#(so i still get to write charity giving him the sweater she made some other time :3)

[queen-scribbles]

The Weather Outside is Frightful

Some self-indulgent as all hell,‘because I can’ Ederity fluff, initially prompted by this, but it, uh, GREW. I regret nothing. Oh, and I sort of borrowed @risualto‘s OCs for a mention. Merry Christmas? :D

---

There were few things that could change your plans for the day quite like waking up to discover three foot deep snow drifts outside your window.

“Well,” Edér chuckled as he wiped a clear spot where his breath had fogged the glass, “guess I’m not makin’ it into town today...”

Charity tucked herself under his arm and whistled at the sheer white of the scene outside the window. “An’ I thought Peycg was jokin’ about her achy hip meanin’ this’d be a bad one.” She wrapped an arm around his waist. “Pretty sure Dyrford can get along without its mayor for one day.”

“Y’think?” he asked, pressing an amused kiss to the top of her head.

“Yeah. An’ all your paperwork will keep,” she said matter-of-factly. “You know a great way to spend snowy days?” Her fingers slipped under his shirt to trace light circles against his skin.

Edér’s breath caught even as he grinned. “Shovelin’ ?”

Charity rolled her eyes. “I mean, if you’d rather do that than cuddle your wife, sure.”

“Ah, well, if that’s an option on the table,”he kissed her temple, “it sounds much more fun.”

Even as she opened her mouth to reply with something flirty, a realization struck Charity and she instead buried her face in his chest with a groan. “Actually... that’ll hafta wait. I promised Bethyn I’d come check on Gjeorun today; his fever’s been stubborn-”

“Char, that snow’ll be hip deep on you,” Edér protested. “Higher where it’s drifts.”

“And? I’m not breakin’ a promise to check on a sick kid, Edér. Not for somethin’ that’s at most an inconvenience.”

“I’ll go,” he said, kissing the tip of her nose before he stepped away to start getting dressed. “Pretty sure I can at least tell a fever as well as you can.”

She thought about protesting, but it really would be an easier trek for him, and they weren’t yet to the point where treatment options would be complicated, and he had that look in his eye saying he was ready to be stubborn about this. “Ain’t gonna argue myself out of gettin’ to stay in the nice, warm house,” she said with a playful shrug.

Edér paused in pulling on his boots. “On second thought...” he teased.

“No, no, you volunteered already,” Charity laughed. She crossed her arms and pulled out her best look of mock-censure. “How will the  people of Dyrford trust you if you don’t keep your promises, Mayor Teylecg?”

“That’s fightin’ dirty, darlin’,” he complained, throwing a balled up sock at her.

She caught it and threw it back. “I think you’re gonna need that, don’t you?”

Edér shook his head before pulling on the sock and the boot that went with  it.  “Fightin’ real dirty, Char.”

“I learned from the best,” Charity said sweetly. She plunked down on the bed next to him. “In all seriousness, though, I do appreciate this.” She kissed his cheek. “An’ I know Bethyn will, too. Oh!” She pushed back to her feet. “If you’re goin’ I need to give this to you...” The small bottle was still sitting on the table from when she prepared it the day before. “It’s for if the fever’s not down,” she explained, pressing it into Edér’s hand. “Slightly stronger combination of herbs than what Bethyn’s been usin’ so far. Hopefully his fever broke on its on, but if she needs it...”

“Better I don’t need to make two trips,” Edér finished for her. He slipped the bottle in the pocket of his coat and kissed her on the nose again. “Stay warm.”

“I think that’s more of a concern for you,” Charity said wryly as she retrieved his hat and scarf from the mudroom. She made sure to tug the hat all the way down over his ears. “Given that you’re gonna be wadin’ through snow an’ all.”

His eyes twinkled as he wrapped the scarf around his neck. “I’ll just think of you, it’ll keep me plenty warm.”

She rolled her eyes and whacked his arm. “You better get goin’, who knows how long it’ll take you to get there in this.” The Spackholms didn’t live that far, but wading through three feet of snow was going to slow him down. 

“Alright, I’m goin’,” Edér chuckled, stealing one last kiss before he set off.

Charity shivered in the brief whirl of cold air when he opened the door, but still stood by the window to watch until he’d disappeared from view. She really should start at the very least clearing out a path to the chapel. But even that small taste of the weather inclined her toward finding more indoor methods of filling her time. She shuffled back toward the bedroom, smiled at the sight of Sunshine and Sparrow curled up atop the blankets she and Edér had pushed aside when they rose.

“You two look comfortable,” she chuckled. Sparrow yawned and Sunshine’s tail wagged against the covers. “Don’t worry, I won’t make you move. Or share. I love ya, but the one I really wanna snuggle just walked out the front door so I didn’t hafta.” She plunked on the edge of the bed and scratched Sunshine’s ears. “I should do somethin’ as a thank you, shouldn’t I?”

Sunshine let out a happy dog groan and leaned into her hand.

Charity laughed and scratched harder. “Is that a yes? Well, then, what should I do?”

He just wagged his tail again, letting his head sink to the covers, and Sparrow was so deep asleep her whiskers were twitching as she dreamed. Charity nibbled her lower lip in thought. It only took a moment to hit her. What would be a better reward for trudging through thigh-deep snow than to find hot cider and fresh-baked cookies when he got back? The weed in the flowerbed, of course,  was her utter inability to cook. But surely there was some cookie recipe in their possession easy enough even she couldn’t mess it up. She knew they had ingredients aplenty; Edér made sure they were well-stocked by midway through Early Autumn.

“Baking’s different than cookin’, right?” she asked the snoozing animals. There was no reaction from either; Sunshine had drifted back off with the head scratches.

Charity smiled and pushed off the bed, tying her hair up in a messy bun as she headed toward the kitchen. It couldn’t hurt to try. After all, what was life without a little risk? Edér would probably tease turning her loose in the kitchen was more than a little risk, but he wasn’t here to stop her. She started humming to herself and pulled the recipe box from the shelf, thumbing through in search of the desserts. Really, how hard could it be?

                                                      ---

An hour later, she was ready to eat those words, partially because she wasn’t sure if she or anyone else could eat the lump of dough sitting in front of her. It was supposed to turn into cinnamon-dusted cookies, but it didn’t taste quite right to her. 

Charity’s face screwed up in a frown and she tugged a lock of hair that had fallen loose during her travails. She wasn’t sure it was worth taking the time to bake these if it was only going to confirm her suspicions that she was no good at baking, either. On the other hand, if she wanted to have some done before Edér got back, she’d really need to get them in soon. Even as she stood there, torn, there was the dull thump of someone knocking snow off boots outside, which made Sunshine bark, and the door swung open.

“Started snowin’ again,” Edér called as he stepped inside and hastily shut the door behind him.

Charity leaned back around the doorframe and grinned. “I can see that. There’s snowflakes in your beard,” she informed him, “even if they weren’t all over your coat and such.” 

“Yeah, looks like it’s gonna be pretty decent, on top of what we already got.” He cocked his head as he stripped off his gloves. “Char, what’re you doin?”

She tried to look innocent, but was too close to laughing from his suspicious tone. “Baking. Or tryin’ to, I think I did it wrong...” On impulse, she scooped a fingerful of the questionable dough and crossed the living room. “Doesn’t taste quite right to me.”

Edér looked between her and the sample of cookie dough, clearly picking up the unspoken request. He smirked and leaned down to kiss her instead, fingertips briefly cold against the back of her neck, lips freezing against hers. “Perfect,” he chuckled, cleaning a smudge of something(probably flour) off her cheek with the side of his thumb. “An’ now if I die” --a nod toward the dough-- “least I got t’ kiss my wife one last time.”

“Too many of those jokes and maybe you will,” Charity grumped, but there was no real weight behind the threat.

Edér just grinned and took the dough. “You’re just a little shy on sugar, Char,” he informed her after tasting it. “These are th’ cinnamon dusted ones Gjyra makes?” When she nodded, he shrugged. “Just add some sugar in with the cinnamon when you’re dustin’ ‘em and it’ll be fine.”

She brightened. “Y’ mean I actually made somethin’ edible?”

He laughed as he tugged off his hat and unwound his scarf. “Only time--an’ the oven--will tell.”

“True,” she conceded with a wry laugh. “While I get the first batch in the oven, there’s cider warmin’ by the fire, an’ then I’ll join ya so we can get in some of that cuddlin’ we mentioned earlier while the cookies bake.”

“Sounds like a plan, darlin’,” Edér grinned, dropping his hat to slip his hands under the back of her shirt. “I need a lot of warmin’ up.”

Charity yelped at the shock of cold skin against hers and swatted his arm.  “Edér-!” But she couldn’t resist giggling all the same, as she tugged him closer by the uneven pale blue scarf draped around his neck. “You owe me for that,” she whispered, before pushing up on her toes to kiss him. His lips were still cold, and there was melting snow in his beard and all over his coat, but she didn’t care.

He was grinning when she finally stepped back. “Only fair when you put your cold feet on me every night,” he murmured playfully, “But that seems a pretty good start.”

“Yep. A start,” Charity emphasized, patting his cheek and not even dignifying the other part with a response before she disentangled herself and headed back toward the kitchen. “Get outta your wet stuff, get some cider, and I’ll join ya in just a couple minutes.”

“Yes, dear,” he said mischievously, and she rolled her eyes but kept walking. The faster she had the cookies in the over, the faster she could join him. And on a cold snowy day like this, few things sounded better than snuggling her human furnace of a husband. 

Bet he didn’t even get cold on the way to Bethyn’s, she thought as she started dropping cookie-sized lumps of dough on a baking sheet. Which brought another thought to mind. “How’s Gjeorun doing?” she called out as she worked.

Edér grunted, probably pulling off his boots, before he replied, “Fever broke last night just ‘fore he went t’ sleep. I left the medicine anyway; ‘case it comes back or one of the girls gets it.”

Charity winced. “Good idea, but hope not. They have a separate room, an’ Bethyn and Dannith have been good about keepin’ them away while Gjeorun’s been sick.”

“Yeah, but you know how Ilaine loves her brother...” Edér pointed out. There was the clink of ladle against mug, then the couch creaked.

“We’re gonna be optimists about this,” Charity retorted as she slid the cookies in the oven. “Or at least I am,” she said ruefully as she joined him. “Thank you for goin’.”

“You’re welcome,” Edér said easily, holding one arm out so she could join him.

Which Charity was all too happy to do. She snuggled in next to him. “Gods, Edér, how are you so blazin’ warm?!”

“Not all of me’s warm,” he countered mischievously, running chilly fingers down her arm and under the hem of her shirt(again).

Goosebumps prickled up her spine and she grabbed his hand to sandwich between her own. “I think this’ll work better.”

“Less fun, though,” he teased, brushing his lips against her temple.

She snorted. “For you, maybe. Don’t let me forget about the cookies. Wouldn’t wanna burn what might be my first success story where food’s concerned.”

“Cross m’ heart.” He went to kiss her temple again, but Charity tipped her chin up to catch it on the lips instead. Edér chuckled. “I was workin’ that direction, darlin’.”

“Not fast enough, you weren’t,” she mock-grumbled. 

He grinned. “I can fix that...” He tugged his hand free of hers and instead curved it along her jaw as he kissed her properly.

“Much better,” Charity murmured when they parted. She snuggled in closer against his chest, tucking her head under his chin.

Edér chuckled and pressed a kiss to her hair as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and settled in as well. “Glad you approve.”

She just hummed happily. This was the way to spend cold winter days, she mused. It could snow as deep as it liked outside; she was perfectly happy right where she was.

Even when they forgot about the cookies.

(The second batch turned out just fine.)

#queens fic #eder teylecg #charity #ederity #eothasian idiots #otp: brighter than the sun #this is like early winter the first year they're married #(so i still get to write charity giving him the sweater she made some other time :3) #and look their honeymoon phase lasts like two or three YEARS #bc i do what i want :D

[angelz-dust]

masters of none - part 4 (jason todd x reader)

summary: after many months, we are back in action and back in reader’s head. pls enjoy these jason crumbs. if you need a refresher on the plot, the other chapters will be linked below!

word count: 3.7k

warnings: food/eating. alcohol. cursing.

part 1 /// part 2 //// part 3

gravity

ever since i ever felt ya, right there life couldn't seem better. tulip flowers in my sweater. ask me now, is this forever?

…

you rested your chin on the table before you, your arms hanging limply between your knees as you listened to your manager, dana. you were really just watching her mouth open and close while she pointed at a powerpoint. god, what you would've given for an extra hour of sleep. the all nighters in the studio were starting to take a toll. 

the feeling of the back of daisy’s soft hands brought you back to earth. the smell of cocoa butter dancing beneath your nostrils as her smooth engagement ring rolled across your cheek. you breathed in her smell, exhaling in content through your nose.

“you good?” she mouthed and you closed your eyes, giving her a little nod. the bassist rubbed her calloused fingers against your forehead, pushing strands of your hair past your hairline. you pouted when she eventually pulled away, leaving you only with the sensation of touch that once was.

you heard tyler shift in his seat and then felt some air graze against your hand. you looked under the table, noticing he was holding something out to you. you two made eye contact briefly before you scooted back in, grabbing what felt like an envelope. looking down at your lap, you saw a sticky note attached to it. jason’s money was what it said. you carefully put the envelope in your jacket pocket, sitting back in your seat now and looking at dana’s powerpoint. she was going over reports from your publicist, jerry, which you didn't particularly care about.

“now, i have to ask,” dana’s words pierced your bubble of inattention. “have you all thought about what i said about this next album?”

jordy raised his hand like a school kid. “yes?”

“y/n and i decided that we'd be okay with making our album a group project. it has been, admittedly, kinda hard and boring without everyone else. we’d honestly be doing ourselves a disservice by not doing it together,” jordy explained, dana clapping her hands together.

“wonderful,” she nodded, keeping her hands clasped. “i know you two were excited to do your own thing, but i was talking to jerry and he was really pressing me to get a group album from you guys. the people wanna see you guys as a unit of established artists, which you all are. so what's the concept? we never discussed it.”

“uh,” you verbally paused, raising your arms above your head to stretch. “disco, jazz, and funk. it's a mix of those.”

“retro is in right now,” dana nodded, pacing around the room. “how far back will this set us on a release date?”

you grimaced, leaning back in your seat, the back of the seat lightly bouncing as it absorbed your weight. you pondered the question for a moment. “if it’s gonna be a group thing, it'll have to be significantly longer. we have a decent starting off point but i'm gonna need way more songs now.”

“what about the rest of you? any tracks that we could swing?” dana asked, looking at the rest of the group. 

grabbing a pen and piece of scrap paper, you started jotting down notes as everyone spoke out to you. dex and quinton didn’t have anything, but they wouldn’t be a problem. you just needed to give them a beat to rap over and you’d be set. the twins had a finished song already that fit the concept, which was good. with tyler’s voice and aly’s excellent song writing abilities, you doubted very seriously that anything else needed to be done to it. daisy and hector had plenty of lyricless songs, too. funk and soul was their specialty, after all. misha even had a demo track she was willing to share. 

you looked over the notes you had taken, tapping your pen on the table as you hummed to yourself. “this could probably work. we’ll need to go over everything in the studio, though.”

“we should just do it now. no one is doing shit else today, right?” dex asked the group, who all shook their head. 

“i have a request,” you raised your finger, looking at dana. “i want gotham to be involved in this project.”

“gotham…” dana repeated slowly, unsure of what you meant. “care to elaborate?”

“music videos directed by student directors from gotham university, commissioning local artists for album art. dancers, actors, musicians, whatever. all of them have to be from gotham. i don't want any of the money we put into this project leaving this city,” you stated firmly, dana giving you a blank look. 

“i like that idea,” hector said, giving you a kind smile before turning to dana, shifting in his seat. the drummer was like a big brother, always backing you up in moments like these. “accessibility to the arts is really limited here and we should change that.”

“i’d rather give back to the city, too,” quinton agreed, playing with the gold cross hanging from his neck. “we’re one of the only groups in gotham known outside of gotham. we should use that as an opportunity to rep our city.”

“it sounds like you have your minds made up on this,” dana narrowed her eyes, letting out a sigh. “it would definitely be good PR.”

“because god forbid we do something out of the kindness of our hearts,” misha laughed, rolling her eyes. “we're trying to put the city on and you're worried about how it makes us look.”

“that's my job, misha. don't you want me to do my job?” dana retorted. “besides, i'm more concerned with the funding. you all don't have disposable income, believe it or not.”

“but i know someone who does,” she said with a singsong tone, giving you a look.

“i hope you're not referring to me,” you deadpanned. your income was far from disposable.

“i’m referring to our good friend, bruce wayne,” she explained, grabbing a business card out of her purse, handing it over to dana. “ever since i got invited to that charity gala, i've had a direct line to a representative with the wayne foundation. i say we ask them to help fund the project.”

“now that could work,” dana admitted, eyeing the card as she tapped her foot. “if we pitch for more youth involvement, it'll probably go over better. we all know how much bruce wayne loves saving the children.”

you frowned at how dana described bruce’s initiatives as a philanthropist. you were sure his motivations for favoring youth projects were good intentioned, considering his parents had been killed when he was just a little boy. you wanted to go into this good intentioned, too and you hoped that they'd agree. they being the wayne foundation and subsequently, bruce himself.

“ty and quinton could do something with forrester. if we’re going for the youth involvement route, i mean,” aly spoke up. 

“forrester correctional. our old stomping grounds,” quinton sighed wistfully as he patted tyler on the shoulder. “i think that would be a good idea.”

“they use the arts as an outlet for them, so it could be beneficial for everyone,” tyler nodded. “there are a lot of good kids there. just unfortunate circumstances, that’s all.”

“wasn’t one of bruce’s son’s a troublemaker before he was adopted?” aly continued, not noticing the look you and tyler shared. “i’m sure he’d probably be interested in doing something with them if his son comes from the same background.”

“it’s settled, then. you all keep working on the music. jerry and i will handle the rest. we need this album out before hector and daisy’s wedding,” dana said, grabbing her suitcase. 

…

hey, i have your money. did you still want it?

you stared down at the unsent message, your thumb floating over the send arrow. you hadn’t spoken to jason since that night after the race, as per his request. your mind kept wandering back to it, even as time still went on. what happened was scary, to say the least. fun, but scary. you wondered how the hell jason didn’t get the two of you killed. that part, you didn't want to think about too hard. everyone in gotham had their secrets and it was an unspoken rule amongst citizens to not pry. secrets were secrets for a reason. nothing good ever came from unearthing them.

speaking of secrets, you hadn't exactly told tyler and quinton what happened that night. not in detail. you conveniently left out the chase and stopping to get something to eat. omitting the first part was obvious, but the second one was for your own sanity. you didn't need them teasing you over nothing. besides, all that mattered was no one was dead or arrested. and for the way the three of you used to get down, that was a win. 

you considered texting jason earlier this week, just to check in on him, but you decided against it. he obviously wanted you to text him and you obviously had to do the opposite. his little mind game wasn’t going to work on you. you pressed send, frowning immediately as you did so.

maybe it already had.

“it’s too many people in this bitch,” dex sighed, the cold of the water bottle you had asked him for against your hand bringing you back to reality. blinking, you were suddenly very aware of the chaos surrounding you in the studio as you put your phone back in your pocket. you looked to your left, where jordy was leaning against the wall and scrolling through his phone. to your right was aly, who was scribbling in her songbook in the chair next to you. you remembered you were supposed to be working, too. “we need a new stu.”

“i’m working on it!” hector hollered from inside the booth as he and daisy were setting up equipment and instruments. you glanced up at the glass in front when you heard his voice, accidentally catching the pair share a little kiss. you quickly averted your gaze, smiling to yourself.

“new stu, new view, what it do?” quinton began to freestyle to a beat he was making on the coffee table in front of him. “off 92, posted up with southside crew.” 

“okay,” dex laughed, noddinh his head as he was vibing with the beat, making his way out of your line of sight. you heard someone, presumably tyler, join in and add some depth to the beat. it sounded like he was hitting a pencil against a shot glass.

“i got a new boo, but i’m tryna slide with misha, too,” quinton continued, dex adlibbing in the back as quinton lowered his voice to his signature melodic whisper. “on the low, nobody gotta know.”

“would you shut the fuck up?” you heard misha say, followed by a barrage of muffled smacking noises and verbal objections from quinton, who you assumed was on the receiving end of what sounded like an assault by pillow.

laughing to yourself, you leaned your head in aly’s direction, not fully facing her. “pass me the flash drive?” you held your hand out weakly. once you felt the plastic in your palm, you leaned back over and put it into the computer, pulling up the proper files. 

“we’re done back here,” daisy smiled at you, she and hector coming out from the booth. 

you clapped your hands together. “wonderful. everybody shut up, please.”

you pulled up the twin’s song and let it play, your eyes fixed on the colorful audio loops on the screen. the green ones were tyler’s vocals, the purple were aly’s. it looked like blue was reserved for instruments and red was any added sound effects or layered sounds. 

“you two sound really great,” jordy walked up behind aly’s seat, leaning against it as he swayed his head to the beat. 

“thanks. i wrote it with our mother in mind,” aly said, the words coming out of her mouth uncomfortably. you placed your hand on hers and gave it a little squeeze, which earned you a look of appreciation.

“it's missing something, though,” tyler scratched the back of his head. “i need the producer squad to give us some assistance.”

“oh, say less,” dex laughed, snapping his fingers to the beat with one hand and holding his glass of hennessy in the other. he danced his way over, taking aly’s seat as she, tyler and jordy moved to give you all some space. 

misha sauntered her way over, sitting against the table and flipping her hair over her shoulder. the smell of her sweet perfume floated in the air around you. “i think it just needs some fluffing up. some snapping might work. more vocal layering in certain spots.”

“i agree,” you nodded, dex letting out a satisfied sigh as he took a sip of his cold drink. 

“is it good?” misha asked him teasingly and he took his final swig, letting out a more dramatic and drawn out sigh. this time, though, it was on beat with the song. you were pretty sure it was unintentional on his part, since he and misha just shared a laugh before returning their attention to the screen.

after a moment of pondering, you swiveled around in your chair, looking at tyler. “okay, hear me out…”

…

two weeks of very diligent working between the nine of you had given you a lot to work with for the album. all that was left was to start putting things together. you still had a ways to go, but you had a good starting off point. as much as you hated to admit it, it was a good call on dana’s part to have you all do a group album. the fans seemed to be greatly anticipating the release and the work ethic the nine of you shared was incredible. even in that cramped little studio, you all made it work.

you all agreed to take the day off, but you were still working at some capacity. you had just traded one small space for another, working in your walk-in closet/home studio for the day. you still needed said walk-in to function as a closet, so there were still garment bags pushed up into a corner and shoe boxes haphazardly stacked, surrounding your desk that you had shoved in there. there was just enough space for you to move your chair and safely get out without twisting an ankle, a fate you often flirted with in that room.

in the spirit of your day off, you hadn't done anything too difficult. you were just trying to decide what order you wanted the completed songs to go in. it may seem like an insignificant detail, but the order was important. the transitions between songs couldn't be jarring for the listener. everything had to flow together with natural progression. at this point, it didn't matter since you weren't done with the album, but it was just giving you an idea of how to fill the gaps with future songs. 

the sound of your growling stomach indicated that it was time to stop for the day. you quickly saved all your work and headed to the kitchen. you popped some leftovers in the microwave and scrolled on twitter while you waited. the microwave beeped at you, so you set your phone back down and grabbed the bowl, mixing up the contents with your fork. the flash of light coming from your phone got your attention. a text notification.

are you home?

oh, so now he wanted to respond? cute.

despite your annoyance with the situation, you quickly responded with a yes and set the phone back down. you leaned against the counter, eating what little food you had in your reheated bowl. you mixed the contents around with your fork, grumbling. stupid jason and his stupid inability to text back. he could have at least had the decency to leave you on read. he probably didn't even have read receipts on. you weren't sure which was worse. tossing your now empty bowl into the sink, you grabbed your phone to read his next message.

i’ll be over soon. 

soon was very vague and you wished that you would've demanded an exact time, but that opportunity had passed by the time you thought about it. you busied yourself with tidying up, trying to make your place look presentable. you even lit your new candle, which you found yourself focusing your attention on while you waited for him to show up. staring at the flame was much more entrancing than you anticipated.

you heard the door buzzer go off. you weren't expecting anyone else, so it had to be him. you leaned against the wall, pressing your finger to the button.

“who goes there?” you presented the question as a joke, but your tone was a little flat.

“it’s the irs,” jason’s voice came through and you buzzed him in. 

not too long after, you heard him knock on the door. you cracked it open and the first thing you noticed was his cologne. it was a strong but pleasant scent. spicy and sweet. it was very intoxicating, actually. so much so that you almost forgot you were angry at him.

“hi.”

“hello.”

you opened the door fully and handed the envelope to him. jason eyed it suspiciously. he opened it up and began to count it out in front of you. he made an effort to do it very slow, the sound of the crisp dollars echoing in the quiet hall. his eyes stayed glued to yours as he counted out loud. you leaned against the doorframe as you watched.

“six… seven… eight,” he said, pulling out his wallet and stuffing it with the cash. “thought you would've skimmed some off the top.”

“i should have with how long you made me wait,” you said matter of factly, letting your annoyance be known now. 

“i know. i’m sorry,” he sounded honest but you couldn't see it in his face or in his eyes, which was worrisome. it was a nice alternative to listening to a sputter of excuses, though. “let me make it up to you?”

“how do you plan on doing that?”

“i’m so glad you asked,” he smiled. “as it turns out, i've recently come into some money. let me spend it on you?”

“so you like throwing money at your problems?” you asked him. well, you weren't really asking. it was more like you were telling him. 

“no,” he said, sounding a little offended. “i just thought-”

“you just thought that throwing money at me would make me forget about the fact that you ignored me for a month.”

“no, no,” he shook his head, sighing in frustration. “listen, i-”

“i really don't wanna hear it,” you said honestly, watching as his frustrated look turned into kicked puppy. you almost felt bad. “i don't like feeling stupid, jason. that's how i feel right now. i want you to make it up to me but you'll have to be a bit more creative than this.”

“you want me to make it up to you?” jason had repeated, confusion on his face. 

you poked him harshly in the chest. “you do that or you leave me alone. those are your options. goodbye.”

you shut the door in his face and let out the breath you were holding in. you weren’t sure how jason was going to react to your little ultimatum, but those were your terms. you liked him but you weren’t going to stress over someone you barely knew, especially with your assumptions about him floating around in your head. 

“i’ll be right back,” you heard him say through the door, catching you off guard. 

“what?”

“don’t go anywhere.”

you didn’t respond but you heard his footsteps getting quieter as he walked down the hall. the elevator ding indicated that he had left. you stood there, confused as to what it was he was trying to do. you were still stewing in your negative emotions, so you went and busied yourself again. you decided the dishes needed washing and got on it right away. in the middle of scrubbing the stubborn sauce stains out of your plate, you heard your door buzzer go off again. 

so he did come back after all. interesting.

you buzzed him in like you did before and waited by the door for him. he knocked and when you opened it, you were met with two gifts: a bouquet of pink tulips and a small box of something from the bakery around the corner. 

“i shouldn’t have ignored you. it was rude and stupid and i’m sorry. it won’t happen again,” he said to you, holding out the items to you. you hesitantly accepted them, taking the opportunity to look through the plastic opening of the box to see chocolate covered strawberries. 

“it better not happen again,” you pouted, looking up at him. you had to appreciate the effort he put in at such short notice. it was a sweet gesture and he actually looked sorry this time. 

“it won’t,” he assured you and you smiled.

“i forgive you. but you’re on thin fucking ice,” you reminded him and he grinned at you with a nod.

“i’m going to make it up to you. just you wait,” he said confidently. “not all of us are naturally creative like you, though. you gotta give me some time to think of something else.”

“seems like you’re getting your feet wet with the flower selection,” you noted, taking a whiff of the delicate and fresh scent. they’d look nice on your coffee table.

“lady at the shop said they would convey my sincerest apologies,” he explained, a hopeful look in his eyes. “did it work?”

“for now,” you shrugged, setting the items down on the table next to the door. 

“i can accept that.”

“you’re gonna have to because that’s all i’m giving you,” you said firmly. his charm wasn’t going to get him out of this one. not completely. “now go away. i want to eat my berries in peace.”

“i’ll text you as soon as i get the chance,” he told you as you were shutting the door. you peered at him, narrowing your eyes before shutting it again. “i’m serious!”

“goodbye, jason!” you said through the door. you heard his faint farewell as you walked away, plopping on the couch with your dessert in hand.

were you still a little mad at him? yes. but you weren’t going to pass up free stuff, even if you had made all that fuss about the money earlier. at least the gifts had some thought behind them. so long as he held up his end of the deal, you had a feeling being friends with jason wouldn’t be that bad.

hopefully, anyway.

#jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #dc x reader #jason todd #red hood

[friendlyneighborhoodcapricorn]

gooood morning i am back with what may be a strange request?? i recently started rewatching harry potter and the urge to adopt every single of these kids is overwhelming, so could i possibly get some headcanons as to how the kiddos would react to a grown up reader taking them under their wing and going full parent-mode on em? either gender-neutral or male reader, if you don't mind <3

Oh my god, yes!! I’m so soft for found families! And between all the matchups (which I love doing, don’t get me wrong) this is a breath of fresh air lol

I’m just going to pick a handful of characters and write some headcanons, but if you read this and realise there’s a particular character you’d like to see as well, just let me know!

For the sake of this, I imagine the reader is somewhere between 18-25, and kind of like an older, protective sibling to them.

Harry Potter

Look, if anyone needs a stable older sibling figure in his life, it’s this kid.

I mean, sure, the Weasley’s look after him, and later Sirius and Remus do too, but it’s still different. They all knew Lily and James personally. Harry worries they’ll always compare him to his parents.

Harry would be a little intimidated at first because, you know, cool older witch/wizard voluntarily talking to him?

You’ve probably threatened to curse Malfoy so badly it would make Voldemort look like a joke.

In those words too, but with a lot more profanity.

You’ve also threatened Snape, partly bc he’s a dick to Harry, partly bc you also had him as a teacher and you never quite forgave him for failing you on your NEWTs.

You sign that permission slip for Hogsmeade.

On breaks, he switches between staying at the Burrow and staying with you.

You write each other weekly, and you make sure to always include a sugar quill or a pack of Bertie Botts (and alright, you include some for Ron and Hermione as well).

It takes Harry a bit to really open up to you, but once he learns you give amazing advice, he will talk to you about everything. Trouble with Cho (or later Ginny) or Dumbledore lying to him again… he trusts you with all of it.

Ron Weasley

Okay, so Ron already has a bunch of older siblings, and at least four of them can be deemed cool. He’d be more hesitant about having another.

In fact, it’s not until he leaves Hermione and Harry behind in Deathly Hallows that he truly understands that you’re more than just another one of his siblings.

After all, he can’t go home because they’re looking for him, and he’d put his family in danger by going there.

Of course, you were friends (for lack of a better word) long before that.

There was probably a lot of chess involved. You knew it was something Ron was good at, and the kid is painfully insecure, so you made it your mission to remind him of his strong suits whenever you saw him.

When he starts going out with Lavender, that’s the one time you got pissed at him. You couldn’t believe he was so blind to Hermione’s feelings for him -and his own feelings for her.

Obviously you send him some sweets whenever you feel like it -you never sign the notes attached bc you don’t want him to feel like it’s charity, but you know Ron recognises your handwriting. This goes unmentioned until that period of time during Deathly Hallows where he lives with you.

Ron, slightly drunk on fire-whiskey one evening: “So those sweets… that was you, right?”

You, smiling: “Don’t know what you’re talking about, kid.”

And one day, after the war is over and the dust has settled, you find a lopsided sweater with your initial on it in the mail, with a thank you note. It’s not signed, but you’d know that handwriting anywhere.

Hermione Granger

Hermione practically worships you. First of all, she’s an only child. And secondly, you’re a witch/wizard that graduated from Hogwarts. Of course she adores you.

Whenever she has questions about magic, she asks you. I mean, she asks about a dozen other people too, but she asks you first.

You always know exactly which book she wants to read next and get it for her birthday/Christmas/etc. Even Hermione herself isn’t sure how you know.

Adding in a little personal headcanon of mine, but Hermione would totally be an animagus -I imagine something like a crow, maybe, bc they’re so intelligent, but I’m getting sidetracked. Anyway, you help her with the spell (might even become an animagus yourself, who knows).

You’re the first one she tells about her feelings for Ron. Harry guessed it pretty early, but you were the first whom she actually said it to. She knows you won’t judge her.

After the war, her parents thank you (just like they thank Molly and Arthur) for keeping an eye on their daughter when they couldn’t do so themselves.

Whenever she visits you, she brings a little something: a fluffy scarf in your favourite colour, a bag of your favourite sweets, that tea you’ve been meaning to try but keep forgetting to get… she listens to you just as much as you listen to her.

Honestly, after Deathly Hallows, she slowly becomes less of a little sister and more of a friend.

Draco Malfoy

Look at the Malfoys and tell me that’s a healthy family dynamic. I dare you.

Similar to Harry, Draco needs a decent person in his life. Seriously, who is he surrounded by? His parents who are Death Eaters, his friends who are also Death Eaters, some more random Death Eaters, a teacher notorious for believing it’s okay to bully kids, and a headmaster who lies to everyone with a heartbeat.

Draco would definitely pretend to be too good for you. He’d look down on you, but that only frustrates him when it doesn’t seem to bother you.

But as the Death Eaters return and Draco learns what it’s really like to be a part of them… well, his ego goes down a notch.

He does start to turn to you, and you don’t turn him away, no matter what he said to you in the past. He’s still just a kid in a horrible situation.

He even voluntarily tells you Voldemort chose him to kill Dumbledore.

You do your best to convince him not to, but he’s just too scared of what’ll happen if he doesn’t.

Honestly, just give him a hug. He’s heard a lot of words of advice or reprimands from his family, but he rarely receives affection.

I hope you enjoyed this! Like I said, if there’s any other character(s) you’d like to see this for, just let me know and I can make a part two. Thank you for this lovely request, and have a lovely day/night :)

#request #headcanons #hp #hp headcanon #hp request #harry potter #ron weasley #hermione granger #draco malfoy

[severusdefender]

Hey I'm the anon who sent that snape and Lilly friendship and how it's a sad one.

Listen,,,, that makes me sad thinking about it but Honestly this my ideal everyone's alive au is (it's kinda long but anyways) :

Snape leaves Hogwarts after that 5th year. He simply goes : if I quit then will I die because of seasonal depression /Londons air quality /alcoholism / a knife attack at tescos in 3 am? Maybe but I'm not dying here in Hogwarts again (1st time is the werewolf incident) . And straight up learns the powers of being a transfer student and transfers to ilvermony,,, it's American but it's not bad bad. And he's Vibing ya know doesn't get hexes for his existence every 12 seconds so that's a bonus.

Hogwarts becomes the au that mauruader fans wished they could get because hey snapes gone now so yay jily and local furries are accepted (wolfstar) :)

Flashforward

Regulus black telling his brother and his gang :ayo got a soul..... mate (I had to do that joke pls let me live). Peter : idk why he joined if it's for the saftey then I think chances of them surviving has increased but if it's for revenge reasons then uhh caught deatheater time.( It's horcrux hunting but make it mauruaders era but they like take turns ya know. And let's just say after 3 horcruxes voldys a bit weak and they get rid of him- it's temporary but enough to dismantle the group.)

Narcissa and luscious straight up go :that man is insane so is Bellatrix , we just had a baby after so long if they touch our kid or even look at it the wrong way I will rip their throat of. So they literally just hand shit in a silver platter.

Eileen and Tobias still are v much alive they just don't care enough about their son and they sort of have this on and off thing. Eillen in some fashion meets the mauruaders and becomes their potioner ( they all pissed their pants because she can be v apathetic and that's scary. They also feel pinches of guilt because they realize what snape went through).

Little bit more time skip ya know intermission : a lot of ministry work and rebuilding laws, getting both side of the aisle to work together. Werewolf laws and whatever ya know the basics. James and Lilly get couples therapy!!! they want each other but ya know how it started and the war.

And it's narcissa who's busy making another charity to promote wellness who has not had a single day of peace that decides - listen it's been 8 ish years I am going to write to snape, because fuck this I can't pretend he's a taboo topic when I really did nothing wrong to deserve his silence . And she gets a reply (he's alive, he's working in a hospital in the department of counter potions for dark arts, he's got a wife (they are in love) and 2 kids, his fav thing to do is fight with a local raccoon because it fights with the possum that he sort of keeps. (he says it's not a pet but he also made it a shelter and yes he tried to put a sweater on it) and his least fav thing is his therapist because she's brutally honest but hey therapy is working). And narcissa knows her husband is dramatic so she straight up goes: we both can meet with our families in Paris.

They do meet. Narcissa literally cannot believe it's the same kid who left Hogwarts, she adores his kids and his wife, there a photograph of all of them together she carries with her. She becomes an aunt sort of figure and they do this shit for like 3 fucking years (her husband is curious but he also knows everything is taking a toll on her so he is just happy that his wife is happy). It takes some time but she becomes snapes friend truly She knows at times it's awakard with her sisters Bellatrix is insane and Andy doesn't fully trust that is well deserved but it hurts, but snape and his family,,,, it's the family she gained.

Flashforward the mauruaders and the malfoys and everyone have his big fucking gala party its them all drunk. And narcissa is an honest drunk. It starts of with Kingsley asking her what's your fav memory with your family not your son and husband and child but just family. She ofc with out a beat goes :it's snape carrying it like a baby in a onsie made by his wife and giving sir banana (the possum) a tour around his house and while his family dancing in slow motion to Abba for 'ambience purposes' and because apparently it calmes the possum down.

She smiles and eye rolls on thought of the memory and takes her drink. The rest of the table have so,, so many questions.

Part 1????

🤺♠️🤺

Do let me know if you want me to continue because this is my comfort au.

Have you thought of actually writing a fanfic? because this is a good concept.

#Anonymous #severus snape #pro snape #lily evans

[amphtaminedreams]

Sitting Front Row at...(On a Budget Obvs): Lookbook no.15

Hey to anyone reading!

And welcome to my fave lookbook I’ve done in a longggg ass time! Yes, that’s partially because it involved making collages and doing the low effort work of scouring Vogue Runway for “research purposes”, but I promise, that statement wasn’t made out of COMPLETE laziness-I am super happy with it too. It’s been a good use of pre-part-lockdown-lift time in the interim between that brief period of Christmas celebrations and eateries finally fucking opening again because let’s be honest, I always knew I was gonna get distracted by oat milk vanilla lattes and veggie all day breakfasts once I could actually sit down with them at my fave local cafe. You could say I was very much operating on a self-imposed deadline.

The “what I would wear to sit front row at...[insert designer here]” TikTok/Instagram reel trend was something I wanted to get on board with ever since I first saw one and whilst the option of doing my own live action take-I really cannot bear the thought of having to edit footage of myself awkwardly attempting to sit nonchalantly in front of a camera for hours on end-was off the cards considering my complete lack of screen presence, I decided a Tumblr text post would work just as well, and if not even better in a way. Given the absence of the time limitations you face when you’re making a reel or a TikTok I thought it’d be cool to present the looks as part of a mini moodboard for each designer which adds a bit of context to each look even if you aren’t familiar with their past collections and establishes the general vibe of the brand I’m attempting to replicate. Not to sound snotty or as if I am the font of all knowledge on anything high fashion related but even with my amateur knowledge I noticed that as the video trend took off and was adopted by big name influencers, it became less about the average person putting their own personal spin on the aesthetic of the labels we can’t ordinarily afford and more about them building outfits that only vaguely resemble the general public perception of the brand around the real corresponding (and often gifted and thus inaccessible to someone who doesn’t makes thousands for a sponsored post) pieces they own SO I thought I’d take the trend back to its roots and get a bit resourceful. All that being said, in no particular order, here are the outfits I would wear to sit front row at Gucci, Vera Wang, Miu-Miu, Marc Jacobs, Dolce & Gabbana, Brock Collection, Alexander McQueen, Etro, Burberry aaaand Saint Laurent based on their past collections and guess what? They didn’t cost a shit tonne of money :-)

-disclaimer: will include an asterisk before any new purchases if from a high street store though to be honest, I don’t think there are any, we shall see! I do include where I got old purchases from in case anyone wants to search anything on Depop/Ebay-

1. Saint Laurent (formerly Yves Saint Laurent)

-blazer from identityparty on Depop, pleather trousers from Zara, jewellery from Dolls Kill-

I know technically abbreviating Saint Laurent to YSL doesn’t really make much sense anymore given the brand’s name change in 2012, but I’ll always think of it as that in the same way I’ll always associate it with the slightly dishevelled yet simultaneously glitzy rock n’ roll aesthetic. The thing is, whilst YSL hasn’t done anything wildly out of the box for a long time, it’s rare they put a look on the runway that I wouldn’t wear; they never end up being a fashion week standout but the Parisienne take on grunge we’ve seen Anthony Vaccarello establish as his go-to will always have a place in my heart. 

2. Alexander McQueen

-embroidered leather jacket from Ebay (originally Topshop), harness from Amazon, dress from ASOS, boots from Koi Vegan Footwear-

Alexander McQueen is a brand that is pretty much universally liked, from the historically extravagant and groundbreaking shows the man himself put together to Sarah Burton’s more toned down but still beautiful collections. Obviously I didn’t attempt to do justice to the former, so I tried my hand at putting together a look inspired by Sarah’s blend of delicate femininity and nomadic edge, and it went...okay? Like it’s definitely not my favourite of all the looks because it does give off slightly cheap copycat vibes buuut outside of the context of this lookbook it’s cute.

3. Brock Collection

-boater hat from Ebay, midi skirt from morganogle on Depop, corset top from ownmode_, heels from amybeckett1, bag from Primark-

Brock isn’t as well known a brand as most of the others in this list but I adore everything Laura Vassar Brock does and I couldn’t pass up an opportunity to try and channel the vision of one of the OG pioneers of the cottagecore vibe through my own wardrobe. I mean fr, this woman’s work as a steady provider of meadow photoshoot worthy dresses and corsets and skirts is v slept on and I will not stand for it. I will sit in front of a camera and then write a paragraph in my blog post begging anybody who reads to give LVB (an abbreviation I acknowledge is unlikely to catch on because Lisa Vanderpump anybody?) some form of acknowledgement for her services to period romance novel inspired moodboards everywhere.

4. Marc Jacobs

-coat from House of Sunny, white shirt from Retro World Camden, co-ord from Sugar Thrillz, bag from Poppy Lissiman-

If there’s one thing Marc Jacobs always does, it’s COMMITS. TO. HIS. THEME. I just KNOW he has a secret Pinterest with separate boards for every fashion era of the 20th century and he is putting those boards to good use providing us with collections that are as immersive as they are eclectic year in year out. 

5. Miu Miu

-beret from H&M, hair clips from H&M, jewellery from Primark, coat from mollyyemmaa on Depop, shirt from YesStyle, sweater vest from YesStyle, skirt from Depop, diamanté belt from Brandy Melville, shoes from Koi Vegan Footwear-

We all like to talk about Bratz dolls and Monster High dolls and Barbies as fashion inspo but can we all focus on Cabbage Patch dolls for two secs so as to acknowledge the fact that a Miu Miu collection is basically all their fits grown up? And made boujie as fuck? If I want my fix of Wes Anderson meets Scream Queens (what a combo) inspired outfits, if I want prissy and girlish but also glam, if I want to look like a bratty rich girl whose one redeeming quality is her eye for vintage clothes, I know where to look and that is the Miu Miu section of Vogue Runway. 

6. Vera Wang

-blazer as in no.1, velvet bralet from catdegaris on Depop, harness from Amazon, skirt from Ebay, knee high socks from Ebay, lace up boots from Ebay-

Vera Wang’s RTW aesthetic, a blend of the ethereal, ultra-feminine bridal designs she’s known for and British style punk rock influences, is something I feel has only become firmly established in recent years but it is everything I ever wanted and more. I always find myself trying to balance the part of me that loves everything girly and delicate and pretty and the part of me that would love to be in a biker gang and Vera’s collections are always an inspirational reminder of just how well it can be done.

7. Burberry

-coat from charity shop, suit from emmafisher3 on Depop, top from simranindia, shirt underneath from Zara, jewellery from ASOS-

Now I’m not gonna lie, I’m not the biggest fan of Burberry but there have been a few looks over the past few years I’ve really liked and as someone who owns numerous trench coats, high necks and way too much plaid, I thought it’d be an easy one to replicate. Plus, if you can count on Riccardo Tisci for nothing else you at least can rely on him giving you some layering inspo which is very much needed in a country where it literally just snowed in April and where my plans for today have just been cancelled because the iPhone weather app did a Karen Smith and didn’t predict rain for today right up until it started raining so thanks for that one British meteorologists. Your incompetence strikes again.

8. Etro

-corset from Urban Outfitters, vinyl trench coat from Topshop, boots from Ebay, black slip dress from kaoanaoleinik on Depop, fur trim afghan coat from louisemarcella-

Like with Brock Collection, Etro isn’t a hugely well known brand, but it is always one of my favourites-to add a spanner into the works of any attempts to cultivate a firm sense of personal style, I live for the ornate Bohemian look that Etro does so well just as much as I love both grungy and girly pieces, and so I really wanted to include a brand whose collections go down that route. It was a toss-up between this and Zimmerman, the flirtier, free spirit counterpart to the dark romance of Veronica Etro’s designs; her vision really shines through the most when it comes to the brand’s winter collections, imo, and given that I live in a country where winter or some weather state resembling it does seem to take up 70% of the year, I did decide on channelling her work rather than that of the equally talented Nicky and Simone Zimmermann this time round.

9. Dolce & Gabbana

-flower crown from ASOS, tiara from Amazon, earrings from YesStyle, dress from alicealderdice1 on Depop, opera gloves from Ebay, boots from Koi Vegan Footwear-

D&G is a brand I felt really conflicted about doing-I don’t include their current collections in my fashion week reviews based on the actions of designers Stefano Gabbana and Domenico Dolce over the last few years because I don’t want to mitigate the collective effort of fashion critics to push them towards irrelevancy. Though people like to claim the brand has turned a corner since Lucio Di Rosa was brought on board as the manager of celebrity and VIP relations last year (they are as prolific a force on red carpet fashion as ever), we haven’t seen any real meaningful apologies or reparations made by Dolce and Gabbana themselves which once again leaves us in the all too familiar quandary of whether or not we can separate the art from the artist especially when it is far too much of a simplification to only credit the two men for their work given there’s a whole design team behind them. There are a LOT of shitty people working in fashion, the whole industry is a bit of a cesspit if we’re honest, but I don’t think that should stop us from at least being able to appreciate old collections if we make sure we aren’t engaging in any kind of promotion of current works whilst doing so. D&G are a brand of high highs and low lows, with looks that range from hideously ugly to showstoppingly beautiful in a single show-when the looks are good, they are GOOD-and their presence in the fashion world is most definitely felt whether we want it to be or not. It would just be shit to refuse to recognise the existence of some real iconic runway moments, the practical work that went into the ornate detail and opulence that helped cement D&Gs place in sartorial history, the styling that’s made goddesses and fairytale queens out of modern day women as they’ve glided down catwalks, the far more extravagant and, let’s be real, sexier version of our world D&G shows have transported us to in the past. Will I talk about D&G ever again? No, and if you Google the scandals their brand has faced over the past few years, there are more than enough reasons why, but just this once I did want to pay homage to some of the collections, the snippets of which I saw on my Tumblr dashboard back when I was about 13, that first got me into fashion.

10. Gucci

-fur coat from Topshop, clips from Zaful, glasses from Ebay, dress from gracewright246 on Depop, shirt from Boohoo, blazer from charity shop-

Now last but, if you ever read any of my fashion week reviews (the likelihood of someone actually having read one of them and reading this is incredibly, incredibly slim lol, I wouldn’t read me either) you’ll know, definitely not least, is Gucci because Alessandro Michele comes through every!! single!! time!!

The man is truly the king of quirky throwback maximalism and it hurts my heart that a lot of people seem to think of it only as a brand associated with ostentatious displays of wealth. Year after year since Michele was made creative director he has released purposeful, fully-fleshed out collections which unravel themselves to us on the runway like time capsules containing the belongings of the rich and whimsical and yes that can sometimes result in outfits which are *ahem* a bit mismatched but it doesn’t matter because through fashion he manages to take us to a vivid version of the past where people could dress as freely and lavishly as they wanted to, into the wardrobe of a person unaffected by the side-eyeing of others. You get the impression he doesn’t design so much as plays around with some kind of enchanted dress up box and takes inspiration from there and to give that impression is only a credit to his talent-to make outfits so kooky and extravagant look like they were meant to be takes a boldness and genuine love for clothes that I do tend to feel a lot of the big name designers have lost in the pursuit of profit and the necessary placating of the dying customer base that keeps that coming in. Of course I'm not for a second saying Gucci does not care about profit, but at the very least, they have on board a creative director who genuinely has fun with what they’re putting out there and wants to make a statement too and that really shows; you can rest on your laurels and sell tweed boucle jackets to rich old white women for eternity but nobody’s going to mention your brand name and the word groundbreaking in the same sentence ever again unless they’re talking about what it was a century ago, you know (mentioning no names...unless...did I hear someone say Chanel)? That feels like such a shady way to end, lol, but I’m sure said brand will survive-to be fair, they’ve been included in every other What I’d Wear to Sit Front Row At video I’ve seen so although I’m always slagging them off for doing the saaaaame thinggggg year after year, for that same reason their aesthetic is instantly recognisable and so will always be a source of imitation. There are obviously pros and cons to being a brand which constantly reinvents itself but I think it’s totally possible to do that whilst maintaining an overall mission, and Alessandro Michele’s work at Gucci demonstrates that with ease.

Anyway, if you got to here, thanks for reading! I know I’m super behind on this whole TikTok trend and I know a Tumblr post instead of a video is a bit of a cop out but all the real, physically awkward ones out there know that watching yourself back is excruciating lmao, so I hope this does the trick. After this, I’m gonna get back to the reviewing S/S21 collections post though knowing me I’ll probs take a few days to get back into that because I feel like since I left full-time education (RIP me going back in a few months) writing continuously like this for any longer than about 15 mins fries what brain cells I have left. Again, thank you for reading and if you are, sending many good vibes your way! Stay safe!

Lauren x

#front row #frontrow #fashion #fashioninpo #fashion inspo #style #style inspo #designer #gucci #vera wang #burberry #label #miu miu #runway #fashion week #mood board #ysl #saint laurent #runway trends #ss21 #lookbook #vintage #outfit #marc jacobs #Alexander mcqueen #runway fashion #high fashion #haute couture #trend #collage

[bookstantrash]

A/N: First of all, I’d like to thank everyone who left a comment, reblogged or liked Part One of this fic. It made my day ❤️

I hope this chapter reaches your expectations. I’m still knew at writing multi-chapter fics, so I apologise if it’s too long or too boring. I want to let you guys know Kaelin better and also show Nesta’s (and Cassian’s) journey. But enough blabbering. Please give a warm welcome to Part Two!

In which she makes a friend, Part Two

Nesta remained frozen beside Kaelin’s body for what seemed an eternity. Seconds that felt more like hours went by until her mind finally snapped back to reality.

She could not give herself the luxury of freaking out right now. She needed to be practical. She needed to help Kaelin.

The sky was beginning to get dark and Nesta knew they had to get out of the forest fast. She recalled Cassian’s warning the first day she had arrived.

To never wander in the forest at dark, for the beasts which roamed them at nightfall made Hybern’s monsters at the war seem like child’s play.

“Kaelin. Listen to me. I’m going to help you” Nesta said, and Kaelin only whimpered as another wave of pain came “But we have to leave”

“It hurts” the young girl managed to say, tears streaming down her face “I can’t— can’t move”

Nesta eyed Kaelin’s figure. She was way too skinny for a thirteen year old standards, even if she’d been having regular meals for the past month.

But Nesta didn’t think she’d have the strength to carry her.

She had not eaten a proper meal in months.

Did not exercise.

You’re too heavy.

The memory of herself trying to raise another body from the ground came to mind, and she gritted her teeth to avoid screaming.

Once again, she was powerless.

This time, however, she would not lay on the ground.

She would rise. Even if her miserable bones broke beneath Kaelin’s weight.

“I’ll carry you, but you’ll have to help me” Nesta slowly sit Kaelin up, and looked straight in her eyes “Can you be strong for me now? I need you to move just enough to get on my back”

Kaelin nodded weakly and, panting, did what she was told.

Grabbing the girl’s legs in a firm hold, Nesta bit her cheek and got up, her knees screaming in protest.

“Okay ” she breathed, silently praying her body could hold on long enough to make the ten minute walk back to the cabin “I’m going to move now, so brace yourself”

She took a step forward and had to muster all her strength to not fall down with Kaelin. She remembered giving piggy back rides to Elain when she little — before her mother had deemed it unladylike and punished her. A long time had passed since then. She had been stronger and Elain did not have wings to add to her weight as Kaelin had.

But Nesta focused on the action of putting one foot after the other, her breaths coming in pants, willing her legs to keep moving.

‘Almost there’ she thought as she slowly made her back ‘Just keep moving. It’s not that far’

She repeated that over and over in hopes to distract her body. Her arms were trembling and her tights burned, yet she kept her pace.

After what seemed an eternity, Nesta finally spotted the cabin’s familiar rooftop. She almost sighed in relief.

Awkwardly opening the door and closing it shut with her foot, she went to her room, trying to lay Kaelin down on her bed as smoothly as possible.

She tried to regain her breath. Cauldron, how her back hurt.

Kaelin had curled up again, and was clenching her stomach so hard Nesta wondered if she was actually trying to claw her way into her own body so she could rip her ovaries out.

“I’ll be right back” Nesta said, smoothing some hair from Kaelin’s forehead.

She went to the kitchen, searching for something that would calm the poor girl’s pain. Nesta had not had her period as a fae yet —the huge amounts of alcohol and lack of food in the last year were probably the reason why — but remembered how it was when she used to be a human. She’d get horrible headaches and just lay down all day waiting for the pain to go away. She could only imagine how dreadful the experience must be for the fae.

Getting hold of some ginger, she put water in a kettle to prepare some tea, hoping Kaelin would be able to at least drink it. After that, she went into the shared bathroom between her room and Cassian’s.

And stopped right in front of the bathtub.

She still had trouble taking baths.

Had grown used to her old and deplorable bathtub back in her shabby apartment in Velaris.

And when she had arrived and came face to face with a bathtub big enough to accommodate wings, its dark stone a stark reminder of the Cauldron... she had frozen up. Refused to enter it. Even now, after months living in Cassian’s cabin, she could not stomach the ideia of doing it.

So she waited until Cassian left for his training and took a bucket to wash herself. It was a long process and rather difficult to wash her hair, but at least she could stay clean.

Yet, she could not do the same with Kaelin. The girl was sweaty and dirty with blood. And Nesta knew that a hot bath would do wonders to the cramps, relaxing her.

Raising her chin as if battling an invisible enemy, she got near the bathtub for the first time, turning the faucet and letting it be filled with hot water. Her heartbeat quickened as the water rose and rose, her powers a volcano in her veins, and she had to close her fists tight enough to hurt to not shatter the whole bathroom.

‘It’s not the Cauldron. It’s not the Cauldron’ reaching a tentative hand, she dipped it in the water to check the temperature ‘This water is hot. The Cauldron’s was cold. They are not the same’

Nesta turned the faucet off, and some tension eased off from her shoulders. Looking around the bathroom, she located the camomile oil Cassian kept. She had once heard it helped ease the soreness of the muscles after extensive training.

Putting it in the water, she found herself feeling a bit guilty for using it. It was not hers. Nothing in that house was. But Cassian was not here, and she doubted he’d notice that the little flask was missing some of its content.

She went back to her bedroom, and helped Kaelin take her leathers and tunic off, as she did with the band the girl had wrapped around her breasts, as small as they still were. Only thirteen, the period in which her body was slowly maturing, yet she was going through those body changes alone. The danger of being found out hanging around her neck like a rope.

Nesta tried not to flinch at the sight of the purple bruises along Kaelin’s back and ribs. A girl training the same amount as an Illyrian boy.... she must be very strong to take it all.

Kaelin wobbled towards the bathroom with Nesta’s help, breathing a sight of relief when her body came in contact with the hot water. Letting her soak for a while, Nesta stripped down some clean linens and left them on the bed.

Now the only matter were the clothes.

Nesta had brought few clothes with her, and most of them did not go along with the ruthless Illyrian weather. She eyed the lower drawer of the dresser. The one which she had not dared to touch.

She had been stubborn and refused to accept any more charity from her sister and her mate, sticking with her old dresses and overcoat instead. It was not as if she left the cabin long enough to die of frostbite.

Yet even if Kaelin was used to Illyria’s harsh weather, wearing warm clothes would make her more comfortable. Nesta was not as ruthless as to lend one of her thin run down dresses.

Sighting, she opened the drawer. And almost took a step back in surprise. For there lay clothes not in Night Court’s colours or the typical winter clothes one would find selling in Velaris.

No, they were Illyrian clothes. And not just leathers.

There were cotton sweaters, leggings, tunics and soft pants that Nesta would have never thought of wearing. And the colours.... Gods the colours. There was a range of colours from grey to auburn, burgundy, royal blue and forest green. The kind of colours that Nesta could imagine herself in.

She was so marvelled by them that she almost missed the small note on top of one sweater.

‘These are for you. I took the liberty of buying them, but if you prefere another clothing style feel free to tell me — Cassian’

He had bought her clothes. He, not her sister. And Cassian had kept quiet about it. Had not said a word before his trip about how she had never opened that drawer.

Had given her space. A choice.

Had she perhaps misunderstood his apparent cold behaviour? Was he perhaps giving her time to get used to her current situation? Was he distancing himself so it was her choice when the time to talk came?

Picking some clothes for Kaelin and laying them on the bed, Nesta tucked that information deep inside herself, feeling an annoying warmth in her heart she had not felt in a long time.

~•~

“What did you say?”

“You heard me perfectly clear or have you become deaf with your age?” Nesta replied to the camp lord in front of her, the mask of a bored and mighty queen mastered to perfection.

“I was not informed about this” Devlon said, anger lacing his every word.

“You were not notified because it was not necessary” she spat back, a cold fury settling in her veins “So let it be known that Kaelin will be staying with me for the time being to help in an important and secret matter, none of which are for you to worry about”

“How dare—“

“Have a good day” cutting Devlon off before he nagged at her some more, Nesta left him standing at the training area.

She heard Devlon bark an order for the Illyrians to get back to training, the sound of swords clashing against each soon rising again. She tried not to flinch at the sounds, keeping her mask up until she was safely back at the cabin.

Once inside, Nesta let herself rest against the door, sighing. She was tired. The events of yesterday and today’s morning had taken a tool on her. It had been a while since she had worn the unfeeling ice queen mask. She didn’t recall it to be so tiring.

But rest would have to wait a little bit. She had to check on Kaelin. And demand an explanation.

The night before, after Kaelin had gotten out of the bath and was dressed, Nesta had given the ginger tea and coaxed her into drinking it all. Not long after that, the poor girl fell asleep.

Nesta, on the hand, stayed awake for the better part of the night, dozing off in a chair near the bed, waking up whenever she heard Kaelin move.

When the birds had started to sing in the early morning, Nesta had came up with a plan. Leaving a tray with light food and tea in the bedside for Kaelin, she dressed herself and braided her hair neatly, preparing to go after Devlon. She had to make sure that Kaelin could stay away from training during her cycle and that her secret kept being a secret.

But the Illyrian had some gaps to fill in.

“Nesta?” she heard a soft voice calling from her room, and taking a deep breath, moved from her position.

“Good morning” Nesta said, finding the girl awake and less pale than yesterday “How do you feel?”

“Better” Kaelin was slowing making her way through breakfast “But, training...Devlon....how—”

“It’s been taken care of off” taking her position from the past night, Nesta squared her shoulders and took a business like voice “You have a story to tell”

Kaelin, noticing how the air had become serious, lost no time and, stopping sometimes when the cramps returned with full force, told Nesta everything.

Kaelin’s mother, as she said before, had a fragile health, made worse by the heavy workload imposed on the females. Add that to a difficult pregnancy, you have the recipe for an early labour.

Right in the middle of the heaviest snow storm to have ever befallen on Illyria. Which lasted for four days and four nights.

Making it impossible for a midwife to get there.

Mikael, her father, aided his wife, Selin, all on his own.

A warrior born to kill. To reap lives.

However, for her he would bring life. He would do everything he could.

It was not enough.

He was not able to stop Selin’s internal bleeding. Or her death.

And so, thirteen years ago, on the day Illyria bled white while Selin bled red, a healthy little girl was born.

Yet after the blizzard stopped and Mikael buried his wife, a boy was announced to have been born.

“Protect her” Selin had whispered with her last breath “Let our daughter be free and strong. Let her know no fear. Let her be as wild as Sanuur, the Mother of all forests. As ruthless as the old Illyrian warriors. As wise as our matriarchs.”

Mikael kept his promise. He raised Kaelin as a boy in secret as best as he could. Until he was killed in the Hybern War.

And Kaelin was alone.

An orphan who nothing deserved to have, save for a duffel bag with whatever she could grab before she was kicked out of her childhood home — a one room wood cabin, built by her father after years of hard work — in the mud.

After the rumours that a Witch now lived with the General, Kaelin had a mad plan: she’d give anything, even her soul, to avoid getting what would raise a red flag to her secret.

“I starved and ate herbs that were said to make one avoid getting periods” Kaelin said, looking down at her empty cup “But those things made me far too weak. I was falling behind training. I am at the age boys grow like trees and start to get buffer. I needed a quick solution”

And Nesta had been feeding her.

Oh, she was going to get sick. Had she doomed Kaelin while thinking she was saving a poor orphan?

“From now on,” Nesta announced “I’ll be the one to keep your father’s promise. You will live with me”

It did no good to dwell on what could have been. What had been done was done.

For the first time in five months, the fog inside Nesta’s mind seemed to lift.

“You will live with me. And I will train with you”

Because never again would she be weak. Never again would she be at someone’s mercy.

Nesta Archeron was going to show Illyria just how much she should be feared.

•

Tags: @sayosdreams @thewayshedreamed @sjm-things @perseusannabeth @arin1030-blog @caotica-e-quieta @vidalinav @swankii-art-teacher @ireallyshouldsleeprn @duskandstarlight @greerlunna @thegoddessaltenia @dayanna-hatter @verypaleninja

{Please let me know if you’d like to be added to my tag list}

#sarah j maas #sjmaas #sjm fanfic #nesta archeron

[charincharge]

"For some reason I am attracted to you" prompt for nessian 😍💞Your writing is amazing

In honor of their book announcement. Some Post-ACOFAS Illyrian mountains angsty Nessian.

Nesta hated the mountains. She hated the cold winds that burnt her cheeks while she trained. She hated the way the altitude made the air thin in her lungs, making it impossibly harder to breathe. It made her feel like she was always on the verge of drowning, putting her perpetually on edge.

She hated the thick fatty meats stockpiled in her kitchen; apparently the mountains couldn’t grow vegetables. She longed for a salad. But instead, she forced herself to eat the too rich meat broth, unable to chew through animal flesh without gagging on it.

She hated that she was being shadowed by an overprotective fae male, constantly under his winged surveillance. Even when she couldn’t see him, she could always feel him. Creeping in the corners of her consciousness, tugging on that thing between them. She hated that thing most of all.

But there was one thing that wasn’t too terrible. Since arriving in Illyria with Cassian nearly four months ago, she’d made a friend. Emerie ran a small outdoor post on the outskirts of the camps, and it turned out she was just as unpopular as Nesta was – a woman attempting to infringe upon a man’s realm. Nesta thought it was brave that Emerie was able to maintain her father’s shop, despite the camps’ disdain for a female owner.

Nesta wrapped her scarf around her face tighter, attempting to block out the howling winter winds, as she made her weekly walk into town for tea with her only friend. Her worn in boots trudged across the frost laden path as the sky darkened with the threat of an incoming storm. She could feel wetness seep in through the cracks in the old leather, and she walked faster.

Heat prickled against Nesta’s thawing skin as she entered the store. She shed her jacket and scarf, hanging it on the tall coat rack by the door. A fire blazed in the corner of the room, and Nesta hurried toward it to splay her cold hands over it, letting the warmth of the flames lick her frozen fingers.

She heard a tea kettle ringing in the back room and made her way across the floor to assist Emerie with her preparations. Nesta pushed the heavy wooden door, and it creaked loudly. She was startled to see that Emerie was not boiling water alone. Cassian stood beside her at the stove, a relaxed smile across his face. His normally pulled back hair was loose around his reddened cheeks, brushing against the tops of his shoulders. His casual stance was so unfamiliar to Nesta she had to bite her tongue to stop from gasping. He was so tense around her – shoulders taut and corded muscles ready to strike out and attack. And watching him tip his head back and laugh at something Emerie had said, Nesta realized she’d never seen him relaxed.

An icy ripple curled around Nesta’s neck, cold fury choking her at the domestic scene before her. The doorknob beneath her hand grew frigid beneath her touch, turning brittle, and splintered to the ground with a loud thunk. She pulled her hand away quickly, the icy feeling disappearing as quickly as it came on.

The pair whipped toward the door in surprise, and she noted Cassian’s posture straighten uncomfortably as he caught sight of her. She gave him a tight smile, which he returned with a terse nod.

“I’ll fix that,” Nesta apologized, reaching down to grab the piece of metal from the floor. It burned her skin, and she dropped it again. This time, the knob shattered into shards and scattered across the old wooden floors.

Cassian’s hazel eyes narrowed and swept her body from head to toe. Nesta’s heart pounded, unsure of what was happening. She hated being out of control. Not knowing what her body could do.

Emerie removed the still shrieking kettle from the burner and grabbed her broom, dusting the pieces of metal into a small pile in the corner of the room, while Nesta looked on, frozen in shock.

“Nes?” She hadn’t even noticed Cassian had crossed the room to where she stood, suddenly only inches away from her. Infringing upon her space. Her routine. Her ritual. He didn’t belong here.

“What are you doing here?” Nesta hissed, her pulse thrumming wildly as she stared Cassian down.

He picked up a box from the table behind him and held it out to her. “Thought I’d pick up some new boots for you.” He looked down at her holey boots, which had seen much better days. Nesta crossed her foot behind her ankle, trying to hide it from his view.

“I don’t need your charity,” she said, crossing her arms and refusing to take the box from his hands.

Emerie, sensing an incoming argument between her friend and the Commander, smartly poured two mugs of tea and extracted herself from the small back room, heading back out to the store.  

Cassian sighed and ran his hand through his hair, pushing the strands out of his face. “This isn’t charity, sweetheart,” he explained to her, his voice dripping with condescension. “Winter’s just starting, and I need my soldiers with all their toes.”

“Fine,” Nesta acquiesced, taking the box. “You can leave now.”

“Don’t you think we should talk about—” Cassian motioned to the hole in the door, and Nesta practically growled at him.

“No.” She was resolute.

“You’ve only lost control like that before when you’re angry at me,” Cassian said, his voice lowered, unsure of how much Emerie knew about Nesta’s abilities. He lifted his arm and boxed Nesta against the door, trapping her. “If something else is triggering it, I need to know.”

“I’m always angry,” Nesta seethed. His face was much too close to hers now. She could see the shades of green and gold flecked in his hazel eyes, drawing her in. She looked away, under his arm, straight at the stove where he was standing when she walked in.

“Tell me,” he pushed.

Nesta pressed her hand against his chest, trying to get some air. “You. It’s always you.”

Cassian narrowed his eyes in confusion. “Not sure how I’m to blame for making you angry this time, sweetheart. I was just standing over there, minding my own business, helping Emerie make tea…”

Nesta’s fingers tensed against his leathers, curling against the ring of his harness. And she watched in horror as Cassian’s lips curled into a devious smile. He looked over his shoulder and then back at Nesta, who was still rigid below him.

“Were you…” He paused, cocking his head to the side slightly for emphasis. “Jealous?”

Nesta rolled her eyes and pushed against his chest again, but he remained solid, immoveable. “Of course not,” she snipped. “That’s ridiculous.”

Cassian snorted, leaning closer to her. She gulped, hating the tug she felt deep in her stomach, telling her to let him in, to embrace him, to show herself to him.

“No, ridiculous is burning off a doorknob with your ice cube hands,” he snickered and lowered his other hand to her waist.

“Don’t touch me,” she gritted out between her teeth, but she made no motion to leave.

“Just admit you were jealous, and I’ll leave,” Cassian said, eyes alight with amusement.

Nesta’s stomach twisted as she looked up at him. He waited patiently for her reply.

“Fine,” Nesta began. “For some reason, I’m attracted to you.”

“For some reason…?” Cassian stood up straight, shaking his head, no longer leaning over her, and Nesta took a large gulp of air. “Cauldron, Nesta, you’re infuriating. You know the reason.”

He took another step back and leaned against the table in the middle of the room. He crossed his arms, his body suddenly withdrawn, though his eyes burned with fire.

Nesta stepped away from the door and smoothed her thick sweater.

“Did you ever stop to think that if you accepted the bond, your powers wouldn’t be trying to spew out of you every time I got on your nerves?” he asked, agitated.

Nesta had, in fact, thought of that. It’s what irked her daily about their connection. That she knew it was connected to her powers. Connected to the Cauldron. To everything she hated.

“Why won’t you accept it?” The fire was dimmed in his eyes, dialed down to a low simmer as he stared her down. But she couldn’t give him the answer he wanted.  

“Thank you for the boots, Cassian,” she said, reaching around him for the box. He grabbed her arm, and she let him for a second. His thumb caressed the inside of her wrist, and she shuddered under his touch.

Emerie knocked softly at the door, wiping her hands on her apron. “Tea’s ready, Nesta,” she said, and Nesta silently thanked her friend with a small nod. “Will you be joining us, Cassian?”

Cassian pushed himself off the table and shook his head. “Thank you, but I have business to attend to.”

He pulled on his gloves, his siphons glimmering with the reflection of the flickering fire. He looked at Nesta again and his lips tightened as he took a deep breath. “Don’t stay too late. There’s a storm coming in tonight.”

He didn’t bother waiting for Nesta’s answer as he extended his wings and took off as soon as he exited the small store.

But as Nesta sipped her tea, she could feel him hovering nearby. After telling Emerie she would return again next week, she wrapped herself back in her thin coat and scarf and headed out into the wet winds. The outline of wings created a shadow on the ground, surrounding her the whole way home. Nesta never looked up once.

tags:

@df3ndyr @hizqueen4life @maastrash @justgiu12 @aknymph @bamchickawowow 

(sorry if you’ve told me you want to be on my everything tag list and i missed you...please just tell me again!! i’m trying to get my lists up to date)

#nessian #nesta x cassian #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #a court of silver flames #charincharge writes #prompts #nesta archeron

[viltrumitesuperboy]

Luck (Peter Parker x Male Villain Reader)

my line breaks wont FUCKING WORK TUMBLR IS TRASH

Luck is a superpower, you can disagree (respectfully) in my asks. I don’t know how to write “villain” villains, especially for the reader, so you’ll notice that I tend to give the villains a motivation for their actions. They’re typically redeemable.

Requested by: anon since requests are open and i like your writing, id thought id request something. perhaps you can do a spidey x villian reader where the reader and peter are dating but dont know about the others alter ego? 

Word count: 2265

"Peter, where's the black pepper?"

"Top shelf!"

You opened the cabinet looking up at the black pepper just barely out of your reach. Even on your toes, your fingers barely brushed the wooden shelf. Turning quickly to check if Peter was still in his room, you extended your arm just a bit and managed to pluck the little container off of the shelf.

"Are you almost done with lunch? You know we have to go to the city today," Peter said, walking into the kitchen.

He was just pulling his sweater down when you turned to look at him, a smile on both your faces.

"Yeah, just salt and pepper for taste. You know how spices work, right?" you joked.

He laughed and hugged your middle from behind, pulling away to grab the plates from under you and bringing them to the table. He started eating right away, his plate always just a little more filled than yours.

"Even now I'm always surprised because I already eat a lot. I don't know where all of that goes," you commented, gesturing to his body.

"My ass," he mumbled through a bite.

You laughed around your own food as he shrugged. Once you both finished, you did your normal elevator vs. staircase race. You had the staircase this time, and you were alone. So if he didn't see you somehow hop down entire flights of stairs without any injury, all was well. You tried to lean against the wall like you had been waiting for him forever, and laughed when he blew a raspberry in your direction.

"Come on, we gotta catch the train," he urged.

He pulled you along until you got outside, both of you walking side by side to the station. The train ride always felt shorter with him, and he got off a stop or two earlier than you did every time. Even with your own extracurricular activities, you wondered if you would ever get to know what he did. You brushed it from your mind. If he knew what you got up to, he'd be upset. He was a huge supporter of the Avengers and similar "hero" figures, and even worked with and for them. You had to engage in crime just to get by. As you entered the building, you looked at the Avengers Tower a few blocks down. You turned away.

---

The sooner you got into your suit, the sooner you could join your companions in robbing the next bank. You knew whoever made the plans would get the most money, so you always planned things before anyone else could think of them. Without it, you wouldn't even be able to pay for groceries. Everyone else had a job, but you were younger and still in school, which made it much more difficult for you and they all understood. Despite the luck you knew you had, life was the one thing that could bring it down.

Just as you all left with bags, you stopped instantly at the sight of Spider-Man leaning against the wall awkwardly, much like you had done earlier that day. You almost laughed, but you had to leave with the money so you kept a straight face.

"So, uh... you guys ever think about the law? It's pretty cool sometimes," he said with an obviously faked confidence.

You pushed the bags towards your team and ushered them to move, swiftly moving towards Spider-Man. He darted to the side as you kicked toward him.

"Missed m- Oof!"

As he tried jumping for the ceiling, you grabbed the back of his suit and yanked him down, thanks to your luck. It left him winded for a few seconds.

"Sorry, dude. Just let me off this once," you said unapologetically.

He groaned as you ran back towards your team, two of them grabbing you into the moving van. The doors shut and you watched Spider-Man through the darkened window, just barely catching a glimpse of your vehicle as it sped away.

"Well, that was fast. Maybe you're right about your luck being a power," one of them snickered.

You hit her with a grumble, turning down to check your phone. A text from Peter said he needed snuggles, and you smiled a bit as you pulled your mask off.

"Is it that kid you're dating again?" she asked, pulling her own off.

"Yeah, drop me off in the area. Leave the money in the usual place and I'll come grab it," you said, beginning to pack your things.

"You got it."

"Thanks."

As you left the van, you waved at them, giving some of them a fist bump as you passed and hopped out of the van.

"I'll figure out our next location."

They waved back and you turned as the van doors shut. You went into the dark alley nearby to change, then walked the few blocks to Peter's apartment. Aunt May greeted you with a hug and a smile, then gestured you Peter who was curled up in a blanket in front of the TV, looking like he stayed up all night despite it only being nine at night.

"What's up?" you asked, sitting next to him and putting your arms around him.

"I feel like garbage and my body hurts," he mumbled into your shoulder.

"Exercising? Did you... fall down the stairs? Stand up after too many hours of playing video games?"

He snorted and pulled away for a bit, wrapping you in the blanket as well. You both laid down, and you took extra care to wrap your arms around his shoulders when he seemed to wince at the movement of his back.

"What exercise did you do?"

"No, I just... I decided to go to the playground with Ned cause there were no more kids there and my internship was done, so I was fooling around and climbing things but I fell on my back."

"Be a bit more careful next time?"

"Okay."

Aunt May was always nice enough to leave you food knowing when you didn't eat. You smiled at her as Peter moved closer to you when you pulled away to eat, and you both laughed fondly at his clingy behaviour. You left a few hours after that to get your money and go home.

---

After another afternoon of your antics, you had decided to run around on the rooftops for a bit. On one of the higher ones, you climbed the ladder quietly to find someone pacing on the edge. You almost reached out to tell them to step away when you realised who it was: Spider-Man himself.

"How does he always get away? And he beats me so quickly? It's like he has really good luck. That's so weird. That's not even a superpower, I think. Oh no, what if it is?!"

He paused as there was a response from his phone, and he sighed as if stressed as he yanked off his mask. You quickly covered your mouth in shock. How careless could any identity-hiding person be to pull their mask off when anyone in a building could look up and see him? At least your face was kind of covered. It was just your hood on and that lame mask that just covered the area around your eyes, but it was enough. His face was covered by his phone, but the messy brown hair made you a little sick when it reminded you of your boyfriend. You were only here because of your luck and your criminal actions. He was probably at his internship being a good, upstanding citizen.

"No, that can't be right. I'll check with Mr. Stark. He'll know."

"Hey."

He screeched and yelled a quick bye into his phone, making the horrible mistake of just shoving it in his pocket as he turned to look at you. Without his mask on.

"Put your mask on," you said, knowing it sounded a bit strangled, but you passed it off as just climbing over the small concrete wall that bordered the top of the building. "You should be more careful, you know?"

"You-you're that guy! I keep running into you! Who are you?"

"Well, that's the question everyone wants to know, huh?"

You walked over to him and plopped down next to him as he sat, his hands playing with his phone that was now back out. Peter did that when he was nervous, playing with anything in his hands. Once it was a book and he somehow managed to throw it and leave a small crack in the ceiling when someone scared him from behind.

"Tell me your secrets. What's got you so stressed about me?"

"What are your powers?" he blurted out.

How Peter of him to just ask right away.

"I'm lucky. Just not lucky in the rest of my life. I don't have enough money to pay rent and sometimes it's not even enough to buy groceries. I have to depend on other people and I don't want to do that. So I'm doing the best with what I can."

"Well, M- uh, Tony Stark has all kinds of internships and charities and stuff. I mean, I work with him so I would know. He could help! And he's always willing to help a superpowered person!"

"Spidey, things aren't that easy. I'm a criminal for a living and things like that don't just slide with most of the population. You tell them why you did it and you'll get consequences. My luck is the only thing keeping my team and myself safe."

"You could try! He doesn't judge and he's still friends with Captain America, who's currently a war criminal. Someone who's a thief isn't a huge problem to him."

"I don't take charity," you stated clearly.

"I mean it! He could really help," he replied.

"Peter!"

He paused entirely. Without the sounds of the cars below and the people speaking, it would have been completely silent.

"How... how..."

You pulled off your mask and your hood, giving him a sympathetic smile.

"I don't... take charity. Especially not from my boyfriend. I'll let you feed me once in a while, but that's the most I'll take. I can't do that to you, and I can't do that to your mentor who has definitely figured out my powers and knows who I am."

He was silent as you put the mask in his hand and stood up.

"You can text me whenever you want."

You left him behind on the roof.

Peter texted you the next morning, telling you to meet him at Stark Tower. You instantly knew that he had talked to Tony Stark about it, and both of them would search the entire world for you if you didn't go. Of course, that left you with the only choice of doing what he said. Peter was waiting for you in the lobby right in front of the building's security.

"Hey! Um, just follow me," Peter said quietly, his voice dying out as he turned to walk.

After an awkwardly silent trip in one of the elevators, he brought you to a large laboratory where sparks flew from the corner of the room.

"Mr. Stark! I brought my boyfriend for you to meet," Peter shouted over the noise.

Tony Stark himself sat up from his work to look at the both of you, his goggles now on his head.

"Tell me about yourself," he said, starting to walk towards you.

"You already know enough about me, don't you?" you replied.

He gave you a calculating look as he turned to a desk and pulled up a hologram. It contained information about you and your powers, but mostly your financial assets.

"I don't normally keep tabs on petty thieves, but when I found out how much you were annoying Peter, I had to find out," he said. "Kind of weird to be fighting your boyfriend every other night, huh?"

Peter looked away, his eyes instantly going to your arm. You knew he was fighting a blush, but you were busy hiding your own embarrassment. Tony started to push Peter out of the room, and he grumbled but left regardless.

"I saw his recording from his suit. I know you don't take charity, but I would do anything for Peter. All he wants is to know that you're safe from anyone who could be a threat to him or the people he cares about. How can you be safe if you can't even pay your bills?" Tony lectured. "The least you can do is stay here for a bit until you have enough money to stay at your own place. He already worries about being Spider-Man. He doesn't need to worry about you having nowhere to stay."

You stood for a moment, looking between him and the hologram.

"Fine. But for Peter. And the second I get a well-paying job I'm out of here."

"Well, you could always work here. We have great benefits."

"And work for Tony Stark? No way."

He barked out a laugh and opened the door again, Peter rushing in to grab your hand.

"What did you say?!"

"I said yes. Quit worrying," you laughed, kissing him quickly.

Tony tapped on a few things on the screen before turning to look at you both.

"Your stuff is being moved here within the next one or two days, and I let your landlord know. He's actually kind of cool. Oh, and after we move your stuff here, can we test your powers?" Tony rambled.

"No."

"Great, we'll start tomorrow."

#x male reader #peter parker x male reader #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker x male!reader #male reader #peter parker #request

[padfootagain]

A Very Rose Mistake (VIII)

Part 8 : How You Fooled Everyone

Here we go for a new chapter!!! This is a little bit angsty at the beginning BUT it takes another turn completely in the second part and… feel free to come shout at me because… I reckon the end of this chapter will make you want to kill me, indeed :) (but in a good way, you'll see!)

Anyway, I hope you like this chapter, no warnings to be applied except for a little bit of angst, but you know me, nothing too terrible!

Tell me what you think of it!

Pairing: Harry Styles x Reader

Word Count : 3913

I

Holmes Chapel, 2011

 10 months.

It was snowing in England. It was the late afternoon and the sun was setting already on Cheshire. The first snow of the year was but a thin layer barely covering the grass, leaving patches of colours amongst its pure white shade. It would probably be gone in the morning, melted by either the weather turning to rain instead of snow, or simply by the temperature not dropping low enough during the night. For now though, lazy snowflakes floated downwards, freefalling softly to land in silence upon the houses of Harry's neighbourhood.

It would be the last Christmas he would spend in this house with his mother and sister. His musical career was growing more and more successful by the day, and with the money he had made during the past year, he had bought his mother a new house. Larger, more comfortable, and one that would be hers for good and she wouldn't have to pay for.

As he looked through his window to your house, he noticed that your light was on. You were there. It was your last year staying here as well. He knew you wanted to go to University to study history. It had been your passion for years. He guessed you'd be off to Manchester, or even London, in a few months.

But ever since Valentine's day, Harry and you had barely spoken to each other. It was such a strange thing to get used to, when, despite the distance, you had always remained close during his first year away from home. Although everything around him was changing, you were still there, answering your phone and telling him about school and all those other people he had grown up with. It kept him grounded. It kept him as himself, somehow.

But then he had gone to your door with this bloody rose and a heart full of lovesick hope, and everything had changed.

10 months had passed since that night, and now that he was back in this room that had seen him grow up, he didn't feel like it was such a long time ago.

After that night, he simply couldn't be around you the way he used to. Somehow, his feelings for you were only more visible since he was aware that they were not reciprocated. He had this aching strumming in his heart everytime he saw you or even merely heard your voice, that reminded him that you didn't see him the way he saw you. It was easier, then, to avoid you altogether so it wouldn't hurt anymore.

Which didn't work so well, because when he didn't talk to you, he missed you. So, he guessed that he had only a choice to make between hell or high water.

But the distance between you made it harder to stay in touch anyway, so it was easier for him to choose this path rather than staying by your side. He fully embraced music, and he embraced the life in the band even though it still seemed crazy to him, and he embraced the truth that he had to forget you.

Finding someone else to love seemed a good way to do so.

And he did. He found someone else to fall head over heels for, and the pain waned slowly with a little time. But it wasn't the same as having you.

Harry grabbed an empty box and started to empty the drawers of his desk. He would probably not be home before his mother would move to the new house, so he wanted to pack as many of his things as he could now, while he had a break from the busy schedule of the band. And he also expected to throw away some of his old stuff he would never be using again. His mother would take whatever they could bring to charity, and he expected to get rid of a lot of useless items thanks to this forced cleaning up.

And he did. He put aside some old toys he would never be using again and wasn't emotionally attached to enough to keep around.

Until he found a certain shoebox that he recognized in the blink of an eye, at the bottom of his closet, under his warmest jumper.

It was old, a shoebox of his mother's size, he remembered now Anne giving it to him years before, picking her new shoes out of it and handing it to him. He remembered the way he grinned and hurried in his bedroom to store a messy mix of items, and he had kept filling up the box along the years.

There were souvenirs from his holidays with his family, a bunch of old toys he loved. Family pictures with his parents and Gemma. He had a smile on his lips as he went through his memories, silly little trinkets he had gathered along the years since he was a little boy. But out of all the memories, he lingered longer on the objects that reminded him of you.

This piece of red glass he used to call you, a piece of paper where he had learned how to write your name, some pictures of you as well, green marbles you had once used to decorate a snowman. He smiled as he picked one up making it twirl between his fingers.  It was cold against his skin, glimmering with green hues in the electric light of his bedroom. He remembered that day perfectly. You and him playing in the snow, and fighting in a snowball fight with Gemma and your mothers. Shaping snow with you to form a snowman that, now that he thought about it, was a little wonky-looking. But it looked great to your two childish minds. And he remembered you running from your house with the marbles. Placing them in the snow. Saying that he could keep them as you were going to leave for the holidays. Harry wasn't sure why there were tears in his eyes now, after all, his smile was still there too. But for some reason, holding this tiny token of his past with you, summoning back these happy scenes before his eyes, he felt both happy and sad. Happy about the memories, sad about the present.

He reckoned that he should let you go altogether. That he should throw away the pieces of you that remained in his life. Maybe, getting rid of those memories was the first step he ought to take.

His mother called for him from downstairs, tearing him away from his thoughts. He answered that he was coming, an automatic response that he barely noticed making. His eyes were still fixed on the tiny marble, that seemed much smaller than he remembered. But then, he had grown, and his fingers now were much bigger than when he was but a child.

Maybe throwing it all away would be the first step to forget you.

But did he really want to forget you?

He must have remained stuck at the same place, without being able to move, for a moment too long, for his mother called for him once more. This time, he shook himself out of his thoughts, closed the box, and put it back in his closet, where it belonged.

And as he opened the door to his bedroom, he slipped in the pocket of his jeans the green marble you had given him such a long time ago.

  II

Loch Lomond, 2020

 It felt strange.

A good kind of strange.

Harry had listened to your plea, without a doubt, and made a point of staying right by your side during the entire lunch. As everyone settled on their blankets and chatted merrily, Harry didn't let anyone distract him from you. When some of Amy's cousins offered him a drink, he declined, and remained at his spot on your blanket instead.

And when he wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you against him, it wasn't really a surprise when your heart skipped a beat.

His sweater was soft and warm against your cheek, and you felt so cosy in his embrace as you chatted with your cousin.

But once the dessert was devoured, and Cassie was pulled somewhere else by your aunt, and your uncle had disappeared somewhere, and your parents were busy as well, you and Harry left alone, he didn't release his hold on you.

Not even a little bit.

He kept you gently pressed against him, a strong arm wrapped around you as if to protect you from the cold. He stretched his long legs across the colourful blanket, his feet resting on the orange and red leaves covering the muddy ground, while he held himself up with one hand thrown behind him. And you followed his movements, your head like glued to his shoulder, readjusting your own position to fit his.

After all, you felt so peaceful in his embrace, why would you want to pull away?

There was no one around, and nobody paying any attention to you. So, considering your agreement, you expected Harry to put more distance between the two of you again. But he didn't. And you wondered why, but didn't complain.

There was no one watching when he bent his head to drop a soft kiss to the top of your head, but he did anyway. Although, you wouldn't have known if anyone was watching, as you had closed your eyes by then, too engulfed in the warmth of his chest against yours, too soothed by the silly patterns his fingers gently traced across your arm, too lost in the scent of his cologne.

You hesitated to rest your hand on his thigh. Because, after all, no one was paying any attention to the two of you, so it was rather useless. But on the other hand, you wanted to touch him, to simply break the physical barrier that had stood between the two of you for so long. You thought you heard his breath get caught in his throat as you finally did so, but then, he didn't move his leg away, so maybe you had been imagining it all.

Still, you looked up at him, slowly turning your head to study his expression, as if half-afraid of what you would read in his green eyes. When your gazes met though, you read the same uncertainty in his coloured irises.

Your heartbeat was less and less steady as seconds passed by, both of you staring at each other. You wanted to say something, but no words would form on your tongue. It was as if your brain had gone blank. You saw his lips parting, as if he was about to say something, but he remained silent as well, merely letting his lower lip tremble for a second, before clenching his jaw instead.

You noticed the way his Adam's apple bobbed more than usual, but again, none of you seemed able to speak, or to move, or to even think...

"Y/N!"

You jumped as your mother's call pulled you back right down to Earth. You pulled out of Harry's embrace in a hurry, quite embarrassed, although you were not sure what had triggered the feeling. You turned to your mother, who was folding a blanket nearby.

"We're going back, let's go, lovebirds!"

You let out a grunt at the silly name she had called you and Harry, but still got up, straightening your clothes before turning back towards your spot to clean up the space and gather all your items before leaving back for the lodge.

Harry, meanwhile, seemed to need a little longer than you to come back to his senses, but he did so anyway. You silently gathered everything, folded the blanket, and joined the rest of the guests back to the shore to use the little boats again.

Harry left you for mere seconds to help someone load a bag in one of the rowboats. But mere seconds were enough for Patrick to have appeared out of nowhere and start a conversation with you. And your fake boyfriend didn't like it at all.

He was jealous. Again. Nothing new. Out of all the feelings he had to control around you, jealousy had always been the hardest one to tame, and your fake relationship wasn't making things easier for him.

There were so many feelings bubbling under his ribcage again, resurrected, it seemed. Feelings he tried to bury as deeply as he could in the darkest parts of his heart, that he tried to forget, that he tried to live without. But this whole plan was making things hard for him to keep going. It was making things hard for him to keep his feelings in check now, he thought he had gotten rid of them a long time ago, but maybe he had been wrong. Maybe it wasn't so. Maybe it wasn't so at all…

Harry heaved a frustrated sigh while he strode back to your side. He was beginning to be particularly annoyed by Patrick and this whole situation, for that matter.

He slipped his hand around your waist, and the gesture seemed familiar, as if he had performed it absentmindedly, as if he had done it thousands of times before. And you couldn't ignore how easy it was for your body to fit perfectly against his, like two pieces of a puzzle locking together.

"Everything's ready, darling," Harry smiled at you, before turning towards Patrick. "Need any help with your stuff?"

"Oh! No, no, thank you," Patrick answered uncomfortably, clearly displeased by Harry's reappearance.

Harry shot him a bright smile, and turned to you once more.

"Then, we should go, my love."

You hated yourself for letting your heart make such a leap into your chest at the pet name, but really, there was nothing you could do against it. The words, spoken in Harry's deep voice, with such a gentle and delicate tone, that hadn't it been for the circumstances and for the fact that you were aware that he didn't mean it at all, you would have even dared to call loving.

He dropped a quick peck to your cheek, before turning his attention to the boat behind you, and you followed his lead, almost forgetting completely Patrick still standing by your side.

You climbed in first, and Harry soon joined you. He spontaneously took the oars, and you didn't protest. You leaned back instead, your face thrown back to face the shy autumnal sun. Despite the cold wind that blew onto the lake, making ripples and tiny waves shake the surface of the quiet loch, the sun was still warm enough to spread across your face a peaceful feeling. You closed your eyes, enjoying the feeling, and Harry was grateful for it, allowing him to admire you without being noticed. Or at least, not by you, which was all that mattered, really.

"I think we're doing better," you said after a while, more than half of the loch being already crossed, at last turning your attention back to your friend.

"Yeah? More credible?"

"I think so. We should stay on that path."

"Very well, then."

"I hope it doesn't make you too uncomfortable."

"Not at all, it's fine, Y/N."

"Good."

"Good."

There was a short silence, while you let your eyes roam across the rowboats around you. But then, your gaze settled on Patrick who was in the boat next to yours, alone.

"What do you think of Patrick?" you asked out of the blue.

"What about him?" Harry mumbled.

"What do you think? Do you like him?"

"He seems… nice."

"Yeah, I think so to."

"A shame I'm in the way then. The bridesmaid isn't going to get laid during the wedding."

"Harry!" you frowned, kicking his shin. "What on Earth was that for! You know it's not my style."

You seemed offended. He hated it. Hated seeing any form of hurt across your features. Hated even more himself for being the cause behind it. But he couldn't help it. He was bitter too, and it didn't bring the best in him.

"Come on! It was a joke."

"A bad one."

You heaved a sigh, and remained quiet. But Harry was not done with the conversation, and when he spoke again, his voice was a little deeper than usual, a little hoarse, and surprisingly serious.

"Seriously though, do you like him?"

"Yeah… I think I do," you nodded, after considering the question for a few seconds.

"Do you love him?"

You laughed at that, shaking your head at him.

"Harry… only you are romantic enough to imagine that I could fall in love with someone in just a couple of days!"

"It's not impossible!"

"That kind of love exists only in fairytales. And if it does exist for real, I am immune."

"How can you say that? Ever heard of love at first sight?"

"I can't fall in love with someone like that! In just a moment, without knowing them. I need… time for that kind of stuff."

He considered your answer, and was reassured that your feelings towards Patrick, if you had any, were not serious yet.

"Anyway, I'll see after the wedding, maybe I'll give him a call then. A date could be nice," you went on, and your friend's heart dropped again.

You went on to talk about something else, but Harry had lost his focus on the conversation at hand. You had almost reached the edge of the loch again, and Harry's attention was drawn to Patrick on the boat nearby.

He was handsome, and he was nice, and Harry should have encouraged you. But your friend was jealous, and he was selfish sometimes, like everyone could be, and he simply couldn't help but think that you deserved better. Better than Patrick, and better than himself.

The anger that was slowly yet steadily burning more and more vividly through his veins made him work with the oars faster, not really caring in what direction he was going. He didn't notice that he was heading towards an area filled with fallen branches and large roots of trees that grew along the shore. He didn't notice either the rock that was barely grazing the surface of the water, and neither did you, as you were lost in a one-sided conversation.

It's only when you started to be rocked left and right by the branches you bumped into that you frowned.

"Harry, look out where we're going!"

"I am paying attention."

"We're not even close to the lodges, you went too far to the left."

"In case you hadn't noticed, my back is at the shore," he snapped, and you wondered why he was so grumpy all of a sudden.

Because he had been so fast at pushing the boat forward, you were the first boat to arrive close to the shore, but the obstacles in your way made your progression more and more difficult. And when your boat hit the rock and was pushed in the opposite direction, you lost your balance, falling to the side, and dragging the boat with you.

And the boat turned over.

The water was freezing cold, enough to knock out all the air in your lungs. Enough to make you unable to move for a while. It was the feeling of Harry grabbing your forearm and pulling you upwards that brought you back to the moment, and you broke the surface again, taking in a deep breath.

You found out quickly that the water wasn't deep, and you could stand on your feet, the waterline only reaching your stomach then.

"Are you alright? Did you hurt yourself?" your friend asked, all signs of annoyance now gone and replaced by worry.

You turned to Harry, your teeth already chattering, but shook your head.

"I'm alright. You?"

"Fine. Just… drenched, and very, very cold."

He helped you making your way to the shore, and at each step the two of you took, the angrier at him you became.

"Couldn't you be careful?!" you accused him.

"Sorry."

"Sorry?! Look at us!"

"Well, I didn't do it on purpose, obviously!" he fought back, clenching his jaw, and you weren't sure if it was out of anger, or to prevent his teeth from chattering as the cold wind got caught in your wet clothes, making you feel even colder than before.

Your fingers seemed pierced by hundreds of needles at the contact of the cold air, and your cheeks tickled with the freezing wind too. But you turned to Harry instead of hurrying to shelter.

"I can't believe you! You crashed our boat! I'm freezing!"

"Well, if you were so good with oars, why didn't you take charge, huh? As I'm clearly not capable of doing anything?"

"Certainly not of handling a boat, no! Here is the proof!"

You were interrupted in your rant by a sneeze. Harry had always found it absolutely adorable, the high-pitched sound that you let out when you sneezed. And all of a sudden, his anger subsided, just as quickly as it had formed across his frame. And he wasn't angry. His eyes changed the way they stared at you, with fondness instead of wrath. And a wave of laughter started to bubble in his chest.

And finally, he laughed. Loud and bright, and ridiculously contagious.

You were stopped in your tracks for a moment, staring at him as you were readying your next argument, but instead, were caught off guard by this sound you had always found the most radiant in the world.

And suddenly, the situation didn't anger you anymore either. You realized, on the contrary, how ridiculous the two of you were, drenched and with your jeans covered with mud, as you had fallen into Loch Lomond. It was funny. You had to admit that the whole situation was hilarious. So, helped by how contagious Harry's laugh was, you started to wheeze and then laugh yourself.

"I can't believe you've managed to make us fall," you struggled to let out, bending over in laughter, your arm now clenched over your painful stomach.

"I have no idea!" he doubled with laughter, taking a step towards you, and resting a hand on your shoulder to steady himself. He was laughing so much, he was ready to fall over.

You finally calmed down as you noticed the other guests coming closer, starting to reach the shore as well. All of them were looking at the two of you.

And then, the idea struck you.

They were all looking at the two of you.

When you turned to Harry again, you were not laughing at all anymore.

He dried his eyes where tears had gathered, and he struggled to catch his breath.

"That's one you're gonna use against me for a while!" he chuckled some more, before looking at you again.

"Harry."

"Hmm?"

"I have an idea."

"An idea? What kind of idea? If it involves us getting inside and out of the cold, sign me in."

But you shook your head.

"No, I… Please, don't freak out, and don't push me away. Everyone's looking, that's perfect."

He frowned.

"Y/N, what are talking abou…"

But before he could finish his question, you had taken one more step towards him, and in doing so closing the distance between the two of you. Before he could register what was happening, you were closing your lips upon his.

And you were kissing him.

*************************************************************

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#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #harry styles series #series #imagine #star wars fanfiction #fanfic #writing

[blairwaldcrf]

but i’m into it (driving me crazy)-nate/dan/blair

summary: two boyfriend’s and their very pregnant girlfriend

gossip girl. 1k. part of a series. please comment on ao3!!

-----------

Of all the times in their lives that Nate thought he would end up waking next to Blair Waldorf, it had never been with Dan Humphrey on the other side. This is his new normal now, a bed large enough for the three of them having been installed a week ago, despite the fact that they still more often than not end up on the couch.

“You two are comfy,” Blair complains. “Being able to lean while I cuddle is so much easier.”

Whichever one of them she’s trapped into being her pillow for the night usually sighs, puts the other on Milo duty, and soon Blair is snoring loudly. Blair with a full night of sleep is much easier than a cranky third term pregnant Blair who had none as they find out.

“You know how much money we spent on that bed, right?” Dan asked them to blank expressions, Nate understanding only a little more than Blair what it means to not have a trust fund. “Not to mention it took forever to even get into this place--,”

“That’s because we need a new place .” Blair chided, nagging them consistently now that she was in nesting mode. “I don’t even care what zip code anymore, Humphrey, but as much as I will always hold nostalgia for this three bedroom hovel, we need more room.”

“We don’t need more room, all we need is to downsize your closet.” Dan fought back illogically, still stubborn. Nate wondered if at this point he was only fighting her to fight, because even he agreed.

 “Dan. Come on. Don’t you think at least one of us needs an office?”

Blair waved a hand at Nate. “There. A logical compromise. We get a new place, you get your own office. Dorota can stop complaining about fighting with you anytime she needs to clear books from desks and tables.”

“I don’t have time to write anything anyway.” Dan mumbled, but he gives in later that night when Blair throws out every take out menu in the loft and replaces them with housing listings.

The place is much more modest, than Nate had thought Blair would ever settle for (Despite being everything they needed). Dan had spent the day with a real estate agent showing them houses and by the late afternoon and walking the city, weeks-from-labor Blair breaks down on the staged couch of the last five-bedroom home and tells the real estate agent, “We’ll take it”, before promptly falling asleep.

“Dan,” Nate says, chuckling at the sight of her. His boyfriend pauses his conversation with the agent to turn to him. Nate can’t help but shake his head with a finger to his lips, walking over to whisper in his ear. “Blair is going to murder you when she realizes what you did.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Dan whispers, a smirk coming loose from the corners of his lips. “It’s not my fault the real estate agent showed us six houses out of our budget until this one.”

“Yeah, and I’m sure it was the agent who circled this one in red pen at home when I threw the paper in the trash before she could see it.” Nate replies.

Dan is caught and he knows it, but he asks Nate, “Wait, you knew. Does that mean you like it?”

“Yeah, I like it.” Nate nods, smiling. “She’s still going to kill you.”

“Well at least with this place you can afford a nice funeral for me.” Dan jokes back, and Nate laughs, shaking his head. Sometimes the three of them worked together in ways Nate could never expect.

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

“God I’m so hungry,” Blair complains in the middle of the first football game of the season. Usually Nate sucks it up and does a food run but he’s trying to watch tv and if he misses this potential goal-- but she turns off the television in the middle of a pass and he thinks he might murder her. “Please, Nate, save me. Pick me up some of that Indian food we used to get.”

“Blair, that's halfway across town now.” Nate argued. Of course Dan had to choose now to be at some stupid writing conference.

“It’s not my fault we moved!” She tried, but when Nate glared a little rudely at her-- still not dumb enough to try and take the remote back-- she caved. “Okay, maybe a little my fault, but--,”

“I will give you my phone to order food on my card, just turn the game back on, please .”

So she does and he gets to shout at the tail end of the goal being made only for her to throw his phone back at him, hitting him squarely in the chest. At first he thinks it might be some dirty pic from Dan that she wasn’t expecting, but when he looks up at her there are tears in her eyes and his stomach drops as he rushes to check his phone-- only to see a text from Dan asking Is she driving you crazy yet?

“Come on, Blair, it’s just a joke,” Nate tries to tell her, hoping that her pregnant brain will hear him even as she hops off the couch in an unglorified hop. “You know we both love you.”

“No, Dan loves charity cases,” she says, beginning to cry and stepping back when he gets up and tries to step forward to hug her. “You just put up with me for him.”

“That is not true.” Nate replied, thinking he might see the root problem. “...Well, Dan is way too giving sometimes, but him falling for you was not something he would have wanted to do if he wasn’t head over heels for you.”

Blair rolled her eyes, not arguing, her bottom lip still full in pouting.

“Are you really upset about Dan, or is it me?”

Chocolate brown doe eyes turn directly back down and to him as she tears up even further, barely able to croak out, “You never loved me, why would you now?”

“I loved you back then and I love you now,” Nate said, wishing she would just let him hold her. “We’ve known each other since we were kids. You fell in love with plenty of people after me and I’ve never thought that meant you couldn’t love me now if you wanted to.”

“If I wanted to?” She asked with a scoff. “Like I had a choice.”

“Do you not want Dan and I--,”

“Oh no, Nate, that’s not what I meant at all.” Blair said in a rush, looking flustered and squinting her eyes like she tended to when she wanted least to admit something. When she opens her eyes, she looks both sweet and forlorn as she admits, “I meant I’ve always loved you. A tiny bit of me never stopped. How could I? You’re you.”

“A tiny bit of me never stopped either.” He admits, kissing her on the forehead, but she pulls him in for a kiss on the lips and he gives her a slow kiss in response. Smiling, he asked, “Does this have anything to do with finding my old sweater and your sewn heart from unpacking?”

Blair gasps in offense. “Dan told you about that?”

“He might have said you snapped his head off when he told you the heart should be kept somewhere less easy to lose in the washer. And then added you broke down in tears over snapping at him.” She gives an angry humph, clearly planning an ‘angry’ call later, but for now she finally lets him pull her closely into him, head fitting perfectly under his shoulder like when they were teens. “He figured you would bottle it up until it came out of nowhere, but I was right. It didn’t take that long.”

“I am driving you two crazy, huh?” she asks, sighing into his chest.

“Hey, at least now you have the excuse of creating life.” He jokes, and she laughs a little as she pulls back.

Blair smiles a little, looking up at him. “I don’t mean to be a handful anymore. Usually.”

“I know.” Nate smiles back. “It’s worth it either way.”

“Well then, that being said, you could have gotten me my Indian food by now.”

“ Blair.”

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

No one in their right mind would want to be on the other side of an angry sixteen year old Constance school Blair Waldorf, but Blair twenty hours into labor was another thing entirely. No makeup, sweat rolling down her forehead and turning her dark hair into ringlets, and the angry screams at anyone and everyone in sight.

“Humphrey, this is your fault!” She went for Dan yet again, who was sitting down beside her bed opposite Nate and icing his broken hand. Unlike Nate, he had thought it wise to hold her hand before the epidural. Nate, who had helped her through vomiting and period cramps when they were growing up, had been way too wary of the pressure force she could cause now.

“How dare you let me keep this baby!”

Rolling his eyes at this point, as out of his mind tired as Nate is as well, Dan stays silent. Dan and Nate had stopped asking for answers to her warped logic around hour four. Nate goes to say something, but then her angry eyes lock on him. “And you helped him.”

“I had nothing to do with this!” Nate argued helplessly. “You were already into your second term when you told me.”

“ Yes , but you looked cute with Milo.” She accused, and Dan gave a tired snicker despite the fact it turned her attention to him. “It’s not funny! Do you know how much this hurts? ”

Dan waves his iced hand. “I’d say about one hundred times whatever pain this is?”

“One thousand times.” Blair spat back, less angry this time, in a lull of the contraction-- but then it’s hitting again and she’s yelling, “I swear to God if either of you ever get me pregnant again I will castrate you!”

It’s a very, very long twenty-eight hours, but in the end they have Audrey Ella Waldorf.

#nate x dan x blair #nate x dan #dair #gossip girl #gossip girl fic #mine #the title is based on the song kiwi #iykyk

[robinrunsfiction]

Baby, You’re A Haunted House

Pairing: Gerard Way x Female Reader Rating: General (TW for blood, mentions of a suicide) Requested By: None Word Count: 6,330 Author’s Note: Here is my first story for spooky season! I had hoped to have it up sooner, but life has been busy. This story has been in my mind since this spring. I intend on writing a little bit about the location it’s set in because it’s real! It really is a seminary that was converted into apartments in my hometown. I’ll link to the post here when it’s written. And yes, that is a picture of it below!  Also!!! There is a reference to another one of my favorite bands and one of their albums, first person who can correctly point it out wins... a prize? My admiration? Not sure yet, but shout it out if you know it!

It all seemed too good to be true.

(YN)’s roommate had let her know that she was going to be moving out of town for a new job and the thought of looking for a new apartment or roommate was overwhelming. She was dreading the process, but the next day while eating her lunch at work, she spotted an ad in the paper for Holy Name Heights. The description stated the apartments were newly renovated and located in a historic building on the edge of town, so she called right away to set up a tour.

Later that week she was touring the building that had previously been a seminary for many years. The diocese had sold the second and third floors of the sprawling building to a developer who converted the rooms into apartments, while leaving the first floor as office spaces for the diocese, a Catholic charity organization, and a small museum about the history of the church’s presence in the area.

“This place is beautiful,” (YN) marveled at the space. While being only one bedroom, it was spacious, had a washer and dryer so she wouldn't need to haul her laundry anywhere, assigned parking, not to mention a beautiful view, but a question nagged at the back of her mind. “How much is it per month?”

“$850 per month including utilities,” the agent replied with a smile.

“Oh! Ok, yes, I’d love to apply!”

A few weeks later as (YN) was moving her things into her brand new third floor apartment, she realized how quiet the building was. She paused briefly at each door as she walked by, straining to hear if anyone else was there. As she arrived at her own door with another armload of boxes, the door next to hers opened and a dark haired man stepped out. She shot him a quick smile as she fumbled for her keys. 

“Do you need some help?” He asked.

“That’d be great,” she laughed and he took the box from her so she could get her keys straightened out. “I’m (YN).”

“Gerard,” he replied as she got the door open and took the box back from him.

“Have you lived here long?”

“Just moved in last weekend. I’m glad I’m not the only one up here anymore.”

“Wait, seriously? None of these other apartments are occupied?”

“I don’t think so, I haven’t seen many people around. I guess an old seminary might be kind of a hard sell.”

“Yea, I’m not sure I would have considered it either if I wasn’t in a bind. Thanks for the help with the box,” (YN) smiled as she shifted it in her arms.

“No problem, I’ll see ya around,” he smiled before continuing down the hall.

“See ya,” she called after him. (YN) closed the door behind her and shook her head. Cool apartment, good price, cute neighbor. It all seemed too good to be true.

~

The next day (YN) got up, made a pot of coffee and set about unloading the box that held her mug collection. The fact that she didn’t have to share cupboards with a roommate delighted her, as she didn’t have to worry about any of her favorites getting damaged. She put on some music and made her way over to the living room window as the smell of brewing coffee filled the room. 

Her view was of the front of the building. Trees with bare branches lined the hillside that the building sat upon and a long driveway led up to the front of the building. She loved knowing that the leaves would soon be filling those branches, and then in the fall they’d turn beautiful shades of gold, red and orange. She also liked the idea of being able to see who was coming and going up the driveway. 

After enjoying her coffee, she got back to work unpacking her apartment. The hours flew by as the pile of broken down cardboard boxes piled up near her door. As she wiped her sweaty brow, she realized she had no idea what to do with the boxes and trash that had accumulated. Had the agent even shown her where the dumpsters were? Then she had an idea. Gerard.

Should she bother him? She didn’t even know for sure if he was in. She took a deep breath as she approached his door and knocked. She wondered how long she should wait if he wasn’t there, or didn’t want to answer. She’d never interacted much with the neighbors at her old apartment building, so maybe she was being totally obnoxious. (YN) was so deep in her own thoughts that she almost didn’t notice that the door was opening.

“Hey (YN), what’s up?”

“Hi, umm this is probably super dumb, but I don’t know where the recycling bins and dumpsters are. The agent never pointed them out, and I didn’t think to ask until I realized I was knee deep in broken down boxes,” she laughed nervously.

“I can help you carry boxes down,” Gerard offered with a smile.

“You don’t have to do that,” (YN) could feel herself blushing.

“It’s no problem.”

“I mean, if you insist!” (YN) laughed and he followed her back to her door. They each took an armload of boxes and Gerard led the way to the staircase that was at the end of the hallway next to his apartment. (YN) glanced over her shoulder at the dark portion of the staircase that led up to a door, most likely the attic. She quirked an eyebrow in curiosity but continued after Gerard.

“So what do you do?” (YN) asked, breaking the silence that hung between them as they headed down the stairs.

“I’m a comic book writer,” he replied almost sheepishly.

“Oh wow, that’s really cool,” (YN) replied genuinely and Gerard lit up.

“Thanks! A lot of people think it’s kinda lame, but it’s just a different type of writing, ya know?” (YN) nodded in agreement. “What do you do?”

“Boring office work,” she said shaking her head. “I wish I had time to do creative stuff like write or draw.”

“You should try, even if it’s just a little bit at a time,” he said as he opened the door leading out into the bright sunshine. “The dumpsters are back here.”

“Thanks,” (YN) smiled as she dropped her share into the recycling bin. "And maybe I'll try to find some time to write, if inspiration strikes."

"You'd be surprised how ideas can pop up when you least expect them," Gerard replied as they made their way back to their floor.

~

Winter started to melt into spring, and (YN) had settled into the routine of her new apartment life. Or at least she thought she was. 

It quickly became clear that she must have been a lot more absentminded than she realized, and her old roommate must have been picking up her slack. She could have sworn she had more milk left when she put the carton back in the fridge, but when she grabbed it the next morning for her cereal there was almost none left. And then there were all the things that just seemed to disappear for no reason that never reappeared, no matter how hard she looked.

One thing that didn’t seem to disappear was her crush on her neighbor Gerard. Interacting with him also became part of her routine, as it always seemed they were running into each other walking into the building or by the mailboxes.

It just happened that it was one of those lucky days, as (YN) had just walked in with her bags from grocery shopping when Gerard walked by. 

“Hey (YN),” he smiled. 

“Gerard,” (YN) started, trying to stifle a laugh. “ I’m not trying to be mean, but do you know how to cook? I feel like I’ve only ever seen you with take out, but never groceries,” she said nodding to her own bags.

“I know how to cook! I am a functional adult,” he replied with feigned offense.

“If you say so, enjoy your dinner,” (YN) replied as she entered her apartment.

“I’ll prove it to you,” he called just as she was about to shut the door.

She poked her head out the door, eyebrows raised. “Oh really?”

“Tomorrow night? 7 o’clock?”

“I’ll be there,” she replied with a smile. When the door was shut behind her, she couldn’t help but let out a squeal of delight.

The next evening (YN) was digging through her drawers looking for the sweater she wanted to wear to dinner with Gerard, but she absolutely could not find it. 

“This is crazy, I know I saw it when I was putting away laundry,” she muttered to herself. She got up and went over to the closet housing the washer and dryer, in hopes it had just fallen between the machines, or maybe was still in the dryer. She looked all around but found nothing, and trudged back to her room.

‘Wait, I didn’t turn the light off,’ she said, flipping the switch back on with a shake of her head. “I need to get more sleep.”

Giving up the search, she threw on a different top and checked the time. It was a few minutes past 7 and she hurried out the door.

“Welcome to my humble home,” Gerard said with a smile as he let (YN) in.

“Hmm, seems familiar,” (YN) giggled. “Oh dinner smells great!”

“Thank you,” Gerard smiled proudly. “We’ll be having spaghetti and meatballs. Umm, I don’t drink, so I have soda or water,” Gerard offered.

“Water is fine,” (YN) replied as she sat down at the table. “How’d you day go?”

“Good, I think I have a new story I wanna work on,” he answered as he placed plates on the table and sat down himself. “How about you.”

“Pretty boring actually. I’ll have to admit, knowing that we’re gonna be having dinner got me through my day.”

Gerard smiled and (YN) could have sworn she saw a blush creeping across his cheeks as he glanced down. "I'm glad I could help."

Conversation lulled as they dug into their meals, and The Smashing Pumpkins played softly in the background.

"Ok, I have to apologize for that dig yesterday about you not cooking, this is very good,” (YN) smiled.

"I have to admit, I bought the sauce, and the meatballs were frozen," Gerard winced.

“That’s fine! I do the same,” she laughed and Gerard looked relieved.

(YN) was having a wonderful time hanging out with Gerard and she felt like she could listen to him talk forever. He spoke with such passion and enthusiasm, it drew her in and she hung on his words. They laughed and joked and the time flew by until (YN) found herself stifling a yawn and she glanced down at her watch.

"Oh, it's late! I should get outta your hair."

“Well m’lady,” he said, affecting the same posh accent they had been joking around in earlier and bowing before her, “I do hope this evening has lived up to all your expectations.”

“It most certainly has,” she said with a laugh as she curtseyed holding out an imaginary skirt. 

Gerard reached out and took her hand in his and placed a kiss to the back of it, catching her off guard as he looked up at her from behind his lashes. "I hope we can do it again sometime soon."

(YN) nodded. "Yea," she said almost breathlessly. "I'd love that."

Gerard walked her to the door and when she glanced back at him when she reached her own door, he was leaning against his door frame.

"Night," she waved before walking into her apartment and he smiled and waved back.

(YN) could hardly sleep that night, as she was absolutely buzzing.

~

Weekly dinners soon became a tradition between (YN) and Gerard, with both of them taking turns hosting the other. (YN) knew she was terrible at both flirting and picking up when others were flirting with her, but she couldn't help but feel like Gerard might just like her too.There was something about the way his friendly hugs and touches started to linger longer and longer.

One night when they had been hanging out Gerard had casually mentioned going to hang out with his brother on his birthday, so (YN) took it upon herself to bring him his present before he left that day. As she stood at his door, she felt just as nervous as the first time she was at his door asking for help with her boxes. Once again she was totally lost in thought when Gerard opened the door.

"Hey (YN)!" He greeted her.

"Hi! Happy birthday!" She smiled, holding out the plate of chocolate chip cookies and the card she picked out just for him. 

"You remembered my birthday?" He asked, his eyes going wide and pink dusting his cheeks.

"Of course I did!" She laughed. “How could I forget?” She added a little more softly.

The smile grew on Gerard’s face and (YN)’s heart fluttered. “Thanks,” he finally replied, shaking his head. “Hey (YN), I was wondering, if umm, you’d like to maybe like go out on a date, like a real date some time? Don’t feel like you have to say yes just because it’s my birthday.”

(YN) laughed again, and she could feel herself blushing. “Yea, that would be really nice,” she nodded. “And I definitely would have said yes, even if it wasn’t your birthday.”

“Great!” Gerard grinned, but the buzzing of his phone grabbed his attention. "Oh, Mikey's here."

"Have fun with him," (YN) smiled and waved as she turned to go while Gerard grabbed his jacket and keys.

"Wait," Gerard said as he locked the door and jogged over to her, just as she was reaching her door. She looked up at him expectantly and he seemed nervous again before leaning in and placing a chaste kiss on her cheek. "Thanks again for the card."

"No problem," (YN) smiled before ducking into her own apartment to swoon.

~

A few days later, it was finally the day of their first date. Gerard suggested they go to the art museum and grab coffee. Even though they hung out all the time, the fact that this was actually a date made things ever so slightly awkward. As they walked into the museum, their hands brushed a few times before Gerard took her hand in his. She glanced over and smiled up at him and he seemed relieved. They chatted and joked happily as they walked through the exhibits before they went down the street to the cafe.

Finding a table tucked away from the others, they settled in with their coffees. The sun that had been shining when they walked in was soon covered in dark heavy clouds, and big heavy raindrops began to beat at the windows. Something about it made a shiver run down (YN)'s spine, a feeling she’d almost grown accustomed to.

"Gerard, can I ask you something kinda weird?" She asked when there was a lull in the conversation.

"Sure," he nodded.

(YN) sighed and looked down. "This is gonna sound crazy, and maybe I'm going crazy, but sometimes things get moved in my apartment, or I feel like someone or something is watching me. I've checked every inch of it and there's nothing there, but I dunno. Have you ever felt that in your apartment?" She finally looked up and was startled by Gerard's expression.

"Yea," he said softly, a look of unease on his face. "I totally know what you mean. I notice it when I’m at your place mostly, but sometimes when you come around," he trailed off.

"But, I mean, ghosts and stuff aren’t real though, right? Like It’s probably just the vibe of it being an old building.”

“Yea,” Gerard nodded with a tight smile. “Ghosts aren’t real, vampires aren’t gonna hurt you, zombies aren’t gonna eat your brain while you’re at the mall.”

“Right! You are right. I’m sure it will pass.”

After the rain stopped, they headed back to their building and headed up to the third floor, stopping in front of her door.

“I had a lot of fun today,” (YN) smiled.

“Me too,” Gerard nodded. “I, I really like you (YN). I hope we can do this again.”

(YN) grinned and nodded. “I really like you too Gee, and yes I’d really love to go out again as well.”

Gerard’s face lit up, any nervousness alleviated. He reached up, cupping her cheek gently, as her eyelids fluttered closed. He leaned in and pressed his lips against hers softly, before pulling back just as quick.

“I can’t wait to do that again,” Gerard whispered.

“Then do it again,” she replied.

Gerard didn’t hesitate for a second longer, leaning back in and kissing her deeply as she kissed back. His hand found her waist as she clutched his jacket. When they finally pulled back, they were both breathless and smiling.

(YN) knew that it was the start of something special.

~

Summer arrived with warm weather and abundant sunshine, but that didn’t stop the cold drafts that would breeze through (YN)’s apartment, even when the air conditioning was off. But then the noises started. Thumps and knocks in the middle of the night, jolting her awake. Once she was convinced someone was hammering frantically on her door. In the middle of the night. She jumped out of bed and rushed to the door, checking through the peephole to see who was there. But there was no one. 

The solution that seemed to be working best was spending as much time away from the apartment, specifically out with Gerard. From picnics in the park, to going to movies, cafes, wandering around book stores or comic book shops for hours, (YN) loved every moment of it.

One evening they were watching a movie in her apartment, happily curled up on the couch together when the thumps in the wall began behind them.

“What was that?” Gerard asked, startled.

(YN) sighed. “No idea. It’s been like this for a while now. I called the maintenance guy, but he doesn't think anything is in the walls. It’s why I’ve been so tired lately, I haven’t been sleeping, like at all.”

“Do you wanna come stay over at my place tonight? Maybe you’ll sleep better,” he offered.

(YN) smiled back at him. “Ok sure,” she nodded. When the movie was over, she changed into pajamas and they made their way back over to his apartment for the night. The next morning when she woke up, she stretched and sighed happily as Gerard held her close.

“Sleep well?” Gerard asked sleepily.

“Mmhmm,” she replied, looking up at him. She reached up and brushed away the hair that was falling across his face. “Best I have in a long time.”

“You’re welcome here anytime you want, sugar,” he said leaning in and kissing her sweetly.

"I worry that I'll overstay my welcome if I’m over here that often," (YN) laughed.

"Not possible, sugar," he said with a smile. "I love getting to spend my nights with you. Days too. I guess what I’m trying to say is I love you, (YN)."

“I love you too Gerard,” she replied before leaning in and kissing him deeply.

~

September arrived and Gerard was going to be gone for the weekend with a few of his friends on a guy’s trip for his brother Mikey’s birthday. (YN) was a little nervous at first about being alone at night, to the point where she was considering going to visit her parents for the weekend. Surprisingly, she was able to sleep through the night without any noises or strange occurrences waking her up.

The next morning she got up and went to retrieve a mug from the cupboard for her morning coffee. Without warning, a glass flew down from the top shelf, smashing into her forehead. (YN) yelped in surprise and stumbled back, glass shards littering the floor. Tentatively she reached up and touched just above her brow and when she pulled back, her fingers were covered in blood.

"Shiiiiit," she groaned as she carefully stepped over the broken glass on the floor and made her way to the bathroom. Flipping on the light, she felt nauseous at the sight. Blood dripping from the gash landed and streaked down her cheek like tears, accenting the dark circles under her eyes that she just couldn't shake after so many nights of interrupted sleep. She looked like death.

"Gee must really love me if this is what he's looking at every day," she muttered as she dabbed away at the blood with a washcloth.

A few hours later while walking out the emergency department with a fresh set of stitches, she decided she may as well fill in Gerard.

Happy friday! guess where i just left!

From Gerard 💖: Work let you take a half day?

Hospital 😬 

She dropped her phone back into her purse as she made her way across the parking lot, but by the time she got the door unlocked, Gerard was calling her.

"What happened?!" He asked frantically as soon as she picked up.

(YN) sighed. "A glass fell out of my cupboard and I got a cut above my eyebrow. Just a couple stitches and I wanted to make sure they got all the glass out," she replied, downplaying the accident. She knew he'd be back in a few days and he'd know she wasn't telling the whole truth about the cut, but she didn't want him to worry or end his trip early.

"But you're ok? Do you want me to come back?"

"Yes, I'm ok. But no, don't cut your trip short, I'm gonna go straight over to my parents for the rest of the weekendI think. It's one thing when we're losing sleep with weird noises, it's another to be attacked like this."

"You… you think," he sighed, seeming to be choosing his words carefully. "That a ghost did it?" Gerard asked in a hushed tone.

"If the glass was off balance and simply fell out of the cupboard it would have gone straight down. This was thrown at me, Gee. There was force behind it."

"Fuck," Gerard muttered. "I'm sorry sugar."

"Don't worry, I'm ok, I promise."

~

(YN) was grateful that Gerard believed what she told him about the haunting of her apartment. He could have easily dismissed her or her fears as crazy and ghost her, but he didn't. He was just as concerned about the situation and her wellbeing. After that weekend they began talking about moving out as soon as their leases were up. 

It had been a couple weeks when Gerard had a meeting in the city that was going to run late into the evening, so (YN) was stuck spending the night alone in her own apartment for the first time since the attack.

As she got in bed, she wondered how long it would be before she would be woken up at night. The noises always managed to cut right through her slumber to wake her, no matter how exhausted she was when she fell asleep. And exhausted she was as her eyelids were heavy as soon as her head hit the pillow.

She wasn't sure what time it was when the noise woke her up, but she sat up in bed and looked at the ceiling. It sounded like skittering, and she wondered if it might be something as innocent as an animal stuck in the attic. 'Wouldn't it be something if it was some animal all along,' she thought as she laid back down and closed her eyes again.

What felt like only moments later she opened them again, but she was not in her room. She wasn’t even in her apartment.

“Gerard?”

He looked up from where he was sitting on the floor in front of his couch with a look of concern and fear on his face unlike any she had seen before. “(YN), are you ok?”

“No, I’m- why am I in your apartment?”

“I was asleep and some noise up in the attic woke me up, but before I could fall back asleep there was this loud bang and I went up to check what was going on because it sounded different from anything before, and you were up there on the floor like you fainted. You didn't even stir until just now when you woke up.”

(YN) shook her head. “I heard the noise too, but I went back to sleep, I didn’t even get out of bed, I went right back to sleep until I just woke up here. What could have made me faint if I wasn't even awake and can’t remember what I saw?”

Gerard ran his hand through his hair, considering her question and when he spoke, his voice shook slightly. “I… I dunno (YN). After I brought you down from the attic, I went back to your apartment so I could put you in your own bed and your door was locked.”

“But that’s not possible unless I took my keys and locked it behind me. Should we go up and look for them upstairs?”

“No!” Gerard said quickly. “I mean, I don’t want to make you stay here if you don’t want, we can call the maintenance line to let you in, but I don’t wanna go up there again. Tonight, I mean.”

(YN) climbed off the couch and sat next to him on the floor. “I’ll stay here, you know that's fine but,” she paused, taking a deep breath. “What did you see up there Gee?”

He shook his head, looking down at his hands. “We can talk about it in the morning? It’s late.”

(YN) swallowed hard and nodded. "Yea, that's a good idea."

Gerard got up, offered her a hand, helping her up. He placed a kiss to the back of her hand before leading the way to his room.

(YN) always felt safe with Gerard's arms wrapped around her holding her tight, but it was still a very poor night of sleep for both of them. The next morning (YN) and Gerard were sitting in his living room, sipping coffee in silence before (YN)'s curiosity got the best of her.

"Can you tell me what you saw up there now?" (YN) asked suddenly. 

Gerard looked up at her, the dark circles under his eyes matching hers. He sighed and ran a hand through his dark hair. "Do you really wanna know?"

(YN) nodded. "I wanna understand what happened last night. Well as much of it as I can."

Gerard drew a deep breath. "Ok. I went up there when I heard the second bang. I was kinda surprised the door was open. And then I was shining my flashlight around and," he drew in a breath and shook his head. "I thought I saw someone at the far end of the attic, but my flashlight went through him. I started to panic and that's when I realized you were on the floor. I grabbed you and carried you back down here and, well you know the rest."

"You saw the ghost?" (YN) asked, her voice cracking with fear.

Gerard nodded solemnly. "I think so."

~

Gerard's words kept ringing through (YN)'s mind. There was no denying it now, she was being haunted by a ghost. She was, generally speaking, freaked out about the whole situation, but also a little curious. That's when she remembered the museum on the first floor.

The space was small, no larger than an office. Shelves were filled with books and bibles, and old black and white photos lined the walls, but one picture stood out as different from the rest. An elderly woman stood before it, gazing up at the portrait of the young man.

"Excuse me, do you know any of the history of this building?"

The elderly woman tore her eyes off the photo and looked back at (YN). "Well, I should say I do. What can I help you with?"

"I don't know how to ask this delicately, but, umm, is there any reason to believe that it might be haunted?"

The elderly woman nodded slowly. "Well, yes, I suppose there would be," she replied before glancing back at the portrait. "This was my brother, Joshua. He was in the seminary and was going to become a priest when he met her."

"Her?"

"Elenora. She was beautiful," she paused, studying (YN) for a moment, "actually you remind me of her. But he was so conflicted, he wanted to be a priest, but he was so enchanted by her. He convinced himself, and her, that the only way they could be together was in death."

"Oh no," (YN) gasped.

She nodded. "They were to jump together from the roof. He went first, she never went."

"I'm so sorry," she replied softly.

"It was 60 years ago. I had known Elenora my whole life, so I blamed myself for introducing her into his life, but I didn't blame her! I still don't. I don't admit this to many people, but we're still friends."

"You have a very forgiving heart," (YN) smiled. "Thank you for telling me all that."

She nodded. "That is what I am here for," she replied as she walked around to a small desk and picked up a dust rag before turning back to one of the shelves.

(YN) made her way back to her apartment and shut the door. "Joshua, if that's you, please leave me alone," she said. 

Nothing happened and (YN) shrugged.

~

The cool fall weather settled in and October was filled with the warm glow of red, yellow, and orange leaves on the trees outside, but by Halloween, the branches were blown bare, leaving dark, imposing branches reaching toward the sky.

Gerard's friend Frank invited them to his house for a Halloween party, and to celebrate his birthday.

A night out, dressed as Bonnie and Clyde, was exactly what they both needed after all the time they spent living in a real life haunted house for almost a year now. (YN) also loved spending time with Gerard's friends. They quickly made her feel welcome and made her future with Gerard seem even better.

It wasn't too terribly late when they decided to call it a night and headed home. "I'm gonna go change and I'll be over," (YN) said before heading into her apartment. Gerard nodded and headed to his own door.

She kicked off her shoes and dropped her jacket over the back of the chair when she felt a cold rush of air blow past her. She closed her eyes as a shiver ran through her whole body. When she opened them, again the cold air was surrounding her, wind blowing her skirt around as a freezing rain started to pelt her arms and face. Frantically she looked around, realizing she was on a rooftop. Before she could get her bearings, phantom hands were on her, pushing and pulling her toward the edge.

"No! No! Get off of me! Let go!" She screamed, flailing her arms, trying to shake off the attack. She seemed to break free and started to run toward the hatch to the attic.

The hands grabbed her ankle and sent her tumbling to the rough surface of the roof. When she looked over her shoulder, a figure made of a shadowy mist was pulling her by the leg toward the edge.

"No! Stop it! No!" She screamed again, her hands scratching at the roof, trying to make purchase.

From behind her she heard a bang. She looked up and saw Gerard at the opening to the attic. "(YN)!"

"Gee! Help!"

"Let her go!" Gerard commanded as he ran to (YN), pulling her off the ground and wrapping her in his arms protectively. She buried her face against his shoulder as she clutched his shirt. "Are you ok? I got you sugar, you’re safe now."

"No, no I'm not ok," she sobbed.

"Come on, let's get inside."

Gerard helped her down the ladder and carried her down the stairs to his apartment. He set her down in the bathroom and set to work cleaning the cuts across her hands, legs, and feet.

"Gee, I don't wanna stay here tonight, I can’t stay here anymore, I have to move or I’m gonna end up dead!" (YN) cried as Gerard wiped the blood away from her palm.

"I know sugar, I'll get you cleaned up and we'll go find a hotel room tonight, ok?" (YN) sniffled and nodded in agreement. “And then in the morning we’re gonna find a new place to live, you and me.”

(YN) had been watching as he worked, but hearing him say that she looked up at him. “Together? Even after all this? What if it follows me?!"

He reached up and wiped away the tears that were rolling down her cheek. “Together. Nothing's gonna come between us, not even a ghost."

A smile finally broke across her face as he placed bandages on the worst cuts. Then she finally changed out of her soaked and bloodied Halloween costume and into a pair of Gerard's sweatpants and an old hoodie. She didn't have shoes, but she didn't care. She wasn't going back into her apartment until the day she was going back to pack it up and move out. And even then, she was considering hiring someone to do it for her.

"Ready to go?" He asked when she walked out of his room.

"Let’s get away from here," she nodded and he took her hand. They hurried through the cold rain to his car and she sighed as she sunk into the passenger seat. She finally felt free.

Gerard started down the long tree-lined drive when suddenly a large tree limb came crashing down in front of them. (YN) screamed as Gerard slammed on the breaks.

"Shit! Are you ok?" He asked breathlessly.

"Look!" She whimpered, pointing a shaking finger out the window. Gerard looked as well at the ghastly figure on the other side of the branch. Gerard put the car in park and unbuckled his seatbelt.

"Gee, what are you doing? Gee? Gerard! Stop it, get back in here!" She cried frantically as he got out of the car. Not knowing what else to do, she scrambled out as well.

"Give her to me!" The phantom wailed, striking cold terror through her. "I gave my life for my love, she belongs to me!"

"This is not your love!" Gerard shouted back.

She moved to stand next to Gerard, interlacing her fingers with his. "I'm not Elenora! I've never done you wrong!" She pleaded. "Gerard is my true love! Let us pass!"

The phantom's face contorted, snarling, teeth growing long, fingers becoming claw-like. (YN) screamed in fright as Gerard stepped in front of her. As the ghost launched at them, headlights came up the drive, shining bright in their eyes, and the phantom faded into nothing.

The other car stopped and the driver got out. "Need help moving that branch outta the way? Woah, you two look like you've seen a ghost," the man laughed.

Gerard shook his head and looked back at (YN) sympathetically. "Well, it is Halloween."

~

A few months later (YN) and Gerard had settled into their new place. There was nothing in the new place that (YN) would describe as too good to be true. Their commutes were longer, they had to go to the laundromat to do laundry, and they were paying more in rent, but they were together and they finally had peace. And that was worth every penny.

“Hey Gee,” (YN) said as she padded into the living room one Saturday afternoon, holding something behind her back.

“Yea sugar?”

“So I’ve been working on something. I’m not sure it’s any good, but I think it’s finally ready for you to look at.”

Gerard sat up and looked up at her curiously. “What is it?” (YN) handed him a binder. “The Haunting on Holy Name Hill."

“A long time ago, back when we first met, you said I should try writing or drawing if I’m interested in it because you never know when inspiration will strike, and since moving out of that awful place I’ve been trying to wrap my head around everything that happened. So I started writing about it," she shrugged. "I fictionalized some of the events and changed our names, but can you read it and tell me if it’s any good?”

“(YN) I’m so proud of you,” he said with a smile as he got up and wrapped her in a hug. “I’m gonna read it right now.”

“If you insist. I’m gonna go to the laundromat.”

A while later when (YN) came back, Gerard wasn’t on the couch where she’d left him. “Hey Gee, did you finish reading it yet?”

“Yep,” she heard him reply as he came back from the second bedroom they’d set up as his office. “And I have something to show you too.”

“What’s that?”

“First of all, wow, the story is so well written!” he grinned.

“Seriously?”

“Seriously, you’re a natural! And second, look,” he said handing her a stack of drawings.

“What are these?”

“I was thinking, if you want, we could pitch your story as a graphic novel and these are some drawings I did when I was reading it. This is your character, this one is me.”

“Gee, these are amazing! And you really think that it’s publishable?”

“I really do,” he nodded.

“Ok yea, let’s do it. Other than being the place where we met, there should be some kind of good that comes from that awful place. And maybe serve as a warning to everyone else about things that seem too good to be true."

#gerard way x reader #gerard way fan fic #gerard way fan fiction #gerard way imagine #my chemical romance fan fic #my chemical romance fan fiction

[stereksecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, kevaaronday!

For @kevaaronday. I tried to use all the tropes you liked, though I played a bit with the coffee shop!AU request. It ended up being pretty long, but I hope it pleases. Enjoy and Merry Christmas!

Read On AO3

*****

Food, Drinks, and Pings

Stiles just wanted to clear things up—he did not work for Hale Corp, and he certainly did not work for said company’s inhouse café, The Family Bean. He was a writer, who just so happened to have been roped into the gig because he was best friends with the soulmate-fiancée of the best friend of one of the sons of the company’s owners.

See, one of Stiles’ best friends from high school was Erica Reyes, blonde, vivacious, and both crazy and powerful enough to castrate someone with her fingernails. She might look like she just stepped off the catwalk, with her hourglass figure, fluffy hair, and red lips, but she had a knack for business that led to a scholarship at a reputable business school. Stiles, on the other hand, took to writing like a duck to water, thanks to his overactive imagination and ability to turn a phrase. He could write anything and so he did—news pieces, articles, blogs, reviews, as well as a modestly famous soulmate series published under a pseudonym.

Erica’s soon-to-be husband and soulmate was Vernon Boyd III, a tall, dark, and delicious drink of chocolate, who was so fit he could bench press a baby elephant without breaking a sweat. He was the perfect picture of seriousness and silence, that Stiles used to wonder how he functioned as Hale Corp’s Director of Operations. After getting to know him better, he realized just how smart and charismatic Boyd really was.

Boyd’s best friend from childhood was Derek Hale, one of the sons from the famous and powerful Hale Family, owners and leaders of the mass media company, Hale Corp.

Stiles knew of the Hale Family, and who didn’t? You’d be hard-pressed to find someone who didn’t know the famous family of business tycoons and titans, a family so rich they could buy a person’s soul even. Nor would someone fail to hear about one of the most powerful love stories that rocked the world.

Talia Hale was the eldest child of the main branch of the Hale family and was poised to take over the world. Desmond Fitzgerald, in contrast, was the only child of elderly parents, and they lived at a shabby, squat house with no electricity, scraping by each and every day. 

Talia’s father, the late and great Everett Hale, had visited the local community college as part of their charity program. Talia had tagged along, nineteen and already learning the ropes, and had tripped over the custodian who had been on his hands and knees straightening the welcome carpet.

Take a guess who the janitor was.

An accidental brush of skin, the burning of a Mark, and that was it.

Talia and Desmond turned out to be soulmates, and their Marks, her howling wolf and his crescent moon, had become one of the most romantic symbols of their time.

Now, where did Stiles and The Family Bean came in, you ask?

Aside from writing, Stiles knew his way around a kitchen. His mother had passed away when he was seven, and he had grown up with a Sheriff father who only knew the basics. Stiles had to learn how to cook a meal or risk them subsisting on fried everything and endless takeout orders.

So yes, Stiles knew how a kitchen worked. The thing was, Erica didn’t, and had spent high school eating Stiles’ meals and hanging around his kitchen. Nothing soothed her viciousness and temper like one of his desserts.

So whenever Erica was close to breaking someone’s jaw and risking a lawsuit, she’d invite Stiles over and he would come and work his magic at The Family Bean. It wasn’t like it was such a hardship. The place had a gorgeous kitchen, a full pantry, and a really comfy setup with cozy booths and colorful tables and chairs. 

It wasn’t only Erica who benefited. Stiles often found inspiration at the tail end of a whisk or in between beating a dough into submission while listening to Erica’s gossip. He had come to depend on her brand of sass whenever he was suffering from writer’s block, or dealing with annoying clients, or avoiding his editor, Danny Mahealani. 

It got to the point that Erica had HR make him a permanent guest entry pass—written down for Stiles S, Food Guy—and everyone knew him by name, the security, the delivery boys, the café’s actual employees, and some of Hale Corp’s employees.

That was what he meant by his original statement: He did not work for Hale Corp or The Family Bean. He was just Erica’s food guy and personal chef. Just another title to add to personal punching bag, platonic soulmate, best friend, and partner-in-crime, among others.

Boyd was surprisingly calm about the guy constantly hanging around his soulmate. Then again, no one would choose Stiles’ skinny ass for Boyd’s lusciousness, so Stiles could understand that he wasn’t much of a threat. Erica said that Boyd knew they were a package deal, and it helped that Boyd had been won over by Stiles’ banana bread. Either way, Boyd was cool and didn’t punch Stiles in the face for his and Erica’s weird platonic love affair.

So, in the end, that was Stiles’ life—work, his Dad, Erica, and his other friends.

Then the Hales happened.

It all started on a fine Monday morning with Kira Yukimura. She was pretty and petite, and the goddess who was actually the one in charge of The Family Bean’s kitchen. She wore floral dresses with studded combat boots, and held katana wielding lessons on Saturdays and a kids’ kitchen workshop on Sundays. Stiles adored her.

So when he walked in that day—after spending the entirety of the weekend not writing, because his protagonists, Peter and Wade, were being idiots—only to hear Kira’s cries for help, he was more than happy to tag in.

“I’m not crying.” She glared at him from where she was assembling sandwich orders, her gaze as sharp as her swords.

“But you still need help,” Stiles said. He put his laptop bag in one of the employee lockers, rolled up the sleeves of his red sweater, and put on an apron. “Erica wants to do lunch, but I decided to come in early.”

Kira nodded towards the window. “All right, because I got a purple ticket for you.”

Stiles jumped up. “Ooh, cool! I’ve never handled a purple ticket before!”

Kira gave him a relieved smile. “Well, today’s your lucky day. One of my employees called in sick, another is late, and I’ve got five packed tickets from different departments, three of them being rush orders, not to mention today’s purple ticket is a little too vague. I’m both swamped and stumped.”

“I’ve got your back, K.” Stiles gave her a salute and bounced over to the ticket tacked up on the holder.

Purple tickets were orders sent straight from the Wolf’s Den. It was the codename for the top floors occupied by the Hale Family and their closest associates. Boyd and Erica’s office were there, too. Stiles had only ever seen it through photos. There was a lot of security posted there, as if guarding the gates of heaven.

Anyway, purple tickets meant VVVVIP orders, note the number of ‘very’s. Kira usually handled those, but she obviously needed help now.

“Now, what do the Lords and Ladies want?” Stiles murmured to himself.

The Family Bean:

MH: hot chocolate

CC: pancakes

SHB: waffles

VHB: dirty chai

LH: anything 

“You know who’s who?” Kira called out.

“Yep, I got it,” Stiles replied. He learned about this from Erica.

MH was Matthew Hale, the firstborn son and heir to the kingdom. CC was his seven-year-old daughter, who everyone called by her nickname. SHB was five-year-old Spencer, and VHB was his mother Valerie Hale-Barone, the firstborn daughter, second eldest, and the lawyer of the family. LH was Laura Hale, the third eldest and the maverick of the family. She was the only one not directly working for Hale Corp, and was more involved their side projects.

“Purple tickets are usually like that,” Kira said, looking at him with amusement. Stiles realized he had been frowning in confusion. “Despite being insanely rich people, they’re surprisingly not very picky about what they eat. Laura, in particular, will eat anything. It’s just difficult to give them variety or find a balance between upscale and too simple.”

“And now you want me to take a crack at it?” Stiles asked.

“Sure. It’ll be in my name anyway, and I don’t mind if you go wild,” Kira said encouragingly. It made Stiles grin. Most would be horrified at handing over their precious menu to someone who wasn’t a baker, much less someone who wasn’t a legitimate employee. But Kira had always been a rebel.

Under Kira’s guidance, Stiles filled up a purple delivery bag for the Hales. The dirty chai latte was pretty straightforward, though he didn’t know how Kira usually made it, so he went with his own style. He also made a raspberry hot chocolate, strawberry cheesecake pancakes, mixed berry waffles, and, for the anything portion of the ticket, a berry breakfast parfait made of yoghurt and fruits and graham crackers.

“Tastes awesome and looks pretty as a picture too,” Kira said, nibbling on her own waffle as she sat atop the counter, swinging her legs to and fro. Stiles could see a hint of her soulmate Mark under her dress just on the outside of her thigh. “I still believe you should have been a baker rather than a writer.”

Stiles grinned as he hung up his apron. “I’m both, but one pays the bills and the other’s a hobby. It’s surprising how most people would think one’s the other.”

“Kira?” a voice called out.

Kira perked up and immediately slid off the counter. She straightened her skirt and stepped out the door of the kitchen. 

“Good morning, Derek,” she greeted.

Stiles peeked out unashamedly through the service window.

Tall, dark, and incredibly handsome, DH or Derek Hale was the middle child of the family. He was the Chief Financial Officer, and was said to be shyer and quieter compared to his more unruly and flashy siblings. It made sense why he was childhood friends with Boyd. The two seemed to share a calm, quiet demeanor.

Stiles had always thought that Derek was quite handsome in an already attractive family, and every once in a while, he would get front row seats—or the view through the service window—to the man in the three-piece suit with the godly shoulder to waist to ass ratio. It was quite inspiring.

“I heard Val and the others had a purple ticket sent down,” Derek was saying to Kira. “I’m on my way up and I thought I’d bring it along and save you a trip.”

“Oh, thanks, Derek. I’ll get it from the back,” Kira replied. “How about you? Do you want anything?”

Derek thought about it. “Just a drink. Anything you want to make me.”

“So long as it’s sweet?” Kira teased, which made the man chuckle.

It was like a bulb lit up in Stiles’ head. 

He met Kira at the door when she walked back in, and it said so much about how awesome she was because she immediately said, “Yes, Stiles, you can make whatever you want. I mean, you’ve already tried your hard at the purple ticket. Might as well go all the way.”

“Thanks, K. You’re a goddess.” Stiles bounced off to the machines. He had always liked a challenge.

In the end, Stiles added his specially made ‘very merry berry frappe’ into the bag. He made sure to put it in a cup cozy to hide the purple color. He wasn’t sure if Derek would mind, but it just wouldn’t do for one of the bosses to be seen with a colorful drink. He let Kira whisk the bag away and they watched Derek exit The Family Bean.

“I hate to see you go, but I love to watch you leave,” Stiles murmured, eyeing the man’s backside.

“I’ll drink to that.” Kira giggled, clinking her extra glass of frappe against his. “And you’re teaching me the recipe by the way.”

“Not on your life.”

It took eight days before Stiles could once again visit The Family Bean. He had had a burst of inspiration following his last visit and had locked himself up in his apartment. His Dad John and his editor Danny were used to these binges, so they had taken turns visiting him to make sure he was alive and eating actual food rather than inhaling takeout, junk food, and soda. 

He had sent off the first few chapters to Danny yesterday and had then slept for about eighteen hours, before Erica had barged in to make sure he hadn’t died. She had been pissed at him last week, annoyed that she hadn’t sampled Stiles’ berry-filled menu, but she’d gotten over it and had even brought groceries before dragging Stiles to The Family Bean for some fresh air and free lunch.

And if that wasn’t enough to perk Stiles up, she and Kira proceeded to tell him how well-received his menu was.

“The kids absolutely loved it, and Laura practically licked her parfait cup clean,” Kira said as they sat around the table for lunch. She had prepared honey sesame chicken, egg rolls, and sweet potato salad. She definitely had Stiles beat when it came to savory meals.

“Valerie was surprised that her dirty chai tasted great. She wasn’t biting people’s heads off more than usual,” Erica shared. She was running her fingers idly over her soulmate Mark, the three claw marks that spanned across her forearm.

Stiles felt pleased at the compliment, but he couldn’t help sending Kira an apologetic look. He didn’t want to usurp her clients and her kitchen. 

Kira just laughed. “It’s fine. I know it’s due to your magic fingers and secret recipes. Just teach me how you do Valerie’s dirty chai and we’re good.”

“Sure thing, but it’s nothing special” Stiles said. “I did bring dessert, as thanks for letting me play around last time.”

Kira bounced on her seat. “Tomato pie?” 

“With extra bacon and jalapeños, just how you like it.” Stiles grinned and showed her the pie, making Kira squeal.

“You gals eat up. I’ll mix us up some lattes, if you want anything,” he offered.

Stiles went to the kitchen to fix up Erica’s usual iced cinnamon honey latte and Kira’s vanilla almond. He was in the middle of finishing them up when he heard voices out at the main area. He recognized Boyd’s low voice and decided to make him a cup of blond roast with soy milk. He paused when he heard unfamiliar voices and took a peek out the service window. He instantly recognized the small group that had joined Kira and Erica.

There was Boyd, who immediately sat down beside Erica and kissed her cheek. His soulmate Mark was obvious, a rose on the back of his left hand. Stiles liked their marks, very beauty and the beast.

Having come in with Boyd was Derek, who looked just as handsome as he always did in a fetching dark blue suit. With him were his younger siblings, twins Cora and Cameron Hale, the artists of the family, who made music and art, played a bevy of instruments, and also drew and painted. Stiles was only two years older than the twins, but they had more talent in their pinkies than Stiles had in his whole body.

The twins’ Marks were one of the most popular, not just because the two were celebrities, but also because they were incredibly visible. Even from a distance, Stiles could see the compass between Cora’s collarbones and the lighthouse that popped up over Cameron’s collar at the left side of his neck. 

Suddenly feeling shy, Stiles stayed in the kitchen and watched and listened.

“Nice spread, Kira. Is that for us?” Cameron asked.

“No, you Hales have your own food upstairs,” Kira said. “I heard Wild Flour Italian sent lunch over.”

Cora rolled her eyes. “Jennifer Blake owns that joint. She’s been trying to get us to come over. No doubt she’ll just use it as some sort of advertisement. I’d rather take a bite of this.” She pointed at their table.

“That pie looks good,” Cameron said. “Can I have a bite?”

Stiles saw the gleam in Erica’s eye.

“Go on,” she said. “They’re good.”

Stiles watched as Erica and Kira offered the Hales a slice each. For some reason, he felt anxious to hear about how his food will be received. It had been nice to hear the rave reviews from Kira and Erica, but it was different seeing their reactions in person.

Cora let out yum-yum noises, which buoyed Stiles’ spirit. 

“Okay, that’s pretty tasty. I love the caramelized bacon.”

“Wait, is this tomato in pie? Like a tomato pie?” Cameron asked, inspecting his plate. He took a large bite.

Kira bounced on her seat in excitement. “Yes, isn’t it good?” 

“Who made this?” Derek asked. He didn’t look displeased, but he didn’t look happy either. He had a really good poker face. It might be good for business, but it was hard for Stiles to interpret. Stiles noted that he kept on eating the pie though.

“My Food Guy,” Erica said with a smug grin.

“Her Food Guy’s the one who made the berry-eautiful purple ticket that received quite the sensational reviews,” Kira added. She glanced at the service window and Stiles knew she saw him hiding there.

“The one who made my drink, too?” Derek asked.

Kira nodded. “The same one.” 

“Spence went gaga for those waffles,” Cameron said. “And Mattie couldn’t believe someone got CC to eat fruit.”

A loud ring cut through their conversation and everyone started pulling out phones to check. It was Derek’s.

“Mom’s calling. Time to go,” he said, standing up.

In reply, Cameron started shoving the rest of the pie in his mouth and also popped in a couple of egg rolls.

“Where’s the Food Guy, though?” Cora asked, head turning to the kitchen. Stiles ducked down behind the counter. “If he makes stuff like this, I wanna meet him.” 

“You can order a purple ticket if you want, but he’s not here all the time,” Erica said, and Stiles glared at her in his mind.

“He works part-time?” Derek asked.

“Not quite,” Kira said. “He’s—”

They were interrupted once more by a ringing phone, and this time Boyd spoke.

“Talia wants you all upstairs. Now.”

Stiles peeked out again. Cameron attempted to bring the entire pie tin, but settled for polishing his slice off. He then joined Cora in writing up a purple ticket order. After a moment, Derek put an order in too. The Hales left in a hurry and Stiles leaned right out of the service window just as Kira came bouncing towards it.

“There’s the man of the hour,” Boyd said, with a smirk.

Kira giggled. “Order up, Food Guy. You got a purple ticket.”

“I’m so proud.” Erica mockingly wiped a tear away. “Stiles, my Food Guy, charming the Hales off through the power of food.”

“Oh, fuck you all.” Stiles glared, ducking back into the kitchen.

At the last minute, he reached out and grabbed the purple ticket from Kira, ignoring the others’ laughter.

Over the next three weeks, Stiles prepared four more purple tickets. According to Kira, his drinks and desserts had become quite attractive to the Hales, both because of the taste and the mystery.

“At this point, they don’t even want me handling the tickets. They always ask if The Food Guy is around before they send their orders down,” Kira said. This time, she was the one helping Stiles prepare and pack. 

The Wolf’s Den was going to be holding meetings nonstop, so Stiles had to prepare a variety of drinks and snacks. It would have been easy if they had simple requests, but the Hales were a mix of eclectic and frustrating.

“I’m glad you’re cool about this, but the Hales are bound to find out that the one making all their desserts isn’t even an employee,” Stiles said, as he added an extra shot of syrup in Laura’s honey and milk iced coffee. Just like her usual orders, she had asked for ‘any drink that’s sweet’ which was such a large ballpark that Stiles wanted to clock someone over the head, maybe her.

“I’m more surprised that you keep making these for free,” Kira said.

Stiles shrugged. “It’s a challenge, and I like challenges.”

“Really, just for the challenge?” Kira asked. “Stiles, Valerie fell in love with your version of her dirty chai. I did it the exact same way you did, but she insists that it tastes different. Same with Cameron’s favorite spiced coconut coffee. Same with all the desserts you made for the kids…”

Her face turned serious. “Don’t you think there’s more to this? Don’t you think it’s a ping—”

“It’s just for fun, Kira. It’s nothing,” Stiles said, heart rabbiting in his chest. He pushed it down firmly. “Plus, it’s surprisingly inspiring for my stories. Right now, I’m writing a new story for my spy series and I’m trying to solve this thing going on between James and Quentin.”

Kira’s face fell but she smiled, if a bit awkwardly. “Ah, well. Whatever you say, Food Guy. I’m just happy I get free labor out of it.”

“So you’re the Food Guy?”

The two of them jumped up in surprise and they turned around to see that someone had come in through the kitchen doors.

“Nathan, hello!” Kira greeted. “We didn’t hear you come in.”

Nathaniel Hale was the youngest of the brood at nineteen, and with his dark hair and piercing blue eyes, he was quite the heartthrob in an already beautiful family. If that wasn’t enough, he was an athlete and a rising star in soccer.

Stiles didn’t really care at the moment, too busy wondering if the kid had heard what Kira had been saying.

Nathan leaned against the counter. “Everyone was arguing over who was going to pick up the ticket this time. I walked out while Laura was arm wrestling with Cam.”

Kira laughed while Stiles looked away, suddenly awkward.

“Uh, that’s cool and all, but I’m not remotely interesting enough to warrant an arm wrestle.”

Nathan shrugged. “Your stuff tastes amazing.” He smiled at Kira. “No offense, Kira. You’re still queen. But you… you’re interesting.” He gave Stiles a look. “You know, I’ve been ordering the same caramel vanilla iced coffee from The Family Bean for years now. You made it once and now everything else tastes different.”

Stiles couldn’t help flinching. Oh yeah. Nathan had definitely heard Kira.

But Nathan turned to Kira, breaking the stare. “Anyway, is the ticket ready? Can I take it up?”

Kira smiled and handed over the bag. “You just want to lord your victory over the others.”

“Of course. That’s what having siblings is all about.” Nathan scoffed, but grinned. “Anyway, thanks.” 

Kira smiled. “Enjoy your meal.”

Stiles watched Nathan leave and rubbed his left shoulder. He had a weird feeling about all this.

A single touch was all it took to find someone’s soulmate. However, people couldn’t just go around touching one another. Some did, but there were laws against touching people without their consent. So Nature, in all its wisdom, gave people the capability to locate their soulmates by following a trail.

The best trail was through family members. Take for example one other famous Hale love story, that of Valerie. Her husband, the Italian magnate Piero Barone, was from a family of vintners. During Talia and Desmond’s trip to Italy, they met Piero at a wine tasting event and immediately felt what Mark experts called a ‘ping,’ a connection between them that hinted at the identity of Piero’s soulmate. Piero followed the Hales to America, met the family—all of which gave off similar pings—was finally allowed a Touch Test with Valerie, and the rest was history.

There were other kinds of trails, like what happened between Boyd and Erica. They both attended the same university, though Boyd had graduated several years earlier. However, even without knowing Boyd, Erica inadvertently joined the same groups and organizations that he had, and even lived at the same apartment that he had rented when he had been a student. Then after Erica graduated, she decided to take a year off to travel. Months later, when Boyd went on sabbatical, he ended up following almost the exact same itinerary. They finally met by chance during an alumni event and got to talking, which revealed all of the things they had in common. Before the event was even halfway through, they had done a Touch Test and found their match.

Stiles’ favorite trail story was of his parents’. John and Claudia met when they were children. Having no siblings, they didn’t have the benefit of a family trail, and being young meant there weren’t a lot of experiences that could link them. However, they had always known there was something special about one another. They grew up together, grew apart, and met later on in life. They still didn’t have the same life experiences—she was a librarian, he was a deputy—but the moment they saw one another again, they just knew.

Sometimes people just knew.

“Well, well, well. I didn’t know we were serving twink in the menu.”

Ordinarily, that comment would have had Stiles lashing out with his sharp tongue, but upon looking up, he hesitated. First of all, the other person was clearly drunk and it was only, Stiles checked his watch, three-forty-seven in the afternoon. Second, the other person was none other than the infamous Peter Hale, Talia’s younger brother.

The eternal bachelor, he was called, well known for his many dalliances and relationships. He was also the Hale with the most well-known Mark, not because it was at a visible spot, but mostly because he tended to flaunt the large image of a bird in flight that was across his chest via his tendency of wearing unbuttoned shirts.

In Stiles’ opinion, Peter reminded him of one of his book characters—the rich and powerful Anthony, who, underneath all the bravado, was desperately looking for his soulmate, only to find it in the fair-haired, gentle-hearted Steven, who wouldn’t take his crap. He wondered who Peter’s soulmate was.

“Oh, for god’s sake. Uncle, come back here!”

Stiles looked up to see Derek jogging over to them, looking both pissed and worried at the man leaning against The Family Bean’s pristine counter.

Peter ignored him. “Oh, lay off, Derek. I want a drink, and this twink is going to make me one.”

Derek turned to Stiles. “Peter, do not call—” He paused, dark eyes widening.

Stiles felt his heart jerk in his chest and his left shoulder burn. He felt like he had been hit in the head, so did Derek going by his gaping.

Peter suddenly tilted sideways, interrupting their stare down. Neither Stiles nor Derek were able to catch the man before he ended up sprawled across the counter. The sight of him had Stiles dredging up some semblance of control. He sighed.

“You are very rude, and also very drunk, but because I feel sorry for you, Mr. Hale, I’ll make you a free drink.”

Derek let out a gurgle and then a cough, obviously holding back laughter. Peter propped himself up on wobbly elbows. 

“You feel sorry for me? Don’t you know who I am, kid?”

Stiles was both annoyed by Peter and buoyed by Derek’s reaction. It was probably what sharpened his tongue.

“You’re Talia Hale’s younger brother, but between the supposed—ahh, what was it—Big Bad Wolf of Media and this so-called twink, I’m not the one nursing a hangover at this time of the afternoon.”

Stiles shook his head and walked off, ignoring Peter’s angry, garbled words and the sudden chuckle from Derek. The latter made Stiles’ shoulder ache.

Stiles ignored that and prepared a quick takeout bag. He could hear Peter and Derek arguing out on the main area. It was the work of minutes to prepare a quick smoothie and throw in some crackers and fruits. He walked back out and handed the bag to Derek, but then quickly tucked his hands to himself. The other man’s piercing stare was making him sweat.

Peter grabbed his drink and took a gulp of the smoothie, before asking, “What’s your name, kid?”

Stiles rolled his eyes. Not even a thank you. How rude. 

“Not a kid, and there’s no need to know my name since you’re just going to forget it.”

Peter smirked lasciviously. “Oh, that mouth on you.”

“I’m also not into geriatrics,” Stiles was quick to bite back.

Peter’s jaw dropped. “Geria—”

Derek suddenly burst into laughter and the sound of it seemed to fill Stiles’ heart and mind, making his face flush and his body warm. Derek smiled at him and Stiles felt warmth bloom in his chest.

Stiles cleared his throat, trying to will the blush away. He rubbed his shoulder. “Well, anyway, I’m happy to help. I’ll tell Kira you guys dropped by. See you around.” He glanced at Peter. “Not you. Drop dead.” He stepped back.

“Wait!” Derek lurched forward, startling Stiles and also Peter, who, true to Stiles’ words, slid off the counter to the floor. They ignored him.

Derek leaned forward over the counter. “I’m sorry if I’m forward, but are you—”

Stiles shook his head vigorously. “I’m sorry. I have to go.” 

He ducked back into the kitchen, ignoring Derek’s calls and Peter’s drunken warbling. He leaned against the door and slid down until he could curl up into a ball. He placed a hand over his burning shoulder.

Sometimes people just knew.

Stiles was tempted to stay away from The Family Bean after that. He really wanted to. But it was hard to stay away.

Even harder to stay away from a ping.

Stiles wasn’t stupid enough to let that slip away.

Still, it was hard to face up to it and admit that he had a soulmate.

So for the next two weeks, Stiles stayed away from the front of house, always hiding in the safety of the kitchen. He kept on making purple tickets whenever they came, but he avoided coming out for any reason, especially after Derek started coming by nearly every day. Sometimes he even brought his work over just so that he could stay as long as possible.

It confused Kira and Erica, but they assumed Derek just liked the food. The other Hales also started coming by and many times, Stiles could hear them asking Derek why he was hanging around The Family Bean instead of working in his office. Always, Derek kept mum.

Because as it turned out, Derek hadn’t told anyone about the ping.

In fact, Stiles had a feeling that the only person in the Hale family who knew was Nathan. Maybe because he had already been suspicious of it. Out of all the Hales, he was the only one who didn’t ask Derek about why he kept hanging around the café.

The other one who knew was Boyd.

Derek had been called to a meeting one day, so Stiles had felt it safe to come out and work at one of the booths. He had already fallen so far behind on his writing commitments. After a few minutes, Boyd had dropped by and had joined him. Stiles knew he was typing gibberish on his laptop, but he kept on as an excuse not to look at Boyd, who was looking at him intently.

Finally, he spoke, “Looking back, I guess it wasn’t just your banana bread that won me over.”

Stiles jerked, sending a series of characters across the screen.

Boyd kept on. “I always had a good feeling about you from Erica’s stories, but when we met, that was definitely a ping.”

Stiles bit his lip. “Does Erica know?”

Boyd shook his head. “I love her, but Erica would have thrown a party if she knew.”

Stiles sighed, both in relief and in trepidation for the moment Erica find out.

Boyd studied him. “Derek’s a good guy, you know.”

“I know I got that impression from all the stories you and Erica had of him,” Stiles said. “I always thought it was surprising considering he could afford not to be a nice guy.”

Boyd studied him, making Stiles shift in his seat. “Is that the reason you won’t meet with him? Or do a Touch Test? Because he’s a Hale?”

Stiles almost protested, but he deflated. “…I don’t know.”

Boyd hummed under his breath. “Well, you’ve always played your cards close to the chest when it comes to soulmates, but I know you’ll figure it out.” He stood up. “But you better make it soon. Erica and the rest of the Hales are bound to figure it out.”

Stiles groaned and sank down on his seat. 

“Noted.”

The day after that, a still-conflicted Stiles was once again at The Family Bean. Kira had gone up to the Wolf’s Den to deliver the latest purple ticket, so he had to stay and man the counter. 

The door let out a little tinkle, and Stiles froze the moment he saw the woman entering the café.

He’d know Talia Hale anywhere.

Stiles almost panicked, but then he remembered that she didn’t know who he was. He took a deep breath.

“Um, good afternoon, Mrs. Hale. What can I get you?”

The woman smiled, quite warm and friendly despite her fierce reputation. “Just some tea, please. And are there any new desserts?”

It had been a moment of weakness, but Stiles had actually brought over some peanut butter stuffed cookies and added it to the purple ticket in the hopes that a certain Hale would like them. He still had a few cookies left, but he wasn’t sure if he should offer them to her.

“I smell cookies,” Talia said pointedly. “I’ll have some of those.”

Stiles gulped. “Ah, we have some peanut butter stuffed cookies. Let me get those for you.”

He swallowed his nerves and served the woman, who took a sip of tea and a bite of the cookie right there on the counter.

She smiled, studying the cookies. “Very tasty.”

“Thank you, ma’am.” Stiles smiled politely. He turned away to leave and maybe gather his strength in the privacy of the kitchen.

“When we started hearing about The Food Guy, I admit I was quite intrigued. It’s very rare for someone to grab the attention of my entire family.”

Stiles paused and turned to her.

He should have known.

Stiles nodded stiffly. “Nice to meet you, ma’am.”

Talia smiled, sharp and knowing. “And you, Food Guy.”

“Any reason for the visit?” Stiles asked, shifting on his feet.

“I wanted to meet you,” Talia said, taking another bite of her cookie. 

Stiles frowned. “That’s all?”

“Were you expecting anything else?”

“Uh, well, I…”

Talia shrugged and sipped his tea. “I don’t blame you for any misgivings you might have should you prove to be soulmates with my son. I’m well aware of the reputation of my family. My late father, Everett, embodied the might of the Hale name better than anyone. You should have seen him back in the days.”

Stiles held up his hands. He couldn’t help the feeling that he had to explain.

“It’s not that there’s a problem with Derek or your family. Being a Hale isn’t the problem… not entirely…” he hesitated, but then plunged on, urged by the ping he could feel inside him and the desire to make someone understand. “My mom passed away when I was seven. She was soulmates with my father. He was—I was—we were never the same after.”

A heavy silence fell, and Stiles was both nervous and intrigued. Talia’s face changed. Something in her eyes darkened and she pursed her lips.

“Forgive my sudden melancholy, but I was just reminded of something.” She sipped her tea. “I was reminded of my youth. My father, Peter, and I had never been the same after mother walked away.”

“Walked away?” Stiles was taken aback. It was rare to hear any mention of Talia’s mother, but everyone had chalked it up to grief at her passing. “But you all said she died—”

Talia interrupted him delicately. “People think of Marks as the be all and end all where the only answer is yes. But even soulmates are a choice…”

“Desmond grew up without a penny to his name, so he rejected me as he could only see himself as an embarrassment to the Hale family. My opinionated father had, unfortunately, been a contributing factor to that line of thinking. I grew up with a rather jaded view of Marks and pings, and I had seen his rejection as a challenge and not a privilege. Desmond and I, our story had been tempestuous, quite unlike the romanticizing people had done.”

She finished the last of her tea. “If I may be allowed to request one thing, all I ask is that you make a choice so that Derek can do the same. No one in this family will certainly blame you for it.”

Talia pushed her empty cup and plate towards Stiles, and smiled. “Have a good day, Food Guy.”

Stiles watched Talia walk away.

He had some thinking to do.

Stiles took a deep breath and tried not to crush the boxes in his hands. He was nervous and his left shoulder was throbbing.

“Ready?” Kira asked him. She was carrying the other delivery boxes.

“As I’ll ever be,” Stiles replied.

Kira smiled, both encouraging and proud, and nodded to the guard on duty. The man held open the double doors for them, and Stiles was instantly met with a wall of sound.

“Purple ticket delivery,” Kira called out, leading Stiles inside.

The office was spacious, as it should be if it was going to accommodate all of the Hales, and all of them were there. There was a long table at one end where Talia, Matthew, and Boyd were talking and laughing. Desmond was on one couch, talking to Piero and Erica. Laura and Cora were seated on armchairs and were arguing loudly about something. Peter was egging them on. CC and Spencer, were seated in front of a television at a kids’ play area set up in the corner. Cameron was with them, all of them singing along to whatever cartoon was playing. Derek, Valerie, and Nathan were huddled around a table, looking at blueprints.

“Oh, yes! The food’s here!” Cameron cheered, which sent the children shouting as well.

Kira navigated the area like a champ, while Stiles slowly shuffled after. “You guys ordered a lot. I had to ask for help. This is Stiles.”

Stiles didn’t miss the way Derek’s head suddenly jolted in his direction, nor Talia’s proud smile, nor Erica’s sudden screech of “Stiles!” which had everyone else turning their way. Stiles winced. He was going to get his ass kicked later for not telling Erica about this.

“Well, well…” Peter grinned. “Hello there, twink.”

Stiles shuddered. “Still not into creepy old geezers.”

“Oh, wait, wait! Is he the guy who called you a geriatric?” Laura asked, before shrieking in laughter.

“And the one who said Peter should drop dead,” Cora added, cackling. 

Laughter rang around over Peter’s protests, and it made Stiles’ heart stutter. He felt warm all over, like the pings going off in his head were doubly delighted at the Hales. He glanced at Derek, who was smiling warmly.

Stiles winced when he caught Erica’s gaze though. She looked between him and Derek and her eyes widened. But Boyd was suddenly there, hand over her mouth and whispering to her.

Stiles helped Kira take out all of the food and the ravenous Hales were quickly upon them.

“Food Guy’s stuff tastes awesome,” Nathan said, licking his cupcake’s icing. He waggled knowing eyebrows at Stiles, who bit back a grin. Cheeky kid.

“Please pass our compliments to the chef, Kira,” Desmond said, reaching for his drink.

Kira giggled. “You can thank him yourself.” She waved at Stiles with a flourish.

Stiles felt a little like a deer in headlights when all their gazes alighted on him.

“You’re Food Guy?” and other iterations of the exclamation rang around the room.

Stiles flushed. “I’m glad to hear you all like what I’ve been making.”

“Oh, wow! How wonderful!” Piero piped up. “I haven’t felt a ping in such a long time. How nostalgic, don’t you think, dear?” He turned to Valerie.

“That’s a ping?” Matthew asked, confused, before his face cleared and he rubbed his chest. “Oh, hell, this is a ping.”

“Is that the tingly feeling here, Uncle Mattie?” Spencer asked, pointing at his tummy.

Erica finally managed to get out from under Boyd. “Stiles, did you ping with Derek? Is that why you’ve both been hanging around The Family Bean? You’ve both been pining over each other!”

Stiles groaned, while gasps and shouts suddenly rang around the room.

Kira sighed. “Way to ruin it, Erica.”

“You mean I was pinged through a tomato pie?” Cameron was asking, wide-eyed. 

Cora started laughing. “Oh my god! Uncle Peter flirted with Derek’s soulmate!”

“That’s Uncle Derek’s soulmate?” CC asked.

“Yes, he is.” Nathan looked like he was immensely enjoying all this, and Stiles was starting to realize that he was a little shit.

Derek stepped towards Stiles. His face was a little red, but he was smiling and Stiles thought he was the handsomest man he had ever seen.

“My family’s a mess. Please ignore them,” Derek said, ignoring the protests from his siblings.

Stiles chuckled. “At least they keep things interesting. It’s just me, my Dad, and her.” He jerked a thumb at Erica.

“Oh, fu—dge you!” Erica said, glancing at the kids. She turned to Boyd. “And I can’t believe you didn’t tell me!”

Boyd rolled his eyes. “I was giving him space to process things.”

Stiles ignored them and turned to Derek. He only had one chance to do this.

“Ah, sorry, it took a while. I was figuring stuff out, but I thought we should get to know one another first.”

“Of course,” Derek said immediately. He reached out a hand. “I’m looking forward to getting to know you, Stiles.”

Stiles glanced at Talia, who was whispering to her husband. She winked at Stiles.

“Soulmates are a choice.”

Stiles smiled at Derek. He could feel his Mark tingling in anticipation.

“Me too, Derek.”

He reached out and took his hand.

#kevaaronday #stereksanta20 #*fic20 #*gifts20

[musicfeedsmysoul12]

Flash Forward: Other bits

Lila

Lila was sitting in a white room dressed in a white shirt and blue jeans. She was eating a meal and looked bored as she did so. Once she was done she looked up.

“If you are finished mask on,” a voice said through the walls.

“You can trust me. I won’t do anything!” Lila replied, sounding charming.  “Miss Rossi you do not have permission to leave your room without a mask. Mask on.” Lila stared at the ceiling before a look of utter rage passed over her face, startling the watchers. She grabbed something sitting next to her and put it on, tying it behind her head. It was a half mask, with slits in the front. Putting it on, a click was heard and she growled, the mask showing it also had a voice program as it came out distorted and computerized. “Thank you.”

Waking out of the room when the door opened, Lila carried her plate and utensils, heading to a window in a wall she put them through. Around her others dressed like her were walking around. Only a bare few had masks though.

“Rossi,” one said, walking by.

“Smith.” She responded, heading through the room and out a door, to where a fenced-in outdoor area was. Lila sat on a bench and just watched people before someone walked up to her. It was Chloé, wearing similar clothes but with gloves.

 “I thought you were avoiding me,” Lila said.

“I was.” Chloé said simply. “But I have news.”

“Oh? The Justice League realize they made a mistake and are letting me go?” Lila mocked. “Please. You knew your magic had people listening to you and believing you no matter what you said. You willingly used your magic on others and turned out to be working with a magical terrorist since you were fourteen until eighteen. The one time they let you go unmasked here you used your magic to spark a riot.” Chloé snorted. “You deserve to be here like I did.”

“Did?” Lila asked.

 “I’m leaving next week. Parole.” Chloé told the girl and Lila snared, the sound menacing in her mask.

“You sided with him just like me! Hell you willingly let him cast magic on you- that’s why you have those damn gloves!” Lila said.

“I know. I was a petty and jealous brat who wanted to be special. I was so mad I would never get the Bee Miraculous back, I was so mad Ladybug didn’t like me. So I foolishly didn’t think of anyone but myself and sides with him.” Chloé told her. “It took me nearly killing my dad just by hugging him to realize what I did. Lila, how do you feel knowing your mother is sick to her stomach when she sees you because of how much magic you used on her?”

“It wasn’t that much.” Lila snapped and Chloe shook her head.

“Your mother can’t be in the same room with you without going into shock.”

“Your mother-“

“Is in jail for insider trading and child abuse,” Chloé said coldly. “And good riddance. But this didn’t about that. This is about me and you.”

“What could you possibly want with me? You hate me.”

“I do. But sadly you’re my only friend here.” Chloé said. “And we’re similar. We both fucked up. Difference is I realized it and am trying. I’m getting out. I’ll never not be able to not wear gloves. My touch with either kill or paralyze anyone. That’s fine- I got offered skin right and skin coloured gloves I’ll be wearing. I get to change my name and appearance and integrate back into society as long as I keep in contact with Canary. That’s great.”

“And you think I can too?” Lila sneered. “I can’t turn off my magic.”

“You can control it you just don’t want to. You’re damn lucky they gave you a mask instead of casting a spell to permanently silence you and you know it.” Chloe told Lila who glared at her in answer. “Lila don’t let the mistakes you made as a teenager affect you now.” Lila didn’t answer as Chloe stood and left her alone in the yard.

Alya

Alia was sitting in a cubicle, working on something. She looked different with her hair in a short bob and wearing a set of business casual clothing. She looked fairly focused as she was typing, only stopping when someone stuck their head into the cubicle.

“Hey, someone’s waiting for you in meeting room B.”

“Thanks,” Alta said, standing up and heading to the room. She looked puzzled as she entered it before a smile crossed her face. “Rose!:

“Alta!” Rose looked older, with her hair longer then it was currently, and her outfit a white sweater and jeans. “It’s good to see you! Sorry about dropping in on you at work…”

“It’s fine. I don’t have any cool stories right now- mostly the normal stuff and that’s pretty easy to write.” Alya told her. “Why are you here?”

“Juleka and I are getting married!” Alya squealed and threw her arms around Rose who laughed and hugged back.

“God! You guys beat the odds! I’m so happy for you!” She pulled away with a smile.

“Thanks! We wanted a reporter covering it- famous model marrying a charity worker so we thought of you!” Alya squealed again and hugged Rose again who laughed. “But uhh…”

“If it’s about Nino it’s fine. It’s been years- we broke up and we can be civil.” Alya said in amusement. Rose winced. Alya frowned at her.

“It’s Marinette.” Alya frowned at Rose.

“Me and Marinette are cool too.”

“You guys stopped being friends so suddenly-“ Rose began but Alya lifted a hand.

“No. We stopped being friends earlier then we thought. Neither of us realized it though until after Lila’s bullshit. It took her telling me to my face she was over Adrien and her realizing I hadn’t talked to her about anything not about the blog for us both to admit we’d stopped being friends. It was new kid friend syndrome. We were buddies but didn’t have a solid enough basis in common interests to remain besties. And that’s fine. It happened.” Alya chuckled. “Didn’t know you were still thinking we had issues.” Rose shrugged but smiled.

“I’m glad you’re okay with that.” Alya chuckled and her smile grew.

“Yeah same.”

Adrien  

 Adrien was working in his classroom, marking papers.

“Ugh,” he sighed, rolling his eyes. “What is with teenagers.” He finished the last paper and stood up with a sigh. He put the papers into his desk and begun to get ready to leave when the door opened. “Mylene! Hey.” The woman smiled.

“Hey, just wanted to see if you were staying late. How’s your first month?” The woman came in to sit on a desk, still smiling.

“Pretty good. Thanks for vouching for me. Might not have got the job without it.”

“You could have.” Said Mylène in reply. “You’re a good teacher Adrien- much better than our examples.” Adrien laughed a little bitterly.

“Well not hard.” He shook his head. “... ever hear from anyone?”

“Well, you did get the invite right?”

“Yeah Rose and Juleka. I’m happy for them… just not sure if I want to go. Not sure if everyone wants me.” He looked down at his empty hands for a second. “... after everything.”

“You messed up Adrien. But you were a kid. Rose wouldn’t invite you if she didn’t want to give you a chance. If any of them wanted not to see you.”

“I… Mylène what I was like, what I did… it was wrong. It was disgusting. It took me literally being slapped by Ladybug, by Marinette and being sued for me to get it through my head. Not to mention-“

“That’s not your fault Adrien. Don’t blame yourself.” Mylène got off the desk and went to place a hand on his shoulder. “You’re a good man. C’mon- I’ll buy you a drink. Us teachers are all going. They want you to come.”

“... if you’re sure.”

“I am.”

Nathanael

Nathanael was bent over a desk, drawing something with a focused look on his face. He barely paid attention to Marc who walked in, the man laughing quietly.

“Nath, you’re going to hurt your eyes drawing so close and in such bad light.” Marc told him, putting a hand on his shoulder, a wedding ring on his hand.

“I’m fine Marc, promise.” Nathanael smiled at the man, patting his hand. “I think your husband’s-“

“Nathanael, don’t do this.” Marc sighed.

“Do what?”

“Do this ‘I want to wallow’ thing.” Marc shook his head. “Look yeah you were a shitty boyfriend in high school but that was mostly your own issues being bi and all the crap your parents gave you more than anything. And the whole Lila crap- in case you forgot I believed her to until she managed to say one lie I knew was wrong and you snapped out of the magic when I showed you it was wrong.”

“I… I dunno.” Nathanael sighed. “I think I’m just tired.”

“Yeah well no wallowing my friend. C’mon- Marinette called and she wants to see us before Rose and Juleka’s wedding.” Nathanael looked pleased.

“That’s good. Is she still willing to help with talks about our book becoming a movie? I’d rather her or her boy toy being there.”

“She’s going to kill you if you keep calling Tim a boy toy.”

“She grew over six feet tall and she still wears heels. Tim is 5’6”. I will never stop. Jason lets me.”

“Jason likes riling up his girlfriend. She pins him better.”

“... how do you know this?” Nathanael asked his partner in business.

“I’m married to Roy- Jason’s best friend? We talk.”

“... how much can we use for our porn books?”

“Where do you think half the ideas came from?”

Kagami

Kagami was setting up her office, smiling as she put a photo frame down that had her on a podium with an Olympic Gold Medal around her neck.

Pulling back, she looked around the office and smiled.

“Fuck you mom,” she declared. She looked pleased as she set the final piece down, a plague declaring her name.

“Someone sounds happy,” a blonde stuck her head in, grinning. “That exciting to be heading your own company?”

“Of course. I worked hard for this.” Kagami smiled at her. “And stealing Kara Danvers is just a bonus.”

“You’re only saying that because you think it’s funny.” Kara laughed. “Wouldn’t leave you for the wolves after you saved my ass.”

“Anyone else would have done it or well anyone we know.” Kagami told her. Kara gave her that with a shrug.  “What’s on the plan for today?”

“Well business wise we have a meeting with Tim Drake-Wayne- he’s currently trying to get permission for some sort of body armour to be made for teens that can be a hoodie or a sweater.”

“It disgusts me we need those. Let me guess the government won’t have it?”

“Not unless he has back up, or if he agrees for the military to have it to for free.”

“That’s disgusting and I’m going to rip them to shreds.”

“Yep. And for pleasure, you’re meeting your girlfriend at that waffle place she likes.” Kagami grinned, looking pleased. “And your other girlfriend is meeting you guys later. She’s busy with helping her youngest brother with something- wanna tell?”

“Damian is proposing to his boyfriend later. And yes you can call in with this info to hangs your bets.” Kara pumped her fist.

“Yes! Clark and Bruce’s families finally join!”

“Dare you to tell them that.”

“I will gladly do so.”

Luka

Luka was busy tuning his gut air when the door opened and Nino stuck his head in. “Yo, Luka- your sister is here.”

“Nice.” Luka grinned as Juleka came in, Nino following. “Jules!”

“Luka!” The two hugged. “Ugh, how’s the recording going?”

“Really well. How’s the wedding planning?”

“Better now that we took Marinette’s advice and hired her friend Bart- he’s amazing at it.” Juleka told her brother. “Rose wants to adopt him I think.”

“Bart? Yeah he has that sort of feel.” Laughed Luka. Juleka shook her head.

“Of course you know him. So… dating anyone?”

“Not really. Sort of dating this one guy Conner but we’re not that serious.” Luka shrugged.

“Aww. Hey how about you Nino?”

“Nah man, I’m flying solo still. Busy with my music and helping Luka out.” Nino told them. “Though I do have a date so… later!”

“... one night stands?” Juleka asked Luka who laughed when Nino was gone.

“Yeah. He’s having fun.”

“To each their own,” Juleka said. “... he’s not-“

“Juleka. He and Alya broke up and I will not let you two hatch a matchmaking scheme at your wedding. It’s about you, no one else.” Luka told him. “As well Nino told me there’s some stuff he doesn’t like talking about with their relationship. And he doesn’t want to get back together.”

“... Alya says-“

“Different people Juleka. Different people and Alya may not be saying everything either.” Luka told his sister. “Aren’t we talking about me?”

“You and your music career making a killing while you also run around with interesting jewelry?”

“Says the one with her fancy rings.” Luka teased. Juleka laughed and smiled. “And the fact she’s a world-famous model now.”

“Yeah we are really killing it aren’t we.” Juleka smiled, then frowned. “... heard about Chloe?”

“Yeah. I think we can trust her though. There are telepaths working there.”

“I know it’s just…” Juleka made a face. “Viperion and Black Claws might need to step in.”

“Maybe. Hopefully not but maybe.” Luka sighed. “... I’m glad you saw through Lila so fast.”

“Got lucky with Rose knowing Ali… he’s coming by the way.”

“King at your wedding. Nice.”

“I know.”

#maribat #miraculous ladybug #ml au #flash forward #ml salt #Lila salt

[what-is-your-plan-today]

Stark Spanged Banner: Stab Me In The Front

Part 4- Captain Asshat

Intro: Steve's being an asshat...and Katie isn't standing for it. Throw in some alcohol and the return America’s Asshole...and there's trouble ahead!

Warnings: Bad language. SMUT (NSFW, No UNDER 18s!!!)

Pairing: 

Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

A/N: This was supposed to be a Kinks one shot, only my mind went somewhere else and I got carried away and here’s Part 4 of the Knives Out cross over.. Yeah...so now I have to write another one shot from the original prompt from @sweater-daddiesdumbdork​. Oh well... Hope you enjoy, this is a long one...it’s also really loosely proof read so apologies for mistakes but this is SO HARD to do on my phone!!!

"Steve..." Katie sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose before she removed her glasses and rubbed at her eyes "Why are we even having this debate?"

"Oh, it's a debate?" He folded his arms "Here was me thinking you were just point blank refusing to listen to me."

"Oh I'm listening." she glared up at him from where she sat behind her desk "You're just talking shit."

"I'm talking shit?" he fumed, blowing a breath through his nostrils "The guy is an absolute dick, and you just voluntarily invited him to your gala?"

"Yes, because this is about the Charity." she looked at him "And like it or not, dick he may be, he gave a substantial donation. It's only right."

Steve felt the nerve in his jaw twitch "Right?"

"Yes, right. Why are you making such a big deal out of this?"

"Are you forgetting what he said to you?" Steve looked at her.

"No." she shook her head "I'm simply saying that I don't care."

"You don't care?" his mouth fell open "You don't care that he basically-"

"No, I don't." Katie cut him off firmly "And if I don't anymore then neither should you."

"Ok, so despite the fact that he disrespected my wife, and said some pretty disgusting things about you, I should just let that slide?"

"Yes." Katie said simply, standing up as she turned off her computer screen before she looked at him "Because believe it or not I don't actually need you to be offended on my behalf Steve. Now either let it go or don't bother coming."

"Fine, if that's the way you feel then maybe I won't."

"And you call me a brat!" Katie snorted, as she walked past him towards the door of her office "You're so full of shit."

"I'm full of shit?" Steve snorted, and she stopped, turning to face him "You're the one that is insisting on inviting that ass hole...I mean, even Natasha thinks you're crazy."

"Natasha?" Katie frowned, "What's Natasha got to do with this?"

Steve hesitated and grimaced inwardly as Katie's face rearranged into a look of understanding and she let out a scoff.

"You spoke to Natasha before me?"

"She asked me what was bothering me so I told her."

"Damnit Steve!" she shook her head "Why is that you go running to other people about stuff before me? We're supposed to be married."

"Oh but it wasn't an issue when you told her before me about what Hydra did to you?" the words were out of his mouth before he could stop them and no sooner had he spoke he saw Katie's face slip. "Shit, Katie, I-"

"That was a low blow Steve." she swallowed, shaking her head.

"I'm sorry, I didn't..."

"Fuck you." she looked at him, before she turned and walked off.

Steve let out a groan of frustration, looking up at the ceiling as he cursed himself. That really had been unfair, the two issues weren't even comparable. He hated when he spat out stuff like that, because even when they were in the middle of an argument he loved his wife beyond life itself, and hated seeing her upset or hurt. But damnit, sometimes she just riled him so fucking much. With a deep breath he pinched the bridge of his nose and turned from the office, shutting the door behind him, the automatic lock sealing the room.  He made his way back towards the main common room, finding Sam pouring himself a drink.

"S'up Cap?" he asked, looking at Steve "You look like you lost a fifty and found a ten."

"Oh, nothing, just had an argument with Katie." he replied heavily "Said something pretty shitty."

"Like what?" Sam asked. So Steve told him, and watched as the man raised an eyebrow and shook his head "Yeah, that was pretty fucking low Steve."

"I'm well aware of that Sam." he sighed, "Fuck."

"Maybe you should swerve the Gala." Sam shrugged "Give her time to cool off. I can't see her forgiving you for that one so easily."

"Forgiving him for what?" Natasha asked and Steve groaned, just what he needed.

Before Steve could stop him, Sam filled him in and Natasha looked at him, her face stony.

"Wow." she shook her head. "What the fuck, Rogers?"

"I know, I know." he said, holding his hands up.

"Thanks for dragging my name into it."

"It's me she's pissed at, not you. And before you say it, with good reason..."

"I wasn't gonna say that." Natasha protested as Steve looked at her sceptically. She looked up at the ceiling "Ok, maybe I was."

Steve rubbed at the spot between his eyes, he could feel a headache coming on.

"I suggest you go apologise." Natasha looked at him.

"And pray." Sam added "Because, damned, she aint gonna let you forget this one in a hurry."

After thanking them, sarcastically, for their moral support to which Natasha snarked back that he didn't deserve any, Steve wandered back to their living quarters. He knew his was a big thing for Katie, the night upon which SIP’s 6 monthly Fundraising efforts for the Women's Charities they were partnered with ended, and he was so fucking proud of her for everything she'd overcome to get to this point. But he had basically thrown that in her face with his comments before. He was being a jerk, he knew that. He shouldn't have let the fact she was inviting that dickhead rile him as much as it did, it was her event, her decision after all. 

Steve took a deep breath before opening the door to their quarters and looked around, his sharp hearing picking up no sounds. He headed into the bathroom, the shower had clearly been used recently, and he found her absence odd as she'd told him earlier that her hair was getting done for the event, and normally Franco came to her. He pulled out his phone, gave her a quick call but no sooner had it rung than it cut to voicemail. 

She'd red buttoned him.

*****

It was about an hour later when Katie walked into the apartment, her hair set in an elaborate braid which swept from the right side of her temple over to the left before the rest of her long locks were curled and fell over her left shoulder. She shot Steve a filthy looked and stalked straight through to the bedroom, slamming the door behind her. Steve's head fell back against the sofa cushions, before he took a deep breath and decided it was time to face the music. He pushed himself up, walked into the room and found his wife sat at her vanity unit, digging out her make-up.

"Sweetheart," he began tentatively, sitting on the bed "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said what I did."

She glared at him in the mirror, but other than that made no acknowledgement that she had heard him.

"I was out of order."

Still nothing.

“Katie, come on darlin’, don't ignore me, please."

"I'm ignoring you because if I don't I'm gonna end up screaming at you." she replied simply "And I'm not letting you spoil tonight for me."

"Spoil tonight?" Steve frowned "That's not what I want."

"Well, you kinda already did in a fashion." she shrugged "Now if you don't mind I need to get ready. And your presence is not required. Either in this room, or the gala."

Steve felt his face fall at that and he looked at her in the mirror as her green eyes locked on his "You don't want me to come?"

"No." 

"Ok." he swallowed, fighting to keep his voice calm. "Then I respect your wishes."

With that he stood up, and left.

As soon as he had shut the door behind him, Katie let out a sigh, her face falling into her hands as her elbows rest on the vanity unit in front of her.  Steve's face when she'd told him she didn't want him at the gala had made her heart ache, he'd looked like a little puppy she had just given a harsh kick to. But she was so angry at him, she didn't even know where to start. He was being an absolute dick over something that really wasn't that big an issue, and then his dig about comparing him speaking to Natasha about what had happened to her...well, that was as low a blow as you could possibly get. At the time she'd been upset, angry even...now she was almost just shocked that Captain America had it in him to be so damned nasty.

Wanda had been astounded when she had told her what he had said, giving her that as a reason as to why Franco was going to be doing their hair in her room, not Katie’s apartment. Then, when Natasha had turned up, the Red Head had told Katie she had informed Steve he was out of order, but also that he seemed genuinely contrite as well when he had been talking to her and Sam.

Katie knew he was sorry, she didn't need Natasha to point out that Steve had said what he had it in the haste of an argument. She knew only too well herself that in the heat of the moment people said things they didn't really mean. But he wasn't getting off so easily. He accused her of being a brat often enough and here he was acting like one.

So, with that in mind, she'd told him to stay behind. She knew full well that he would show up anyway after an hour or so of brooding, with another apology which she might be ready to accept at that point. But until then, he could fucking stew a little, think about what he had said some more

Raising her head she looked at herself in the mirror before she set about doing her make-up. It took her about 30 minutes to perfect the look she was going for, a dark smoky eye effect with bright rub red lips, another thing she knew drove Steve wild, before she stood up and grabbed her dress out of the wardrobe. It was a skin tight deep red mermaid style Dolce number, which sat off her shoulders with a small v neckline. She knew she looked good in it, which was why she had bought it in the first place along with a matching tie for Captain Asshat. Once she was in, she struggled with the zip which was at the back and after getting it most of the way up, instead of asking said Asshat for help she decided she would get Wanda or Nat to fix it. She stepped into her trusty gold Jimmy Choos before giving herself the once over. Satisfied with the results, she opened the door and walked down the hallway to the living room.

Steve looked up as Katie strode into the living room and felt his jaw drop. He really shouldn't be surprised anymore at how stunning she managed to look when she was dolled up, but she still took his breath away every time he saw her. She looked great all the time in his eyes anyway but...damned.

She sauntered past him, without so much as a glance in his direction and he took a deep breath. To comment or not to comment now was the big question. Whatever he did or said he was going to be wrong in her eyes so...

Oh fuck it, in for a penny.

"You look stunning." he said, his head turning to watch her as she walked passed him heading for the door.

"Thanks." she said, her tone clipped. But that was more of a response than he had expected. He hesitated for a second, about to offer to walk her down to the Marquee, even though she would likely refuse, but he stopped as he saw the back of her dress wasn't quite done up.

"Honey, your zip..." he said as he walked towards her.

"I know." she said, opening the door "I can't quite reach it..."

"Why didn't you just ask..." he sighed, his hand going to help but she jerked away and spun round.

"I'll get Wanda or Nat to do it." she said simply.

"Oh, now you're just being ridiculous.."

Her eyes flashed dangerously and he knew why. That was the single worst thing he could say to he when she was in this type of mood but he was beyond the point of caring now. She was being ridiculous.

"Look, I know I was out of order, but I've apologised. What else do you want me to say?" he asked, looking at her.

"Don't wait up." she said, her voice steely, and with that she turned and left, closing the door behind her.

He debated for a second if he should go after her, but his own anger won out. Instead he turned round and walked straight to the cabinet they kept their liquor in. Finding what he wanted, a bottle of that Asgardian dynamite stuff Thor had left, he pulled it out, grabbed himself a tumbler and headed back to the couch.

*****

For the next hour or so Katie was too busy to even give Steve a second thought. She welcomed the guests and the limited press that had been invited, Evans  and Sam providing her back up checking off the guest list, for which she gratefully thanked them both. She was just at the bar talking to one of the Charity Organisers when she felt a gentle touch on her elbow. She turned and beamed at the man stood in front of her.

"Harlan!" she smiled, as he leant down to gently kiss her cheek "I'm so glad you could make it."

"The pleasure is all mine." he smiled back. "How are you Mrs Rogers?"

"Good, thank you." she nodded "It's been busy but definitely worth it."

"Well the predicted figures look good." he nodded "You've raised a lot of money."

"Yeah, it's gone better than I could have ever hoped." she agreed "I'll never be able to thank you enough."

Harlan waved away her comment and looked back over his shoulder. Katie followed his gaze and saw the man that had caused all the trouble between her and Steve, leaning at the bar. He was dressed in a smart, pin striped suit, his hair slicked back and his jaw clean shaven as ever.

"He came then." she said, and Harlan turned back to her giving a low chuckle.

"Yes, you made quite an impression on him. I've never heard of him donating money to a charity before." he mused

"Probably guilty he behaved like an ass hole." she said, before she shook her head "Sorry, that was rude."

"No more than he deserves." Harlan sighed "The sad thing is, he's not a bad man underneath it all. I see a lot of myself in him, just wish he would apply himself better to something. I've even tried to get him involved in the publishing company but he just isn't interested. Suppose you can't polish a turd."

Katie let out a huge snort of laughter at the phrase tumbling from the old man's lips and he gave her a large grin from behind his white beard as she shook her head "Now that's a quote for your next book."

Harlan chuckled again before Tony appeared by her side with a glass of champagne.

"Mr Stark." Harlan shook his hand as Tony smiled at him.

"Mr Thrombey, pleasure." he said, before he turned to Katie "Where's Spangles?"

"Busy." she said simply. Tony arched an eyebrow at him and she gave him a look, which he met with one of his own.

"Doing what?"

"Stuff."

"Wow, yeah, that stuff...it's...a pain..." Tony said, and Katie gave him a glare before she glanced around and Harlan struck up a chat with Tony about the latest Stark Industries initiative into wind farms. Natasha caught her eye and she excused herself and wandered over but as she was crossing the room, Ransom stepped into her path.

"Mr Drysdale." she looked at him "No tatty sweater?"

He gave a huff of a laugh "No, I only wear the cable knit on special occasions."

"Good to know." she raised an eyebrow.

"So where's your guard dog?" he asked, looking around.

"If you mean Steve, he's otherwise engaged." she said, shrugging "No doubt he'll be along later."

"Well in that case can I get you a drink?"

"It's a free bar."

"Yes, but I can still get you one."

"I'm good thanks." she waved the half full flute in her hand. "Now if you'll excuse me for a second, I need to speak to someone."

"Oh, Doll, I thought we left things on better terms." he sighed, placing his hand over his heart, looking at her. Katie cocked her head to one side, before she flashed him a grin.

"I doubt you're capable of leaving it on good terms with any girl you cross paths with."

"Never had any complaints." he smirked. At that Katie snorted.

"Well you can't be meeting with the right women." she said simply, and with that she moved past him, and headed over to Natasha who was beckoning her over.

"Everything ok?" she asked and Natasha nodded.

"Yup.I just got you a surprise." she smiled.

"A surprise?" Katie frowned.

"Seeing as its a special occasion." Natasha continued, linking her arm through Katie's. She led her through to the entrance of the Marquee where a familiar face was stood talking to Evans, Sam and Wanda,

"S'up Nova?" Clint grinned at her as she gave a laugh and threw herself at him.

"What are you doing here?" she spluttered as he released her, stepping back slightly.

"Couldn't miss your big event." he smiled "You look great. Where's Cap?"

"In the dog house." Nat spoke before Katie could. Katie sighed and shot Natasha a look before she turned back to Clint.

"Don't wanna talk about it." she shook her head. "Now, come on, fill me in...how are the kids? Laura?"

She didn't miss the look that Wanda, Sam and Natasha shared but chose to ignore it as she steered Clint towards the bar for a well overdue catch up.

*****

Steve drained his glass and poured himself another measure. Katie had been gone for just under two hours now and his mood was rapidly growing worse. More so because deep down he knew this was his own stupid fault. Because of his inability to keep his, albeit in his opinion justified, issue about Ransom fucking Drysdale to himself, his wife was now going through probably one of the biggest nights of her life without him there. And what made it worse was that smarmy bastard was there, probably eyeing her up, like he had done at the last gala, making some dickhead comment or other which he would no doubt weasel his way out of by sending another cheque for a ludicrous amount. Steve hated that, people that thought money made everything ok. And what was worse, it seemed to have placated Katie as well. He took a mouthful of his drink, the burn in his throat pleasantly distracting him for a moment, before he stared at the TV.

No, fuck this... this was his wife, his damned compound.

Necking his drink he stood up, the liquor giving him a pleasant buzz, before he strode into the bedroom, stripping off his sweater and jeans before he pulled his suit out of the closet. Slipping his arms into his shirt, he buttoned it up before expertly tying the tie Katie had bought him in a double Windsor, before grabbing his jacket. Once one he straightened his hair, slipped on his shoes he headed out of the door, making his way out of the side of the building, striding over to the marquee which was buzzing with people.

"Oh here he is." Sam grinned at him "You're a brave man, Cap."

"Shut up Sam." he said, rolling his eyes.

Sam chuckled as Evans raised an eyebrow. "Should I check he's on the list?" he drawled, his Texan accent thick.

"I think Katie crossed him off." Sam teased.

"Hilarious." Steve deadpanned, stepping past them into the Marquee. His eyes quickly roved the crowd and he did a double take as he saw Clint with Natasha and Wanda at the bar. He'd had no idea the archer was coming, but right now he was looking for his wife, the reunion could wait. He continued to scan the Marquee and he spotted her and then felt his jaw clench as he saw she was stood with him. As he watched he saw her say something and she tipped her head back in genuine laughter, and touched his arm before she shook her head, and turned to someone else who had attracted her attention. Giving a nod she looked back to Ransom and he nodded, as she walked away.

"Spangles." Tony greeted appearing at his side. "What's going on?"

"Ask your sister." he said, his voice stony. "I need a fucking drink."

With that he strode over to the bar. Ordering himself a large scotch he turned to look for Katie again, but there was no sign of her. With a nod of acknowledgment to the guy behind the bar he took his drink and turned to look back over the room. He spotted a few familiar faces from the compound and the tower, nodding towards Pepper as she smiled at him. Tony looked at him again before he turned away, and then his eyes fell on Ransom who was stood with his grandfather. Ransom grinned at him, and Steve simply glared back, before he turned to greet Clint who had now appeared behind him.

"Hey Cap." Clint smiled, and Steve returned his grin, shaking his hand.

"Hey Clint, didn't know you were coming."

"No one did, bar Nat. Thought it would be a nice surprise for Nova."

"Sure she was thrilled." 

"Am I sensing a little trouble in paradise?" Clint asked, and Steve scoffed.

"You could say that." he shrugged, before he sighed "I said something before, that was out of order and now she's giving me the cold shoulder. Told me not to come actually but..."

"But here you are." Natasha said, leaning on the bar besides him "You're either dumb, got a death wish...or maybe both."

"Romanoff, just don't." he turned to look at her, and she smirked before ordering herself a martini. "How long has Drysdale been here?"

"Who?" Cint frowned.

"The smarmy looking asshole in the pinstriped suit." he said, nodding towards him.

"About an hour.." Nat said, "I'm not sure."

"An hour too long." Steve muttered, taking a mouthful of his drink.

"Are you seriously that bothered by him?" she turned to look at him. Steve didn't reply.

"Clearly." Clint said, "Who is he?"

"Harlan Thrombey's Grandson." Natasha explained "Harlan wrote the book that the SIP published and donated all the profits to the Relief Fund."

"And you don't like him?"

"They had a little run in Boston..." Nat smirked. "And then at the Launch..."

"It wasn't a run in." Steve shook his head "He was absolutely vile to Katie..."

"And she's over it..." Natasha sighed

Steve didn't reply, he simply watched Drysdale for a second before he turned his attention to the stage where Tony was now tapping the microphone. The Marquee fell silent and Tony grinned out.

"And once again I find myself the centre of attention." he grinned, and the room chuckled. "But tonight isn't about me, for once, yes I know, I know..."

He continued to talk for a few minutes, thanking everyone for coming before he grew serious and took a deep breath.

"As you will all know, the past 6 months Stark Independent Publishers has been working, in partnership with a number of Women's Charities which are close to all of us in and around Stark Industries, and the Avengers for personal reasons as you will be well aware. We are seconds away from announcing our final fundraising total, so without further ado I'd like to hand you over to my little sister, who's been the brains behind this from the very start. Kiddo, the stage is all yours."

As he stepped back the Marquee erupted into applause and  Katie walked up the steps to the stage, her face beaming as Tony swept her into a hug. She grinned at him as he kissed her cheek and she headed to the microphone.

"Thanks Tone." she smiled, "That was short and sweet and actually very to the point, for once." a few chuckles rang around and Steve simply watched his wife as she started running through what they'd been doing and how they'd been raising money, her passion and enthusiasm shining out of every inch of her body. As he stood still, he felt all the anger eb out of his body and instead it was filled with an overwhelming sense of pride. Katie finished her speech before she stepped back and turned to take an envelope from Happy who bent and kissed her cheek.

"So although I know the sales figures from our book, the rest of this is a surprise to me, as much as it is to you." she smiled, and then her eyes locked with Steve's. She gave a little surprised frown, and then her face softened slightly as he smiled at her and she gave him the faintest of smiles back, before she averted her gaze and grinned as Tony let out a loud yell.

"Drumroll please...."

Katie laughed as the tent was filled with the sounds of people banging on things, and stomping their feet. Steve watched as she opened the envelope and pulled out the card. Her eyes widened as she read the total and her mouth dropped open.

"Shit." she spluttered, and the Marquee chuckled whilst she composed herself. "Sorry but...my God this is..." she swallowed and looked at Tony for a moment before she shook her head "According to this, the donations, sales...we've raised over £14.5 million."

"Holy shit!" Steve heard Natasha splutter as his own mouth dropped open, and he joined in the cheering.

"This is amazing, but this also isn't the end of it. Stark Industries will be doubling this total and all profits from the sales of "The Colour of Revenge" will continue to be donated..." she said, sniffing slightly and Steve could see she was getting emotional. He set down his glass on the bar and started to make his way over to the stage. "This money will save lives, give women a safe place to go when they've no one else to turn to. Thank you, thank you all for your overwhelming generosity. Now, please enjoy the evening and the entertainment and if any of you want to give us any more money, please feel free."

At that she stepped back and Steve waited for her at the bottom of the stage steps, the applause ringing in his ears. He offered her his arm and she paused for a second.

"Oh come on sweetheart" he said gently. She allowed him to help her down before she turned to him

"I told you not to come."

"Honey, this was your big night.I didn't want you to do this alone."

"There's a marquee of people."

"You know what I mean." he said gently "I'm sorry, you know I am. Please don't let's fight now, I hate it."

"I don't want to do this here" she said, her tone soft "Not now Steve.”

"Ok." he said, leaning down to give her a soft kiss. She didn't turn away, which he took as encouraging "I'm so proud of you."

"Thank you." she smiled softly, "Now, sorry, but I have to go give an interview but..."

"Sure, come find me when you're done."

She nodded, and headed away from him towards someone he didn't recognise, presumably some journalist. His eyes still on her back as she walked away, he felt slightly buoyed by her seemingly thawing towards him, so with a slight spring in his step he headed back to the bar. He ordered another drink, and had just taken it when a familiar voice drawled at him, and he instantly felt himself bristle.

"She's one hell of a woman your wife."

"What do you want Drysdale?" he asked, turning to the man.

"Nothing, I was just paying her a compliment."

"Well don't" he glared at the man "And if you value your life, keep your eyes and your damned hands to yourself."

Ransom let out a snort "What you gonna do, throw me over the bar again?”

"Don't tempt me."

"We both know you're not gonna make a scene here, not with all these people around, because that really would piss your wife off." he leaned on the bar, looking around. "And then she'd have to send me another coat and a crate of snacks."

"What are you talking about?" Steve frowned.

"Oh dear, didn't you know?" Ransom smirked "Yeah, after I sent her the cheque and her knife back, she responded with a very nice coat and a couple of months supply of cookies."

Steve's nostrils flared as he looked at Ransom, then over to his wife and back again. "Are you shitting me?"

Ransom shook his head. "And they tasted all the more sweeter coming from her, if you know what I mean."

"You smug, son of a bitch..." Steve stepped forwards, and a hand settled on his arm.

"Cap." Sam spoke "Don't..."

"Yeah Cap..." Ransom drawled, sipping his drink.

Steve shrugged Sam's hand off his arm and glared at Ransom, the look on the man's face was infuriating him. "Make one more wise crack I swear to God..."

"I don't believe it."

Steve's head snapped to the side and he saw Katie glaring at him.

"Katie..."

"You just can't help it can you?" she shook her head. "And I thought you were genuinely sorry."

"To be fair..." Sam began to defend Steve but she held her hand up.

"I don't wanna hear it." she said, shaking her head. "I'm done..."

With that she turned and strode away.

"Oops. " Ransom said, simply, picking up his glass. With a final look at Steve, he headed off back towards his grandfather.

"Well played." Sam said, sarcastically, clapping Steve on the shoulder. Steve took a deep breath before he drained his glass and turned, leaving the tent.

******

It was pushing one in the morning when Katie got back to their living quarters. Steve was sat outside on their patio, the bottle of Asgardian shit on the table in front of him but thanks to his super hearing he knew she'd entered the room. Standing up, grabbing the drink, he moved into the doorway, leaning on it as she shut the door, shoes in her hand. She turned around and stopped when she saw him, eyeing him for a moment, taking in his appearance. His tie was loose, his shirt sleeves rolled up and she could tell from the look in his eyes he was drunk.

"You came back then?" he said, his words slightly slurred.

"Where else would I go?" she snarked back.

"I dunno, maybe to order Drysdale another coat or some cookies." he said, necking the drink that was in his hand before he set the glass down on the dining table that stood in front of him.

"Seriously, that's...that's what all that was about?" she shook her head "God you're an ass hat."

"An ass hat." he mused, pouring himself another measure of drink.

"Yes, an ass hat." she said, swaying a little on the spot. Fuck she was drunk as well, she'd ended up doing shots at the bar with Clint and Evans, never a wise move.

"Well I'm sorry I'm such a disappointment." he shrugged.

"Oh fuck off Steve." she sighed, "I'm going to bed."

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked, and she stopped, turning round.

"What about?"

"Your present to Ransom?"

"Because I didn't think it was important, it was just a joke."

"Fucking hilarious."

"No, you know what is hilarious? This..." she said, gesturing to him, a little unsteadily "You getting all fucking het up about a damned coat and some cookies. Now who's being ridiculous?"

"I saw you." he said, "When I first got there, you had your hand on his arm, laughing at him..."

"Oh Jesus Christ Steve..." she groaned. "I was talking to him, he was telling me something about his uncle!"

"You were all over him"

"Do you want me to go and fuck him or something?" Katie asked, "Because if that's gonna make you happy, just to prove a point."

"Don't be fucking stupid."

"Well shut up then!" she yelled back. "Sometimes I wonder what the hell goes on in your head. I love you, you know I do. I don't want or need anyone else but at times you irritate the shit out of me."

"The feeling is mutual doll."

"Good, glad we agree on something." she said, shaking her head. "I'm going to bed. You carry on drinking yourself into a stupor."

"I'm not done."

"And you can sleep on the sofa."

"Like fuck I am!"

"Fine, I'll sleep on the sofa then." she shrugged

"You're such a fucking brat."

"Me?" she laughed "I'm the brat? You've behaved like a prize prick Steven, and I'm so fucking pissed at you I can't even..."

With that she turned and headed towards the bedroom.

"Don't walk away when I'm talking to you." he said, stepping into the room.

"Or what?" she spun round, "What you gonna do..."

"Oh Doll, you have no idea how much you're pushing me tonight." he said, his voice low.

"Really Steve, how many fucking buttons am I pushing? Hmmm?" she leaned against the wall. "Do enlighten me."

"You know it's no wonder Ward cheated on you." he slurred, "If you were like this with him then..."

Whack!

Something sharp hit him in the temple and he dropped the glass he was holding, staggering back slightly. He glanced at the floor and saw that she had launched her shoe at him, her aim impeccable as ever. He raised his hand to his forehead, feeling the wet trickle of blood under his finger. It wasn't a lot, she'd only nicked the skin but it was enough to sober him up slightly, and the words he had just spitefully spat at her echoed in his head.

"Katie..."

"You are the biggest fucking..." she spoke, her chest heaving, "Actually I don't even have a word to describe what you are right now."

"You hit me with a shoe." he said simply.

"Yeah, want me to do it again?" she asked, waving the one that was still in her hand.

"Don't."  he said softly, shaking his head "Look, I'm..."

"Oh save it." she said, turning and walking into the bedroom, slamming the door behind her.

Steve's hands fell to his hips, as he looked down at his feet. What the fuck was wrong with him? That was twice today he'd said something so despicable it made his toes curl even thinking about it. He'd been a grade A asshole, and he needed to make this right.

"Katie..." he strode after her, and headed into the bedroom. The en-suite door was shut and he could hear her sobbing in the bathroom. Fuck. "Honey I'm sorry."

"Piss off." she sniffled.

"Open the door baby, please."

"No..."

"Don't make me break it down. You know how precious Tony gets about us breaking things”

His joke fell flat as she remained silent. "Sweetheart..."

"Where did you learn to be so spiteful?" She yelled back through the door.

“I don’t know.” with a sigh he leaned against the door "I know, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said any of those things..."

"But you did." she sobbed, and Steve felt the tears prick his eyes "Why?"

"I was angry, and..." he took a deep breath "I guess I wanted to piss you off as much as you pissed me off."

"I pissed you off?" she snorted "Steve you came at me before with that comment about fucking Hyrda and now Ward...could you be any more nasty?"

"I know, I know..." he said, "Honey, I've no excuse. Please, open the door."

There was a sniffle on the side and he heard her the swish of her dress as she moved. The lock on the door clicked and it opened a chink. He pushed it further and look at her, her mascara was streaked down her cheeks, her hair was messy from where she had clearly been fisting her hands in it and he instantly felt the pang of guilt and regret in his chest tighten even more. "Oh baby girl..." his voice cracked "I'm so sorry...I really am."

"How could you even think for one minute that I’d even look at that jerk in that way?"

"I don't not really" he said, shaking his head. "I'm an ass hole, a jealous ass hole...I just, sometimes I can't believe..." he stopped, and shook his head "You know what, it doesn't matter. I was out of order."

She paused and looked at him, sniffing. "You can't believe what?"

"Honestly, it doesn't matter."

"For fucks sake, Steve!" she spluttered "Stop it!"

"I can't believe that you, well that you chose me you know?" he sighed, his hand running through his hair "I just..."

"You're a dick." she shook her head. "I married you, you ass hole."

"I know, and I wonder why sometimes."

"So you've been a spiteful bastard because you feel insecure?"

"No, well, partly..." he sighed "Look, seeing you before with him and then he he told me about the box and stuff...I just saw red."

She looked at him and shook her head "That is not an excuse."

"I know it isn't." he looked at her "I know."

She looked at him for a moment before she shook her head and walked out of the bathroom, over to her vanity table, sitting down. She pulled out the wipes and began scrubbing at her face, removing her make-up. He sat on the edge of the bed, in the same position he had a few hours ago and simply watched her. Eventually, when she was happy her face was clean she looked up and he saw her eyes travel over his reflection before she frowned.

"You're bleeding" 

"Well, you're a damned good shot" he shrugged. "And those heels are sharp."

She stood up and turned, stepping into the space between his legs.

"Honey it's..."

"Shut up" she instructed.

Knowing he had pushed his luck already he did as he was told and she gently wipe at the cut on his temple, his hands falling to her hips as she did so. He was pleased to see she didn't push him away. He watched her intently as she cleaned his face.

"I think you’ll live" she said gently, tossing the wipe into the waste basket. His hands flexed on her hips and she looked at him.

"I really am sorry." he said again "I love you, so fucking much. At times I just don't know how to deal with it."

"By not being a cunt."

"Wow." he snorted "Did you just drop the c-bomb?"

"Justified." she muttered, her hands falling to his shoulders "Damned it Steve!"

"I know, I know." he said his hands, smoothing down the back of her thighs.

“I love you too, so much it hurts at times.” she shook her head “You know the amount of women that look at you in such a way I know what they’re thinking but...I get over it, you know? Because you married me and...” she let out a deep breath. “You go ballistic whenever I question how you feel about me compared to Peggy and yet you come out with the stuff you said today.”

Steve looked down at the floor, his hands still curved around her legs “I know. My ma would be ashamed.”

Katie took a deep breath before she moved her hand and tilted his face up to look at her. His eyes were shining with tears and she let out a sigh, dropping a kiss to his forehead as her hand slid round the back of his neck, nails dragging over his skin.

“I love you.” she muttered “You big, dumb idiot.”

They stayed silent for a moment and Steve looked up at her, smiling softly.

 "You know you really looked amazing tonight. I'm just sorry I didn't get chance to appreciate it more."

"Well..." she took a deep breath. "I know I didn't let you help me into my dress...but you can help me out of it if you want?"

He raised an eyebrow at her, a smile flickering across his face " Yeah?" he asked, gracefully rising to his feet.

She nodded, biting her lip. He leaned down to give her a soft kiss before he whispered against her mouth "Turn around."

She did as she was told and Steve reached for the zip on her dress, sliding it down gently, his fingertips brushing her skin as he did so, allowing the dress to fall at her feet and he let out a soft moan as he glanced down, seeing that she was braless. His hands gently guided hers up so they reached back around his neck, and he swallowed at the sight of her presented to him. One hand moved down, splayed on her stomach, pulling her back into him as the other swept her hair out of the way as his head dipped, trailing kisses across the back of her shoulders, before he made his way up her neck, his teeth softly grazing her ear. She let out a soft sigh, her head tilting to one side as his lips continued caressing her soft skin, the hand that was on her belly started slowly to make its way downwards, sneaking beneath the waistband of her panties. His fingers gently parted her folds, and she gave a little gasp as he began to coax her softly, his other hand reaching up to caress her breasts, gently kneading before he pulled on her hardening nipple. She arched her back into him slightly, a breathy gasp escaping her as he continued to tease her, his mouth hot on her neck.

"Like that?" his own voice was raspy, his arousal evident in his tone and she gave a nod.

"Don't stop..." she begged, and his fingers began to work faster against her nub, the hand on her breast also picking up the pace slightly.

"You're so beautiful…” he whispered and she moaned and writhed in delight at his praise and his actions as he worked her over. With a quick flick of his wrist, he pushed two fingers into her and curled them against her spot and her head fell back even further into him as she let out a soft whimper of his name, his hands upping their pace slightly as she began to buck into his touch. She arched her back, her mouth fell open and then her head rolled forward as she came, knees trembling, her hands pulling at his hair. He held her up in his strong arms and whilst she was still in the after throws of bliss he nipped at her neck, drawing a soft groan from her mouth. Steve gently turned her round and lifted her up, placing her gently on the bed, kneeling over her as he discarded his shirt, tie by which point she had recovered slightly and sat up, her hands pulling at his belt buckle.  He leaned down to capture her mouth in a deep kiss, and he grinned against her mouth as she whipped the belt from around his waist, tossing it to the floor before she undid the button on his pants, pushing them down over his hips along with his boxers.  Once he had shimmied out of his remaining clothes, he fell over her again, his hands cupping her face as he kissed her hard, using his leg to part hers. With a sharp thrust that made her cry out, he sank into her, his lips back on hers, as he stilled for a moment, grinding up against her. Her head fell back against the pillow and he started to drive into her, his thrusts hard, deep and he moved his mouth down to kiss and lick and suck all along her shoulders, knowing full well he would leave marks there for the morning but neither of them cared as their moans grew louder as his thrusts grew more desperate.

“Fuck.” he groaned, both hands now on her hips as he continued his movements, looking down at her as her breasts bounced as her body moved with every slam he made into her. Her hands moved from where they had been gripping at his biceps to bracing herself  against the headboard, causing her to push back against him, allowing him to push deeper. As her breathing adopted the tell tale staccato rhythm, he moved one hand  to the back of her head and he used it to make her look up, her eyes locking onto his as he felt her body start to quiver.

“Come on doll…” he practically growled “let go for me…”

It wasn’t like she had a choice. She never did when it came to this. Her pupils were blown now with lust and desire and after another 3, 4 hard thrusts her back arched and her hands flew to his back, nails scratching at his skin. He hissed at the bite of pain, dropping his mouth to capture hers as she moaned again, this moan broken as she bucked upwards and clutched at him desperately.

“Stevie…” she moaned and her walls tightened on him as she came hard, and the feel of her tightening and pulsing around him tipped him him ferociously over the edge after her, his hips stuttering as he gave into the wave of pleasure with an incoherent babble of her name, before he tipped forward, falling onto her, his face buried in her neck.

The pair of them lay still, the only sounds in the bedroom now were the deep, ragged drawings of breath. Katie gently ran her hands through his hair, as she always did, relishing his weight on top of her. This was the only way she could ever lift Steve, his body on top of hers rising and falling through the movements of her deep breathing.  Eventually he raised his head and pressed their foreheads together, his nose sliding up and down hers gently.

"I love you." he whispered "You know that, right?"

"Of course I do." she sighed, looking at him "But Steve, you really did behave like a jerk." "I know, and I'm sorry." he said, his hands moving to brush her hair back. "I really am." "I know you are." she said, her hand gently running down the back of his neck, and he closed his eyes slightly, allowing her touch to relax him even further. "I don't understand why you think I would even want anyone else." "Well, I guess you can take me out of that little kid that got his ass kicked all over Brooklyn, but you can't take that little kid out of me." he sighed, his head hanging slightly as he shook it letting out a deep sigh.

She considered him for a moment before she leaned up and gave him a soft kiss "I love you, Steven Grant Rogers, not Captain America." "I know Doll." he nodded "I know." With a gentle movement he pulled out of her and pushed the covers of the bed down, before he rolled onto his back, as she scooted over to him, her head laying on his chest, one of her legs pushing through his as she snuggled closer. He pulled the duvet over them and reached over to hit the switch which would cut the lights in the room.

"This doesn't mean I've forgiven you." she said softly as his hand carded through her hair, his chest warm against her cheek as it gently rose and fell with his breathing.

"I wouldn't dream of suggesting it does." he chuckled slightly kissing her head "I'm not that stupid" "Jury's out." she yawned slightly, the arm that was draped around his waist gave him a squeeze and he pulled her closer nuzzling into her hair.

It wasn't long before he felt her relax and he glanced down, just able to make out in the dim light that her eyes were shut. He watched her face for a moment, the face he could draw from memory, and had done as a matter of fact several times, an let out a deep breath. She was right, he was an ass hole, and at times he knew he didn't deserve her. But she loved him and wanted him, and damned it he'd try and be worthy of that love and want every damed day for the rest of his life.

"I love you so much doll." he whispered into her hair.

"Love you to Soldier..." she muttered back, her face pressing further into his chest. With a smile he dropped a kiss on her head, closing his eyes as he felt the tendrils of sleep pulling at him, happy that they were going to be ok, not that he doubted that for a second not, really They'd come through far worse after all, and like his Ma always used to tell him.

Tomorrow is another day after all.

#stark spangled banner #steve rogers #steve rogers x original female character #katie stark #tony stark #clint barton #natasha romanoff #sam wilson

[hattywatch]

J. Vesey - You Like Making Me Wait For It

Author’s Note: This was supposed to be done for Valentine’s day but uhhh, about that... So here it is, almost a month late. The premise for this story is that Jimmy is actually a BIG FUCKIN’ SOFTIE and not the sarcastic little shit that I constantly make him out to be. This can be proven by the attached tweet. As always this is fiction, so don’t get carried awayyyy :) 

“It’s not a real holiday,” he texts his mom, in regards to her message to him, bright and early, on February 14. He follows it up with a heart emoji and tells her he'll see her tonight though, because she’s his ma and he’s not a complete mutant, but he pulls the blanket over his head and rolls onto his side and tries to fall into the warm feeling of sleep again. 

As cool and standoffish as Jimmy tries to come off, everyone who knows him would jump at the chance to tell you that in reality, he’s soft as shit. A quick scroll through his recently played on Spotify would give him right up if he tried to deny it. 

His icy indifference to Valentine’s day was never the norm. He used to look forward to it, liked it even, but after years of disappointment the shine has worn off and he's really had enough of it. 

_____

His first Valentine’s memory is fond. He put on his best clothes and walked into school, chest puffed out and chin raised proudly, the little red and pink valentines he worked on with his mom tucked away in his backpack, heart-shaped lollipops carefully taped onto each one. 

He didn’t understand the point of it until his mom patiently explained to him, “Sometimes we’re so busy everyday that we don’t tell people we love them like we should, so on Valentine’s day we spend the whole day letting everyone know we care about them.” He snaked his little arms around her waist and promised his mom he’d never be too busy to remind her he loves her. 

She hugged him back tightly and brushed away a stray tear on her cheek before she opened up the box and had him start listing off the kids names in his class so she could neatly write them on each card. He spends his time taping the lollipops gently to the cards that declare “Have a sweet Valentine’s Day.” 

As the class walked around dropping a card into each other’s decorated shoe-boxes, Jimmy couldn’t help but be filled with love for his friends. Tipping over the box afterwards, he was a little glum when he found out Tommy was the sole recipient of a card from Ashley, the pretty blonde with pigtails who sat 3 seats in front of him. 

When he walked home from the bus stop with Jess later, they talked about their favorite ones, in particular the heart shaped erasers the teacher gifted each of them. She didn’t get a card from Ashley either. His mom told him not to worry about it and quickly diverted his attention to the pile of valentines with pencils and stickers attached, ooh-ing and ahh-ing as he explained who each one was from. 

_____

In highschool Valentine's day is marked (like everything else during those awkward teenage years) by a rush of hormones and snickers. 

The week leading up to Valentine's day the cheerleading squad hung signs up all over the halls detailing how to purchase a rose to be delivered to the person of your choosing during classes. All of the proceeds go to a local charity, so each morning the voice over the speaker reminded the student body to buy a rose for a good cause before listing off the lunch of the day and signing off. 

Jimmy fills out a few; a pink one for his little cousin a few grades down from him, a yellow one for the librarian who helped him submit his college applications, and an orange one for Jess who just got a rejection letter from Duke and could use some cheering up. 

On the 13th he finds himself with $2 extra dollars and some time to kill before Jess is done with extra help and ready to walk home. He goes to the office and fills out a slip for a red rose to be delivered to Molly, a girl he's helped in Chinese class a few times; she's popular and cute. He can't help his heart from quickening when they go over characters that have been giving her a particularly hard time during the spare period they share once a week. 

He writes her name clearly in black ink, trying his best to keep his penmanship even and neat. 

"There you are!" He jumps, but luckily his pen is off of the paper, having just finished scribing the Y in his name. Jess walks up to him, braids trapped under her backpack straps; it looks uncomfortable. "I've been looking everywhere for you, dude." 

He slides the scrap of paper into the slot of the box in front of him. "Sorry, last minute love, you know how it is." 

He feels his cheeks get warm at the thought of Jess catching him in the act. She is much more pragmatic when it comes to love. She hasn’t dated at all in high school, laser focused on her grades and soccer. He knows she thinks he’s a sap for caring at all when it’s unlikely anyone will find lifelong love in high school, but he's a romantic, sue him.

"Yeah, I know. You're a sucker for this stupid holiday," she rolls her eyes at him and adjusts her bookbag, swinging the tails of her braids free. He shrugs a shoulder but smiles, because she’s right and he can’t deny it. 

“C’mon Romeo, my mom said she’d pick us up out front, it’s freezing today.” He follows her, excited about the prospect of tomorrow. He’s not sure, but he thinks Molly may feel the same way, and there’s no time like the present to find out. 

_____

When he quietly places his lunch tray down next to Jess she knows something is off. He usually bounds over to the table, chatty and excited to talk about his morning classes and who said what stupid thing that made the class groan, but he’s downright meloncholy and she can feel it roll off his body in waves. 

Jess twirls the stem of her orange rose between her pointer and index fingers, “Thanks Jim. Made my day.” She bops him on the head with the flower. He smiles a little but it doesn’t reach his eyes. 

“Rough day?” He nods and starts picking at the crust of his pizza. 

“I didn’t sign my fucking last name.” Jess doesn’t quite understand, so she kicks him under the table to get him to look up from his pizza and make eye contact. She raises her eyebrows in question and he finally continues, “I sent Molly a rose.”

Jess hums for him to keep going, she heard a rumor going around about Molly and James Jordan getting together, but she hadn’t heard anything about Jimmy. 

“We study together every week. Chinese. She has a hard time with the-" he waves his hand to clear the subject, "anyway it’s not important. We have a free period together every Tuesday and I help her with it. I thought maybe she noticed.” Jimmy sighs and squishes his water bottle in his hand, “You know I get nervous around her, so I thought maybe she knew. Anyway, I sent her a flower, but I just wrote ‘Jimmy.' No last name. She thought it was Jordan and she walked right up to him in between classes and kissed him. They have a date Saturday night.”

Jess winces, “That blows. I’m sorry, Jim. Maybe it’s not meant to be for a reason. I heard that she…" she pauses because she's never actually heard anything bad about the other girl, but desperately wants to cheer up her friend. "I heard that she… snores?" Jimmy finally rolls his eyes and laughs. 

"Oh yeah, cross her off the list. That's a deal breaker." He smiles for the first time in hours and he's sure Molly isn't the one he's been waiting for. 

_____

In college his fervor to have a nice Valentine’s day led him to ask out the brunette from his Public Finance class, she said yes and seemed excited, but then text him to cancel 2 days before that she "forgot about a big paper that's due on Monday." His buddy John is in the same class and didn’t say anything about a paper, so Jimmy takes the hint and decides to go home for the weekend, tail between his legs and heart heavy from the rejection

He heads to the laundromat with a veritable sack filled with, what feels like, every piece of clothing he's ever owned, downtrodden and pissed off. He's loading his clothes into the machine when someone jabs him in the side with a boney digit. 

"What the hell are you doing, Jim?" Jess beams up at him. She's wearing pink lipstick, but is otherwise dressed in all black, like always. 

“Laundry. My mom had too many loads at the house ‘cuz Nolan brought his home too, so I’m just going to do it here quick.” He keeps shoving his clothes in the washer machine.

Jess nods at him, “Cool… cool. So, your mom still does your laundry?” She shoves her hands deep into the front pockets of her jeans and leans back on her heels with a shit eating grin.

Jimmy stops and looks up at her, “Uh, usually. Yeah, why? Can you tell?” He stands up, back sore from being hunched over the front-loading washing machine. She looks up at him and grins wider. 

“You’re supposed to separate the colors. Let me help you.” She starts pulling all of his clothes out of the washer and dumping it into her orange pop-up hamper. “Come over here, I’m using this machine.” 

“Why are you here,” he attempts gentle conversation since, apparently, he’s domestically useless. Jess opens a machine and starts pulling out all of his light colored clothes, basically pairs and pairs of socks and a few t-shirts here and there. 

“My stupid comforter is too big. It takes forever at my house, so I just bring it here instead of drying it 6 times,” she pauses,  pinching a lone sock and holding it out in front of her swinging it in his direction before throwing it in the washer, “lucky for you, James.” She helps him sort the other colors and shows him where the detergent goes and lends him some fabric softener that smells nice, she even advises him against washing his suit pants and the one nice sweater he owns, saying that he’d be better off dry cleaning them. 

An hour later when their stuff is all folded and packed back up, he’s got no other plans and he hasn’t seen Jess since the summer, so he helps her bring her comforter and sheets to her car and stands there awkwardly trying not to make this weird. 

“Jessie,” she turns around, scarf half wound around her neck, death glare pinned on him. 

“Did you want me to kill you? Don't call me that,” she swats at him and opens her trunk so he can drop her cottony smelling bedding in it. 

“Let me buy you dinner, this was really nice of you to help me.” She smiles and agrees without any cajoling. 

“Oh god, yes. I’m starving. Chipotle?” There’s a reason they’ve been friends for so long. 

They order and he pays while she fills up their cups and finds an empty booth. When he drops the trays down on the table and slides her the burrito she ordered, he smiles and reaches his hand across the table, “Jessie, will you be my Valentine?” 

She rolls her eyes, but it’s warm and laced with affection when she kicks him under the table, “You fucking sap. You’re lucky you bought me food or I’d say no.” She takes a bite and chews, but Jimmy keeps needling. 

“So you’re saying the way to your heart is through your stomach.” He nods, “Noted.” 

They chat over dinner, discussing college and what people from high school are up to. She’s in an accelerated program at BC and should graduate a year early. He’s reserved, but hoping to get drafted. 

It’s not long after they're done, still taking up space in the booth, when his mom calls, “Hey ma.” Jess mouths ‘tell her I said hi!’ and gets up to throw away their garbage and heads to the ladies room. 

“Jess said to tell you hi,” it’s barely out of his mouth before he regrets it. 

“You’re out with Jess. On Valentine’s day?” Her tone is accusing, but soft. “I always liked her. I didn’t realize you were seeing each other. You don’t tell me anything anymore.” Before she can get too deep in her pity party he stops her.

“It’s not like that. We just ran into each other, we didn’t plan anything” Jimmy scratches at a scuff on the table, wishing he just waited until he got home to have this conversation. The last thing he’d want to do is make Jess uncomfortable with this. His mom prattles on about how she’s always liked Jessica from down the block, but Jimmy mostly tunes it out. It’s not until she’s walking back to the table, smiling softly at him that he rushes his mom off the phone the best he can.

“I’ll tell her you said hi. I’ll be home soon, see you, love you, bye!” He hangs up before she can get a word in.

Jess plops down across from him, “Did you tell her I said hi? I love your mom.” He assures her he did, and stands up, stretching. 

“We should get going,” he grabs his keys off of the table, and Jess stands too and follows him out to their cars. 

“Thanks, Valentine,” she unexpectedly hugs him around the middle. “I usually hate this fucking day, but you made it pretty bearable.” 

He can’t help the laugh that escapes him; she’s such a pessimist. “Yeah, I get that a lot after dates. Bearable.” 

His heart stutters when he realizes what he said, his hands get clammy. He feels dumb, hanging up on his mom so she didn’t make Jess feel like tonight was anything that they didn’t intend it to be, and then he sticks his foot straight into his stupid mouth.

Jess doesn’t flinch though and just follows him out the door to their cars. “See ya later, Jim. Don’t be a stranger. Cambridge isn’t that far, yeah?”

He laughs and hugs her goodbye again before getting in his own car and driving home. 

When he unlocks the front door his mother is on him like a hawk. “Where’s Jessica? Why didn’t you bring her here? I just love that girl.” He has to remind himself to calm down before he opens his mouth, because she means well and loves him. 

“She had some stuff to do, but she said hi,” he grabs a cookie off of a plate cooling on the countertop and prays his mom doesn’t need to go out, lest she catch sight of Jess’ car in her driveway and ruin his lie.

She takes his half eaten cookie from his hand and takes a bite, chewing slowly. “What you’re saying is that I shouldn’t get my hopes up,” before she pins him with a glare only a mother could muster. 

“Still single, ma.” He grabs a cookie in each hand and hustles up the stairs to his room before she can pepper him with more questions. 

He lies on his bed and flips on his tv, clicking channel to channel until he finds a hockey game that will keep his attention. By the end of the 2nd, the Bruins are up 4-1 over the Leafs and he mutes the intermission report to scroll through twitter uninterrupted. 

His timeline is filled with photo after photo of happy couples and gushing declarations of love. He can’t help but sigh and be a little jealous. After watching the rest of the beating Boston lays on Toronto, he shuts the TV off and lies awake, staring at his ceiling. The jealousy has faded, and now he’s just a little sad, slightly disappointed, with a pinch discouraged mixed in. 

He’d blame his next action on hopelessly romantic desperation as he opens Twitter back up and drafts his tweet. 

Spending another Valentine's day without having found “the one.” Hope she is out there somewhere safe and sound.

Jimmy taps the button to send the tweet and rolls over onto his side before the day catches up to him and he falls into a mostly dreamless sleep. 

_____

 Valentine’s day as a Ranger finds him alone in the city once more, begrudgingly texting his mother back and pretending this holiday doesn't make him feel like Steven fucking Glansberg. 

At least he's back in Boston tonight, starting  an away stretch down the eastern seaboard. He has two whole days to spend with his friends and family in his home state before the game against the Bruins and before they leave for Carolina and two more down in Florida. 

He takes his parents out for dinner soon after he lands, and then hits up a few friends to go to the bar. They’re all happy to hear from him, but only Tommy can come out, everyone else is busy with their girlfriends. He can’t blame them. He’d rather be courting a pretty girl than third-wheeling with his parents, but he’s not there yet in his life, so a few beers with Tommy will have to do.

They’re chatting through their second round of Guinness and watching the basketball game when his phone vibrates in his pocket. He leaves it, the game is getting good and it’s almost the half. A three-pointer closes it out and Tommy excuses himself for the bathroom, so Jimmy signals the bartender for two more and finally pulls his phone out of his pocket. 

Jess: Jimmmmmmmmm

He smiles in spite of himself. 

What’s up Jessie?

But then Tommy comes back from the bathroom and he puts the phone back into his pocket, because he’s a good bro and that’s rude. 

He almost forgets about it, laughing with Tommy through the rest of the game and catching up with a few kids from the neighborhood that walk into the bar and spot him, but then he takes his phone out to order an Uber and he sees the notifications. 

4 unread texts from Jess

He orders the Uber after putting in Tommy's address as the first stop and his parent's home as the second before he swipes back over to his texts. 

Jess: I'm at a galrnyinrd day party

Jess: Galrntinrd*

Jess: GALENTINES******* 

We were playing text or delete and I didn't want to delete you 😭

She's obviously had a few. Jess was never one for overt emotion. But it's always fun getting it out of her, so he hopes she hasn't sobered up in the hour that's passed since she text him last. He climbs into the Uber after Tommy and types out a careful message to her. Eyes struggling to focus since he had a few beers himself. 

Didn't know you cared, Jessie. 

He finally looks up and says goodbye to Tommy with a handshake that turns into a hug when the car comes to a stop, before settling back into the backseat for the rest of the ride to his childhood home. 

He doesn't get another message from her until the driver stops at the final destination and wishes him a good night. Jimmy leaves a tip when the app pops up asking for a review and sits on his front steps in the cool night air, trying to sober up before he walks inside and wakes the whole house up. 

Jess: You're a big dummy. 

The message is quickly followed by another. 

Jess: When are you coming home next? 

Jimmy doesn't know what to say to that, so he stands up next to his house number and snaps a selfie before sending it off to Jess. 

Jess: 👀👀👀👀

Jess: I'm walking to you now

He hears her front door slam from 6 houses away in the quiet stillness of the late night. The next thing he hears echoing are her giggles followed by heavy footsteps as she runs over to him. 

"I misssssed you." She's a little tipsy still, he can tell by how tightly she wraps her arms around him. 

"Missed you too, Jessie," he winds his arms around her too. She buries her face in his chest and he can feel her cold nose through his shirt. 

"Let's go hangout in the basement. It's freezing out here," he unlocks the front door with his Patriots key, the same one he's had since middle school; the paint chipping with use over the years. 

When they walk through his mom's kitchen, she opens the fridge and grabs two water bottles before following him down the steps to the basement where they'd spent much of their youth watching movies, doing homework, and playing Mario Kart. He feels calm and at home here, sunken into the old couch with her by his side. 

"So, Galentine's?" He swipes one of the water bottles from her and takes a sip before switching on the TV to whatever is on TBS, it looks like The Notebook.

"Don't make fun. It's a nice excuse to drink some wine and have a good night with your friends." She sniffs haughtily.

"Yeah, yeah. Any excuse to drink and gossip," he's just picking on her a little. It's what they do.

She swigs her water and looks at him with a little distaste coloring her face. "Stop acting like you and Tom didn't do the same thing earlier; I saw his insta story." 

Her eyes open wider as she realizes what she said, and he's a little taken aback. If she saw Tommy's story, that means...

"So you knew I was home?" He presses his knee against hers on the couch.

She looks anywhere but at him, finally focusing her attention to the water bottle in her hand- unscrewing and re-screwing the cap back on. 

"I mean..." She rolls her eyes in that careless way she has about her, and he notices her sweater is pink, as are the socks peeking out of the tops of her boots. "Kinda." He feels her move imperceivably closer into his side.

He can't help the smile taking over his face, "You just wanted to spend Valentine's day watching chick flicks with me, you can say it." 

"Shut up," she hits him with a pillow, firm across his chest. "Maybe."

It's the closest he's ever gotten to a mushy declaration from her and it warms him up. "You're an ice queen," he wheedles gently, wrapping his arm up and over her shoulders along the back of the couch. 

She sighs and leans her head on his shoulder, he's happy to sit here watching Noah hang from the ferris wheel, just like this, but Jess is apparently not.

"Not feeling so icy right now," she whispers, so low he's not sure if he imagined it, but then she's right up in his ear, "Feeling a little warm, actually."

She places her hand flat on his chest and sucks gently on the skin under his ear behind the tendon in his neck and he's feeling a little warm too, as a matter of fact. 

"Jess," she doesn't pause at the sound of her name, "Jessie," he pushes, a little more firm, he can't bear to physically remove her because it feels too good, but he's just, not sure she wants this.

"Jimmy," it's mumbled against his neck, and she barely pauses sucking into his skin to pant out his name. 

"You don't really…" he stutters, not sure how to go about this. "Are you sure you…" She bites gently at his neck and he can't help the groan that leaves his lips, "Jesus Christ, stop that for one second. I can't think straight when you do that."

 He gently pushes her shoulder to give himself room to breathe and collect his thoughts, but when he looks over at her she looks downright chagrined. 

"I'll just… go," she starts to stand up and he grabs her wrist and pulls her back down to the couch. 

"No you don't." She falls to the couch ungracefully next to him, red in the face and eyes glassy. "What the hell is this about, Jess. You can't just do… that and then leave without a word." 

"Don't make me say it." Jess looks down at her hands. Her face gets impossibly redder and Jimmy is sure he's going to like this next part very much. 

"Gotta tell me your feelings, Jessie." She refuses to look at his face and he can't stop the grin from forming. 

Deciding to put her out of her misery, he nuzzles his nose against her neck, gently exhaling into the sensitive skin there. 

"You… I… ugh!" She grasps at the back of his head and tilts her own to give him better access, but he refuses to take the bait until she says it. 

"Say it," he whispers, pulling away just enough so his lips don't graze her skin. 

He can feel the sigh she releases before she steels her body, spine going straight and takes a deep breath. 

"I want nothing more than to watch cheesy chick flicks with you. Both on Valentine's day and every other single day of the year. You're the only person that has ever made this day worthwhile and I…" 

He's not sure how the sentence was supposed to end, because he's so proud of her that he can't wait and stops her mid-sentence with a kiss on her mouth. 

She doesn't really have much to say after that, and he knows she's not great with feelings, so he's just being merciful.

_____

Mrs. Vesey makes her way down into the basement on February 15th, a basket of laundry propped up against her hip. She screams once, startled by the unexpected lump she finds on the couch in what she thought was an empty basement. 

She screams a second time when she realizes who spent the night. 

Jimmy could have done without either.

#jimmy vesey fic #jimmy vesey imagine #hockey fic #hockey imagine #buffalo sabres fic #buffalo sabres imagine #nhl fic #nhl imagine #jimmy is soft soft soft #this is the first time I did a third person narrator #help #someone tell me if this is okay? #VALIDATE ME I HAD A ROUGH WEEK

[crash-cinematic-universe]

Headfirst for Halos (ch. 5)

*does a fortnite dance* this took me wayy too long to write

Ship: Tate Langdon/fem!Reader

WARNINGS: allusions to both physical and emotional abuse from a family member, actual physical abuse between a freshman and a senior, allusions to mental illnesses such as depression, student v. student violence. A certain way an event was phrased could be considered an allusion to molestation. strong language. a reference to homophobic slurs (none were used)

general comments: the american rock band My Chemical Romance was referenced in this story, yes it doesn’t work with the timeline, no I do not care. pretend mcr was around in the 80′s and 90′s. overall, I’m pretty proud of how this turned out. SPOILERS FOR SEASON 1 FOR AMERICAN HORROR STORY AHEAD. pre-death tate, pre-shooting tate, pre-beau death

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4

 It's cold. My blood runs like ice through my veins, the image of my mother still fresh in my mind. The cops had arrived at some point, their red and blue flashing lights coming through the windows. The neighbors must've heard me scream. An officer attempted to console me, but I couldn't register his words. Everything is just so cold, and that's all I can focus on.

             I refused to let Delilah anywhere near the house after I saw the body. I picked her up and held her, the chilling numbness of shock consuming me. I'm shivering, and I can't tell whether that's due to the cold or the scene. I think I threw up, I can't remember. Everything is all blurry, the only thing I can remember clearly is her cold, empty, horrific gaze. Hundreds of muffled voices surround me, each of them fading away with each passing second. One familiar voice cuts through the mob of unending murmuring.

“Y/n? Hey, Y/n, are you alright?” Pluto’s worried eyes meet mine. “Shit, Y/n, I came over as soon as I’d heard.” 

“Why?” My voice is weak, my throat is sore from screaming. I don’t intend to come off bitter, I’m genuinely asking.

“Because I thought you’d want a familiar face around in this chaos.” Pluto says firmly, their eyes not leaving mine. Their concern is comforting, the knitted sweater they’re wearing softly brushes against my skin as they envelop Delilah and I in a tight embrace. 

“She’s dead.” I say quietly. “She’s dead. My mother is dead.” The tears spilled over onto my cheeks as the realization set in. The shock faded away, and the raw emotions consumed my body causing my senses to numb and my chest to tighten. Whenever I close my eyes I see her. I see her stare. I see the deep gash in her throat, the remnants of a petrifying fear in her eyes. It isn’t long before I’m in hysterics, catching the attention of the officers around us.

It’s only then that two paramedics exit my house, carrying my mother’s corpse on a stretcher. The thin sheet over her body is blown by the wind, revealing her upper torso to me once again. I guess the initial shack shielded me from seeing the extent of her injuries. She looked ghastly, dark bruises covering her face. Scratch marks ran down her arms, her fingers broken; she looked as if someone had beaten her down before slitting her throat. The sight does nothing to sooth my sobbing, it only fuels my emotion as Delilah begins to cry, too. It’s going to be a long night.

________

“Tell me again, in your own words, what were you doing when you found your mother.” Officer McCoin asks, his cold eyes glaring at me from across the metal table. 

“I took my little sister, Delilah, out for ice cream. We left around 4PM and got back around 7PM--”

“You were out for three hours? Getting ice cream?” I nod.

“We went exploring for a while. We wanted to stay out of the house.” I noticed the officer’s eyebrow twitch.

“Why did you want to stay out of the house?” I stayed silent for a moment, and Officer McCoin took my silence for advantage. “Miss L/n, what happened to your face?”

“I-.. uh, I-” My thoughts are jumbled, the mixture of shock and pressure making my brain go fuzzy. I know what’ll happen; if I tell them my mother hit me, they’ll find some way to connect me to her death. That’s how cops operate-- make the evidence shown reflect who they personally suspect. “Some kids at school roughed me up a bit. It’s nothing too serious. We wanted to stay out of the house because of the heat. The air conditioning in our house is broken, it’s much cooler outside with ice cream.” That wasn’t totally a lie-- our AC was broken. Thankfully, Officer McCoin is quite gullible. He simply nods and makes notes on a small pad of paper beside him.

“What were you doing earlier that day? Before you left?”

“I had a friend over and we listened to music for a little while. After that he went home and Delilah and I left.” I explain.

“Could you give me the name of your friend?” Officer McCoin grabs the notepad and pen, preparing to take notes. “And, uh, your relation to this person.” My jaw clenched at McCoin’s insinuation.

“His name is Tate Langdon, and he’s my… friend.” Wait, fuck, are Tate and I just friends? Does getting each other off on occasion count as a relationship? Probably not, but I’m still not quite sure. Officer McCoin’s eyebrow twitches once I say Tate’s name.

“Alright, Miss L/n, that’s all for now. You’re free to leave.” I immediately stand up, turning to exit the interrogation room. Officer McCoin speaks once more before I leave. “Miss L/n? Be careful around that Langdon kid. He’s bad news.” Anger ripples through my veins as I walk out the door. Who does that asshole think he is? Tate isn’t bad news, hell, he wouldn’t hurt a fly! The rush of emotion makes me feel like I’m spiraling with no one to catch me. That is, until I see Pluto outside the police station.

“Pluto--” is all I can muster before I collapse into their arms, clutching them like they’re my last hope. My fingers dig into their shoulders as I steady myself, letting my emotions out in one good hard cry. Pluto informs me that Delilah was setting up at their house.

“Y/n, you’re going to stay with me for a while, okay?” I simply nod, any attempt at a verbal confirmation diminished by my sobbing. Everything went so wrong so fast-- I was falling and I needed someone to grip onto. I know I can’t trust Pluto, not after our previous interactions. Suddenly, he pops into my head.

“Tate,” I say quietly, my voice thick with tears. “I want to see Tate.” Pluto gives me a weird look.

“You wanna see Langdon? Why?” Pluto inquires, gently leading me out of the police station towards their car.

“He might’ve gotten hurt or seen someone or something. He was coming from that direction last time I saw him.” I neglected to mention the fact I also wanted to see Tate because he made me feel safe. Pluto doesn’t need to know that, hell, I’m not sure they care. This is just another charity case for them, isn’t it? Well, I don’t really care. I need a place to stay, and Pluto has one-- charity case or not. 

“... alright. I’ll give him a call--”

“No!” I snap. I’m not sure why, but I’m the one who needs to do it. Admittedly, my outburst was out of left field. “Uh, no. I’ll call him.”

I’m quick to compose myself, wiping away the tear tracks on my face and blowing my stuffy nose. My voice was still low from my screams and cries, but it’s much stronger than before. Pluto and I drive in silence, their dark eyes trained on the road. Eventually, I break the silence. 

“Why are you doing this?” Pluto hesitates.

“Because you’re just a kid.” That’s all Pluto says on that topic. “I’m sorry. I didn’t… I didn’t mean to say all that stuff back there.” “Yes you did, Pluto.” I said firmly. “It’s okay, I understand.” Pluto looks hurt but I don’t really care. They exit the room with a huff, leaving me in silence. I sit there for a minute, taking time to breathe. Things have changed so quickly, but at least I still have a few constants. I grab the phone and quickly dial Tate’s phone number.

Ring

I still have Delilah

Ring

I still have myself

Ring

I still have Tate.

Ri-- “Hello?” It’s so nice to hear his voice again.

“Hey, uh, it’s Y/n.” My voice sounds unnatural and odd, but I don’t really care.

“Oh my god, Y/n, are you ok?” Tate gushes, and I can practically see his face contorted in concern. “I’m so sorry about your mom, I really meant to call earlier but I thought I’d give you space--”

“It’s okay, Tate. It’s good to hear you now.” A voice echoes slightly on the other line, and Tate is quick to cover it with his own. I can tell it was his mother, and I can tell that she was angry. I felt defensive, the last thing I want is for Tate to have to experience what I did. 

“Hey, uh, do you wanna, maybe, come over like… right now? I think you could use a hug.” Tate laughs ever so lightly.

“God, yes, I just want to see you.” I sound desperate. I am. “I’ll be there in 10.”

“See you then.”

“Bye, Tate.”

“Goodbye, Y/n.”

#tate langdon #tate langdon fanfiction #ahs tate langdon #tate langdon x reader #Evan Peters #AHS Evan Peters #AHS #ahs murder house #ahs fanfiction #american horror story #american horror story fanfiction #headfirst for halos #irl dont look