean against the door admiring him in all his glory. He didn’t bother for a shower, too eager to see everyone.

“I’m proud of you,” you whisper. “I know it might not mean much, but I am.”

Harry pauses, finishes tying his shoe, and walks over to you. He stops before you, his hands finding a home on your cheeks. “It means the world. Don’t ever think it doesn’t. We might only have been together for two months, but my heart has loved you my entire life. You being here is enough. I could feel your love from the stage.”

He connects your lips together, and you melt against him. Harry breathes life into you, and you never want him to stop. “I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you, Harry. So much.”

“Good. Let’s go mingle.” You move away from the door and make your way outside when he tugs you back in. “Forgot one last thing.”

He hurries over to his bag, pulls out an identical sweater, and hands it to you. You accept it moving and look it over. Your eyes quickly find your initials on the right side, similar to his.

“Harry—this isn’t necessary.”

Harry shrugs, “it was your idea.”

You don’t fight him as he slips off your red leather jacket and helps you slip on the thin material. He fixes the collar making sure none of your hair is tucked under. Harry decides you look good, giving you a pat on the butt. “Now we can go.”

Harry held your hand as you walked over to the area Jeff had set up for the celebration. He mentioned there would be another location later in the night, but it would be good to let the crowds outside die out. On your walk over, Harry told you about outfits and signs he saw in the crowd. How overwhelmed he came when the rain came down. He felt at home.

You expressed how much fun you had, told Harry how Jeff and Tommy taught you the boot scoot during “Treat People,” and assured him many videos of your failed attempt were taken. Harry paused outside the door where you could hear the loud chatter, and you knew what was waiting for you behind those doors. Harry shoots you a look, and you give him a reassuring smile letting him know it’s okay to go in.

The cheers are loud when the man of the hour walks in. Everyone was quick to gather around him. You try to sneak away, but his grip on your hand stays tight. Every person who thanks him, he makes sure to introduce you.

“Love, go celebrate. It’s alright. I’ll be fine,” you tell him in a low voice.

Harry shakes his head, instead kissing you and pulling you along to meet and chat with new people. You felt a bit overwhelmed, but everyone has been so sweet. They asked where you were from? Scotland. What was your job? An editor. How did you meet? Coffee Shop. How proud were you? Immensely.

You kept trying to hang back, but Harry seemed to notice when you drifted away. He would kiss you and ask for your input in the conversation. You told him you were getting a drink and would be back momentarily, except you got a vodka cranberry and hid in a corner. Harry found you when your drink was half gone.

“Babyyy,” he called out. “Missed you.”

You felt your cheeks heat up as he wrapped himself around you. He moved you away from the wall, making you face the crowd, his hands around your waist, his chin resting on your shoulder.

“I love you,” he whispered.

You lean against him, happy to be wrapped in his arms, feeling safe. “I love you, bub.”

Harry takes a sip of your drink and hums at the bitterness of the cranberry. He knows you’re a social drinker because it allows you to relax and not be as anxious. You and Harry get lost in your world as you let him talk your ear off. He tells you about people around the room, who they are, and how they’ve helped them. Surprisingly, Harry can name everyone in the room, though it shouldn’t shock you much. It’s just the type of person he is.

Your boyfriend is an affectionate person. He loves having a hand on the small of your back or your hand in his. He wants to be close because he says he wants makeup when he’s away. Some would say it makes him look clingy, but lucky for you, you love his touch; it’s comforting. You could feel his smile against your skin as he planted kisses on your face.

Even while in your corner, people come up to you. When they see Harry begin to kiss your shoulder or whisper in your ear, they excuse themselves. You can’t help but feel you are keeping Harry from celebrating with everyone, not realizing he’s happy to celebrate with you in his arms.

“Harry! Sue!” Is yelled from across the room. You see a short, dirty-haired blonde yell and wave for him, but Harry is too busy peppering kisses all over your neck to realize.

“Bubby, love. They’re calling for you.”

He hums against your neck. “I’m perfect here.”

You sigh because the yelling continues, and you’re starting to feel overwhelmed because he’s not celebrating. Instead, Harry is ensuring you’re not nervous, which seems like the most boring job in the world. He should be taking shots with friends and telling stories about the last four nights.

“Go on, I’ll be right behind you,” you promise him.

Harry tightens his hold on you, “baby, you sure?”

“Yes, no go. I’ll even bring you a drink.”

“Te–”

“Tequila neat,” you tease. “I know you.”

Harry pecks your lips once, twice, and a third time before making his way across the room, but not before looking over his shoulder one last time at you. You shoot him a wink and exaggerate, looking at his bum and making him laugh. He moves his hips a little extra just for you. As Harry easily falls into the conversation, you use this moment as an opportunity for a breather.

You were alone for around five minutes when you heard footsteps coming your way. You were in a corridor that led you out to the stage if you continued walking down but stopped halfway, knowing no one would come this way. You were wrong.

Harry is who you expected to see, but to your surprise, it’s Gemma, his older sister.

“Hi,” you greet softly. The conversations with Gemma have been short, but from what you can tell, she’s wise beyond her years and always ready to listen.

“You okay?” She asks, straight to the point.

“A bit loud,” you gesture towards the hallway where the music can still be heard.

She nods, “I get that.” Gemma looks around before moving to stand next to you shoulder to shoulder. “Are you okay?” She asks again.

You sigh, “I—i-i.”

“A bit much for a family gathering.”

“A bit,” you exhale, knowing Gemma understands what you might be feeling.

“It’s the perfect opportunity, I feel. I did forget how overwhelming it was. I don’t even remember my boyfriend’s first family gathering.”

“Are you saying I won’t remember this in a few years?”

“Oh, you’re never forgetting tonight.” She smirks, “unless you keep drinking.”

You scrunch your nose at the thought. “Better not.”

The two of you stand in silence, and you know it’s because Gemma is giving you a minute to gather your thoughts.

“I just—I love Harry. I do. I hope you don’t doubt that, but I don’t know how to celebrate when you’ve all been here for him every step of the way. Year after year.”

Gemma deflates, “oh, Y/N.”

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have—” Gemma cuts you off.

“It’s okay,” she assures you. “It’s difficult because of his job, not because of who he is. But trust me when I say he loves you.” Gemma’s words are firm, and you believe her. As an older sister, you would do anything to protect your siblings but never lie to someone important.

“Harry talks about you every chance he gets. Did you know Y/N ran a marathon? She’s swam with sharks in a reservation center. Y/N’s CPR certified. She edited and helped publish five number-one books this year,” Gemma rambles off. “We all know so much because he’s proud and wants to share it with those close to him.”

“I-I didn’t know.” You let all of this process, but it’s a shock because some of the things Gemma listed mean nothing, but clearly, to him, mean everything.

“Everyone in that room,” Gemma points over her shoulder, “knows who you are and what you mean to him.”

“Everyone?” You whisper. It doesn’t feel real. You’d never been so loved, and it might be why you’re feeling overwhelmed because he wants to bask in your love. It’s not a show; it’s simply his way of showing he loves you in front of everyone he cares about.

“Celebrate how you want but know all we want is to see him happy. It’s clear as day that you make him happy. This is the happiest I’ve seen him, and it’s because of you. Maybe even happier than selling out Wembley.”

“Thank you, Gemma.” She hugs you tight, and it’s so familiar yet different from Harry’s. His is light and full of love, while Gemma’s is tight and warm. “He wrote you a beautiful song.” You’re referring to “Sweet Creature,” which he dedicated to her tonight.

“It’s a special one. Don’t worry. I hear you’ll be getting yours soon enough,” she teases. “I’ll see you inside.”

A few seconds later, someone else joins you. It’s as if your body knows who it is without seeing them because you feel the familiar flutter in your stomach as his smell wraps around you.

“Baby, where did you go?” Harry whines. Baby is a term of endearment that comes out a lot when he’s had more than one to drink. It’s your favorite during these times.

“I’m here,” you open your arms, and he happily falls in your embrace. “I’m proud of you, love.” You run a hand through the back of his head, keeping him close.

“Thank you, baby.”

“Like really proud. You’re so loved. What you do is incredible. I feel so lucky to be able to love you.”

Harry pulls back, and you see his beautiful eyes glistening with tears threatening to fall soon. “I love you.”

You press your lips against his and put all your love into the kiss. You wish you could spend the rest of the night kissing him, but there is more celebrating to do. Harry doesn’t let you pull away, instead deepening the kiss. You melt against him, forgetting your worries and enjoying this moment with him. A moment only for the two of you to remember.

“Let’s keep celebrating, my love,” you whisper against his lips.

“Still nervous?” He checks.

“Only a smidge.”

Harry smiles, “that’s okay. I’ll hold your hand.”

“You won’t let go?”

“Never,” he promises.

As you return to the party holding tight to his hand, he asks an important question. “Can I keep kissing you?”

Your laugh rings loud, echoing through Harry’s heart. You bring your hand up to rest at the back of his neck and pull him down for a kiss. “As much as you like.”

[sociopathicartist]

SANS X READER

city run-ins

Sans hadn’t really paid much attention to the people around him. The city where he lived with his friends had a large population, so what was the point of paying mind to anyone when there was a good chance he’d never see them again? His brother was happy and he got to see his friends pretty often. That’s what mattered to him, not the people walking past him on the street.

He didn’t pay attention to you when he first met you either. Why would he?

You had bumped into him when you were crossing the street. You both stumbled, and when Sans fell back and hit the ground you worriedly held out your hand for him to grab.

“Are you okay? I’m so sorry.” You apologized, waiting for him to accept your help.

Sans took your hand and let you pull him up off the ground. “don’t worry about it. we all have places to be in a hurry, don’t we?”

You watched him as he made sure his jacket and shorts didn’t get nicked during his fall. “I guess so.”

He listened to your nervous laugh before you hurried off the road and went to the sidewalk, almost forgetting about the incident already as he shoved his hands back into the pockets of his jacket and continued on his way.

Sans had pretty much forgotten about you after that. There was nothing remarkable about you- not that he could derive from one short meeting anyway. There was no reason for you to stick in his memory. But when he was standing in the grocery aisle at the store debating what pasta to buy for his brother, he couldn’t help but think you were familiar when you spoke to him.

“The stelline is the best one.” You spoke to him, looking ahead at the pasta just like he was.

Sans looked over at you, squinting slightly when he tried to place his finger on where he met you before. He looked back to the pasta, his pinpricks scanning across the boxes until he found the stelline. The pasta looked like little tiny stars. Papyrus would probably like that, Sans sure did. Who didn’t love stars?

“oh, thanks. i was picking out some for my brother.” He grabbed a few boxes of it and put it into his basket, getting extra just in case his brother messed up a batch or two.

Papyrus’ cooking was improving significantly ever since Mettaton had been helping him cook instead of Undyne. He still flunked here and there with a recipe, but who didn’t? Mistakes are the easiest path to success after all.

You laughed softly for no particular reason. Maybe you had just been in a good mood that day? He probably would have asked you if he knew you better.

“It’s really good in soups, but I personally like to use it for mac n’ cheese.” You grabbed a box and put it in your basket.

He finally realized who you were when you looked down at him, a small smile curved on your lips. You seemed to recognize him too, because your eyes widened once you saw him.

Your voice upped an octave, probably due to nerves. “Oh!”

Sans chuckled, finding your reaction amusing. “hey again. nice to meet you again without running into each other.”

You rubbed your hand on the back of your neck, clearly still feeling guilty about that. “Yeahhh, I guess it is.”

“i’m sans, by the way.” He held out his free hand for you to shake, neatly gloved with a mitten.

Taking his hand and shaking it in a greeting, you introduced yourself back to him. “Y/N.”

Your hands fell to your sides and you gave an awkward look to him. “Well… I guess I’ll run into you later.”

Sans watched you as you turned around and scurried off down the aisle, most likely forgetting whatever you were looking for in that aisle. He didn’t pay much mind to you then, simply just going back to his leisurely shopping.

When he came back home and showed the pasta to Papyrus, his brother was thrilled about the little star shapes. Sans ended up having to put it on their weekly restock list for groceries.

The idea of you didn’t run across his thoughts anymore.

Well… Not until you ran into him again at a coffee shop.

He saw you from behind staring up at the menu, contemplating what to get from the menu. He didn’t recognize you at first, so he had no problem walking up behind you and leaning a bit past your side to tell you the suggestion of what he ordered.

“try the crème brûlée latte. it’s my favorite.” Sans spoke quietly to you, his voice low like it usually was.

You whipped your head to the side to look at the stranger. “Really? Thank y-“

Your voice fell quiet as you both stared at each other in silence for a few seconds, realizing the coincidence that you met again. “Is it… Wait- I’ve got this.”

Sans tilted his skull a bit to the side as you retraced through your thoughts before coming to what you wanted. It was amusing to see you struggle to think over the words.

“Sans, Right?” You asked, a bit hesitant about if you got it right or not.

Sans chuckled, looking off to the side before glancing back at you. “yep. that’s me. y/n, right? i can’t remember very well.”

He wasn’t lying. He didn’t think of you at all other than the two times you ran into each other in the past.

“That’s right! Funny seeing you around again.” You brushed some hair out of your face while you talked to him before looking back at the menu, the barista who was behind the register looking a bit annoyed at the hold-up.

Sans nodded, looking up to the menu as well. “yeah, funny.”

“Two creme brûlée lattes please.” You ordered, paying for it with your card before the barista hurried off to tell you the order.

Huh? Were you ordering a drink for him? You didn’t need to do that.

Sans held up his hands to give a small protest. “you don’t gotta do that.”

You had already paid, so it was no use to protest.

You looked down at him again, giving a small shrug. “It’s no biggie, really. I didn’t know what to order anyways. I’ve ran into you three times now, the least I can do is get you a coffee.”

He sighed, his mind a bit distracted by all the beeping from registers and talking from people going on in the background. “i guess so. thanks.”

You smiled, taking the coffees that were in little to-go cups and handing one to Sans. “Wanna sit?”

So, you both sat down. He felt like it was a bit weird. Back in Snowdin, he didn’t mind introducing himself to anyone new and getting them some food, nobody new usually came to Snowdin so it was always a welcome surprise. In the city however, there were always thousands of people, many faces he’d never recognize. There wasn’t much point in trying to make friends whenever he already had good ones anyways.

But, here he was, sitting at a table with you drinking a coffee that you bought him.

“This is a really good favorite to have. Thanks for suggesting it!” You set your cup down on the table, tracing your pointer finger around the bumps on the plastic lid.

For once, Sans was a bit unsure of what to say, so he went with the best option he knew. “hey, wanna hear a coffee joke?”

Your eyes seemed to light up. “Sure!”

He didn’t have to take much time to think over the joke. “whaddya call a sad cup of coffee?”

“Hmmm…” You looked off to the side while you thought. “I don’t know.”

“a depresso.” Sure, it wasn’t the best joke he’s ever told, but it had the reward of making you laugh.

You set your hands down on your lap, looking across the table at Sans. “Do you have any more jokes?”

That had to be some of the best words Sans has ever heard in his life. Of course he had more jokes, it seemed like he could never tell enough of them.

“why did it take the coffee bean so long to get his homework done?” He asked, his tone with you lighter and a bit more expressive.

“Hmmm, why?”

“it was procaffenating.”

And there your laugh was again. Your lips curved up into a big smile and you looked down at the table when you laughed, your eyes crinkling up in the corners a bit. It was genuine. It was real.

Sans grabbed onto his to-go cup, taking a small sip of it before suddenly vanishing from his seat and then appearing next to the table standing up. It startled you slightly, but you didn’t ask any questions about it and chalked it up to monster magic.

“well, its bean a good time, but i got a latte to do.” Sans rolled the puns out from his voice, looking up at you when you also followed suit to stand.

You brushed off your outfit with your freehand while talking to him. “Me too, I guess I’ll run into you later?”

“i guess you will.”

And with that, you both split ways.

For once, Sans was starting to think about his encounters with you. The small idea of your name would pop into his head when he ordered his coffee at the same place, but he’d just find the encounter a bit funny and then brush it off, not thinking much of it afterwards. It was just a silly encounter, merely accquanticces that he’d wave ‘hello’ to if he saw you in the store or something and then move on with his life.

That’s what he believed until he heard your laughter while he was out at a restaurant with his friends. He didn’t know why, but amongst the several people sitting at tables talking and having a good time, his attention was torn from his friends when he heard your laughter nearby. He took the time to look around the restaurant, observing the tables nearby until he spotted you having a nice dinner with someone. Were they a family member? A friend? They seemed to be making jokes to you, because you laughed at everything they said.

He barely knew you. He had ran into you only three times before and chatted with you a bit during the third encounter, so why did he feel a weird twinge watching you laugh at someone else’s jokes?

You looked around the tables nearby whenever the person got up, presumeably to go to the restroom, and your eyes landed on Sans just a few tables nearby.

Sans typically would have looked away and pretended like he never saw you. He had a hard time making eye contact with people and wasn’t a big fan of awkward confrontations since he didn’t know you very well. If he spotted Undyne or Toriel out at dinner with someone he probably would have made a silly face or something before going back to minding his own buisness, but he didn’t know you like that.

Instead of you looking away and pretending like you didn’t see him, you just simply grinned and waved to him. Naturally, he waved back.

Undyne noticed. She reached behind Papyrus who was sitting besides Sans and gave him a shove.

“Sans! Who’s that? You didn’t tell us you had a social life outside our little group!” Undyne was making fun of him just a bit, but she was also genuine with the excitement of her friend suddenly having a new friend.

Sans shrugged and looked down at his plate. It was pasta that Papyrus suggested he ordered, but Sans had smothered it in ketchup.

“dunno. i just run into them sometimes in the city.” It wasn’t a lie.

You two weren’t really friends, right? You had only met once or twice. So why couldn’t he get you off his mind right now?

He looked back up, seeing that Toriel and Asgore were currently joking over something that made Frisk laugh, who was sitting between them. Undyne, Alphys, and Papyrus had begun talking about their jobs, and when their free time was so that they could all have a sleepover. Nobody was paying attention to him right now, which he didn’t mind, but if they had then they probably would have warned him that you were walking up to their table.

“You having a good time out with your friends?” You asked, standing next to Sans and looking down on him as he was sitting in the booth.

His attention snapped up to you, a bit shocked by your sudden appearance. “uhm… yeah, we all decided to finally get out. it was about time, heh.”

You were smiling like you usually were with him, and your attention diverted down to his plate.

Sans slightly regretted soaking his food in ketchup now.

“That your food? I take it you’re a big fan of ketchup.” You remarked.

“somedays.” Sans tried to quickly brush the subject of his eating habits away. “what about your date over there? i hope you didn’t leave them to come over here and comment on my food.”

“No…” You pursed your lips, looking a bit discontented. “They left already. It was a really awkward date, I met them online. I was laughing at their funny story in hopes that they’d leave…”

Oh. He knew it shouldn’t make him feel good, but hearing that you weren’t actually having a good time on your date made him feel a bit better.

Sans wasn’t sure what just happened when he finally looked back to you after staring down at his plate for so long, but it was like he actually noticed you after just brushing you off the past three encounters. You were wearing a nicer outfit for your date, one that fit you extremely well. Your hair looked good, it was nice and done well, and he couldn’t help but bask in just how good you actually looked right now. It made him feel weird, almost wrong for looking at anyone like this.

“Hey,” You started again, taking a few seconds to think over your words. “I know it’s a weird thing to ask right now, but I’m not doing anything tomorrow night if you’d want to go somewhere?”

By now, most of his friends had stopped their conversation and were exchanging looks as they tried to subtly ease drop in your conversation with Sans.

“like a date?” He wanted to make sure he wasn’t getting the wrong idea.

You nodded, a pink blush heating up on your face. “Yeah, like a date.”

Sans was quiet for a few seconds before immediately taking out his phone from his pocket. “here, let me get your phone number real quick so that we can work out a time and place.”

What the hell was he doing? He wasn’t interested in romantic relations, or atleast not before tonight he wasn’t. He had turned down several people who offered him a date. Why were his hands a bit shaky as you rattled off your phone number to him?

“So tomorrow.” You confirmed with him, taking a deep breath and smoothing your outfit out.

“tomorrow.” He nodded, turning his phone off after sending you a short text to your number to make sure the contact was saved.

You grinned. “Cool. Well, I’ll run into you then, Sans.”

Your hand gave him a soft push on his shoulder before you walked off out of the restaurant since you had no need to be there right now.

It was only now that Sans realized all his friends were dead silent.

“BROTHER, I’M SO PROUD OF YOU!” Papyurs weeped and wrapped his arms around Sans, pulling him into a tight hug.

Ah. His friends started to give him silly words of congratulations for their friend, excited that he finally had a date. Sans simply laughed and tried to brush it off, but for the rest of the night even after he went home, he couldn’t take his mind off you. He had never had a date before, and he had never really been interested in anybody else- not like this at least.

It made him a bit crazy thinking about all of it.

He couldn’t stop his hands from shaking when he picked you up- driving in his brothers nice car that he let him borrow for the night.

You rushed out of the house, wearing a nicer but more casual outfit for your date. He told you to not dress too nice since he was taking you to his favorite spot, Grillby’s, but he couldn’t help but ogle a bit at how great you looked.

He kept one of his hands on the steering wheel as he watched you get into the passengers seat, buckling up your seatbelt and tucking some hair behind your ear when you looked at him.

“Hey, Sans! You ready?” You asked.

Sans nodded, admiring how you looked for a few seconds. “yeah, lets go…”

[happilysmythe]

❥ 𝙢𝙮 𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙙 𝙤𝙛 𝙬𝙤𝙢𝙖𝙣

trent frederic.

word count: 2.6k

no warnings

"as long as you're next to me; just the two of us" — mac demarco

- - -

You knew you had some form of a cold when you first opened your eyes. It was probably the stuffy nose that first gave it away. Maybe it was the oncoming headache…or the dryness in the back of your throat. Something like that, probably. You’d already been feeling it coming on for a day or two now.

The warm body next to you shifted slightly, and it wasn’t long before you felt an arm wrap itself around you, pulling you in closer. You turned over, face now level with the bare chest that was once touching your back, and looked up to see your boyfriend, whose eyes were shut. 

“Trent?” you asked softly, prompting his eyes to open sharply. He easily pinpointed the pang of discomfort in your voice, and it was no surprise that his attention was immediately directed toward you.

“Hm?” he mumbled back, his body still in the process of waking up.

“I think I might be sick,” you told him, sniffing gently afterward. “Might be a cold or something.”

“Why, what happened? Did,” he interrupted himself with a yawn, “did you wake up like that?”

“Yeah,” you replied softly. “I’ve been feeling it coming on for a little bit, though.”

His expression turned to concern and you felt his arm pull you in just a little closer. You felt his lips press a small kiss to the top of your head and linger for just a moment. “Do you want me to stay home? I can tell Monty—”

“No, no,” you shook your head dismissively. “Don’t do that. It’s just a cold, I’m sure. I’ll be okay. Don’t miss practice. I don’t want you to get scratched or in any trouble.”

“I don’t want to leave you alone, though,” he told you, a hand coming up to your head and lightly stroking your hair.

“And that’s really sweet of you, but I promise—I’ll be okay. It’s just a few hours,” you reassured him, a cough leaving your lips afterward.

He shook his head following the noise. “No. I’m staying. I’m just going to tell them that you—”

“Trent.”

He sighed deeply, then reluctantly nodded his head. “Okay, okay. I’ll go.”

He climbed out of bed slowly, covering you back up before slipping off his pants and changing into his clothes for the day. He moved into the bathroom and you remained still, waiting out the few minutes he spent getting ready inside. Once he finished, he came back out and walked back over, standing at the foot of the bed closest to you.

“Do you need anything before I go?” he asked, hand placing itself on your forehead to gauge your temperature. “You don’t feel hot, so that’s good.”

“I’m okay for now,” you smiled. “Thank you, though.”

He nodded in response and made a quick check of the room, confirming that he hadn’t forgotten anything, then leaned over and pressed a chaste kiss to your lips.

You gently pushed him away, readying yourself to scold him. “Trent, I’m still sick, remember?”

“I live with you,” he laughed, “my chances of catching whatever cold you have are pretty high, anyway.”

He leaned over again, against your wishes, but this time kissed your forehead. “Call me or text me if you need anything, okay?”

“I will.” You giggled softly, then lifted your hand and motioned him off. “Now go. I’m a big girl, I can take care of myself for a little while. I’ll see you later, mkay?”

“Okay,” he echoed, finally stepping away and making his way toward the door. “Love you.”

“Love you, too,” you smiled, then waved gently as he turned back around and walked out of the room you shared, shutting the door behind him.

On a normal day, you’d have already cooked breakfast for you and Trent before he left, but considering your state, he opted for a quick pit stop on the way there instead, buying himself a coffee and an average-tasting breakfast sandwich.

When he arrived at Warrior, he couldn’t help but worry about you. He knew you’d be fine—hell, you were always the motherly type of girlfriend to him—but he didn’t want you to be alone. Practice tied him up, so he knew that if you needed something, anything at all, it would have to wait, and he simply hated that fact.

He’d never been such a nervous nellie until you came along. And he wasn’t exactly a worrisome person by any stretch, but he was known to be a stand-up, shirt-off-his-back kind of guy. 

Yet now he found himself sitting at his stall, unable to focus on anything but his sick girlfriend back at home.

“Earth to Fred,” the familiar voice of Jake DeBrusk sounded from above him, breaking him from his trance that seemed to last for hours. “You alright, bud?”

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” he dismissed the question with a wave of his hand, then detailed the situation to Jake, explaining your sickness and how you wouldn’t let him stay with you. He nodded along, understanding Trent’s worries, then set out for the ice.

Jeremy, however, had a much different approach than that of Jake’s.

“Aww, has ol’ Freddy gone soft?” the brunette-haired goaltender’s voice spoke from across the room. 

His teammates teasing him about you became a constant, and this time was no different. It was all in good fun, of course, so it was never much of a bother to Trent. It did, however, tend to bring him down a peg, which was ultimately helpful to him and his game.

In his mind, he’d be damned if he didn’t at least check in on you before hitting the ice, so he took a moment to pull out his phone and shoot you a quick text.

Hey. I’m about to go out, you okay?

And silently he sat, watching the rest of the guys slowly file out while he awaited your reply.

hey. i’m okay, don’t worry.

now respectfully shut up and get your ass out there.

He laughed softly, then put his phone away and took the ice with the rest of the team. Your reassurance was enough to keep him at bay for the hour. He was able to shift his attention to the drills and talk amongst the guys, giving himself at least some time to be free of worry. 

Like most things, word of your sickness spread fast around the locker room, and it wasn’t long before the questions began rolling in from the rest of the guys.

And by the end of practice, Trent had explained to nearly half of the team that you were sick, but weren’t, in fact, on your deathbed. Unfortunately for him, word spreading was like a long, painful game of telephone that almost never seemed to end up as it began.

When he arrived back at his stall, Trent wasted no time ridding himself of his equipment, in an unusual contrast to the slow manner in which he typically undressed. And to nobody’s surprise, he was one of the first ones to leave the building and walk to his car, somehow managing to evade the media.

Once he settled in, he drove down to the parking garage’s exit and made his way around the back of Warrior. It was common for fans to wait outside for the players, so he stopped briefly on the corner to sign for them, then continued forward to the set of lights.

Meanwhile, you remained comfortably at home, already having gotten up for the day. You weren’t sick enough to warrant any sort of bed rest, so you decided to get out of bed not long after your boyfriend left. You made yourself breakfast, did some cleaning, got a little bit of work done…kept yourself busy without having to go out, essentially.

There was a short range of time that he was almost always home by, so when it came around you decided that you’d whip up some lunch. As you turned a burner on from the stove, your music paused and your ringtone sounded over the speaker that sat on the island behind you. You turned around and picked up your phone, then let out a chuckle as your finger pressed the answer button.

“Hi, Trent,” you giggled, putting him on speaker and setting the phone down as you turned back to the stove.

“Hey,” he answered, voice ringing throughout your kitchen. “Feeling okay?”

“I’m fine,” you repeated for what felt like the hundredth time already.

“Good. I have to make sure, y’know?”

With a roll of your eyes, you replied, “I know. It’s just you being a good boyfriend, which I can’t complain about.”

“Better not,” he teased, his voice cutting out slightly over the shitty audio quality that his car’s Bluetooth connection provided. “I’ll be back soon.”

“You left pretty quick, no?” you asked, placing a few slices of bread into the pan.

“Uh, yeah. I kinda just…got out of there before anyone said anything,” he explained. “It was nice, actually. I think I had a record undress time.”

You giggled softly, the sound of sizzling echoing through the room as you toasted the bread. “Don’t get yourself in trouble,” you warned teasingly.

“I won’t—are you cooking?”

“Yeah.”

“Why aren’t you lying down?” he inquired, and you heard the faint noise of a turn signal flicking on.

“Trent, I have a cold. I’m not dying,” you laughed. “You’re a big boy, I think you know that. Plus, I have nothing else to do, anyway. Hope you’re hungry.”

He laughed. “I’m always hungry.”

“Ain’t that the truth…”

“Well, excuse me.”

“When will you be home?” you asked, flipping the now-assembled sandwiches over in the pan. You sneezed into your arm, then irritatedly reached for a paper towel. “Damn.”

“15 minutes?” he answered, picking up the cup of iced coffee that he left in the car and taking another sip. “Not too long now. What are you making, anyway?”

“Grilled cheese sandwiches. But like, with tomatoes and stuff,” you told him, your voice carrying just a touch of cockiness. “Fancy ones.”

“Oh, like with fresh mozzarella?” he teased.

“Well, yeah…”

Even through the horrible audio quality, you could hear him laughing. “Actually, that sounds good. Can’t wait. It’s like you’re my personal chef.”

“Don’t get too ahead of yourself, buddy,” you paused to let out a cough, “or I’ll eat both of these before you get back. I have one hell of an appetite when tested, even when I’m sick.”

“Okay, okay. I’ll be back soon, ‘kay?”

“Alright. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

He hung up the phone and your music resumed, allowing you to happily listen as you finished cooking your late lunch. You plated the food and set the two sandwiches on the kitchen island in front of the stools that stood next to it, then sat down and waited patiently for his return.

It came around 15 minutes later, making your boyfriend’s assumption correct as you heard the front door creak open. A turn of your head greeted Trent as he walked into the apartment, his face sporting a faint smile that almost seemed…cheeky?

“Hi, hun,” you smiled back, remaining seated as he shut the door behind him. “What’s got you all smiley?”

“Nothing, just happy to see you.”

“Oh, yeah, I’m sure.”

He walked up to you, hand behind his back, and lowered his voice slightly. “Close your eyes.”

“Okay…”

You confusedly obliged his request, closing your eyes and holding out your hands, assuming that it would be his next one. Soon enough, you felt a somewhat heavy object being placed into your hands, and it took no longer than a few seconds to realize what it was.

You were proven right when you opened your eyes to find a bouquet of roses sitting atop your palms with Trent still standing proudly above you.

“Well?”

“Trent…Trent, these are beautiful,” you beamed, standing up to wrap your arms around him. “Thank you.”

You felt him softly kiss the side of your head. “I’m glad you like them.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” you told him, pulling back and looking up to align your gaze with his.

“But I wanted to,” he insisted. “God, even when you’re sick you still take care of me. I had to do something for you.”

“You’re too sweet.”

He tilted his head slightly. “I’m not too sure the rest of the league would agree with that one.”

“Well, I’m not the rest of the league,” you rebutted, your free hand trailing up and into his hair. With a sniff, you added, “And I don’t particularly care who disagrees—I know I’m right.”

He leaned down and pecked your lips, which was still against your wishes, then grinned down at you. “You’re cute when you’re sick.”

“You think so?” you giggled softly.

“Yeah. You have that little nasally thing going on. It’s cute.”

“And you’re not too sweet?” you scoffed with a roll of your eyes. “Come on, eat before it gets colder than it already is.”

“I’m sure it’ll be great, anyway.”

You pulled back and set the flowers down carefully behind the food. “I’ll put them in a vase after we eat.”

“Okay.” He sat down and rolled up his sleeves before picking up half of his sandwich and turning to you. “You like roses, right?”

“Trent,” you laughed, “yes. You know that. Stop stressing yourself out and eat.”

“Alright, alright, I’m done.” He took a bite and picked up a napkin to wipe his lips. “Mm. Good.”

“Good.”

The two of you ate together while he told you about practice, explaining what he worked on and a few other things that happened throughout the hour. He even mentioned how he’d been teased by some of the boys for being worried, which brought a faint blush to your cheeks that you somehow managed to hide from him.

He refused to let you clean no matter how hard you tried, so you put your flowers in a vase and set them neatly next to the sink. You tended to be quite the perfectionist sometimes, so it took you longer to do that than it took him to clean. When he finished, he walked over and stood behind you while he waited, which wasn’t too long in hindsight.

As you stepped back to make sure they looked good, you felt a familiar pair of arms wrapping around your waist, hands locking in front of your stomach. Trent’s lips pressed gently against the side of your head, which admittedly diverted your focus from the flowers to him for just a moment.

But you brought your mind back to the roses and decided that they were in a good enough position to keep. “Perfect.”

“Like someone I know.”

Your head fell back against his firm chest and you felt him pull you in just slightly closer to you. As he exhaled through his nose you could feel the breath grazing your forehead just barely, relaxing you even further. The whole situation was all so…domestic, to put it plainly, and it felt nothing short of purely natural.

“Too sweet,” you reiterated softly, your eyes shut. 

“Let’s go lie down, hm?” he cooed, breath now hitting your ear as he leaned down. “All that skating makes a guy tired, you know.”

“I’m sure it does,” you spoke with a laugh, then let your incredibly handsome boyfriend guide you back to your bed, where you both ended up taking a much-needed nap as you laid closely wrapped up in the warm comfort of each other’s arms. 

Because, whether you were sick or not, he refused to have it any other way.

[emmy2026]

Finally

Pairing: Tom Holland x reader

Word count: 0.9k

Summary: after years of struggling with infertility, you find out you’re pregnant

Triggers: talk of vomit, I think that’s it, if you find any more let me know

—

You were staying at Toms parents house for a few days, Tom was out with his brothers playing golf. So, it was just you, Nikki, and Dom.

You had woke up feeling sick and ended up throwing up a couple times. You had to convince Tom to even leave. After Nikki promising Tom that she would take care of you, Tom had left and promised to be back in a few hours. After beginning to feel better, you and Nikki were making some lunch when Nikki spoke.

“Have you taken a pregnancy test in the past few weeks?” she asked. You stopped cutting the carrots and looked over at her.

“No, why?” you asked, and went back to chopping the vegetables.

“You were sick this morning, and when I was making dinner last night, you said that the mac and cheese was making you sick. You normally love mac and cheese.” You had been feeling different the past few days, but you didn’t want to think it was anything.

“I don’t know.” you whispered loud enough for Nikki to hear. She stopped what she was doing at looked at you.

“You don’t know what?” she asked. You set the knife down and looked back at her.

“I don't know if I can take another one, I mean it’s been almost 2 years since we started trying and every time I see one line,” you felt a lump in your throat, and Nikki pulled me you a hug. “I don’t know if I can do it again.”

“Oh, honey. I’m not going to force you to take one, but I think you should. And if you want me to, I can be there.” we pulled out of the hug and you nodded.

“I’ll run to the store and buy a few after lunch.”

***

You were nervous, you had just taken the test and were pacing up and down the hallway. Nikki was sitting on the edge of the bathroom tub and was surprisingly calm. You had to wait 5 minutes to look at the test and get the results. You had heard that moving the test to much could throw off the result so you placed it flat on the counter and put the box over the screen.

Your hands kept finding their way down to your stomach, something felt different this time. You couldn’t explain it.

A few moments later, the door to Dom’s office opened and he stepped out. His face was bunched up in confusion. He looked into the bathroom and was consumed with more confusion.

“Is everything okay?” he asked. You nodded your head kept biting your fingernails. Dom looked back at his wife, knowing he wasn’t going to get anything from you. He looked over at the counter and saw the boxes of pregnancy tests and his face softened. Suddenly, the timer went off on your phone and you walked back into the bathroom. Now Nikki and Dom were both sitting on the edge of the bathtub while you moved the box off the test and picked it up. Once you saw, the air left your lungs, your eyes filled with tears. You had decided to get a digital test, one the says pregnant or not pregnant.

PREGNANT

Nikki got off the tub and grabbed the test from your hands. She gasped and smiled at you, you felt a tear run down your face, so overcome with emotions. You were pulled into a hug by Nikki and you sobbed into her shoulder. It was finally happened, you’re pregnant, you and Tom are going to have a baby. Nikki and Dom gave you their congratulations and you couldn’t stop smiling. The only left was to tell Tom, you knew you couldn’t keep this from him.

“How are you going to tell Tom?” Dom asked.

“I don’t know.” Your fingers went down to play with your wedding ring.

The front door downstairs opened and you heard the laughter of your husband and his brothers. It warmed your heart to see them all together. You took the test and put it into the pocket of your jeans. Dom and Nikki left the bathroom to let you clean yourself up a little bit, since there were tear tracks down your face.

Once you looked better, you made your way downstairs and joined everyone in the kitchen. Tom looked at you and got up from where he was seated at the island. His hands were placed on your face and he looked concerned.

“You alright, love?” he asked. You nodded and smiled at him.

“Yeah, why do you ask?”

“You weren’t feeling good this morning, and you look like you were crying.”

“I’m okay, promise. I, uh, I actually have a surprise for you.” Tom took his hands off your face and you pulled the test out of your pocket. You handed it to him and his eyes widened.

“Are you?” he asked, you nodded and a smile appeared on his face. He pulled you into a hug and spun you around slightly. He set you down and kept hugging you. He placed a kiss on your forehead.

[leoleolovesdc]

Anyone wanna listen abt my cowboy heathers au?? No? Okay then, I’ll talk abt it anyways

Heather Duke is in a gang-ish cowboy thing with the other Heathers. They scam people, rob banks and just generally do whatever the please as long as they get money out of it, but as Chandler always seems to find a way to get a bigger percentage of the gains than her and McNamara, this makes Duke grow bitter, so much so that she tries to get ahead and ends up stealing some money from Chandler (and by some I mean a LOT). Chandler finds out and obviously isn’t very happy about it, so now Duke’s on the run, trying to get as far away from them as possible, knowing that if McNamara, Chandler or any of their other goons catch her she’ll be a dead woman.

After days and nights of travelling through the country, Duke goes to a farm and pays the owners so they’ll let her stay for a few nights, rest and hopefully help the Heathers lose track of her, but that doesn’t work very well. Duke hears news that her former mates are on the town and packs her things to leave as soon as possible, but just as she’s about to go she finds a woman hidden in the farm. She doesn’t seem to know how to speak english and is clearly wary about Duke and her intentions, though she doesn’t seem to be much of a talker (especially in a language she doesn’t understand) she manages to tell Duke her name; Veronica.

The owners of the farm find the girls trying to interact and kick Duke out. She pretends to leave but comes back in the middle of the night to find the girl again, she finds out that the owners of the farm are basically forcing Veronica to work for them as payment for protection as she’s being chased by the mafia from her home country. Apparently Heather isn’t the only one who thinks she’s too good to resist the challenge of stealing from people she shouldn’t.

Duke breaks in the farm to free the girl and they get into a huge fight with the farmers. After a lot of bang-bang, she and Veronica manage to knock out one of the men, hop on Duke’s horse and run away.

The rest of the story follows them running away from both Heather and Veronica’s demons while at the same time learning how to speak and relate to each other. Heather eventually buys a dictionary to help her understand Veronica, and both get slowly better at communicating. With time what was one impulsive act coming out of some sort of white-knight complex of Duke’s becomes a genuine partnership, if not something more.

Veronica doesn’t plan on staying, though. Heather wants a peaceful life, she wants everything to settle down so she can finally get some rest, the only thing she ever wanted. Veronica on the other hand, lives for the thrill. She likes the adrenaline rush of stealing, having to run away, the feeling of having to free herself from the problems she had purposefully ran into.

She doesn’t want to stay forever. She won’t stay forever. But as long as Duke has a reason to run, Veronica will be running by her side.

After a especially violent encounter with the Heathers, Duke finds herself cornered by McNamara, who has a gun in her hand and is a movement away from blowing her former best friend’s brains out. Duke accepts her fate, she asks Mac for forgivness, says she regrets messing everything up and that she wishes it could have been different.

Duke closes her eyes. McNamara’s finger tightens around the trigger, but nothing happens. She can’t pull the trigger. She can’t do that. Not to Duke. Not to the only person she’s ever cherished and trusted as much a Heather Chandler. She lets her go.

After a long while without seeing the Heathers, they eventually come back. Chandler asks Duke to join them back. She says McNamara has made her see things through another angle and she’s willing to forgive her past mistakes and foolishness. Duke wants to go. She really does, but that’s when she remembers Veronica. She can’t leave Veronica all by herself when she’s being chased by half of the world. She refuses to come back. She says that’s the first time she’s ever had something she feels it’s worth caring for. She has a purpose when she’s with Veronica, she has someone to care for. Chandler stares at her coldly and leaves without another word. McNamara follows. She doesn’t seem to be just mindlessly going after Heather this time.

Veronica asks Duke why she didn’t come back with them. She had been offered forgiveness, she should have been ecstatically following Chandler back home like a puppy. Heather says that she couldn’t go because she’d never forgive herself for leaving. She knows that it wouldn’t be far to leave her friend behind. Veronica wouldn’t abandon her either.

Except that she would.

Everything Veronica ever wanted was a life like the one the Heathers lived. Free of rules, of judgement, just doing as she pleases. Running, but with a purpose, with people who share a similar goal. With a place to stay, cozy houses, people to sit and have dinner with, all of that without needing to ever give up the thrill she so desperately longed for. Veronica would have left anything, anyone for that.

Duke was stupid.

[bcolfanfic]

everytime i listen to picture me better by weyes blood i can't help but think of young vets buck and bucky. my heart hurt everytime i think of those boys. you've written them so perfectly. <3

what are some songs you associate with either of them?

heyy sorry it took me so long to get to this (and everything else in my box)- it’s finals szn at my law school and my brain is gonna be at like- total capacity till next thursday at 5pm central time. buttttt. i am big music as a story mood setter person so lotsss of thoughts. gonna focus on young vets au here, but i can make another similar post for show canon if ppl like this? im biggg into oldies music so that would actually be fun to me!

disclaimer: re: the young vets au the “veterans” part of the story takes place starting in august 2021 after the us pulled out of afghanistan. If you see a song and think “but wait that didn't come out until this year so they couldn't listen to that in 2022/2023” simply work with me here and don’t think that <3 LOL.

bucky

biggg zach bryan person and i think in general really likes that specific niche of “new age” country music. gets *irritated* by the hardcore conservative military country music lmfao, those vets that go hard in the sand for songs like courtesy of the red white and blue? not his people. that song gives him hives. also a big fleetwood mac guy, just scratches an itch on his brain. likes florence + the machine too.

east side of sorrow - zach bryan

i lost friends in the august heat / at night it was God I'd always meet / i said, "Lord, won't you bring me home? / i've got women in the west i wanna hold

oklahoma smokeshow - zach bryan

there's so much whiskey in his coke it'll make her nose bend / but she swears that his love is a damn God send / she's known God since she was a child

el dorado - zach bryan

you used to say you'd settle down / but that kind girl from school in town /she was gone before you got back home

to El Dorado, hell if I know if you're still alive /there's a note in the glovebox in your drive / El Dorado, hell if they know the difference in a hero / and a man i wish was still by my side

burn, burn, burn - zach bryan

i wanna be a child climbin' trees somewhere / breathin' in the fresh outside air / before I knew this life was unkind

you should probably leave - chris stapleton

sun on your skin, 6 am /and i been watchin' you sleep / and honey, i'm so afraid you're gonna wake up and say / that you should probably leave

me against the mountain - ian munsick

it’s me against the mountain / most days the mountain wins / but i’ll meet you tonight my love or i’ll meet my end / either way an angel’s waitin when i fought this fight

painkillers - rainbow kitten surprise

living just comes with a bit of heartache / heartache comes with a bit of young faith / faith stays young till your heart get broken / hope grows up to become someday / i never hurt no one and no one will ever hurt me / i believe i believe i believe i believe

motorcycle - colter wall

well, i figure i'll buy me a motorcycle / wrap her pretty little frame around a telephone pole / ride her off a mountain like old arlo

physco - jack kittel

don't hand me johnny's pup, mama / 'cause i might squeeze him too tight / i'm having crazy dreams again, mama

go your own way - fleetwood mac

if i could / baby, i’d give you my world / open up / everything's waiting for you

third eye - florence + the machine

i'm the same / i'm the same / i'm trying to change

astrovan - mt. joy

he said son you're famous in heaven / maybe you're famous in heaven / maybe there is no heaven / maybe we're all along together now / but i don't wanna see those tears again / you know Jesus drives an astrovan

gold dust woman - fleetwood mac

take your silver spoon, dig your grave / heartless challenge / pick your path and i'll pray

all these things that i’ve done - the killers

i got soul / but i'm not a solider

between me and you - brandon flowers

the first time that i saw your face / time stood still / i found my place / now i'm watching it tear out of my arm

gale

listens to zach bryan for bucky but his country music niche is more on the tyler childers side of things. likes older music too bc it’s what his mom would play around the house and he finds it comforting. i think he likes pop music more than bucky does lol, bucky ribs him a lil about some of it but he finds it endearing. the taste they share the most i think is the fleetwood mac and the killers/brandon flowers stuff.

follow you to virgie - tyler childers

back when all us boys were tryin' / to make sense of all these string / i can see her in the corner / singing along to all our crazy dreams

coal - tyler childers

so sometimes, i imagine that I'm getting pretty close to hell / and in my darkest hour, i cry out to the Lord / he says, "keep on a-mining, boy, 'cause that's why you were born

nose on the grindstone - tyler childers

well daddy, i've been tryin', i just can't catch a break / there's too much in this world that i can't seem to shake / but i remember your words, lord, they bring me the chills / keep your nose on the grindstone and out of the pills

folsom prison blues - johnny cash

i bet there's rich folks eatin' from a fancy dinning car /they're prob'ly drinkin' coffee and smoking big cigars / well i know i had it comin' i know i can't be free / but those people keep a movin' and that's what tortures me

old rugged cross - alan jackson (i’ve made a woowoo post about this before/bucky being gale’s cross to carry but. in my mind he listens to this on the drive home when bucky’s in the hospital. has to pull over to cry a lil. sweet boy.)

to the old rugged cross i will ever be true / it's shame and reproach gladly bear

where we’ll never grow old - johnny cash

when our work here is done / and our life's crown is won / and out troubles and trials are o'er / all our sorrows will end / and our voices will blend / with the loved ones who've gone on before

(sittin on’) the dock of the bay - otis redding

sittin' here resting my bones / and this loneliness won't leave me alone / it's two thousand miles i roamed / just to make this dock my home

wouldn’t it be nice - the beach boys

oh we could be married / and then we'd be happy / woudn't it be nice?

the chain - fleetwood mac

listen to the wind blow, down comes the night / running in the shadows / damn your love / damn your lies

romeo and juliet - the killers

i can't do the talk like the talk on the TV / and i can't do a love song like the way it's meant to be / i can't do everything but i'd do anything for you / i can't do anything except be in love with you

xo - beyonce

in the darkest night hour (in the darkest night hour) / i'll search through the crowd (i'll search through the crowd) / your face is all that i see / i'll give you everything

if i ain't got you - alicia keys

said nothing in this whole wide world don't mean a thing / if i ain't got you with me, baby

sweet escape - gwen stefani

come on let's bounce / counting on you to turn me around / instead of clowning around / let's look for some common ground

come on over baby - christina aguilera

now baby don't be shy / you better cross the line / i'm gonna love you right / all i want is you

the clock was tickin’ - brandon flowers

jackie flips the pages and she dreams little dreams / a cottage in the country built with real wood beams / there's a baby in the bedroom, he's starting to scream / she holds him though he probably won't remember it

[elliesslvt]

mornings with him I eren yeager

ꕤ hey! this is my first fanfic, so if you have any critiques don’t be shy! i’ve had this in my notes for a while and decided to edit it and finally post it. i hope you guys like it!

 ପଓ¸¸.•*¨*•ପଓ¸¸.•*¨*•ପଓ¸¸.•*¨*•ପଓ¸¸.•*¨*•ପଓ¸¸.•*¨*•ପଓ¸¸.•*

song: earth by mac miller & future & give you the world by steve lacey

｡⋆｡˚ ʚïɞ ˚｡⋆｡ description/warnings - 1,000+ words. black fem!reader, petnames, day after sex?, mentions of sexual intercourse,  super fluffy, soft eren, eren’s kinda a nerd, college au, sasha’s your bestie, kinda self-inserted

  ପଓ¸¸.•*¨*•ପଓ¸¸.•*¨*•ପଓ¸¸.•*¨*•ପଓ¸¸.•*¨*•ପଓ¸¸.•*¨*•ପଓ¸¸.•*

when you woke up, eren wasn’t lying next to you. you were still sore from yesterday’s events so you made your way slowly to his bathroom to brush your teeth and take a shower. due to you spending a lot of time at his place, he always had your daily self care things in his apartment. you grabbed your dr.bronners peppermint body wash and lathered it into your african net, then went in with your methods body wash. after you dried off, you put on your eos vanilla cashmere lotion and finished it off with shea butter to seal in the moisture. you stole a pair of his boxers and hoodie from his closet, then quickly put your knotless braids into a ponytail.

“baby where are you?,” you called out as you walked out of his room. “im in the kitchen baby”, eren responded. when you turned the corner, eren was standing there with his damp midlength hair hanging freely; he was shirtless, dressed in gray sweatpants, and he looked good. you could tell he was cooking french toast from the aroma in the air.

“why’d you leave while i was sleeping, loser?”, you commented as you reached your arm to flick his forehead. eren gently pushed you and asked, "to make food, food or cuddles, which one is it?"  “hmph” you said as you turned to sit at the island in the kitchen. “you smell good” eren said as he flipped the french toast over in the pan. 

“thank you and i never said thank you for buying all the stuff i use and keeping it at your place for when i stay over”

“that’s what boyfriends are for baby”

“is your back okay?”, you asked. “oh now you’re worried about my back” he said as he laughed softly. last night when eren was fucking you with you with your ankles on his shoulders, you scratched his back a lot. he was hitting your spots and you needed something to cling onto and his back was your victim. in the moment you didn’t care  about how much your acrylics were scratching his back, all you were focused on were the lewd comments he was whispering in your ear as you came around his dick.

 “shut up i’ll look at it after we eat, okay” you commented. “yes captain”, he said.

“you’re so fucking corny”,  you commented laughing.

eren finished preparing the food then placed a plate before you and beside you. his tall figure moved to take a seat beside you next to you on the island. he grabbed you’re face gently by your jaw to kiss you slowly as he pulled away smiling admiring your beauty.

“what was that for” you said as you pulled away from the kiss. “nothing you’re just beautiful baby, let’s eat though” he said as he poured syrup onto his french toast. 

you were so lucky to find a guy like eren. you thought your best friend sasha was joking when she told you he had a huge crush on you. you seen him in your calculus class many times throughout the semester and always thought he was cute but were too scared to approach him. one day as you were pulling out your ipad and notepad from your fjallraven school bag you noticed his tall figure.

“is it okay if i sit here?”

“um yeah it’s fine”, you said as you tried your best to keep your composure.

he smelled of laundry detergent and blue de chanel and it was really hard to focus on what your professor was saying.

you thanked the heavens that you actually put an effort into what you wore to class. your braids were pulled into a high ponytail that accentuated your features. you wore a grandpa sweater you thrifted with mom jeans and your boston birkenstocks with the fluffiest socks. 

when you sneaked a peek at eren, he was concentrating on what the professor was saying, his apple pencil in hand, scribbling on his ipad. his long hair was tied back in a bun, and he wore black frames which rested on his nose bridge. he was cute, and you knew millions of other girls on campus were fawning over him.

as you packed your belongings to leave because class was over, eren tapped your shoulder to get your attention. you looked over at him and asked, “do you need something” in a soft tone.

“uh no, but i think you’re beautiful, and i really want to get to know you. if you don’t mind, i want to take you out on a date whenever you’re free” he said shyly.

you smiled at him, making your chin dimples appear. “i’d love to here’s my number and text me,” you said as you wrote your number on a piece of paper. 

the rest was history; he continuously took you out on dates and made time for you with his busy school schedule. eren was patient with you even when you tried to push him away, which no boy ever did, and that’s why you loved him. 

you were pulled from your thoughts as eren handed you a rinsed fork so you could eat your food.

“this looks good baby” you said smiling down at your food.

“only the best for the best girl” he said smiling down at you.

you used your hand to shove his face away while laughing.

after you guys ate, you both sat on the couch to watch a movie.“you’ve got to stop stealing my clothes, y/n” he said, taking a look at what you were wearing. “it’s not my fault they're comfortable, and you know you love it when i wear your clothes,"  you said, smiling at him.

you found yourself drifting off to sleep on eren's chest as tangled continued to play in the background. spring semester kicked your ass and you were glad it was finally over so you could sleep more, travel with your friends, and hang out with your boyfriend. you knew eren was already sleeping by the way his chest was slowly rising and falling beneath you. you finally decided to shut your eyes and enjoy your nap with your boyfriend.

   ପଓ¸¸.•*¨*•ପଓ¸¸.•*¨*•ପଓ¸¸.•*¨*•ପଓ¸¸.•*¨*•ପଓ¸¸.•*¨*•ପଓ¸¸.•*

reposts, likes, and comments are appreciated <33

[ghs-imagines]

Hello I was wondering if you could do punch out headcanons with the S/O finding out their pregnant/their reactions to the tyke when he/she is born

Please and thank you!

I’m just gonna do the punch out wii guys for this but if you request it again for the super punch out guys I’ll happily do it for them then, if that’s ok.

Doc: This man was ecstatic when you gave him the news that you were pregnant, honestly you couldn’t go anywhere without this man letting people that you were expecting. Would definitely give you his back up chocolate bar if you were ever hungry, and only occasionally asks Mac to do a food run for your cravings if he’s busy with other preparations for your kid.

Once your kid has finally been popped out don’t be surprised if he brings them along to Mac’s training and matches. He wants to spend as much time with both of his kids as he can.

Glass Joe: This man definitely cried and just held you once you told him you were expecting. Joe doesn’t want you to lift a finger in your house while you’re pregnant as he can do everything for you ,because he is your big strong man. Will definitely ask Kaiser to come round to help make things for the baby room as Joe wants to surprise you with it.

Once you have your kid Joe will be essentially wrapped around their tiny finger, as he will buy them whatever their tiny hearts desire. But there still will be the occasion when he will put his foot down, it mainly revolves around his kid’s dating life as he doesn’t want to have their heart broken.

Von Kaiser: It was definitely a shock to him when you told him you were pregnant but he was definitely happy about it. Much like Joe he doesn’t want you to be lifting a finger when sorting out preparations for the baby as he wants to make sure everything is perfect. Has a lot of sleepless nights over thinking he might not be a good dad, vents to Joe about it a lot.

Very much the strict parent to your kid but won’t stop them from having fun with their friends unless it gets dangerous. Just wants the best for your child and if they want to take up boxing he will happily teach them all his moves.

Disco Kid: Once you told he immediately notified all of the minor circuit as well as all of your friends and family, he’s just so excited. Will go all out in the preparations for your kid, might even ask his mom for any advice that helped her out during her pregnancy. Goes to all the parenting classes that are available where you both live.

Definitely the fun dad when you’re kid is growing up and definitely helped his kid choose their musical identity thanks to all the styles he played for them when growing up. Probably the most supportive dad when it comes to all the hobbies and interests his kid has no matter what it is.

King Hippo: A massive feast will be prepared at once as this is a joyous occasion for him and his people. You will be waited on hand and foot as well as told how great it is that the Hippo line will be able to live on.

Once out in the world you’re child will never have to question if they are loved or not. Lots of naps for all three of you using Hippo’s stomach as a pillow.

Piston Hondo: Another crier when you tell them and he may even hold tightly until he can get a better grasp on his emotions. Will pull back on his training for a bit until you’re child is born as he wants to be there for every moment of the pregnancy. Will only really tell his and your families of the upcoming pregnancy and is quite tight lipped about it with the other boxers.

Hondo occasionally involves your kid in his training sessions mainly using them as an extra weight that he has strapped to his back. Definitely reads manga to your kid as bedtime stories mostly stuff like sailor moon, chi’s sweet adventures and nichijou.

Bear Hugger: Will pick you up and dance around with in his arms the moment you finish telling him, he’s just so overjoyed with the news. He doesn’t really want you to lift a finger when it comes to getting things ready for the baby but if you really push him, he’ll let you go do what think needs to be done unless it’s heavy lifting then sorry sweetheart that’s his job. Told Miss Bear and the Squirrel immediately about your pregnancy so should a jerk be messing with you at this time then just know a very angry bear will scare them off in minutes.

Almost never puts your kiddo down but does so whenever he’s training or cutting down trees. Will attempt to teach his kid hockey no matter what as it is the national sport.

Great Tiger: He’s so overjoyed with the news and immediately calls the rest of his family (but mainly his mother) to let them know of the great news. There is need for you sort out any of the preparations as he can just use his clones to sort out everything.

When you’re kid came out into the world Tiger will be wanting to teach them the mystic arts almost immediately but is willing to wait until they reach the age of 9 or 10. He is overall very doting to your child.

Don Flamenco: This man is in shock when you first tell him and he will ask you to repeat yourself a few times before it fully sets in. Not to say that he isn’t happy about it he’s underprepared for it.

As soon as the baby has arrived except him to send so many baby photos to his best girl-friend (and the baby’s god mother )Carmen. He one hundred percent gives his kid all of his tips and moves when it comes to the world of romance as his kid will be quite the heartbreaker.

Aran Ryan: Aran at first thought that you were joking but very quickly realised that you weren’t and much like Bear Hugger he picks you up and swings you around the room. You get a lot of support from his family as soon as he tells them which would be around the end of the first trimester, because he honestly just forgot to tell them and just assumed he had told them when he made a casual comment on it during a call with his mum.

Will literally shove your kid in the boxers faces as soon as he possibly can especially Don’s as Aran reckons that even though his kid is an infant it could probably still kick Don’s ass.

Soda Popinski: It is a joyous day in the Popinski household when you tell him you’re pregnant with his kid, many drinks will be consumed that night as well as many happy tears will be shared. He will hand craft his kids cot/bed much like his own father did when Soda was just little.

Once the kid is in his arms the fact that he is a father now will hit Soda like a truck and cause him to cry, which in turn makes the baby cry in response. Locks away his many crates of special boxing soda from his kid as he doesn’t want to find out what would happen if you found out he let your child have some, maybe when they are older he’ll let them have a try.

Bald Bull: He is joyful at the moment you give him the news of your pregnancy but he worries about the paparazzi finding out as he wants his kid to grow up in some form of relevant peace. Only tells a few trustworthy people about what lies in store for you and him in the not so distant future, as well as attempting to at least work on his anger issues.

As soon as the kid is born Bull takes some time off from boxing a temporary absence as he doesn’t want to miss any of your baby’s firsts. As soon as the kid is old enough Bull teaches them the complete in’s and out’s of life on the ranch, doesn’t matter what gender they are, life is tough and Bull will make his child even tougher.

Super Macho Man: The tabloids knew about your pregnancy almost one hour after you told Macho, in his defence the people had to know that in almost a year’s time not only would he be a type of silver fox but a dilf as well. Only buys the most top quality of items for your baby as well as yourself coz when isn’t this man not spoiling you.

As soon as you’re kid is at the cute baby stage and not the wrinkly potato stage Macho is creating a social media page for your kid because to him it’s never to early to start that social media grind. Definitely had a few issues at the start of your kids life about if he would ever be a good dad or not.

Mr Sandman: When you told him you were expecting he just gently pulled you into his arms and told you how excited he was but also how this would be the first time he is actually scared of something. Cut’s only back slightly on training when it gets closer and closer to your due date as he will not miss your child’s birth for anything.

As soon as your kid starts school Sandman will immediately be joining that school’s PTA and is the most effective when it comes to making good changes for the school as a lot of the mom’s have a major crush on him. Is super supportive of child and what they want to do with their life and will do his best to read up on his kids interests so he and your child have something to really bond over.

[chaitantei-ao3]

1

“Charlie, it will be big and bloody! That’s the whole point! It’ll be great if it covers the entire wall making it the first thing you see when you enter!”

“No! That’s where my rat traps go! If you put it there I have no place for my traps, Mac. Rats will be climbing all over it and I’ll have no choice but to kill them!” Charlie makes a swinging motion, whipping his arms out. “But hey, that’ll make it bloody. There’s gonna be blood everywhere ! So… Does that solve your problem? Does it Mac?!”

“Jesus, no one puts actual blood on the Cross, Charlie. What’s wrong with you?”

“No one puts crucifixes in bars.”

“Oh my god. I told you we need to rediscover Paddy’s image. It’s about time that we really become the Irish Catholic bar Paddy’s was always meant to be. Why do you think we named it Paddy’s in the first place?”

Dennis rubs his forehead, “We didn’t decide to name it Paddy’s.”

“Guys. You know what we should have? A comedy club, yeah. Let’s put up a stage instead and let me-”

“Fine, we didn’t name it. But that’s how we found it. Why it appeared like the Jesus star. A sign from God ultimately leading us, the three wise men to own this bar.”

“Now that’s ridiculous.” Dennis says.

Charlie throws his hands in the air. “Rats everywhere, Mac! I’m not having it.”

“Is anybody listening to-”

“Charlie, we're doing this whether you like it or not. Frank, I need cash to purchase the biggest crucifix anyone’s ever seen.”

“No can do.” Frank veers on his stool.

“What?”

“There’s nothing in the bar’s account.”

“C’mon Frank. You always have money.” Dennis says.

“Yeah, or just take another loan. Money, money, money.” Mac chants.

“I’ve not got any money for you fools.”

“Man, you’re bankrupt again? They’ll bail you out right.” Charlie raises his brows.

“If we are getting bankrupt I want my parachute and it better be golden.”

“I’m glad we’re finally moving on to the business of air tours over Philly, I told you we should have looked into that landing pad months ago.”

“It’s not even that tough, you just need some clearance, a licensed pilot. But that’s easy. And those guys don’t look at credit scores and other useless details. It’ll pay for itself, it’s a banker’s wet dream.”

“Well I could always train to become a pilot, the ladies do like a uniform. And if things become interesting inside the cockpit, yeah I said that Dee, don’t make that face. I’ll be using that parachute, Frank, thanks.”

“No way Dennis, I’ll look way cooler jumping. Actually, you can keep the parachute, that way me jumping off that helicopter would look way more badass.”

“I’m not buying you a helicopter for you to fall from it you idiots, it was a figure of speech.”

“You know we’re overthinking it with fancy parachutes, we should just crash the helicopter and go the good old insurance fraud route.”

“Enough!” Frank smacks the bar stool next to him, then winces, “Dammit, look what you made me do, it left a mark. I could have gotten a few cents more on its sale.”

Dee laughs, “Ha, you’d be lucky to get a penny for that. Five years ago some dogs were having sex on it.”

“What?!” Dennis throws the bar towel to the side and folds his hands over his chest. “Dee, you unbelievable bitch. You said you found it in a flea market.”

“No, asshole. I said I found it with fleas on it. Clearly nobody listens to a word I say here. And I was suggesting that we put up-” Dennis focuses his attention on Frank.

“Okay, this is between us and the dogs. I could still sell it.” Frank strokes his chin.

“What is all this about selling, Frank. You’re not serious.”

“Hells yes, I am. We have a big problem.”

“So what if Paddy’s losing money. This is temporary.”

“Paddy’s always losing money. Anyone in their right mind would’ve shut down this business long ago.”

“Excuse me.” Mac says.

“You can’t sell the bar, Frank.” Dennis pinches his forehead, “As co-owners we veto this decision.”

Frank shrugs, “Be better for you anyway.”

“Frankie what’s happening?” Charlie looks at him.

Frank pushes his glasses up his nose, “I lost the paper trail, Charlie. All my books-”

“Don’t you have to make sure you don’t leave a paper trail? Look guys, take it from me. I have an idea of what an audit now-”

“Shut up, Dee.”

“Frank, wait. You’re saying this is about a goddamn paper trail?”

Frank grunts, “My businesses are in deep shit. I cannot make new fakes if I don’t know which fakes to buy and which fakes to sell.”

Mac’s mouthing fake with a questioning look, Charlie is glancing between Frank and Dennis, Dee is- Dennis faces Frank and says, “That hardly looks like a problem to me.”

"Okay, whatever. I don't know about you guys but Fight Milk is doing very well, I'll just hop on that." Mac says.

Charlie looks at him and nods. "Me too!"

“I can't fund that thing without the shells."

"I thought we had a deal, Frank. You said you were interested."

"I am interested. But like I said, I need that list! There's no money without that list for anything.”

Dennis narrows his gaze, looking at Frank. “Well, if you’re not interested in putting in money then sell your goddamn shares.”

“Fine.” Frank says. “I’ll sell ‘em. I’m losing money here anyway.”

“Shit, you are serious.” Charlie says, “Frank, are you leaving us?”

“I said what I said.” Frank says.

They look at each other.

Read more

[marilostfieldblog]

[Video transcript begin.]

[The transcript begins from the front shirt pocket of someone in the floor in an apartment, the sound of something being cooked in a pan is heard as someone slams open the door and Mari looks over to two people in the doorway covered in blood char and in one case rotting flesh and black blood.]

?: Surprise.

[Voice identified: Edgar Elliot Pression.]

?: Oh hey Edgar. WAIT EDGAR?

[Voice identified: Mari.]

?: EDGAR?

[Voice Identified: William Keane.]

[Edgar waves, and immediately collapses, both knees buckling. The crowbar in his hand clatters to the floor.]

?: Hi. I'm not dead.

[Voice identified: Rose Elizabeth Henderson.]

W: F-fuck! YES! I KNEW IT!

[Will attempts to get up, grasping at a sofa near him.]

E: [Muffled.] Hi.

?: CAN PEOPLE QUIT TRYING TO BREAK THE FUCKING DOOR WHEN I'M MAKING FUCKING MAC AND CHEESE!

[Voice identified: Ness Kylie Hoffson.]

E: [Muffled.] ‘S my door. I can do what I fuckin’ want with it.

W: Where…abouts are they, Sarah?

?: Uh doorway. Front door.

[Voice identified: Sarah.]

W: Left?

S: Yes.

E: [Muffled.] Can someone help me get up.

R: Yep.

[Rose grabs Edgar and lifts him up.]

M: SO WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED TO YOU!

E: Uh… It’s… a long story.

M: We have time.

E: So, I… after I broke off, I… I tried to help S.V2. I failed. I uh… had an encounter with that fucking manager again. And… then I did a few things I’m unsure if I’m proud of or disgusted by.

R: Well. Things happen, where's Henry? Awake yet?

Ne: Na. You good?

R: Got stabbed. Not great.

Ne: WAIT. ROSE.

R: Yep.

?: HI EDGAR!

[Voice identified: Cassidy.]

E: Hey.

[Edgar smiles, blinking slowly.]

[Will finally manages to get upright, and using the sofa he is near, turns to face Edgar and Rose, smiling. The previous jacket was switched to clean bandages seemingly, which are already slightly stained with blood.]

W: I'm so fucking glad you guys are okay!

[Edgar’s smile fades, eyes widening. He opens his mouth to speak, but he seems to be unable to get any words out.]

R: Oh yeah… Never did get a clear answer about that.

E: [Quietly.] What the fuck happened…?

M: Virus.

W: [Tired.] When..when I went to the archives. Virus was there, and..I discovered some things. She could see out my fucking eyes and..wanted to stop you guys from escaping.. I couldn't let that happen! so.. did what was reasonable..and we're down a knife.

[Edgar takes a step forward, almost falling back down, but managing to stay upright. He grabs the couch for support, and slowly moves over to Will. The two hug.]

W: Guess, we can't keep that promise about the stars, huh?

[Will says this in a sad yet joking tone. His voice was wavering.]

E: [Shakily.] I’m so fucking sorry, Will.

W: N-no. Don't, please. It's.. please.

M: You uh… Rose, you and Edgar wanna sit down? We're watching a movie.

R: Dad?

E: Could, uh… I go change clothes?

R: I… Also need to do that.

W: …can I borrow some?..

Ne: I'll buy you some.

E: For now, I’ll see if there’s something comfy in my drawers.

[Edgar stumbles off over to his room, and opens the door. Shutting it behind him.]

Ne: You guys want mac and cheese?

W: ..please?

Ne: Cool.

[Another door opens, and someone pokes their head out.]

?: What the fuck happened now?

[Voice identified: Leon.]

W: Edgar and Rose are back!

Le: … Where is he?

R: Room.

Le: Thanks.

[Leon exits his room and moves to the other door, knocking.]

E: [Muffled.] Yeah? You can come in, I guess.

[Leon flings the door open and slams it behind him.]

Le: YOU SON OF A BITCH!

E: JESUS–

R: Don't kill him! Cassidy and Sparrow still need to punch him!

Le: What the fuck happened to you, man!?

E: Please stop shaking me around.

Le: Fine. But… don’t do that shit ever again. It’s been over two fucking months. I missed you.

E: Same here.

R: Yeah uh… I'm also sorry… For leaving.

Ne: Yeah, you're ok just like… Would’ve been nice if you gave us a bit of warning.

R: Yeah yeah sorry… I uh…

C: Hey guys. did Leon kill Edgar.

W: Should I check?

[Will is moving his hand along the wall, feeling his way over.]

C: He dead?

W: Alive!

C: Sick.

R: Where is uh… Where's Sparrow?

Ne: Couch, with Jenny and Daff.

R: Oh.

[Will brings himself over to their voices, sitting down.]

Le: [Muffled.] WOAH! Dude! What the fuck!

R: Hm?

E: [Muffled.] Don’t poke it! It still hurts!

Le: [Muffled.] Sorry. But… Jesus Christ!

M: Wha-

[Leon pokes his head out of the room.]

Le: Sorry. Don’t mind that.

[A red haired teenager pokes their head out of the other door.]

?: Don’t mind what?

[Voice identified: Liam.]

[Edgar pokes his head out of the same room, leaning overtop of Leon.]

E: Hi!

[Liam freezes, then sprints out of his room and into the other. The door closes again, and a loud thunk is heard.]

E: OW! FUCK–

W: What happened?

R: Liam hugged him.

W: Aww!

R: Hey liam!

M: Hold on a moment…

[Mari grabs their phone, looking at it.]

M: QUIT RECORDING YOU BITCH!

[End transcript.]

[appalachianapologies]

Ok SO I've got some fishes I would like to share from the aquarium we went to a couple weeks ago. First here is my very very favorite fish. I have no idea what it was, but if I was naming it, it would be "patchwork quilt fish" because it looks like somebody just jammed 3 fish together. (Also here's a clownfish.)

And then there's THIS nightmare horror from the deep which apepared to have one red mouth and like 6 white eyes. I couldn't get a very good picture of this monster but trust me, it looks like it's about to start sucking out your blood while hypnotizing you with its 6 white eyes.

I have a request for a MacGyverism (maybe gone wrong? in a whumpy way? or maybe just a fact?) related to your chemistry homework. (Ok I literally have no idea what type of chemistry you're studying maybe this is impossilble in which case just.... whatever Mac thing strikes you.)

that fish just went thrifting and is showing off its outfit!! and ofc The Horrors™️

prompts

“Shit, shit-”

“Hoss-”

“Uh-” Mac shakes his head, having momentarily forgotten that he had his earpiece in. “How much time can you buy me?”

“I got three bullets and six assholes. Probably not as much as you need.”

“Can you at least keep them occupied?”

“I’ll do my best,” Jack mutters back. “What’s goin’ on?”

Mac swallows, glad that Jack can’t see what he’s seeing. “The casing is starting to erode.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“It means that whatever container Moore was keeping the virus in, he chose the wrong one.”

“Can you fix it?”

“Temporarily, sure.”

“Good enough for me.”

Mac gives a nod to himself. He needs chemicals, and very specific ones. If the container starts leaking, which it inevitably will, he needs it to leak into an acid. The only problem is that he won’t be able to keep the solution acidic for long enough. At best, it’ll take a hazmat team hours to arrive. 

Mac exhales, eyes running up and down the shelves of cleaning supplies. Too many of them are bases, but finally, his eyes settle on the vinegar.

Unfortunately, that’s only half the battle. Before he can use it for any type of temporary containment, he needs to create its conjugate base to keep the solution at the same pH.

“Water,” Mac mumbles.

“What’s that?”

“New plan. Let the rest of the guards do whatever they want. I need you to find me some water bottles.” Mac looks back down at the canister, now blistering and looking more than ready to burst. “And Jack?”

“Yep?”

“Do it fast.”

[projektnomad]

“Uh, I’ll have two McGriddles, a McGriddle large, 40 nuggets with extra dip, a Grand Mac, two McLegends, one with cheese, and a large Coke.”

The screen informs you that your order has been accepted and you roll your car forward to the payment window. A hugely thick arm extends from the window to present the card reader to you. You’re still trying to get your card out of your pocket, sweating and breathless from the exertion. The woman holding the card machine looks like she’s about to pass out herself, all 600 pounds of her wedged painfully into the window bay. You finally get the card out and onto the reader, she mumbles something but it’s hard to make out with the fries in her mouth. You get to the next window and two hugely obese men are daisy chaining the multitude of bags to you. You manage to cram them past your bulging chest, pressing the horn a couple of times by mistake. You’d have said thank you if you weren’t gasping for breath.

As you drive away your McWatch buzzes to remind you that its time for brunch, asking if you’ve tried the new bacon double egg and triple sausage quad cheese bagel and you pull over into the car park to enjoy your bunch break. You park your car in between two other brunchers who are indulging in equally gargantuan meals. You notice the woman next to you is surreptitiously eating a salad. You roll your window up in disgust at the sight of green leaves and she notices the contempt on your face, hangs her head in shame and starts her engine. She drives away sucking on a milkshake, her eyes welling up from the embarrassment.

You can’t quite lean forward enough to see it in it’s entirety, but a skyvert for the new KFC quintuple stack deluxe mix bucket with seven cheese coleslaw is making your mouth water, even as the burger sauce and grease drips down your chin from your 5th burger.

You feel claustrophobic from being crammed into your tight SUV and you think you’re getting chest pains again. You try to adjust your seat, but it’s already gone back as far as it can. You notice your belt buckle is digging in so far it’s almost engulfed by your massive belly. You attempt to undo it but your fat fingers can’t get in between the fat rolls at this angle. Beginning to panic, you notice the chest pains are getting worse. You down half a gallon of coke to try to ease it but the sugar buzz has just given you a thumping headache and soon you’re getting that telltale tingle in your left arm. Gasping for breath, you reach into the glovebox for the defibrillator and give yourself a few volts just to get your heartbeat back to normal. You’re not really sure it helped but you feel better and are able to finish your brunch.

You notice someone else a few cars away clearly has a flat battery from over using their defibrillator, as two portly paramedics and an RAC mechanic on a mobility scooter have shown up to help them out. The guy is so busy worrying about how he’s going to get to the hospital if he can’t fit in the ambulance that he hasn’t even noticed his Deliveroo guy standing there waiting to hand over a delicious looking grease stained bag of Five Guys.

Beep beep. You fumble for your phone, the grease on the cracked screen showing up in the sunlight. The Burger King app shows you a notification. Your weekly loyalty reward has come through, a double triple stack XL mega cheese whopper is free if you buy a large double triple stack XL mega cheese whopper meal and any dessert. You look at the time, it’s almost lunch and you know how busy that drive through gets. Better get moving. You might even get there faster if only you could feel which pedals your feet are on.

[thiswasinevitableid]

As a tired lesbian retail worker I would love to see 45 with danbrey!! (NSFW if possible) 💖

sending you lots of good vibes as we head into the final shopping rush! This ended up right on the edge of NSFW; there's no sex, but it gets kind of steamy.

(This will also be the last fill until the middle of next week, since I'll be on the road)

45. We’re both working at the mall during the holiday season and everything about this experience is miserable except for getting to spend time with you

It could be worse, Dani reminds herself. Origins isn’t the most in-demand brand in the make-up area, so she’s not as swamped as she could be. The speakers blaring Christmas music could be directly above the counter instead of two panels over. She could be in Barclay’s position, working off what she can only assume is some kind of karmic debt as seasonal staff at Cinnabon. 

And, of course, she could be working somewhere that isn’t directly across from the MAC counter, current workplace of Aubrey, AKA the most intense crush Dani’s had since high school. 

Aubrey radiates cool in a way that makes Dani routinely forget how to form cogent sentences. Her black hair is piled up in a bouffant (which stays in place through either magic or enough hairspray to propel a jet), her black and red make-up is immaculate and, best of all, her nails are painted in bi pride colors. Meaning Dani has a chance if she manages to ask her out.

It’s not just that she looks like a glam biker (Dani has a type, okay?); their hours are almost the same, so they’ve been working across from each other since mid-October, and as the holiday crowds swelled, the bright spot of her day has become the conversations the two of them manage to have across the strip of trashed carpet between their counters. 

She glances over to see Aubrey finishing up with an older woman who seems to be buying for a niece she hasn’t seen in five years. Dani’s sure Aubrey nailed the request; she’s personable and gets details out of conversations that baffle Dani. When she’d asked her secret, Aubrey had winked and stage whispered, “Cold reading, baby.”

A sudden after-school rush had thwarted her follow up questions. 

Both counters are quiet, but Aubrey still peers around before waving Dani over and pulling out her phone. 

“I have been wanting to show you this all. Day.”

The screen switches to a picture of an enormous, white rabbit wearing a flame-patterned sweater and a furious expression. 

“Wow, that is a big bunny.”

“Thirteen pounds. Which isn’t great for, like, hat tricks and stuff. But I have trained him to stop chewing on the little wand I use.”

“Holy crap, you’re a magician.”

“Yep! You’re looking at the Lady Flame.” A business card appears in Aubrey’ fingers and Dani takes it as her crush adds, “usually I’ve got a little flash of fire with that but, uh, I kind of got chewed out by my manager the last time I used it.”

“Guess I better come to one of your shows to see it then.” She tucks the card into her pants pocket. 

Aubrey grins, “You totally should. Who knows” she bounces her eyebrows, “maybe I’ll even let you pet the bunny.”

Dani blushes and is saved from saying something cheesy back by Aubrey whispering, “customers, ten o clock.”

As Dani hurries back to her spot, she realizes that in handing her the card, Aubrey also just gave Dani her number. 

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------

She’s got ten customers browsing and four who need help and all Aubrey wants to do is lay face down on the counter and make sad faces at the universe until Dani appears across from her. Her friend hasn’t been in all morning. Aubrey is both worried and lonely; having Dani nearby, hair like sunshine and a smile that’s so endearing Aubrey wants to kiss it for the rest of her life, is the only thing keeping her from lighting her hair on fire. 

Most days she likes being at the MAC counter. It’s fun to help people find things that make them feel more confident or encourage them to be a little bolder with their appearance. Plus everyone at the counter is queer, and art weirdo, or both, so she feels right at home. But when the holidays come it brings every kind of annoying or rude customer into the mall, and even chill people seem terser when stuck among the bustling crowds and droning carols. The only thing that makes it better to be scolded or argued with by someone’s mom are the chances she gets to talk with Dani. Who’s not here right now. 

By the time she finally gets to look at the clock again, it’s been an hour and a half and it’s her lunch break. She only just avoids sprinting into the back to prevent any customers from cutting into her precious half-hour of peace. 

As she’s pulling her tupperware from the fridge and wishing she’d made something other than rice for this week, a bag rustles on the counter and she turns to see Dani with a Chipotle bag. 

“Hey! I thought you weren’t coming in today.” She nearly fumbles the plastic containing in her hurry to stand up. 

“I’m working later than normal to cover for someone, so they gave me the morning off. Oh, um, I brought you lunch.” She produces Aubrey’s usual order, complete with extra guac.

“Ohmygod thank you.” She doesn’t tear the lid off with her teeth but she thinks about it, “I really needed this, today I had someone who did not understand that you cannot return a used eyeliner.”

Dani makes a face of pure disgust.

“I know right?”

They stay in the back until the last possible second. As they’re walking towards the floor, Dani pauses and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. 

“Hey, um, a friend of mine is having a party after work on Christmas Eve. It’s gonna be kind of late, but he does it every year and it’s always awesome. I, um, I was wondering if you wanted to come with me?”

It’s a good thing they’re inside, because Aubrey is close to floating away as she replies, “I’d love to.”

—-------------------------------------------------

It’s the weekend before Christmas, which means there are so many people in the mall, jostling and talking over each other, that Dani can barely hear her co-workers and she hasn’t been able to see beyond the confines of the counter since eight this morning. 

She did at least get a chance to leave the travel mug reading “caution: hot stuff” with Aubrey’s name on it (and Snickers trees inside it) where the other woman would find it. And she’s been able to get through the chaos of the morning by just rolling with the requests and not getting too invested in any particular interaction. 

That strategy is thrown off by her current customer, a woman in her forties with a pre-teen in tow. They’re ostensibly there to buy the kid some make-up to wear to a Christmas party. Dani feels like she’s witnessing the latest act in a family drama and has been trying to extricate herself from it for the last five minutes to no avail. 

“Here, you might like this one.” she shows the tween a tube of faintly blush-colored lip gloss, “it has a subtle shimmer but no one will notice if it comes off when you’re eating or things like that.”

They look intrigued, but the older woman shakes her head, “Nono, we need something red to match the dress.”

“Or I could just not wear the dress.”

That earns the kid a glare. Dani takes a deep breath and reaches for another shelf, “This one is a little more tinted. I like this formula because it’s very moisturizing and creates a very natural looking color on the lips.”

“Are you colorblind? That’s not red.” The woman says this loudly enough that several other customers glance their way. 

“Well, I was thinking we could start with something subtle and then work up from there; that can make people more comfortable trying out bright colors.”

The kid, sensing Dani is on their side, chimes in with, “Isn’t dad always saying guys like a natural look?”

“You dad doesn’t understand. Now, go find us an actual lipstick or I’ll ask to speak with your manager.”

“Attention shoppers. If you’re the owner of a yellow Escalade with a plate reading GRLMOM, your lights are on.”

“Damn it” the woman turns to the tween, “stay here and pick out a lipstick.”

As soon as she’s out of sight, Dani waves them over to the next section of the display, “Okay, these are all lipsticks. This one” she uncaps Poppy Blossom, “looks really red, right? But when you put it on, it doesn’t look like much.” She swatches her wrist as proof, “so, you can buy it and your mom will think you get a bright red lipstick and by the time you put it on it’ll be too late to change it.”

“Awesome.” 

By the time the woman returns in a huff, Dani is helping a much nicer customer pick out some stocking stuffers for his son, but from the sound of it her ruse worked. 

When there’s finally a lull in the crowd, she looks up to find Aubrey leaning on the counter, smiling at her. 

Dani groans and mirrors her, “I had the first “speak to the manager’ of the season.”

“I heard.” She leans closer and smokey perfume tickles Dani’s nose, “I also have a friend at the customer service booth who let me use the P.A system.”

Dani raises her eyebrows as Aubrey looks increasingly pleased.

“I noticed them getting out of the car when I ran out to grab my name tag. And hey, maybe she did leave her lights on.”

A clamor from the west set of doors signals an end to their respite. But Dani still takes a moment to kiss Aubrey on the cheek and murmur, “my hero.”

Much to her delight, Aubrey stays pink for the next half-hour. 

—--------------------------------------------------------------

Dani’s apartment is exactly how Aubrey pictured it; plants on every available surface, art featuring bones and trees on the walls, and the kind of clutter that suggests someone is trying to keep the space neat but can’t quite find the time to make it happen. 

Aubrey is on her fourth, canned, Death Wish mocha of the night while Dani polishes off her third can of Sambazon in their quest to remain awake enough to get to the Christmas Eve party. Apparently it’s pretty standard for Barclay to let his friends crash at his place once the party is through, so all they really have to do is not fall asleep at the wheel and they’ll be home free. 

“Guhhhh” Dani flops back onto her bed, a sight that doesn’t help Aubrey’s frayed nervous system in the slightest, “my feet are killing me and if Barclay plays anything with any kind of bell, jingling or otherwise, in the background I’m going to throw his speaker out the window.”

“Yeah that seems fair. Personally I’d like to never hear or think about reindeer ever again. Unless they’re at a petting zoo, then I’d like to think about and also touch them.”

Dani giggles, then sighs up at the ceiling, “Is any of my make-up still on? I feel like I sweat all of it plus an entire layer of skin off.”

Aubrey leans over, trying not to let her study of Dani’s face turn creepy, “Nope, it looks like most of it is gone.” She grins, only half teasing when she adds, “want me to give you a glam look for the party.”

Dani looks at her, hazel eyes sparking with something mischievous, “Go for it. All my stuff is in the bathroom.”

After a quick search of two drawers, Aubrey comes back with a Prado palette (“a gift from my dad” “nice”) and the one, darker pink lipstick that looks like Dani actually uses it. 

Dani sits up, resting against the wall as Aubrey gently takes her chin in her hand. Her foundation is unscathed, so she opens the eye shadow palette and considers her options. As she taps her brush into a deep, dusky green, she murmurs, “close your eyes.”

Dani obeys and Aubrey gets to work, blending in greens and golds until her lids look like a forest at sunrise. She’s never been this close to her face, this able to see the freckles forming constellations on her neck and the tilt of her nose that makes her look even more like the high priestess Aubrey would commit multiple crimes to worship. 

“Mascara?”

“I’m good.” Dani’s eyes flutter open and she smiles, “do you want to just straddle my lap? You’re kind of contorting yourself right now.”

“Great idea.” Aubrey’s pretty sure she gives that answer at a frequency only dogs can hear. 

As she adjusts into position, Dani flaps the ends of her green shirt, “God, how does it get so hot in there? Is it just the body heat from all the last minute shoppers?”

“Probably?” Aubrey begs her hand to stay steady as Dani parts her lips to let her start in with the liner, “I wonder how many people you’d have to get in there before the collective heat just, like, started melting the lipstick. I imagine a lot, but if a bunch of people, like, clustered around one counter maybe that’d make it faster?”

Dani is gazing up at her. As soon as Aubrey caps the liner, the other woman murmurs, “Nothing could make that room hotter than having you in it.”

“I, um, I, really?” 

“Really” Dani lifts her head up enough to kiss her once, sweetly, “hot stuff.”

Aubrey drops the liner and grabs Dani’s face, kissing her as hard and as hungrily as her exhausted body can manage. Dani wraps her arms around her waist and then flips them so Aubrey lands, stunned and horny, on her back. 

“God I’ve wanted to do that for weeks.” Dani kisses down her right cheek before pressing their mouths together and making french kissing look tame, “you look so hot in all black.”

“Yeah?” Aubrey slides one hand into summery hair and runs the other across Dani’s chest, “we wanna talk about how you’ve been wearing tighter shirts the last two weeks?”

“It’s fun to show off when you know someone’s watching.”

“You can’tAHhhaaaa” Aubrey groans as Dani scrapes her teeth down her neck, “prove anything.”

“I don’t need to, fireblossom.” Dani tugs Aubrey’s collar down to kiss across her chest, “you just admitted it.” She finishes with a little growl and then nips the sensitive skin. 

“You gonna punish me for it, cutie?” Her delivery is completely ruined by a massive yawn that overtakes her and Dani in quick succession. 

“Fucking retail” Dani groans, resting her head under Aubrey’s chin, “making me too tired to fuck the hottest woman on the planet.”

“You said it.” She pets Dani’s hair, “you still wanna go to the party?”

“Yeah. It reall is great, and I really, really want to introduce you to everyone. I, uh, I’ve kinda been talking about you non-stop.”

“Aww, babe.” Aubrey hugs her and kisses the top of her head. 

“Besides, Barclay owes me a favor which means I can convince him to let us have the guest room. That’ll give us some privacy.” She smiles up in a way that makes Aubrey’s heart combust and then rise from the ashes. 

“You messed up your lips again.” She teases. 

Dani guides her down into another kiss, “Totally worth it.”

[a-sin-to-be-rin]

Needles + Nightmares

Mac needs to get out of here. If only the room would stop spinning.

(A reboot retelling of MacGyver (1985) S1E11 Nightmares)

---

Jack is hungry. It's not a particularly new thing for him, but he isn't expecting it at three in the afternoon. Absently, he worries that he’s finally achieved true seniorhood and now requires dinner before four o’clock.

Then he realizes that he forgot to eat lunch, laughs, and rests well in the reassurance that he still has some youth left in him.

Jack calls Mac and is rewarded with a grumpy voice after one ring.

“What do you want?”

“Easy there, Cujo. What's with all the hostility?”

“Jack, you have called me nine times in the last seven hours.”

“Tenth call’s free, right?”

Mac ignores his hilarious joke. “Can I please have a real day off? Me resetting the password on your Netflix account isn't exactly a vacation.”

“We’re family, hoss. You don't get a break from that.”

“You know what I mean. I’d like to get through one book chapter without you interrupting.”

“Well, okay, here’s an idea,” Jack offers. “Howsabout I order a pizza to your place, and we can separately appreciate it while being in the same room? I promise I won't interrupt your book.”

“First, we both know that's a lie, and second, you can't because I’m not home. And who said anything about pizza?”

“I did. Just now. I’m hungry, and I didn't want to leave you out.”

“Please leave me out,” Mac gripes. “Dear god, please leave me o-” There’s rustling over the line. “Hey, what are you-?”

There’s yelling. Grunting.

“Mac?”

And then nothing.

“Mac??”

The line goes dead.

“Oh, you damn-” Jack has to physically restrain himself from chucking his phone into the wall. He only just replaced it from when Mac decided to duct tape his phone to the underbelly of a government drone. How and why that happened is beyond Jack. But he can't afford to buy another phone right now.

So instead, he uses the phone to call Mac again.

“C’mon, c’mon, c’mon,” he chants, praying for a response.

By the time the third ring comes around, Jack hangs up and calls Riley.

“What do you want?”

“God, what is it with people today?” Jack might be panicked, but he still has other feelings. Disrespected being one of them. “Why can’t one person answer the phone with a, ‘Hey, Jack, how you doin’? You sound so handsome today! What can I do for you?’”

“Because you don’t live in a fantasy world, Jack. Because literally no one would say that. And because you’re constantly calling me for text-worthy problems. Unless someone is dead or dying, you don’t need to call.”

“Oh! Oh, well, guess what? Someone probably is dying!” And then the panic hits him all over again. “I, uh, I think someone attacked Mac, and now he won’t answer his phone. I need his location.”

“Looking now,” Riley replies, her voice lowered and all business. “I’ll call him too.”

“I already tried that.”

“Yeah, but maybe he’s just ignoring you.”

“He’s not-” Jack stops himself. He’s been a bit on the annoying side today, he will admit. And if it’s true that Mac is simply ignoring his calls, then that means everyone is safe and okay. Jack will take an angry but safe MacGyver over a potentially dead MacGyver any day of the week.

“His phone last connected to wi-fi one minute ago. Some coffee place in Silver Lake.”

“Mugsy’s?”

“Yeah, that’s the one. But, um, the signal went out. So either Mac broke his phone or-”

“Or someone else broke Mac’s phone. Got it.” Jack is already outside and climbing in his truck. “I’m on my way now.”

“I’ll call Matty.”

Jack almost stops her. Matty is bossy and overbearing and not just because she’s his boss. If this really is Mac ignoring him - which he doubts, but it’s possible - she’ll never let Jack hear the end of it.

But Jack knows Mac isn’t faking a kidnapping to avoid him. He wouldn’t.

“Okay. I’ll call you once I’ve checked out the coffee shop.”

“Cool.” There’s a long pause, during which Riley should hang up. But she doesn’t. “Be careful, Jack.”

“Sure thing, Riles. You too.”

---

It’s dark when Mac opens his eyes. He can barely make out the grimy windows and nondescript desk. Though, to be fair, Mac isn’t sure if it’s truly dark or if his vision is just blurry. The guys standing around him seem to see just fine.

“Nothing? Check his jacket too.”

Mac’s shoulders ache. Like someone got him right on the suprascapular nerves. He’s willing to bet someone did. He can’t remember much from the coffee shop, but that explanation sounds plausible enough.

A man shuffles around the room, digging through Mac’s jacket. He turns it inside-out and upside-down, checking every pocket and feeling the hems for lumps. Finally, he sighs. “List’s not on him.”

Another man, sitting at the desk across from Mac and clearly the evil mastermind of the group, steeples his fingers. “Care to tell me where it’s hidden, MacGyver?”

Mac isn’t sure how they got his name. He doesn’t even know who they are. But he does have a vague idea of what they’re looking for. Uber-secret spy stuff and all that. It’s just too bad that Mac’s really not allowed to say anything about it.

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about.” He shrugs in a what can you do? gesture.

The evil guy stays still in an I’m not buying your story and I’m probably going to kill you gesture. “You see, Barrett,” he says to the man beside him, “Mr. MacGyver thinks he's a tough guy.” He hands Barrett a long blue strip of rubber. Mac has an idea about what that might be. He doesn’t like it.

“But,” Evil Guy continues, “even tough guys can be… ah, persuaded to speak.”

A man appears at Mac’s left side, strapping his arms to the chair. Barrett walks to his right side and rips his shirt sleeve up to his bicep.

“There are many methods I could use to get the information,” Evil Guy promises. “But this is my favorite.” He pulls a needle from the desk drawer.

Barrett ties the blue strip just above Mac’s elbow. His vein sticks out, and it’s then that he realizes just how much trouble he’s in.

“Hey, look, guys,” Mac hedges, wondering if he’s truly buying time for a rescue or if he’s just making this more painful than it needs to be. “I have this thing about needles.” The worst part is that he’s not completely lying. Sure, he can handle needles, but this is… It’s way too much.

“Here’s an idea,” Mac tries. “Why don’t you just try dripping water on my forehead?”

No one seems interested in this alternative.

“The old ‘rubber hose and bright light’ trick?”

Slowly, Evil Guy pulls a vial from the drawer and holds it up for Mac to see. But the joke is on him - Mac’s vision is still too blurry. He couldn’t see what was in the vial if he wanted to.

“Hypnotism!” Mac suggests hurriedly. “It’s been known to work!”

Evil Guy is unflinching. He stands and approaches Mac, stabbing the vial and drawing up the mystery drug. He pauses a moment, glancing at Mac’s arm. “You have good veins.”

Mac’s mouth goes dry. “Thank you.”

Evil Guy flicks the syringe a few times and brings the needle to Mac’s arm.

Mac can’t help it. It’s instinct. He shifts forward and tries to stand. “Aw, c’mon-”

A man grabs Mac from behind, his forearm digging into Mac’s throat.

The irony of it all is that Mac barely feels it. The needle is in and out in a few seconds. He swallows hard, trying not to think about what his heart is now pumping around his body.

“That burning sensation will disappear shortly,” Evil Guy promises, and Mac isn’t sure if the sudden stinging in his arm is real or made up by this new information.

Satisfied with his work, Evil Guy returns to his desk, sitting back in the chair. “This serum was handpicked for you, MacGyver. I’m sure you’re wondering about its effects.”

Which is very true. Mac is wondering very hard about that.

“At first, the serum causes disorientation, double vision, hallucinations,” Evil Guy explains. “When your mind clears in-” he hums in uncertainty “-roughly three hours, the pain will become excruciating. And if that doesn’t convince you to cooperate, well, there’s one more thing I particularly like about this drug.”

Mac thought the disorientation and pain were enough. What more is this guy referring to?

“It will kill you.”

Oh. Of course. Why hadn’t Mac guessed that?

“Of course, it can all be stopped,” Evil Guy assures him, “with this antidote.” He holds up a pill canister. “But if you don’t take the antidote in six hours, the serum is irreversible. Six hours, and you begin to die.”

Evil Guy looks at Barrett. “Begin countdown.”

Barrett nods, secures a watch to Mac’s wrist, and presses a button with a cheerful beep.

Mac glances down, and it doesn’t take a genius to figure out what the watch reads:

5 hours, 59 minutes.

And counting.

Evil Guy takes the pill from the canister and holds it out. “It’s your choice, MacGyver. To live, or to die?”

---

The coffee shop is almost completely vacant when Jack gets there. A couple patrons sit by the windows. Another sips his drink in a booth by the bathroom. A barista is behind the counter, both elbows on the register and face hidden in his hands. He looks like he could use a cup of coffee himself.

“‘scuse me,” Jack says, stepping in front of the register. The boy snaps awake, immediately straightening and plastering a customer service smile to his face.

“Can I help you?”

“Yeah. You seen a blond guy? 5’10”, probably talking about science or something?”

The barista frowns. “Uh… no? No science people.”

“I said ‘probably,’” Jack presses. “He might not’ve been.”

“Okay, so have I seen any 5’10” blond guys? That’s the question?”

“Exactly.”

“Yeah. A lot.”

That’s fair. It’s a pretty vague description.

“Okay, okay, lemme just-” Jack digs out his phone and scrolls through his camera roll. “Here.” He taps a selfie of him and Mac, clearly snapped before Mac could realize there was a camera in his face, and passes his phone to the barista. “Have you seen that guy today?”

“Hm. Um, yeah. He was here twenty minutes ago.”

“Do you know where he went?”

The boy shrugs. “I dunno. Some guys knocked him out and dragged him out to their car.”

Jack needs a second to process that information. “Why didn't you-?” He needs to calm down before he reacts. He might lose it on this kid, and that's not an effective way to get information from a relatively cooperative witness. “Why didn't you call the cops?”

The barista shrugs. “I mean, it happened really fast. And then they left the shop, so it wasn't really my problem anymore.”

The boy’s lack of concern for justice or the wellbeing of others distresses Jack, but there's very little time to worry about the past. “Did you get a car make and model? A color?”

“I dunno. Look, are you gonna buy something?”

Jack slaps a five dollar bill on the counter. “I’ll take a coffee. Answer the question.”

The barista raises an eyebrow. “Coffee is seven dollars.”

“Seven dollars?? What is it made of, gold or something?”

“A struggling economy,” the kid corrects.

Jack digs around for two extra dollars. Finding nothing, he drops his five dollars in the tip jar. “Okay, a tip for a tip, then.”

“Black car. Toyota Corolla, maybe. They dumped your friend in the trunk and turned onto Blaine Street.”

“What’d the guys look like?”

“Dunno. Average height? White dudes, mid-thirties? I dunno.”

That’s not much to go off of. Jack’s done more with less, but that doesn’t mean the task ahead of him is easy. “Where was my friend sitting?” Jack asks. “Where in the shop was he attacked?”

The kid points to a window booth near the entrance. “Second table from the door.”

Jack doesn’t waste any time. He hurries over to the booth. A cup of coffee (Still warm, Jack notes) and a dog-eared copy of a Stephen Hawking text lay abandoned on the table. The condiments are organized in a caddy by the window. And-

Jack clenches his jaw and snatches the one object on the table that he didn’t expect:

A wristwatch that reads, 5:52. But it isn't 5:52. It's barely 4 o’clock.

And then the watch changes. 5:51. And then Jack gets it.

It's not a watch. It's a countdown.

---

There is no way, Mac thinks as he’s shoved into the dirty room, they’re this stupid.

It’s a little room, sure. There’s a shoddy bed straight out of World War II in the corner. There’s a… bucket in the other corner. (Mac tries not to think too hard about the purpose of that.) The door is made of a questionable quality of metal and slams shut behind him.

There’s so much to work with, he wonders if these guys even know who he is. Sure, they claim to know about his most recent job (a handoff of a list of the names of some pretty important guys who are probably almost certainly going to be of interest to the CIA) and they say that they designed this serum just for him. But if they didn’t know not to leave Mac with so much raw material, then they clearly didn’t do their homework.

The lock is old-school - just a metal latch and a padlock - but definitely not outside of Mac’s wheelhouse. In fact, this is basically a fun night out for Mac. Like an escape room but with dirtier floors and also a higher risk of death. The Coney Island of kidnapping scenarios.

The first thing Mac does is shake out his arm. He’s definitely feeling the burning now.

Next, he throws the thin mattress on the floor and flips the bed frame onto its side. He easily threads the springs from the frame and (much less easily) twists the metal wires together to form four short chains. Two conveniently located pipes, each on one side of the door, make perfect anchors as he connects each corner of the bed frame to the wall.

A bead of sweat drips down Mac’s forehead. It’s hot in here, but it seems excessive. He… He definitely should not be sweating this much. His vision wavers, and suddenly there are two, three, four doors swaying past his eyes.

“Not now, Mac,” he mutters to himself, closing his eyes and trying to remember how to breathe. Distantly, he can hear his grandfather talking, and Mac has to take an active effort to ignore it. “Just neurons misfiring in deeply personal and unnerving ways.”

Mac takes a moment to steady himself before shouting at the top of his lungs. “HELP! OH MY GOD, HELP! FIRE! THERE’S A FIRE!”

After a few moments, there’s a long-suffering sigh on the other end of the door. “You’re not on fire, idiot. You’re delirious. God, I get the worst jobs-”

And he is certainly right about that. Mac pulls the bed frame as far as the spring chains will allow, building up tension before releasing the bed. Like a slingshot, the springs shorten and the frame flies away, busting through the door and, consequently, the man behind the door.

Then Mac runs. With a spectacular crash like that, every bad guy in the building is headed his way. Mac sprints out of the room, leaping over the downed man. He flies down the stairs, runs across the warehouse floor, and hurries out the door.

And then his vision gets shaky, his knees go weak, and he faceplants in the middle of the road.

There’s honking. Shouting. Something rushes past in Mac’s peripherals.

Gotta get away. Gotta get away, he thinks feverishly, though he’s quickly forgetting why that is. He starts running.

“Dude, you are so messed up.”

Mac is on the ground again. He’s not sure where he is. All he knows is that the sky above him is blue and the ground below him is rough. Shakily, he climbs to his feet. He goes back to running.

“What’s wrong, kiddo? Are you feeling okay?”

“Grandpa?”

“Do I look like your grandpa? Screw you, man.”

Mac is staring at the grill of an eighteen-wheeler. Another honk. Cursing. Mac stumbles out of the road and takes a quick nap on the sidewalk.

“You can’t sleep here.”

“Sorry.”

“I’m going to kill you, MacGyver.” Murdoc? “But first, I’m going after that little family of yours. So sad, to think that your coworkers are all you have left. And soon you won’t have that either.”

Clicking. Pain. Heat. Spinning.

“What’s your name?”

…

“I said, ‘What’s your name?’”

The blinding sunlight is now grim, nasty, fading fluorescents.

“You don’t have to fake it anymore, man. They’re not gonna take you to the hospital.”

“Mac, you gotta help me! Please, please, please help!!”

Blink.

And then, nothing.

---

They call it a search party. Jack isn’t sure why. There’s plenty of searching, sure, but it sure as hell ain’t a party. It feels more like the night before a big game or a final exam. Everyone is up worrying and prepping for the inevitable, and these few hours before the disaster dictate just how disastrous it will be. And with Mac missing and a digital watch counting down in his last known location, every second counts.

“What was his last mission?”

“Intel retrieval,” Matty snaps, clearly not interested in rehashing an old discussion. “Highly sensitive information that could compromise national security in the wrong hands. But anyone could want that information. Even if that’s why he was taken, it doesn’t narrow our search.”

Matty turns away from Bozer and, in her next breath, is shouting at the Phoenix agents running about. “Okay, people! We’ve got five hours! Keep it moving!”

“There are tens of thousands of black Toyota Corollas in the city,” Riley sighs. “We need a new angle, and his last mission might be our best bet.”

“What about the watch? There’s got to be some reason for it,” Jack reasons. “Why put pressure on us without leaving a list of demands?”

Matty scowls. “That’s… surprisingly insightful, Dalton.”

“Well, I’m surprisingly flattered,” Jack replies, though he flubs the delivery. His mouth turns bitter. Theoretically, a ransom note is bound to show up eventually, but if it doesn’t-

“I’ve got a hit,” Riley announces, failing to conceal her excitement. “LAPD arrested Mac ten minutes ago.”

Bozer frowns, leaning over Riley’s shoulder and squinting at the screen. “Arrested? For what?”

“‘Public intoxication,’” Riley reads.

Jack doesn’t waste time wondering. He’s already headed out the door and towards his truck. “If y’all wanna come with, y’better hurry up,” he warns. He’s not going to sit and wait for the other shoe to drop.

---

He’s back in the cell when he opens his eyes again. The walls are spinning, and his head throbs with every beat of his heart.

“-ac. Mac. You there?”

It takes Mac a moment to realize that the man is talking to him. “Wh- What?” His voice is so shaky and distant that he doesn’t even recognize it.

“What happened, hoss?”

Mac tries to stand, but vertigo keeps him on the floor. “I don’t…” He tries to look closer at the man crouched in front of him. He’s familiar… He’s…

“Mac, you’re scaring me, dude. Don’t make me call Medical.”

Wait. That’s…

“Jack?” he mumbles, reaching out.

Jack instantly takes Mac’s hand and settles his free hand on Mac’s shoulder. “In the flesh, brother.” He goes quiet for a moment (or maybe Mac just zoned out), but when he speaks again, he sounds angry. “They drugged you?”

Mac shakes his head and instantly regrets it. He needs a moment to stop the room from spinning. “Um… I dunno. Who’s… Who’re we talking about?”

But Jack just looks sad. “It’s okay, Mac. Relax, okay? We’ll… I’m gonna get you outta this.”

Mac trusts him.

---

The tox screens come back clean. Head scans are normal. Aside from a few nasty bruises, Mac is healthy. Jack can’t believe it. He’s so clearly not healthy. Not even a little.

Forensics are still running tests on the dirt on Mac’s clothing. On the fingerprints on the watches. On anything and everything they can get their hands on.

But so far? Nada.

“J-Jack?”

Jack practically sprints across the room to Mac, placing a hand on his shoulder to ground him. “I’m here, hoss. I’m here.”

Mac blinks frantically, eyes glossy and hurting. “Jack, where’s- where's Charlie?”

Jack’s stomach sinks. “He’s not here, buddy. Just you ‘n’ me ‘n’ Riley.”

“But…” Mac frowns. It's such a tiny pout that it'd be cute if Mac wasn't scaring the everloving shit out of Jack. “Charlie’s-”

“Fine,” Jack insists, though nothing could be further from the truth. “He’s okay. We’re all okay.”

“Who's Charlie?” Riley asks it slowly, carefully, watching the pair from behind her computer. Her fingers hover over the keyboard, typing stalled to ask the question.

Jack knows the answer, but he looks to Mac first. And Mac is frozen, eyes wide and watching Riley with a paranoid sort of horror. There's not a drop of recognition in his gaze.

They're in deeper trouble than Jack realized.

“Mac, where are we right now? What do you remember?”

Mac blinks again. He hugs his stomach tighter and shifts closer to Jack. Jack closes the distance between the two and wraps his arm around Mac’s shoulders.

“Mac,” he repeats. “Bud. What do you remember?”

“Dunno,” Mac mumbles. “It… It hurts, Jack.”

“I know, buddy. I know. Talk to me, okay? Where are we?”

Mac takes a slow second to look around the room, hesitating as his eyes pass over Riley. “Barracks,” he finally decides. “Afghanistan.”

“Not exactly,” Jack sighs. “Do you remember what happened? Did you see who took you?”

“... ‘s really hot in here, Jack.”

“SoCal boy like you shouldn't have any problems with that,” Jack replies, but his words lack the brevity that the joke requires.

Mac just whines and leans heavily against Jack’s side.

“Jack,” Riley calls, expression beyond terrified. “What's going on?”

“Keep searching the street cams, Riles,” Jack says instead. “We don't have a lot of time.”

---

Mac isn't sure when or how it happens. One minute, he’s a shivering mess in the army barracks, and the next, he's in the Phoenix and feeling… surprisingly normal.

“Jack?” His voice cracks, but Mac can't be bothered to feel embarrassed.

“Still here, Mac,” Jack promises, walking into Mac’s line of sight. “How’re you doing?”

Mac sits up carefully. His vision is no longer spinning. His shirt is damp, but sweat isn't trickling down his back or temples anymore. “I’m… okay.”

There’s a heavy pause. Jack is waiting for more, but Mac doesn't have more to report. He feels okay. Period.

“Where are we?” Jack asks. Obviously, he hasn't gotten a satisfactory answer to this question yet.

“Looks like Phoenix Med.”

Jack frowns. “And you feel…?”

“Totally fine.”

Jack chews on his lip and glances at his watch.

… wait.

Mac reaches out. “Lemme see that.”

Hesitantly, Jack shows him his wrist.

1 hours, 49 minutes.

“So you found an antidote, then?”

Jack’s eyes widen, horror tugging on his lips. “No. No, we weren't even sure… You were poisoned? But you feel okay?”

“Yeah, I feel fine. A little tired, but-”

And then his vision goes white, dagger-sharp agony arcing through his body. He curls in on himself, trying to dull the all-encompassing, undistractible hurt.

“-deep breaths, hoss-”

Jack is talking, but in all fairness, Mac doesn’t understand much of it. He can’t ignore the knife in his stomach, twisting and ripping and biting.

It takes ages - years, decades, centuries - for the pain to abate. It doesn’t go away completely, but the freshly-sharpened ax softens to a rusty band saw. Mac can open his eyes again. He can feel the wetness under his eyes. He can see the blurry face hovering over him.

“-listen to me, okay? You’re gonna be fine. Just keep breathing.”

Mac reaches up to grip Jack’s hand. “Still here,” he rasps.

“What the hell was that, Mac?”

“Think it’s the drug,” he pants, trying to clear the black spots in his vision. “They… They said this would happen.”

“‘They?’”

Mac lets Jack help him sit up again. “Yeah. Yeah, there was… Ugh, it’s starting to come back. I, uh, I was drugged. They wanted the list from my last assignment. They said this drug would convince me to cooperate.”

“What drug? And who did this?”

“Don’t know who.” Mac rubs his eyes and hugs his legs to his chest. “They didn’t say what drug either. Just that it’d kill me in six hours.”

In less than a second, Jack goes from mildly angry and relatively concerned to fuming and out of his mind with worry. “It’d do what?”

“Well, it would make me hallucinate for the first three hours. And then-” He gasps, another wave of pain taking him by surprise. When he’s able to think again, he finds himself flat on his back.

“Is pain a side effect?”

Mac, breathless, nods. “And… and there’s an antidote, but I… I’m not sure where it is.”

There’s a buzzing, and Jack almost ignores it before flashing Mac an apologetic grimace. “Please tell me you have something, Riles.”

…

“Yeah, that might be important.”

…

“Address.”

…

Jack doesn’t say anything before hanging up. It strikes Mac as odd, but then his world lights on fire, and he doesn’t care if Jack is acting odd.

“Be back soon.”

“Wait.” Mac holds out a shaking hand. “Take me with you.”

“Dude, we don’t have time to argue this.”

“Think-” Mac grunts. “Think about it. I need to take that antidote as soon as we find it.”

Jack folds his arms, clearly pissed that Mac is right. “Can you walk? I don’t need you slowing me down.”

“I’ll stay in the - ugh - car.”

But Jack was right the first time. They don’t have time to argue. He reaches down, helps Mac up, and they break out of Phoenix Med.

---

“Mac? How you feeling, buddy?”

Mac swallows vomit, gripping his ribs with fingers desperate for relief. “Peachy,” he hisses.

“I know,” Jack soothes. “I know, I know, I know. Just hang on a little longer. We’re nearly there.”

“Looks…” Mac takes a deep breath, likely riding out another episode of intense pain. (Whoever did this, they will pay. Jack will see to it personally.) “Looks familiar. I think… think I walked through this area.”

“Makes sense,” Jack agrees. “And then you tried to take a nap on the sidewalk and got arrested.”

“Oh.” Mac coughs, shifting awkwardly in the passenger seat. “Is that what happened?”

Jack tries not to be bothered by how little Mac remembers about the last five hours. And then he tries not to be bothered by how Mac only has one hour left.

“Wait!” Mac shouts, pointing left. “There! That’s the one!”

Jack looks away from the road long enough to size up the building. “Uh. You sure about that one, hoss? That’s an IKEA.”

But Mac just nods, sucking in a breath. Pain carves lines into the corners of his eyes. “Yeah, that’s the-” He winces. “That’s the one.”

Ordinarily, Jack would question Mac more. (A bunch of bad guys working out of an IKEA? Really?) But they don’t have the time today. If Mac says he got shot up in an IKEA, he got shot up in an IKEA.

Jack cuts a sedan off as he yanks the car to the left and crosses three lanes of traffic into the parking lot. He parks far from the storefront and looks at Mac.

“This place is massive. Any idea where they hid the antidote?”

Mac looks green again, eyes shut, palm to his forehead, and taking deep breaths. “I… um… There was a cell. Or something.”

“A cell. In IKEA.”

“I don’t know,” Mac grumbles. “I just-” He’s cut off with a hiss, hugging his stomach tightly. “That’s what I remember,” he grits out.

“Okay,” Jack says, hands out in surrender. “Okay. I’ll look for a cell. In IKEA.”

“You don’t need to say it like that,” Mac groans.

But Jack ignores him. “Hey, do us both a favor? Stay outta sight. I keep a gun in the glove compartment if you need it.”

They both know Mac won’t use it. But Jack feels obligated to remind him of it. Just so he doesn’t feel like he’s abandoning Mac with zero forms of defense.

“No, thanks.”

“Yeah, okay,” Jack says. They don’t have time to argue. “I’ll be back soon. Watch your phone, okay?”

“You got it.” Mac gives a thumbs-up, but it’s greatly undermined by the grimace on his face.

Jack sighs. Slams the car door shut. Hurries to the storefront. And then things start to make sense.

It’s not an IKEA. It used to be an IKEA. Now it’s just a giant, empty warehouse with an ugly blue-and-yellow sign out front.

Jack considers being stealthy about this, but his nerves tug at him. Does he have time to fret over being noisy?

Well. Jack has always preferred the loud entrance over silently creeping around. He kicks the door open, guns blazing.

---

Mac wakes up on the floor of Jack’s truck. He doesn’t remember falling asleep. And he definitely doesn’t remember picking up a gun. He sets it on the floor like it’s a grenade and pulls himself up into the passenger seat.

And then he hears the gunshots. Mac’s vision is fuzzy, but if he squints, he can make out a standoff between a few men and one lone soldier.

Jack.

The odds aren’t great - aren’t terrible, really - but they still aren’t great. So with very little thought behind his actions, Mac slides over to the driver’s seat and turns the key in the ignition. His head throbs as the engine kicks on, and he feels vaguely nauseous. Mac doesn’t know why, but he doesn’t linger on it for long. He just puts the truck in gear and drives.

The truck shrieks as it tears through the parking lot and stops dead between Jack and the other men. Mac ducks just in time for bullets to shatter the windows.

“Good to see you, brother,” Jack calls, though when Mac sneaks a look, Jack isn’t even looking back, too focused on the men on the other side of the truck. “Stay in the truck.”

BANG. BANG, BANG, BANG.

“Got h-!” But the cheer dies in Jack’s throat.

Coast clear, Mac sits up and pushes himself out of the truck. He collapses almost immediately, legs turning to jelly.

“Shit,” Jack mutters, catching Mac under the arm. But he’s not talking about Mac. He’s staring at the downed criminals.

“What… What is it?” Mac grunts, trying to ignore the hot fire in his lungs.

“He… I shot him, and he dropped the antidote.”

Mac coughs. “We’ll find it.”

“He dropped it down a sewer grate,” Jack elaborates. “So unless you got the tools to rip a sewer grate out of the ground in…” He checks his watch. “... ten minutes, we’re not gonna get it.”

Mac stills for a moment. And then he’s moving at hyper-speed, trying to ignore the ache in his muscles and the stabbing pain in his gut. He grabs an ancient piece of rebar off the sidewalk and runs up to a fire hydrant.

Jack is a breath behind him. “What are you doing??”

Mac uses everything he has to slam the rod into the fire hydrant. Again. Again. Again.

“The impact causes temporary molecular structure alignment in iron. All the ions run to the other end.”

“I don’t… Mac, you know I don’t speak geek.”

Mac grunts, hitting the rod one last time. “Just made myself a magnet.” He returns to the sewer grate, lowering the rebar between the gaps and struggling to draw the metal canister containing the antidote to the end of the rod. His hands shake, and he nearly drops the rod when Jack takes over.

“I think I get it, hoss.” Jack tries the same maneuver with significantly more success. The canister snaps to the rod, and slowly, slowly, slowly, Jack pulls the rebar up and out of the grate. Once free, Jack grabs the canister tightly and moves away from the grate. Then he dumps the pill into Mac’s hand.

There’s no time to talk. Mac crams the pill in his mouth like a bird is going to swoop down and steal it from him.

Mac sags back, pain still wracking his body. Jack is there to make sure he doesn’t smack his head on the pavement.

“What’s the watch say?”

Mac frowns. Lifts his arm and reads the watch.

00:04

Four minutes.

“Damn,” Jack mutters. “Next time, we’re ordering in, hear me?”

Mac doesn’t have the energy to argue.

[cdevroe]

My next computing setup

The idea of trying to paint the full picture of my computing needs exhausts me for some unknown reason. Even this short post has been a chore. But I thought it important to get some of my thoughts down because it helps me to clarify my own thinking and will hopefully help me make some decisions. And I would love it if you commented via my website, on Mastodon or Micro.blog or email or USPS.

The main issue is that it just so happens that I find myself at a time where I have a 5+ year old Intel-based MacBook Pro, an 8 year old iPad Pro, and a 4+ year old iPhone 12 Pro Max.

All of these devices are currently working fine, their software is up-to-date, and except for the MacBook Pro – their batteries are in very good shape. (The MacBook Pro has never had great battery life.)

One could say that I do not need to upgrade any of these devices just yet. I could likely hold out another year. But Apple has made it plain that the M-series chipset has their full attention. There are apps from the App Store that will not run on my Intel-based Mac (the iOS/iPad OS apps). The upcoming Apple Intelligence features will not be available for any of my current devices.

To add to the incentive, I’ve had a good year financially. I could use an expense or two to write-off before the end of the year. In fact, based on my math, I think I’ll want a fairly big expense if possible. (Try as I might, I’m having a hard time understanding exactly how much I should be trying to write-off.)

So, let’s just say that I’ve decided I should upgrade one or all of my computing devices before the end of the year. What should I buy?

I work at my desk about 98% of the time. In over 20-years of using a laptop as my primary computing device, I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve used it on my lap. I have had years of more mobile work – going into coworking spaces or working both at home and an office – and years where I’m only at home. Currently I work almost exclusively in my home office connected to a display.

My main computing tasks are programming, graphic, video, and photo editing, and most recently running local LLMs.

I’m wrestling with the following questions:

Since I work from home, should I switch to a desktop computer?

For the few times per year that I travel, should I keep my current MacBook Pro or should I trade up to an M-series laptop for compatibility reasons? This way I’d have both a desktop and laptop computer.

For years I’ve not had enough internal storage to have my ever growing photo library (~1TB as of this writing) on-device, should I finally buy more enough to do so?

Am I kidding myself that I feel like I need to max out whatever device I buy for what I do day-to-day? Perhaps I only need a relatively inexpensive laptop and I’d be fine?

My strategy when buying new work hardware is to buy as much computing power as I can reasonably afford and then don’t think about it for about 5 years. This strategy works and it helps me mentally when I consider the price tag.

For instance, if I price out a maxed out Mac Studio today (with an M3 chipset, not an M4 like I would likely wait for) it comes to around $8000+ USD. Which, likely seems like a lot of money to many but it really isn’t. I use my computer for 12-hours a day nearly every workday. Over a 5 year period it is only $1,600 a year. Or $6 per workday. Ask any business owner if $1,600 a year in expenses is a lot – I assure you that being a computer programmer is likely the least expensive profession known to humankind. For context my 16-inch Intel-based MacBook Pro was about $4200 USD.

But then $8000+ wouldn’t be my only expense. A new iPhone 16 Pro Max and iPad Pro would bump it up to well over $10000 USD. Still, in my opinion, not a lot over a 5 year time span.

Stay with me here.

But then I circle back to the last of my six questions above; do I really need this much compute? Or can I get away with far less? Should I just buy a used M3-based laptop and see if that would be plenty? Should I keep what I currently have until they don’t work at all? Should I go all-out?

I have no idea!

I’m leaving the comments open on this post because I genuinely wonder what all of you think I should do.