#really taken to calling them sun and cap. because. hell yeah

[electrozeistyking]

having a blast poking fun at this silly lil comic i’ve been making featuring my boy sundee with capochin (though @mischiefburns is actually who came up with that text tbh :3)

[skellebonez]

How's about 45 and 54 where canon MK finds himself in the Inverted AU Universe? Because I think that'd be funny

Poor MK is having the second worst day of his entire life. This is not the situation he should be in AFTER THE FINALE. This would have been way different if I wrote this when you sent it in, but now you get a very sad Monkie Kid.

You may technically be an adult, but you’re still my child./ Yeah well dying generally puts a damper on things.

When MK was knocked out they were on the deck of the drone ship, fighting off some kind of demon that the White Bone Spirit had taken under her control.

When MK woke up they were on the sandy shores of Mount Huaguo surrounded by baby monkeys and one Six-Eared Macaque looking down at them with a face of great concern.

“Are you-” Macaque started to ask them, unable to finish his sentence when MK screamed and kicked out and just barely missed making contact that would have sent him flying backwards into the nearest tree. “Whoa, no, it’s alright! I’m not-”

“What did you do to me this time, Macaque!?” MK yelled, looking around for a weapon, any weapon, something they could use to defend themself. Their eyes fell on something familiar, something that shouldn’t exist anymore and they froze at the sight of red and gold.

“Little one, is your name MK?” Macaque asked softly, holding up his hands as he slowly walked forward back toward the started and confused young adult before him. “I found you washed up on the shore. You need to lay back down, you’re still-”

Macaque let out a yelp of surprise as MK dove, hand firmly grasping the familiar warm-cold center of the staff.

But it felt... wrong, somehow.

They didn’t let go.

"OK, WHAT IS HAPPENING!?" MK shouted, holding the stolen staff in front of them as they turned on the immortal monkey that was their one time mentor. "Is this Jin and Yin again? Is this the Calabash!? Did they change it so my stuff doesn’t work in it anymore!? I'm not falling for that again!"

"I'm sorry, the what?" A new voice rang from behind him. One a little... too familiar...

It was MK. It shouldn't be possible, not if the Calabash was working the same way it had worked before, but it was them. But not.

Like... the way the staff felt.

The Other MK standing in the too bright sun wore a stark sky blue and black instead of his signature orange and red, a large hefty backpack in that same blue slung over his back. And he was... tall. Not unusually tall, just taller than MK was. And also looked incredibly angry as he carried a box of medical supplies.

"The... Calabash..." MK repeated, holding the staff closer to their chest with a nervous gulp. Their hands twisted around the staff nervously, hoping the repetitive action would ground them against the repeating 'THERE IS ANOTHER YOU STARING AT YOU WHAT THE HELL' whizzing in their head. "This... this isn't Jin and Yin again after all, is it?"

MK gulped again, blinking as their vision swam suddenly and their head felt like it was filled with... something. Like liquid but if it was as light as air.

"I don't know which answer would be better for you," Macaque said softly, honesty palpable in his tone. Something so odd for the Monkie Kid to hear in their ears with that voice. "But no. We are very much real."

"Oh..." MK said plainly. "Oh that's bad. That's... Oh boy..."

Before their eyes rolled back in their head and they passed out they were pretty sure they saw a few more overly familiar faces rushing to them.

~

When MK woke a second time they were once again moved, but to somewhere else far less familiar than the shores of Mount Huaguo and the drone ship... but also too familiar. They also now realized that their head hurt... a lot. Like, a lot a lot.

“Finally, you’re back from the brink of death,” that same overly familiar voice rang our in their ear. They snapped their head to the side, regretting it instantly as it made their vision swim again and lights pop in front of their eyes. “Hey, no, don’t do that!"

The other MK jumped up, kneeling down in front of them and poked them in the forehead. His scowl didn’t seem to let up in the slightest, but it tilted in a way that felt more concerned than angry.

"... why am I looking at my own face?" MK asked, not sure whether they should continue to stare at their own face or to look anywhere else to keep their brain from short circuiting trying to process what the actual hell was happening.

“Considering you were able to pick up my staff,” the other MK said, removing his finger and gesturing to the rod that was still across MK’s chest (how had he not noticed the extra weight of it still in his hand?). “I’d say we have some kind of multi-dimensional bullshitery going on here. Unless you’re, somehow, a robot made of the same shit Red used to get the that thing in the first place, but I don’t think robots bleed from head injuries.”

Ah. That would explain why his head felt like someone had cracked it open and shoved cotton balls into it.

MK looked around, taking in the stark white walls and the overly clean smell and the clean white sheets they were laid on.

“... am I at the hospital?”

“Oh, absolutely!” Other MK yelled, raising his arms in frustration as he paced the room in a familiar excess of energy. “But unfortunately for us you don’t exactly exist here! So we’re figuring out a way to make them believe you’re me with some really fucked up memories my dude! Which is easier with, you know.”

The other MK knocked on his head twice, wincing a bit as the second knock seemed to be harder than intended.

“... but you’re..?”

“I snuck in.”

“OK, well, thanks for the help,” MK started, sitting himself up with more than a little struggle. “But I need to figure out what the heck happened and get back to-!”

“Oh no you don’t!” Other MK said, jumping on the bed and standing over him. That was... well, MK would definitely say that was a very weird but effective way of keeping someone from getting up. “Macaque already ran off without letting me stop him, I barely got him to take some backup, to figure out what in the hell is happening. You are me and I know myself and if you ever tell anyone this I will end you, but you are way too injured to be doing anything right now!”

“I have to do something, Other Me-”

“No, oh no I hate that, just call me Blue,” the other MK said, the scowl on his face softened ever so slightly once again. Just slightly. “It’s a lot better than ‘other me’. And there’s nothing we can do until Macaque gets us some answers.”

"So... what, Blue? Am I just supposed to sit around and wait for someone to come and rescue me if he finds nothing!?" MK snapped, grip on their staff tightening so much that their knuckles paled and creaked in stress. "Just do nothing while who knows what happens to my friends!?"

"No," Blue said, placing his hand on MK's shoulder and frowning when the other shrugged it off and curled in on themselves. "But hurting yourself isn't going to help you get back to them. And as long as you’re here you’re my responsibility.”

“I’m a grown ass adult, you should know that.”

“Yeah, well, dying generally puts a damper on things and you’re not so adult that you can’t escape death,” Blue said, letting himself fall back into a sitting position on the bed. “Unless you got to keep your invulnerability or something, but given the crack in your noggin that doesn’t seem... like...” Blue trailed off, looking at MK with an odd expression. “... are you ok? Like. Emotionally?”

“Huh?”

“You’re crying.”

MK wrestled with one of their hands to free it’s iron grip on the staff (not their staff, their staff was gone, they had to remind themselves that their staff was gone and... and so was so much else), raising to their cheek to discover that at some point in Blue’s retort they had indeed started crying.

“... what happened to you?”

“It’s a long story,” MK said, wiping their face on their arm (they now realized they were wearing hospital dressing). “I...” They grabbed the staff with their now free hand again, twisting the grip carefully and freeing the iron hold their other hand had. “Can I just... keep this for a bit longer?”

Blue looked at MK, looking between the other him and the staff that was rightfully his before sighing and rubbing the back of his neck.

“Not like I need it right this second,” he said, his scowl vanishing completely as he stood and yanked over his backpack and put it back on after he pulled a baseball cap out and squished his hair into it and pulled it down to cover his face. “There’s gonna be someone here with you at all times until you get out, just to keep you in the loop of what’s going on here. We’ll figure out where you’re staying if Mac doesn’t figure out a way to get you home by tonight.” He moved toward the entrance to the room, turning back before opening it. “I’ll be back, I gotta restock my bag. There’s a couple people who wanna talk to you already... don’t... freak out.”

Before MK could ask what Blue meant the young man opened the door and slipped out, talking to someone just out of his line of vision before running off down the hall.

And then they saw the overly familiar sight of Pigsy and Tang... except they weren’t.

Pigsy, their Pigsy, was always in a chef’s uniform unless he was sleeping. Rough edges softened when he smiled or looked at MK or Mei with that exasperated look that MK knew meant he cared. Tang, their Tang, was a scholar who looked the part in every way, old fashioned clothes and books in hand. Always smiling when he could manage it and carefree.

This Pigsy was.. soft. And fluffy. Literally soft and fluffy. And wore oversized sweaters and smiled in a way that fit more on someone else’s face but felt right at home on his. This Tang was...

Well, the only way MK could think to describe the man before them was “skinny biker with probably hidden muscles who would kick your ass”. He looked the same but his hair was more wild, sunglasses pushing his bangs up, decked out in a (probably fake) leather jacket... but he had the same scarf.

And he and Pigsy were holding hands.

“I suppose you already know who we are,” the biker version of Tang said, smile on his face very awkward and seeming somewhat forced in a “I don’t know if this is helping but I’m gonna try” kind of way. “And we know who... you are. Kinda.”

“Yeah,” MK responded, thinking for a moment back to when he was found on the beach. “Were you... were you the ones with Blue, the other me, on Mount Huaguo?”

“Yeah,” the soft Pigsy said and... wow, hearing that voice say something so gently so casually was throwing him through a loop. “M-Blue was convinced we needed to get out of the city for the day and brought us along for his training. We didn’t expect to find... well, another him...” Pigsy frowned, the first one MK saw on his face and it felt so much more openly worried than their own Pigsy’s scowls. “How are you feeling?”

MK looked down at the staff in their hands, then back up to the two men in front of them.

They weren’t the two people MK considered father figures. They weren’t. But they were. And as MK tried to process this they felt their breathing speed up faster and faster and faster until-

“Hey,” Tang said, gentle and soft voice breaking MK from their racing thoughts as he reached out to put a hand in MK’s hair but stopped himself short. Probably in remembering that they weren’t Blue. “You can stay with us if you want. Once you’re discharged and if you need somewhere to stay.”

Well... that didn’t help at all.

No.

Instead it opened the floodgates and MK started crying harder than they had since the final fight with the White Bone Spirit, curling in on themselves as the last few days and what had transpired really hit them.

“What the FUCK did you do!?” He heard his own voice shout from the doorway.

~

It looked like PIgsy’s apartment. But not.

MK’s hands clenched at air, wishing they still had the staff for comfort. But no, they insisted that Blue take it back when they were discharged.

Blue was still the Monkie Kid after all. He needed the staff to fight.

MK... was just MK here. And they couldn’t fight, not while recovering from their injuries anyway.

But oh how they wish they hadn’t given it back. It felt so right and yet so wrong to hold it. They didn’t realize how much they had grown attached to the object until it was...

“MK?” Once again Pigsy’s voice startled him, not for the first time since they arrived at the apartment and MK took up the extra bedroom that this world’s counterpart had once stayed in until the apartment above the shop opened up for them. “Do you need anything?”

“No,” they responded, hands gripping the edge of their jacket in an attempt to hold something solid. It wasn’t the same. “I can handle myself.”

“I know you can, but you don’t have to,” Pigsy said, coming into the room holding a cup of water and putting it on the nightstand. “And you don’t have to talk to us, if you don’t want to... but it’d probably help. Even if you just ramble about something.”

Had this been the other Pigsy he probably would have something something like “You may technically be an adult, but you’re still my child”. Something firm and gruff and filled with underlying affection for the younger adult. But this Pigsy... there was some of that there. A firmness to his words, though the gruffness was missing. But he could feel the affection he must have had for Blue transferring to themself, the knowledge that they weren’t the same person holding most of it back.

But it was still there.

And MK hadn’t really talked to anyone since the short lived argument with Blue.

“... You uh...” they started, chuckling quietly as they twisted their fingers together. “You said you own a flower shop? My Pigsy, uh... he, runs a noodle shop.”

It wasn’t going to help. MK was certain that talking about their family and friends and how different they were would probably make how he felt worse.

But sitting there and ignoring it would make it worse far quicker in their mind.

So MK talked. For hours. Eventually Tang joined the two, both listening as MK recalled all the differences and similarities and...

Well. They listened. Just like their own Pigsy and Tang would.

... they wondered if they would ever get to go back.

[thefloorisbalaclava]

Idea for Mechanic!Frankies first outside date. In our town there's a vintage car dealer and every spring you can enter a contest and win a ride in a vintage car, afternoon Picknick included.

So what if reader enters on a whim because she heard that Frankie enters every year and is bitter cause he loses all the time - and she wins?! but doesn't dare drive the old expensive car? Frankie to the rescue

Pairing: Francisco ‘Catfish’ Morales x F!Reader

Warnings: Just some friendly competition...and some more kissing. Also some singing in the car.

A/N: This is such a cute idea, Sonja! I love this for our favorite mechanic!

[mechanic!frankie masterlist]

“...and they have this contest where you can win a ride in a classic car. I enter every year and I never win,” Frankie tells you, voice slightly muffled since he’s under your car.

“Well, I’d love to go with you,” you say and he rolls out from beneath your car.

“Really?” The smile on his face grows as you nod.

“Yeah.” You help him to his feet and laugh. “You got a little grease...right...here.” You wipe the tip of his nose but that only seems to add more. You look at your hands and scoff. They must have gotten dirty when you helped him up.

“Every time,” Frankie says. “Sorry.” He takes out his rag and tries his best to wipe your hands clean.

“It must be our thing,” you tease.

“Our thing?”

“Yeah, you know how a couple in movies or TV always have a certain thing that happens between them?” You jump slightly when he looks up quickly.

“Couple?” he asks.

“Y-Yes...couple. This can be our...thing,” you say with a smile.

“You’re gonna be completely covered in grease if I keep this up.” He moves in for a kiss and you gladly meet him halfway.

“I don’t mind.” You two stay close to each other, both in a dreamlike state. “Thanks for coming by to check on my car.”

“No problem but I really didn’t see anything wrong,” he admits.

“I know.” You giggle when he realizes that you just wanted to see him outside of work again.

“So, I’ll pick you up on Saturday around noon. That okay?” he asks as you walk him back to his truck.

“That’s fine. I’ll see you then.” You close the truck door after he climbs in then he leans out the window to kiss you.

“See you then.” He tips his cap and starts the car, waving once more before driving off.

-Saturday-

The car show is bustling just as you expected--the weather is warm and the sun is out so everyone is looking to get out. You and Frankie walk side by side not exactly holding hands but every now and then your hands brush up against the other’s and you look and smile.

“Hey Frankie!” someone calls and Frankie excuses himself to go talk to his friend. You walk over to where you can sign up to win the ride in a vintage car and end up entering your name. You won’t win but it doesn’t hurt to try. You walk over to the car that is up for a drive this year and look at it in amazement.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Frankie asks, walking up behind you. “1969 Camaro ZL1.” He shakes his head, “Doesn’t get any better.”

“Are you gonna enter this year?” you ask, locking your arm with his.

“Nah, I’ll just stick to dreaming about driving down some long road in the desert, listening to the engine purr.” He chuckles and takes his arm from yours only to put it around your shoulder. You look at him and just admire him. He is wearing his aviators today and, you have to say, he looks goddamn good in them.

“And now for the winner of our drive and picnic contest...” A drumroll plays over the speaker and when the man says your name you freeze. Frankie looks at you, eyes wide.

“You entered? You won?!” he asks in disbelief.

“I guess so.” You’re still in shock as people around you cheer and you walk up to get the keys. 

“You’re one lucky lady,” the man says and you look out at the crowd only to find Frankie. You meet his eye and smile.

“Thank you but...uh...this is for Frankie,” you say and you can see his eyebrows fly up from behind his dark shades. He pushes them up off his eyes and looks at you.

“Well, Frankie, you’re one lucky guy with an amazing girlfriend.” The man tells him to get up there and Frankie walks up in a daze. As everyone cheers, he pulls you close.

Standing by the car, Frankie still seems to be in shock.

“I believe these are yours,” you say, grabbing his hand and dropping the keys into them. “Come on.” You walk over to the passenger side and get in. He climbs in slowly and just touches the steering wheel.

“Is this real?” he asks, turning to you.

“It’s real. Start it!” you say excitedly. 

He puts the key and starts the ignition. It roars to life and Frankie puts a hand over his heart. “Do you hear that?” Before he pulls onto the road, he plays around with the radio, stopping when he hears Uptown Girl playing. He turns to you with a grin and you smile back.

“Good song.” You dance in the seat a little before singing along quietly. Frankie looks over at you every chance he gets before joining in.

“And when she’s walking she’s looking so fi-i-ine. And when she’s talking she’ll say that she’s mi-i-ine,” he sings loudly and you stare at him in shock before bursting into laughter.

“You surprise me every day, Mr. Morales,” you say.

“I hope in a good way.”

“Definitely.”

He drives in silence before turning into the park and finding a nice shady spot. “We get a picnic too, remember?” He gets out and opens the trunk to find a basket already packed up for you.

“What if I was alone?” you ask.

“More food for you,” he jokes and you laugh. You walk over to a nice spot under a beautiful tree and hold the basket as he places the blanket. “Ma’am.” He gestures to the blanket and you sit.

“Why, thank you, sir.”

He sits beside you and leans against the tree. You inch closer to him until you are able to lean against him comfortably. “This is nice,” he says, taking his aviators off so you can look into his brown eyes.

“It is. Are you hungry?” you ask, reaching for the basket.

“Wait...I have something I wanna ask you.” He grabs your hand.

“Okay.”

“Earlier you, uh, said something about couples...and when the guy called me your boyfriend, you didn’t try to correct him. I was just wondering why.” He looks at you nervously.

“Why would I correct him if he was already right?” you ask him and Frankie laughs once in shock. “I mean...if that’s okay with you. If you think this is going too fast then we can just continue the way we were. No labels.”

“I haven’t done this in a while, you know?”

“I know. That’s why I said we can slow down. I don’t mind but I do want you to know that you’re the only one I’m seeing and it’ll stay that way even if we don’t make it official or anything.” You reach for the basket again and he watches you--the way the sun shines down on you, the way you smile at him, the way you do everything.

You two sit there for a little over an hour talking and eating and just enjoying each other’s company. And just like any other date, neither of you ever want it to end. He helps you pack up the basket before standing.

“Help me with the blanket?” he asks.

“Of course.” You grab the opposite end and walk up to him. When you do, he kisses you and you sigh.

“I want you to be my girlfriend,” he says against your lips and you open your eyes.

“I’d be honored, Frankie.” You kiss him, dropping your end of the blanket to reach up and cup his face.

After a few more kisses, you two finally make it back to the car. Frankie starts it and puts his aviators back on.

“Let’s take the long way, hm?” he suggests and you nod. It may not be the long, empty road in the desert, but this is the start of road trip he can’t wait to take with you by his side.

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[forthekags]

Number Nine

Kageyama Tobio X FemReader

Part 2

Read Part 1 Here

About: You were introduced to the Karasuno Boys’ Volleyball club during your second year. Yachi needed help after Kiyoko had taken her leave, so she asked you to join her. Although, it would have been smarter to look for a first year, but you were new and looked lonely. When you met the boys you were bit overwhelmed but they grew on you in no time. Kageyama was a little rough around the edges at first, he was awkward and couldn’t hold eye-contact. He was a blushing baboon for the first few days. He was sure to keep his distance but you only found it exciting and hilarious. Sure enough you two became friends from all your taunting and teasing. You’re about to enter your third year, and this was your make it or break it. You had to start thinking about your own future- and so did Kageyama.

A/N: Thank you for the support! And new follows! I’m glad I’m not the only Kageyama simp :) I also like creating shorts with random prompts, it gets the creative juices going. So if you have any requests or such, please let me know. And... uh hope you like this part. 

Cloudy Skies

Kageyama would never admit it but he kept thinking about that question. He answered truthfully but something bothered him about that. Not that it was honest but rather the answer itself. 

"Kags!" You screamed before the ball could hit him in the face, but he just snapped his head to you. The sound echoed in the gym and he fell backwards at impact. Everyone flinched and made a pained face but your eyes widened with worry. 

"I'm so sorry, Kageyama!" Tadashi bowed and apologized several times. He grew red in embarrassment and you would have teased him and called him cute if it wasn't for the growing red mark on Tobio’s cheek. You rushed over with Yachi along with Coach Ukai. 

"Come on kid, talk to me." Coach Ukai examined the bruise. It wasn't anything too serious but he knew it had to hurt like hell. Especially to a body who wasn't ready for impact. "Someone go get a bag of ice!" Yachi ran. 

"Don't say sorry to him, Yamaguchi, he was the one who wasn't paying attention." Tsuki pushed his glasses up even though they're his volleyball ones. A habit that hasn't died down. He was the only one who didn't step a little forward towards Kageyama. 

"Put a cap on your salt, Tsuki," you yelled. It surprised a few of the players with your sudden authority. Even Tsuki tsked quietly. 

There was little more venom in your words than usual, like a warning to back off. 

"Woah! Did you mean to catch that with your face?!" Hinata jumped to get a better look. "If it wasn't for Y/N, you'd have a bad nosebleed right now Kageyama!" 

"Can someone shut him up?" He groaned trying to get up to a sitting position. You shot a look at Shoyo that begged and ordered him to settle down, which he took quickly. Coach Ukai let out a sigh of relief when Tobio finally spoke up. You released a breath- one you didn’t know you were holding. 

Coach Ukai asked him a few questions to check how hard the ball hit him. He answered them as best as he could but you snickered when he couldn't answer any government related questions- although Ukai looked around to verify if it was wrong or right with other team players. He was okay. Okay as he could be. 

"Alright kid, take a break and we'll fill in for you. Get whatever is on your mind out, it's important that you find that focus again." Ukai helped him up and ushered him off the court. You grabbed onto his arm, in case he needed help with his balance, and led him to the sideline where you and Yachi stayed. Yachi came back with the ice pack and accidentally shoved it too hard onto Kags. 

"Ah!" He winced from the cold and the pressure on his bruise. 

"Sorryyy…. Here." She handed you the pack abruptly. "I'll go get a chair!" You watched as she ran and struggled to get a chair out. Hopefully someone will help her out. 

Kageyama leaned on the wall for support and winced again when he tried to touch his cheek. You swat his hand away-

"Hey!" He glared at you for a second but once he saw your worried look he glared at the floor. "You'd make a horrible nurse," he mumbled. 

However, he was taken by surprise when your fingertips made contact with his cheek. You grabbed his face and turned him to you so gently he wanted to flutter his eyes closed to rest a bit. It was then he knew that what he had said was a complete and total lie. 

You applied the ice to his cheek, careful with the pressure thanks to Yachi. You were close, almost as close as when you were dancing together. He could feel you- like a presence, it made sense cause you were right there. But it still felt weird to him. And for a second- but what felt longer- you were the only thing in his vision. Your soft smile of reassurance and your caring eyes and how they expressed more emotion than words. He even noticed some marks here and there that he could've sworn weren't there before… and yet he found them...he found them beautiful. Like they added to you being already perf-

"Does it hurt?" Your voice was low and gentle, completely different from when you used it at Tsukishima. You were worried he might be playing the pain down, so he can jump back into practice. You should've pulled him aside when he wasn't responding to Shoyo's usual banter. He was quiet, and clearly lost in thought but you assumed it had to do with volleyball. You expected him to be back to normal once he started playing. And once he was reacting slower and moving slower than usual, you realized he wasn't fully here. 

He realized you asked him a question after a moment. "No...no, the ice is working." 

You smiled in relief and let him take over the pack. You took a few short steps back and crossed your arms content with your minimal work. 

"See," you said confidently, "I might be a good nurse after all." 

Before he could agree, Yachi came rushing in with a chair. Kageyama took his seat without argument, a surprise to both you and Yachi. 

"Take all the time you need and then some, we'll be right over there if you need anything." 

"But don't let that go to your head, your majesty," you teased. He hates that nickname with a passion so there was always some sort of burst of energy. But all he could do was roll his eyes. It let you know that something was still bothering him, and that wiped away your grin. 

The rest of practice, Kags quietly stayed on the sidelines but watched the team with a sharp eye. It was weird of him to not want to continue playing, but you were also sort of glad he took time to rest. Maybe that ball did hit him a little too hard though… No- he said he was fine. Plus, if it was serious, Ukai would've rushed him to the nurse or something. There have been worse injuries in the team and Hinata has taken a few shots to Kageyama's head. So… he should be fine. 

During clean up time, Ukai told Kageyama he can head home early, instead he stayed and helped a bit then waited for you. After changing, he stood by the stairs and stared at something in the distance with his back towards you. For some reason you were nervous. Your foot wouldn't stop tapping or you would pull on your fingers and try to crack your knuckles. He was being annoyingly quiet, and that put you on edge, clearly. You thought Kageyama was a simpleton, he only thought about volleyball and food. But you liked that because you always knew what he was thinking. 

Until now. He's right there and he's quiet and he's not talking and he has almost no expression on his face and he's just not... here. Did someone say something to him? Was he upset? Or sad? 

You wondered all of this as you got closer to him, you thought he'd be too lost in whatever was bothering him to notice you but he glanced at you. 

"Ready?" He asked, tightening his strap. Once you gave him a small nod, you both started walking towards your house. 

"You sure you don't want me to walk you to your house? We don't have to study today if you need some time alone," you offered him. You didn't want him to feel obligated to go to your house. You told him during clean up he didn't have to, but he just ignored you by scowling Shoyo over some sloppy mopping. 

"Do you not want me to come over?" He looked at you from the corner of his eye waiting for your reaction. You just shrugged awkwardly and looked away from him. 

"It's not that, it's just you got hit and-"

"It's just a bruise, Y/N." 

You snapped your head back at him with a wild look. "Well yeah! You don't really get those!"

"Volleyball guarantees bruises, you know that." His voice didn't elevate like yours did, it was unbothered and didn't show any signs of caring. 

"What were you thinking about during practice?" 

He didn't respond. You thought he might be taking a minute to figure out his wording, like usual, but he was just straight up ignoring you. 

"Tobio!"

Nothing. He was giving you absolutely nothing. He just kept walking while you waved your hands like a crazy person. So you stopped walking. You would've let it go if he told you he didn't want to talk about or hell, even if he said it's none of your business. But not responding and obviously ignoring you!? 

He stopped and turned to you a few feet away. The sun was setting and the street lights behind you were turning on one by one. He noticed the thick clouds gliding towards you two, another rainy afternoon. 

"Y/N, come on let's go. I'm not getting stuck in the rain again." He looked tired, like the thought of arguing itself was draining him. You would've walked in silence, but you were a bit pissed off. Why? Why was his silence bothering you so much? Was he finally getting tired of you? Were you the one who said something? What did you say? If it bothered him so much, he should've said something! Or… was it the dance? Did you step out of line? But… 

"Tell me why you've been so quiet, Tobio." Your demand did little on his reaction. He sighed and placed his hand on his forehead, tired once again. When he just mentioned the rain again, you stomped your foot like a child. "Fine! Don't tell me and don't come over today!" You marched past him with your arms crossed over your chest. 

He felt a drop on his nose and heard the sound of the approaching rain. You were mad and it almost seemed like the rain followed your gloomy state. 

"You really don't want me to come over?" 

"No!" 

"Y/N, you're being ridiculous." That seemed to piss you off even more. So you quickly turned to scream almost a block away. 

"And you're being a shady idiot Kageyama! Since when do we keep secrets!" 

"Why are you so keen on knowing?!" 

"Because you're not being yourself! You're worrying the team and the coach and ME!" You pointed to yourself feeling a bit selfish without the guilt. 

“I’m fine, Y/N! Nothing is wrong!” 

“Then tell me! If it’s really nothing, tell me what’s been going on in that head of your Tobio!” You waited and watched as he physically restrained himself from saying anything. And you know it shouldn’t be such a serious topic or conversation, to be honest you thought this whole argument was childish. And yet, here you were acting like a child who wasn’t getting what they wanted. 

The silence hurt you for some reason. It was like he didn’t trust you, he didn’t rely on your comfort or need you to listen to him. He didn’t need you. 

“Fine. I’ll go home,” he said finally. You didn’t just feel a drop, you were immediately drenched in the rain. You watched him rush off through the rain while you felt something awful. 

An even more awful thought sparked when he was completely out of your sight. It was possible that he didn’t need you, but you knew for a fact that you needed him.

[chickensarentcheap]

Tyler post :)

@youflickedtooharddamnit​, @secretaryunpaid​, @tragiclyhip​

So, we got Brookie a dog.  This hell beast she saw up for adoption on the internet and promised she’d take care of.  This thing is pure evil.  Hates everyone but Brookie and Me ( I think because Me is almost the same size and growls and snarls right back at him and now he knows she’s the pack mother and not to fuck with her) and scares the shit right of Mac and Saju who are a hell of a lot bigger. 

Anyway, I really believe shit like this is the reason we can’t have nice things.  And why aliens won’t visit us.

Can you believe I’M expected to walk this thing?  Yeah...no.

Say hello to Lucy. Which -I am one hundred percent sure- is short for Lucifer.

On this episode of ‘we can’t take these feral spawn anywhere’...

Why did we decide to have kids again? I mean, the first one was sort of expected. Not like we were very...careful...about things.  But to willingly have more? 

#Imkiddingspawn #prouddad  #noreallyIam

What in the hell is going on here...

“Dad! I help!”

Drive me to drink is what you do.

A little pro tip for the ones out there that haven’t been married/committed/whatever for that long.

Never...and I mean NEVER...ask a woman whose eating ice cream straight from the carton if everything is okay.  No.  Everything is NOT okay.   And if you dare ask, you’re going to be hearing about it for the next day and a half.

Just let her eat her ice cream in peace.   Especially if you value both your balls -and your place in the big bed- where they are.

And if you make the mistake of saying something that could be taken as criticism or not sympathetic enough (believe me, I’ve fucked that up a few times),  grab your car keys and say you’re going to get her even MORE ice cream.   And then hit up a store a couple HOURS away.    She might be a little more reasonable if she’s left alone for that long.

MIGHT BE.

There’s homicide in those eyes.

May not be directed at me (thank God) but ’m going to have be the one to carry the body and help dispose of it. I’m too pretty for prison.

All I heard was the barista say:  “Why do men always do stupid shit?”. I’m pretty sure my wife contributed some kind of story about me.  She doesn’t laugh like that for no reason.

I bet it’s about the time I used  a staple gun to put up outdoor Christmas list.  #worksmarternotharder

Tasman: (with a huge sigh): “Mummy, you’re so cute.”    Looks at me (covered in sweat and dirt and oil after working on the truck, wearing just a backwards ball cap and jeans) with the utmost disdain “Daddy, you’re alright.” Pause.  “I guess.”

SAVAGE.

Hate to break it to you kid, but you look like me. So joke’s on you.

No one:

Addie to some random boy child walking by:  “Stay out of my sun, bitch!”

#sharkbiscuit

The look you get when you’re spotted putting your shoes on and they realize you have no intention of taking them with you.

You really want to confuse the hell out of her?  Right in the middle of a serious conversation, ask shit like “If when a door is open it’s called a jar, how come when a jar is open, it’s not called a door?” and then walk away.

I don’t know if she’s stunned or if she’s thinking I’ve snapped my last shred of sanity and it considering committing me.

Her: (silent as I’m peeling off my wet suit and she’s eyeing me like a piece of meat)

Me: No. We’ve been there three times this week. We are NOT going to Target. 

Her: Tyler James...

Me: Esme Michelle...

Her:

Me:  Go alone if you want to go.  You don’t need me holding your hand while you buy needless shit.

Her: I don’t like going alone. I like when you come with me.  I like your company.

Me (an hour later, pulling into the Target parking lot): I really need to learn how to say no.

Her: (having the nerve to grab my dick through my shorts) No you don’t.

How did I go from kicking ass and taking names to being relegated to Target cart pushing bitch? It’s the dick grabbing. Definitely the dick grabbing.

Brookie ready to square up. Atta girl. Throw those hands.

I mean, violence is never the answer!

#untilitis

She was standing there watching the three littlest as they built sandcastles, and some random drongo walked up to her and started trying to pick her up.  Complimenting her ass, calling her a MILF, asking her if she wanted to ‘hook up’.   She mentioned she was married and he said something like “what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him” and she told him “He’ll hurt you” and then pointed at me.

I’m pretty sure he wet his pants. Before practically running away.

#dontmakemekillyou. #sheISaMilftho

This one remains the biggest argument in the house.  I say he looks like her, she says he looks like me.  

Always a huge ego boost when you’re stripping off your dirty, sweaty clothes and your wife (even a decade later) is looking at you like THIS:

Her (as I’m down to just boxer briefs): So you WERE just happy to see me.

(I’d like to add that once I was fully naked, she offered me a twenty for a ‘good time’.  True story)

My wife listening to the bullshit at TJ’s ‘meet the teacher night’

She’s thinking about pitchers of margaritas right now.

Me (listening to women from the school council bitch and moan about their ‘lazy ass husbands’): “Oh that’s cute. Mine just built me a bitch barn and is going to be alone for an entire five days with all seven kids while I go away with my sister.  A trip HE planned as a surprise.

Hey, I’m not perfect, but at least I try.

[tippytopdays]

Just a Typical Morning

literally slapped a fresh coat of paint on this little thing and did some proofreading, posting here because it's not really a story i feel like belongs on my Ao3

_____________________________________________________________

A snap. A small flare of light. A hiss. The light goes out with a brief spike of pain. The scent of nicotine filling his lungs, sitting there for a moment before being lazily huffed back out. He rolled the cig between his teeth, canines catching the paper.

For once, it was a slow day. Quiet too, if the silent city ruins said anything about it. No howling of some crazy Zed in the alleyways, no rushing of cars; nothing. Then again it’s probably something like, 6AM if he thought about it, since the sun wasn’t high enough yet to count as day.

Well as close to day as it could get, he assumed. It wasn’t like he knew anything else, anyways.

Deimos gripped the cig between his fingers, watching the flecks of tobacco sprinkle over the railing. The balcony was small, granted, but it was enough. Throw on a piece of metal or two along the railing and it even made for some quick cover if there was an attack. Overhead assault was harder to avoid, especially from so high up.

The end of the cigarette glowed dimly as he inhaled, smoke trailing into the air.

He didn’t like being up this early. It was too quiet.

Normally by now he would probably be going downstairs to fetch some grub from the cafeteria with Ford, talk about their evenings or whatever else would come up. Sometimes he’d be scrambling to get his gear on to check whatever combusted in the lower levels. Of course if it was the mercs just screwing around and breaking whatever had gotten mixed up with their roughhousing then he’d get upset. Fixing that shit isn’t easy you know, but it wasn’t worth straining his voice anyways; Ford could do that for him in spades.

He sighed in a soft plume of smoke. Really, what else can you do when the hired help has to be a bunch of knuckleheads, anyways?

Whatever it was, he definitely wasn’t throwing any parties for them that’s for sure. Last thing anyone needed was those guys keeping everyone up all night by being loud as fuck.

Another drag, a slight shake in his fingers as they met his lips.

His arms hurt like Hell from having to spend so long rewiring that at this point he was surprised they were even remotely steady at all. And when he thought about it him waking up at the ass end of dawn because the comms had crashed again was probably a good reason as to why he was up so early. Digging around in cramped crawl spaces was not how he wanted to spend his day; and being tossed into a late night mission on top of it was even lower on that list.

Damn his bed seemed real inviting, early morning or not.

When was the last time he’d slept in? Or just had a day off? Sure they’d had low days along with the high ones, but when did they get an actual break where they could relax? The last time there wasn’t some kind of emergency or chaos outside their doors was at least a decade ago at this point, maybe less. He didn’t really have it in him to care much, since he didn’t keep track of the days anymore. No point to it.

More smoke filled his lungs. He really should just get some extra shut eye, rest until he felt better.

But, for some reason, he couldn’t.

He’d snapped to awareness with a cold feeling of dread weighing down his stomach. It had been so strong he’d shot up, halfway reaching for the pistol at his bedside thinking someone was there. But there wasn’t. It was dead quiet, like the moments after a bad mission.

Maybe that’s why he was outside right now. The casual air helped to mask the intent in his eyes as he scanned the skyline.

A glint of reflected light from a nearby rooftop nearly made him crush the cig in his hands as he tensed. Eyes snapping upwards he focused, but relaxed when all he found was a few familiar faces among one of the many teams patrolling the area. He snorted, smoke curling around his face.

Another pull, the cold wash of nicotine a nice cleanse to the tension in the air.

He was overthinking this.

And after all they’d been through, who could blame him really? Being constantly on the run would make anyone look over their shoulder or keep a gun within reach. Still, it wasn’t like the Agency knew where they were this time. To add to it nothing could get through the blast doors even if it tried. They’d tested those well enough for him to be certain.

It was just a very quiet night and he wasn’t used to it. That had to be it.

The cig smoldered between his lips in one last drag before he flicked the used butt over the railing. Arms raising over his head he stretched with a groan, “Damn,” He muttered, wincing at the series of pops going up his spine, “Ya’d think I’m getting old with how I crack like a handful of spaghetti.”

He was done with his morning smoke anyways.

Mobility returned to his spine Deimos rubbed at his neck he turned his back to the city, meandering back inside. Hitting the switch beside the glass door to slide it shut behind him he glanced at the clock on the comically cluttered bedside table he owned. Yep, too early for him to be this awake, if the glaring red 7:37 was anything to go by. Well mostly glaring, since his cap was haphazardly draped over it when he’d tossed it there yesterday. Or last night, he didn’t look at it then because he was too busy flopping face first into bed.

A healthy gurgling from his stomach brought him out of his thoughts.

That’s right. He didn’t eat last night either. Not really any time to when you’re face first into the ugly end of some bastardized wiring job done nearly half a decade ago. He hummed under his breath.

Was it too early to get something from the cafeteria? It was still morning he supposed; maybe some breakfast sausage would be left this time since he’d be able to get there first for once. The thought alone was tantalizing despite the exhaustion tugging at the edge of his conscious.

Did he even change after all that sweatshop work yesterday?

Pulling at the hem of his tank top he took a whiff. Yep, stunk of old sweat and probably a hint of grease; he didn’t. Pants probably didn’t smell too great either but who would check those and not come off like a weirdo? A quick sweep of the cargo pants half hanging off his hips proved them to be good enough with no obvious stains or rips.

Deimos shrugged. It was good enough. At least he didn’t stink of blood or anything, otherwise Doc would be on his ass hard. Though it wasn’t like anyone would be able to tell the difference in this sausage fest anyways. He’d be fine for a quick early morning bite.

Just needed to grab his jacket and boots and he’d be good to go.

Deimos scratched the stubble lining his jawline while he scanned the room. He’d taken off his jacket somewhere mid collapse but he couldn’t place where. He wasn’t one to lose things—most of the time at least—but sometimes it felt like they just up and disappeared. With his luck it would probably end up in a really obnoxious place like behind the bed or something. Not like that would happen since the thing was braced up against the wall in the corner so it had to be somewhere around here.

He paused when he noticed the distinctly leather looking lump laying on the floor beside said furniture.

Oh. There it is.

Approaching the bed he picked up his jacket off the floor. It still had some dust from when he’d been crawling through the vents last night as he swiped a hand over the shoulder. He grimaced at the sticky webbing that stuck to his fingers; a few cobwebs, too. Gross. Shaking it to clear out any excess dust he threw it on haphazardly, adjusting his pants once it was snugly over his shoulders. Belt tightened up again he’d turned towards the table and nearly tripped over his own boots.

Welp, at least those weren’t far either. Glad he’d had half the mind to take those off before crashing.

Cursing a bit under his breath he snatched his cap off the clock. With a quick sweep of his hand through his hair to straighten it a bit he put his hat on and sat on the bed, scooting his boots closer with a foot. Once they were laced up and buckled he got to his feet, ready for the day—or at least, the really early morning.

He glanced at the clock again. It blinked lazily at 8AM.

Eh, early enough. But the call of some sweet breakfast sausage was not to be ignored.

The moment he turned towards the door there was a series of firm knocks. He jumped, nearly tripping again as he cracked out, “Uh, yeah?” Damn that cig wasn’t enough apparently because his nerves must still be fried from that morning.

“Deimos, it’s me.”

His lips quirked a bit, confused. Normally, Doc only went after him when something broke or got jammed up again but a glance at the tablet resting on the table face up didn’t reveal a blinking light for a missed message. Unless something went wrong in the handful of seconds he’d been standing there then why was he trying to talk to him now of all times, “Hang on.” Tromping across the room he swiped his code in, the door opening with a hiss.

Doc was standing in front of his room, arms behind his back and head turned away as he kept his focus down the hall before turning to face him. He scanned him head to foot, “You look like shit.”

Deimos rolled his eyes with a huff, “Good morning to you too, Doc.” Leave it to him to state the obvious. Not like he didn’t already feel like crap in more than a few ways. He propped an arm against the door as he nodded towards him, “What’s up?”

2B stood a bit straighter, and just by his posture alone he had a feeling that whatever he was going to say wasn’t good, “Boss called in this morning, we have another assignment.”

Well he wasn’t wrong.

Deimos sighed, traces of smoke licking at his tongue as he tossed his head back, “Seriously? Now? Doc I haven’t eaten yet.” As if to prove his point his stomach made yet another unhappy glug. Both men glanced down, the tech sweeping a hand towards it with brows raised.

“I can tell.” Doc merely returned his gaze placidly, “Have you seen Sanford yet?”

He shook his head, “Nah. Haven’t left until now.” Though if he were to take a guess, he’d say the demolition’s expert would be working out somewhere.

It seemed they shared the same thought as 2B nodded, “I assume he might be downstairs at this hour. I did hear some commotion from one of the training decks.”

He chuckled a bit. Typical Ford.

“I want you to be ready within the hour, Deimos. You’ll get to eat when you get back. I’ll tell the staff in the kitchen to keep something in the oven for you.” He turned around, fully intending to leave before adding, “And also, get some washing done when you get back. You smell like a corpse.” With that he took his leave while Deimos scowled at his back.

Great. Of course it would be doc who’d notice.

Still he only sighed, punching the code into the panel to lock the door behind him. Getting his gear from the locker he had downstairs would only take a couple of minutes, and Ford should already be up if he was taking up a training room.

Just another day in Nevada, per the usual.

Things never really change.

[bakuromiii]

word count- 2.5k+

genre- FLUFFY | neighbor!au

characters/pairings- neighbor!jeno x reader (gender neutral) | dreamies

warnings- language | dialogue heavy | over usage of words bc i’m irrelevant | the cutest people ever

introduction- since moving to the city— closer to your university— you noticed that your cat had taken an interest in another cat from the apartment building across from yours. she seemed very intrigued and things only escalated. in a good way for the both of you. because who knew such a good looking guy owned three cats he was allergic to?

a/n- based on some ‘the dodo’ story i saw a couple months ago and it was so cute hehe. also yes this is another jeno drabble thingy okay. and idk where the divider is from, i just have it on my phone sorry :(

the last box you had packed prior was finally set in your new apartment by your brother.

“this is the last one, right? because i’m not helping you anymore,” he huffed out a breath and rested his hands on his thigh. you snorted out a laugh and responded, “lazy ass. yeah, this is the last box. thanks for coming.”

you invited your brother to stay a bit later to treat him for takeout but he declined and reassured you he was fine and was going to head home. nodding your head, you just agreed as you walked him to the door.

it was only about six p.m. when you decided to unpack the rest of the boxes that you and your brother had brought up. when walking back into the living room, the shades to the window were still opened and you saw your cat, bomi, sitting by the window peering through the opened shades. the apartments from the complex across from yours were the same as any others. many university students or young adults filled the rooms, some curtains were closed, and some were lit up by the LED lights that lined their ceilings. but one window was opened. it showcased the large tv the stranger had as well as three cats by the window as well. one of them was even similar to bomi. however you thought nothing of it, too tired of driving back and forth and bringing boxes up and down. so you closed everything in for the night after unpacking about three or four boxes.

the following morning, you walked to the kitchen. and through the opened kitchen was your living room which you saw bomi sitting at the window again. you had called her over and put the cat food in the bowl for her breakfast. after leaving bomi for her breakfast, you grabbed your laptop from your bedroom and sat on the couch to finish some work and answer emails from your new university. moments of rereading emails stopped when you looked up— for no particular reason— and saw the same cats that caught bomi’s attention by the window. and then the shade was opened. oh wow.

the owner of the cats was a male. you didn’t want to assume but he looked as though he was around the same age as you. and he was cute. really fucking cute. the guy that opened the shade was wearing a pair of adidas track pants and was shirtless. and you just stared at him, as creepy as it looked and sounded like. by his feet were his three cats and bomi was sat next to the window once again.

“bomi, what’s wrong with you all of a sudden?” you asked and grabbed her small body and sat back on the couch. “do you want friends now? are you lonely because we moved?” you joked to yourself and scratched behind her ears. but once you set her free from your grasp, she sat by the window and you noticed one of his cats was looking at bomi. just as you were about to put away your laptop, bomi got up and walked around the perimeter of the window with her head still facing out the ceiling-to-floor window.

your eyes followed her feline figure and an idea shot up from your noggin. you didn’t know if it would work but it was worth a shot. so you went to your car and drove to a nearby craft store to buy some poster boards and markers. when you got home, you contemplated in your mind for a couple minutes before just going for it. fuck it. you wrote the poster as if you were in bomi’s body. and you thought it was a bit childish and unrealistic but it was worth a try.

‘hi, i’m bomi from the apartment complex next door. i see you three cats, do you wanna be friends?’ unbelievable. absolutely unbelievable. but you just taped it up on the window and closed the shade just enough for you not to see if he responded and got ready to go to your job. this was never going to work.

—

when you got home, the sun was just barely setting and bomi was once again, sitting by the window and looking out into that apartment. you sighed to yourself and picked her up before opening the shade to see if the cats— or more so the boy— had responded.

thankfully, the boy didn’t reply and it calmed your nerves down a bit more. the entire day you were away at work, thoughts filled your head about all the possible outcomes that could happen. without realizing, you breathed out in relief and set down bomi to get ready to eat dinner and shower. all the while, you forgot about the poster and there it was— left taped on the window.

donghyuck, renjun, and chenle had been over jeno’s apartment that day when they saw the poster taped on your window.

“jeno! who’s bomi?” exclaimed hyuck with his brows raised up and down, playfully. jeno got up from his seat at the kitchen island when he looked out the window behind his couch. he then just shrugged but did not miss the cat that looked somewhat like seol. then renjun spoke, “maybe it’s that cat. hey, doesn’t she look a little like seol?” chenle went toward the window to put his two cents into the conversation, “hey, she kinda does! what if she’s looking at your cats, jeno?” he asked and pointed out the window. “we should write back!” he then said with a bright smile on his face.

“we can, but i don’t have any poster paper right now,” he excused. though the boys thought he was lying they suggested that they would go to the nearest corner store to buy some cheap poster papers to reply to you.

and they did, but around ten at night when you were long gone from your living room and asleep in your bed. bomi wasn’t at the window either, but they still decided to write the letter for you in the morning.

‘i’m seol, the one that looks like you. the one with the black is nal and the one with the gray stripes is bongshik. it’s nice to meet you!’ read the sign. jeno could not believe he was writing back to a stranger he’s never even seen before. but it was whatever, new friends for his cats, he figured. the male held the sign in front of him for a minute before just shaking his head and taping the poster to his window and he was out for the night.

—

the morning you woke up, you had set a reminder to yourself that your classes started today and got up from your bed to make breakfast for both you and your kitty. opening the shade to the window, bomi was pawing and softly meowing at the window.

noticing the paper still stuck on the window, you mentally curse yourself out and look to the opposite side of your building. there was also a piece of poster paper that was taped onto the window with his three cats under it, looking out into the city. you identified the three cats immediately.

“bomi look! you really do look like seol. they can be your friends instead of those alley cats back home,” you spoke to her and then got ready to attend your nine a.m. class. however before putting on your shoes, you wrote back a little note for the cats on the opposite building.

‘great! y/n (my owner) is at university but let’s meet some day!’ you still could not believe you were doing this as you finished taping up the board. you left it there for the day as you went to your classes for the next couple hours.

throughout your first classes, your mind always went back to what happened the last few days. your neighbors as well as his neighbors must’ve thought you were both crazy. but anything for your cats.

—

for some reason when you got home, you were in a rush to see if the boy had responded to the message you left that morning. and in all hell, he did.

‘hey! jeno (our owner) is on his way to class too! and yes, let’s definitely meet one day! our owners can meet too!’

when jeno awoke that morning, he was shoving cereal down his throat and looked at your window. his heart was beating faster as he read over the note and ran to put away his bowl and get ready for his class. though he didn’t forget to write back at you, even if you probably wouldn’t see it until later.

with the cap of the marker in his mouth, jeno quickly wrote down what he was going to say and messily taped the poster to his window and left his house. he was almost late for his nine a.m. class.

watching the students come in you noticed the owner of bongsik, nal, and seol come into the room. oh shit. you tried to hide yourself behind the screen of your laptop when you remembered that he’s probably never seen you before. so slowly, you escaped your little hideaway and kept your identity on the low. because he might have seen you in broad daylight when your shades were up. but he didn’t, so you were safe.

—

looking at the message taped to his window, you wrote back.

you were sitting on the carpet floor of the living room when jeno finally saw you; specifically your side profile but he wasn’t complaining. you were doing the same thing he was that morning— the marker cap in your mouth with your brows furrowed.

he then saw your face when you sat up and got the roll of tape to stick on the glass. and you too, saw him looking at you with a smile on his face. your jaw was slightly dropped and the cap of the marker fell from your mouth as the boy laughed at your expression, then he waved. your eyes were opened wide and you shyly waved back.

jeno read over the note you just wrote. ‘hi i’m y/n (sorry this whole thing was so weird but my cat would not stop meowing at yours) but we could meet at the park? if you’d like?’ he smiled even more as he read over your writing. jeno nodded and asked ‘is it okay if we meet now?’ to which you shook your head ‘yes’ and were on your way to the nearest park (which was a measly three minute walk from your apartment.) then, you realized you never specified a park and just hoped he came to this one.

your hands were in your pockets as you awkwardly looked around to see the cute boy that lived across the street. he came up from behind you and greeted, “hi, i’m jeno.”

upon the sudden talk, you slightly jumped and turned around as he laughed again, his eye smile on full display.

the two of you walked around the park and conversed for what seemed like a couple minutes. but after you exchanged numbers and arrived home, you realized you had been at the park for a good hour and a half. holy shit.

you found out a little bit more about lee jeno. he was allergic to cats yet he still adopted three (which was beyond the epitome of cute), that he also moved to the city around a year ago, and that you two were attending the same nine a.m. class. you two had so much in common, huh?

arriving home to his apartment, jeno laid on his bed with his hand over his heart. it was beating fast. who knew his cats would bring him someone so attractive?

just as he was thinking about you, seol jumped on his bed and knocks were heard from his front door. he rolled his eyes and got up from his bed, it was his best friends staying for the night. it was a friday, after all.

while hanging with his best friends he decided to message you to see what was popping i hate that i said that lmao. and through the next two movies, jeno was not paying attention. he’d look to see what was happening here and there but always trained his eyes back to his phone.

“ayy why are you on your phone?” teased jaemin and hyuck.

“yeah, who are you texting this time at night?” said mark and jisung.

“and why are you texting someone?” poked chenle and renjun.

none of these questions were barely answered because jeno was too busy smiling at his screen. but then mark looked over his shoulder to see that jeno was texting you.

“ayyy, who’s y/n?” mark raised his voice and hit jeno’s strong bicep. just as your name exited mark’s mouth, jaemin’s eyes lit up and knew who you were.

“oh my god, that’s soojin’s new neighbor!” he shouted and stood up from the couch.

“jeno’s got a (boy)girlfriend! jeno’s got a (boy)girlfriend! jeno’s got a (boy)girlfriend!” the six boys jumped from their seats and chanted. renjun then reminded them that you lived across the street and they ran to the window to see if you were there. unfortunately for them, your shades were closed and the only thing they were able to see was bomi.

“hey doesn’t that cat kinda look like seol?”

the next day (after his friends had left), jeno invited you to come to his apartment so that bomi could meet his three cats, two which you agreed and packed whatever bomi needed. you weren’t going to stay there long, right?

—

when bomi met bongshik, nal, and seol, the four of them kicked it off nicely. there was no hissing nor scratching and it made both you and jeno happy to see that your cats were getting along after never having a meeting. so while your cats played around in jeno’s apartment, he offered to let you stay for dinner. you were hesitant at first but agreed as he ordered some soju and chicken. predictable.

to you, jeno was being nice. though he was cute, you didn’t really know who he was and so you didn’t have a reason to catch feelings for him. but to jeno, you were more of a crush. not a big one since you both just met, but a tiny one. he knew you were a good person at heart and he couldn’t help the little emotions that he felt in his chest.

—

after many play dates between your pets, you did actually start to form feelings for lee jeno and he finally had the guts to ask if you wanted to go on a date.

“i thought you would never ask.”

and though it all deemed impossible and like a fairytale, you were glad you spoke up that day. because in the end, you got a boyfriend that was loving, and your cats had each other to play with.

[writingsbychlo]

starry night | chris beck

word count; 9241

summary; chris beck delivers flowers to you five times.

notes; this was originally called ‘candy cane lane’, but I changed it up a little.

warnings; none!

When Chris had started working in a flower shop, it was to pay his way through college. He was getting a degree in medicine and it wasn't cheap, and he needed a simple and easy way to make cash that wouldn't take too much out of him. He wasn’t big on anything social, and so working in a bar or restaurant didn’t seem like the best fit, and unfortunately for him, all the library jobs had been snapped up at the beginning of the year. Supermarkets were a no go, he hated the people that came through and how rude some of them could be, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to get a job in a coffee shop.

Working those machines might as well be rocket science.

The little flower store on the end of his campus road had been hiring, and eventually, he’d become desperate. It wasn’t his usual gig, he wasn’t sure how he felt about it, to begin with, but it offered decent money, reasonably flexible hours, and the boss actually let him study on shift when it was quiet, and so it actually gave him more free time than he had before getting a job.

Then, he’d started to warm up to it. It was always cool in the summer and warmer in the winter, keeping it temperate for the plants, and it always smelt good. He made friends with a man named Mark who came in every so often to buy new plants to study, he was becoming a botanist, and they bonded over the serene quietness of flower shops for studying and bad jokes.

Little old ladies pinched his cheeks, the tips were good, and it helped him clear his thoughts to be able to do menial tasks like spray the flowers with water every other hour to keep them wet enough, and to sit behind the cash registers. It was a simple Christmas present from said botanist friend that really inspired his passion, though. More of a gag gift, he was sure that was its intention, but he’d started to take it seriously. Chapter after chapter on the meanings of flowers, how to send hidden messages through plants, and something about the way of communicating in ways other than words had spoken to him.

After that, he’d been able to offer a service of sending messages through flowers. He’d become a more popular salesperson, and he’s shifts had increased, and he loved doing it. He loved the physical way that a message could be conveyed, beautiful explosions of colour to mean ‘I love you’ or ‘Happy Anniversary’, and so he’d started to invest his time in that. Nobody had been all that surprised when the older man who ran the shop had left it to him when he passed, not even Chris himself, and so he’d finished up his degree and started working at the flower shop full time.

Mark had taken on a part-time job there, as well as his internship in a clinical research lab, and they’d hired an extra hand at the register. It made him happy.

Less so, when he had an influx of orders overnight, and instead had to focus on building bouquets to be shipped instead of the garden expansion he was making, but happy nonetheless.

He was twenty-seven custom orders in, Mark already out running the standard bouquets for delivery, and he was stacking them by the garage door, wrapped in ribs and pretty vase-boxes, all ready to go. Licking the tip of his finger to flick the paper over, he let out a sigh, two sets of flowers on one page, his rows raising. It wasn’t unusual for there to be multiple sets on one order form, but as his eyes scanned over the list of preferences, scents and colours, as well as the messages they were wishing to convey, one of his brows rose up.

One request for the pretty set of pink roses and lilies that he’d loving crafted himself, a collection of flowers that signified an apology, and he was always happy to offer advice to any guys who came into the store to buy that set. It was usually a guy fresh to a relationship, messed something up by refusing to unfollow another girl on Instagram, or just saying the wrong thing in front of his friends, introducing a girl as his friend, that one always made him giggle. The second was curious, though, and it made his lips quirk up in a slight smirk at the insinuation of it. Red roses and tulips, a darker and more seductive bunch; new beginnings and early love, and he was willing to place his last dollar on it being an affair.

It felt even more sure when he noticed that the delivery address was that of an office block, and not a home address, a man’s name instead of a woman’s. In the personal notes section, there were no names, and so that was an option ruled out for getting to the bottom of the situation, but he wrote out gift cards, one with swirling writing for a heartfelt apology and the other with a sickly-sweet pick-up line and what he assumed to be an inside joke.

Curled ribbons and plastic wrapping, and the two bouquet were standing side by side for delivery, the van chugging as it was pulled back into the driveway, reversed up, and his blond-haired friend rounding the vehicle, looking utterly worn out, and it was only halfway through the day.

“You’d think it was Valentine’s Day, or something. This is crazy, it’s November!”

He took off his cap, running a hand over his hair and scratching lightly at his scalp, before placing the embroidered garment with the company logo back onto his head. “I’ve got something that’ll cheer you up!”

“Oh, yeah? Is it the rest of the day off?”

“Uh, no.” He deadpanned, his friend laughing as he came to stand by him, and he motioned towards the collection. “However, it is a rather exciting combination. These two-” He tapped at the boxes holding them firm at the base. “-are going to the same place.”

“And that is exciting why, exactly?”

“Because one is supposed to symbolise asking for forgiveness and all that, and the other symbolises new love and beginnings and all that. They’re being delivered to an office block, not a home address.” It took Mark a minute to process it, and Chris watched the gears turn in his friend’s head, before his jaw was dropping, and he let out a disbelieving laugh.

“Oh, and you think it’s a.. y’know.” He only nodded, and he began to load up the other orders into the van, a printout sheet of new addresses and order numbers on the tags, the delivery sheets loaded onto a clipboard to be signed for at each location. The empty van was once again teeming with bright flowers and artfully arranged bundles. Securing them all down and making sure they wouldn't tip over or get crushed during the ride there, he was confident they were ready to go, almost all of them set up, before he was staring at the two he’d recently made once again, his curiosity getting the better of him. “You want me to try and find out while I’m there?”

He almost agreed, it would have been so easy, a simple way to put his questions to rest, but he was invested in it now, and so he already knew what was coming. “No, I’ll deliver these ones myself.

Mark only nodded, slamming and locking the back of the van doors, double-checking the hatches for fresh air were open to stop them from wilting in transit, and then he was back up into the main cabin. The loud sounds of disco music exploding from the van radio as he started it back up, reversing from the driveway and setting off on his next round of deliveries.

Scooping up the first set in his arms, Chris patted down his pockets in search for his keys, finding them in his left side back pocket, unlocking his car with a click of a button, and setting the first batch on the passenger seat. The second soon followed, and he used the seatbelt to secure them in place, rolling the windows down as he set off, programming the address into his SatNav.

It was a short drive, twenty minutes maximum, even with traffic, the tall and shining office building one that he was vaguely familiar with towards the inside of the city, harsh rays of winter sun reflecting off of clean glass windows, all the way up to the top floor, and it was so tall that as he stared at it, he swore the building was swaying. With a bouquet in each arm and the clipboard tucked under one, he backed his way through the polished glass doors, a company insignia printed onto the glass, and he almost wanted to check his shoes for traces of at the appearance of the clean white lobby.

Large tiles of marble flooring, specks of grey flickering throughout them, and white leather couches along some of the walls on one side of the lobby, a waiting room. The other had various coffee and tea machines, recyclable cups and sugar packets, as well as a range of fruits and muffins, and he wanted to scoff a little at the ostentatious nature of it all. The desk was empty as he finally approached, though he could hear chatter in the background, behind reflective glass panels that he couldn’t see through, one-way glass he assumed, and as he balanced the bouquets up on the counter, an older woman, approaching her fifties he presumed, came out, a wide smile on her face as she brushed down the material of her skirt.

“My, my, aren’t those beautiful? Unfortunately, I don’t think they’re for me.”

“Well, ma’am, unless you’re a ‘Mr Robert McKinley’, I’d have to agree.” She chuckled, nodding her head as she looked at them before picking up the phone, and typing in an extension. Lifting it to her ear, she balanced it there against her shoulder, smiling at him once again.

“I’ll just have his assistant come down to collect them and sign for them for you, lovely.” He nodded his head, turning away to be polite as she chatted away on the phone for only a moment, confirming that there was a package to be sorted out, and he twisted back to look at her as she put the phone down. Manicured nails tapped at the desk for only as second, an awkward silence forming, and one of the elevators let out a small ‘dinging’ sound as it was clicked into use, the numbers on the screen above the floor counting down, coming all the way from the twenty-eighth floor. “Would you like a candy?”

He jumped a little, turning back to look at the woman who had now sat down a little distance from him, behind the computer at the desk, and she turned to him, raising up a bowl of neatly wrapped candies, and placing it up on the glass counter for him to reach. He didn’t, but she was staring at him expectantly, and so he plucked the first one from the bowl, offering her a simple nod of his head, and tucking it into the pocket on his shirt.

When a chime sounded throughout the lobby, the sound echoing off of every hard surface, Chris’ attention was drawn to the clicking of heels on the smooth stone flooring. A pretty blouse that looked like it cost more than his entire outfit and a fitted pencil skirt that was sitting just below your knees, your were a professional vision. Except, your hair was a little messy, and there was a wide grin on your face as you typed rapidly on your phone, not even needing to look up to do the walk, but your expression made you look much more approachable than the usual businesswoman.

You clicked off your phone only a few feet away from him, looking up as your gaze went straight to the flowers at his side instead of him, but it gave Chris the chance to take you in just for a moment, and fully observe you, Up close, you were even prettier, soft skin and pretty hair that shined under the lights, and whatever the shade of lipstick was that you were wearing was perfect, because it suited you like it had been made for you.

You reached out, straight past him for a second, and the receptionist gasped, reaching for the bowl of candy, but you were quicker, your hand scooping up a little collection of the sweets and pulling them back, a sound of victory sounding from you, and she mumbled under her breath playfully, rolling her eyes and threatening to start hiding the treats before she ran out, but you only chuckled, unwrapping one and placing it against your tongue, lips brushing your fingers as you turned to him, and he forced his eyes away from your mouth, a blush on his cheeks.

“Oh, wow. Check these out.” You turned to the receptionist, motioning to them, and she only nodded her head, the sounds of a printer firing up in the back room, and she disappeared to collect the sheets, leaving the pair of you alone. “For Mr McKinley?”

You leaned over the counter, snatching up a pen from the other side, and he only nodded, producing the collection sheet, and pointing out the spot that needed singing, the scraping of the pen on paper filling the silence as you signed in both boxes, handing it back to him and tucking the pen behind your ear. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Fire away.” You grinned, unwrapping another candy, leaving the wrapper on the glass alongside the other one, a cheeky move he was sure you’d get reprimanded for by the receptionist who kept a beautifully organised and clean desk and foyer.

“There are two bouquets here, both with flowers that have very different meanings. Can I ask why?”

You hummed, staring at him for a minute as you chewed slowly, before swallowing the sweet in your mouth and smirking slightly. “I’ll answer your question, but only if you answer mine first; what do the flowers mean?”

Chris grinned, unable to hold it in, because he loved getting to talk about his passions, especially when he could show off a little in front of a pretty lady, and he nodded his head. “Pink roses and lilies are an apology, but red roses with tulips are for new love.”

“And do you have any theories?”

“Just the one, but I’m waiting for it to be confirmed.” He chuckled a little at the devious look that flashed over your features as you pulled the red roses bundle toward you, nose pressed into them for a second as you inhaled deeply, a little sigh leaving you afterwards.

“I’m trusting you here, but you’re cute, so I’ll tell you.” Heat rushed to his cheeks, head ducking for just a second, before he was looking back up to catch your gaze, brows raised as he waited excitedly, leaning in to meet you as though a scandalous secret was about to be told, and he supposed that’s exactly what it was. “There’s another receptionist, and intern back in there, fresh out of college, just a year below me, and he’s definitely fucking her.” You tapped a finger against the red roses, before your gaze was flicking to the second bunch, still by his arm as he leaned on the counter. “However, a couple of days ago he had a lunch date scheduled with his wife, and he missed it. I couldn’t find him anywhere, and I couldn’t find the intern either. Not hard to connect the dots.”

“Oh, so he’s covering both of his bases?”

“For sure.” You grinned, backing up a little bit to grab the second bundle, and adjusting them in your arms for balance. “Angie had probably realised too, and dashed in there to tell the girl that she’s got flowers coming.”

You were making your way over to the elevators, and he followed after you, pressing the button to summon the lift, and it hummed to life behind closed metal doors. “You know, since we just became partners in crime, maybe I should get to know your name?”

“Well, that was smooth.” You laughed, the doors opening up, and you stepped inside, placing one bouquet on the floor at your feet and holding onto the other. You caved, giving him your name as he placed his hand over the door to stop them from closing, ad he repeated the name to you, testing it on his tongue as he learnt it. He gave you his own in return when he asked, and when you said it back, his smile widened, already liking the way his name sounded coming for you.

You typed a code into the pad on the wall of the elevator, the screen flashing green as your programming was accepted, and he stepped back, grinning as you waved your fingers at him, the doors closing as you disappeared from view. He snatched up his clipboard on the way out, unable to contain the smile on his face.

Chris Beck hated making deliveries, but this one hadn't been so bad.

There was a genuine smile on his face as he stepped through the glass doors of the lobby, smaller and simpler bouquets this time, both matching and nothing special, but he’d tasked himself with delivering them personally because he’d recognised the name and address immediately, his encounter with the cute assistant he’d met only two weeks prior flashing through his mind as he’d insisted on delivering this order himself, Mark smirking and helping him gather the flowers as soon as he’d spilled all about you.

Now, he had two sets of pretty pink flowers in different shades, and a single red rose in a sleek plastic wrapping, all wraith ribbons wrapped around them were bundled in one arm, the other holding onto his clipboard, and the desk was once again empty as he approached. A bell, sleek and shining silver, and it was a new addition, definitely not present last time, and he eyes it suspiciously for a moment, before pressing a finger against the top lightly, just twice, a little ringing sounding out around the lobby.

A head of curly hair popped out from around the glass, much younger than the previous assistant, and wearing a much tighter skirt, and she grinned widely as she stepped forwards. He couldn’t deny that she was beautiful, fiery red hair and a wide smile, lips painted with red lipstick, and she seemed sweet, but far too intimidating for him to ever consider. Her heels were so tall that he wondered how she even walked in them, long and thin points creating the stilettos.

“Flowers?”

There was an eager tone to her voice, and he put the pieces of the puzzle together, assuming this to be the intern, his eyes flicking down to her name badge for a second, reading it as ‘Clara’. “For Mr McKinley. Is his assistant free tom come and sign for them?”

The woman paused, rolling her lips a little and nodding her head, a coy look on her features before sitting down in the chair and spinning in it to face the phone, lifting it up to her ear and dialling a short connection number. He didn’t seem to need to wait long, before she was summoning you, a ‘flower delivery’ to be claimed, and she was far too excited, only confirming his doubts that this was definitely the mistress. “She’ll be right down.”

“Fantastic.” He wasn’t sure she even processed his words, before her eyes were closing in on the flowers, and he ignored it, turning back to look at the elevator, waiting for the number on the twenty-eighth floor to light up, a number flashing over the screen. It paused on its descent this time, stopping at the eighteenth floor, and then again at the twelfth, and he assumed that somebody else had joined the journey for a short while.

When the doors finally opened, you weren’t built typing away this time, a grin on your face as your eyes swept over the entrance for him, and he waved his fingers again, straightening up from the desk.

“It’s my partner in crime, back again.”

“Missed you too much, just had to return.”

“Of course, you did, because I’m awesome.” You came to a stop before him, peering up at him through bright eyes, and he swallowed thickly, a little nervous but very excited, and he tried to remember any of what Mark had taught him, his friend being far better with the women than he was, and everything from the last-minute crash course he’d been given upon leaving the shop forty-five minutes ago seemed to have gone blank. “So, what really brings you here today?”

You gasped a little as he shifted to show you the collection, sliding the clipboard closer, and you were presented with a pen from him, floral patterning woven along the body, your thumb clicking it on to sign for them. When you passed it back, you shared a look with him, both of your glances flicking over to the intern who was still admiring the flowers, completely oblivious.

“Hey, Clara?” Her head snapped up, pale skin heating with colour as she flushed, and he suppressed a chuckle. “Mr McKinley is in meetings all afternoon, but he’ll want to approve these flowers. Can you put them in water, and I’ll call to have them sent up when he’s ready?”

She only nodded, more than happy to take a gift that she knew one of was for her into the back, hands reaching over to gather them all up. He almost missed it, watching as all of the flowers were taken, too busy watching the way you rolled your eyes at her when she looked away, fond but still a little cool, and he bit at the inside of his cheek to contain his amusement. It was just as she was leaving that his mind cleared, and he cleared his throat.

“Wait, wait, hold on!” She turned back, brows raised, and he reached over, letting her take a step forwards so that he could reach, plucking the single rose from where it was laying over the top of the two. “This, uh, this is actually for you.”

He presented it to you, your eyes widening a little, and you looked between him and the flower several times. His heart was in his throat, worry you were going to reject it, before you were giving him a different smile than he had seen yet, something softer and more endearing, and you plucked it from his hands, bringing it to your nose. “You’re just a big flirt, huh, Chris?” Your eyes fluttered for a moment, before you were looking back up to him through your lashes. “Thank you.”

“It’s no problem, honestly. I own the shop, the least I can do is give my partner in crime a pretty flower.”

You scoffed, but it was out of friendship and playfulness, not judgement or rejection, and silence fell between you both once again. The plastic in your hands wrinkled as you twirled it, wrapping the curled ribbon around your finger for a second, and letting it jump back into place when you let it go. “You busy? Got a packed store to run back to?”

Your question caught him off-guard, and he struggled to find words for a second, before clearing his throat and shaking his head. “No, uh, no. Clear day, actually. This was the last order.”

“So, you’re free for an hour or so?” Chris nodded his head, licking at his lips as he became a little nervous once again. “Well, why don’t I give you a tour? We’ve got some pretty cool stuff here, and I’ll fix you up with a drink from the coffee bar before you go.”

“This building has a coffee bar?”

“You bet it does.” You teased, turning on your heel as you took his question as acceptance, and he scooped up the clipboard, following after you as you made your way to the elevator, and this time when it opened, he stepped inside with you. As soon as the keypad lit up, prompting you to enter your four-digit authorisation code and make a floor selection, and you paused, finger hovering over the electronic selections. “What do you wanna’ see first, then?”

“You got an office?”

“I sure do.” You grinned, tapping for the twenty-eighth floor, and the machinery soon hummed into life, gears jerking smoothly into motion and soft music playing over the speakers in the background.

The ride was quiet, and he twisted his head as though the walls were interesting, just to take them in and hide the expression on his face as he watched you twirl the rose he’d given you between your fingers. There was a tag, one that he hadn't yet seen you read, and while all it contained was his number and a sign of his name, he was still a little nervous for your reaction to it, so he was glad to watch you place it onto your desk to be returned to later as you showed him around.

The building truly was impressive, large floor to ceiling glass windows on one wall of your office, staring out at the city below and giving a view so stunning and far that he could see all the way out to where the concrete faded away into greenery along the horizon, and he was a little taken aback by it all. Dipping the rose into a mug of water from the office kitchen, you promised to transfer it to a vase when you got home that evening, and you showed him all around.

Up and down on the elevator, proudly showing him every aspect of your workplace, and somewhere between the in-house gym and the coffee bar you’d boasted of in the staff food courts, you’d made him promise a tour of the flower shop sometime.

Way over an hour had passed in total, and he would’ve been more than happy to let that go on and on, for the rest of the day until the sun was setting, just to sit on the stools at the high tables at the coffee bar, getting refills on his coffee as he watched you drink herbals teas and chat about everything you got up to in the day, but your boss was paging you again to ask where you were, and he had his own job to return to at some point. You seemed hesitant at first, but had eventually divulged him with a guest security code for the elevator, logging him under your name, so that in future, he would be able to bring the flowers straight upstairs to you, and come and see you whenever he stopped by.

With a to-go cup in hand that had your number written on the cardboard holder, you’d escorted him all the way back to the lobby, pressing a friendly kiss to his cheek as he stepped between the doors, waving a little with what he knew was a goofy smile, waiting until he could no longer see you as the metal doors slid shut to reflect his image back at him, before he was bidding the two women at the reception desk a goodbye, and pretending not to know that they were eavesdropping, because he was floating far too high to care right now.

Chris hadn't been surprised at all when the next batch of flowers had come through, because you’d told him days prior that he could be expecting another batch of apology flowers to come through. Your work had been busy lately, you’d told him so yourself the few weeks that had slid past since you’d exchanged numbers had been filled with an abundance of texts.

Sharing texts had rapidly become phone calls in downtime, exchanging social media and sending one another dumb jokes and funny pictures throughout your workdays. He knew that your job had been getting harder lately, the run down to Christmas making everything a little more difficult, and that you’d been swept off of your feet because your boss had been, too. Eight-hour shifts had become twelve, day through to night, never seeing the light of a winter day unless it was through the windows of your office as you worked, and he had a sympathetic guilt twisting in his gut.

Two bouquets to make up for the lack of time that your boss had been able to spare for either of the women in his life and you’d looked positively exhausted as you came out of your office to greet him at the top of the elevator. You had a frown on your face that barely lifted into a smile as you saw him, even though he knew you were happy to catch sight of him. The usual shade of lipstick that projected boldness and power was gone, your face free of makeup entirely, and styled hair now just pulled up into a bun.

He wondered how long it had been since you’d had a full night’s sleep.

“Hey, sweetheart. How’re you feeling?” You only shook your head, sniffling a little as you suppressed a yawn, before taking one of the bouquets from his arms, and inspecting it carefully.

“These are beautiful.”

“I put a little extra ribbon on them, just for you.” He winked, and that had earned him a little chuckle, glancing at him over your shoulder as he followed you through to your office, and placing them down on the cabinet near the doorway to be distributed when your boss had a free second to look at them. Chris felt his own eyes widen in shock as he looked around, the stacks of paperwork littered around the surfaces were astonishing, and there was other mess scattered among that.

Stationary littered the desk, clearly trying to get everything sorted, and almost every draw in the room was half-open, your heels kicked off by the edge of the desk and there was a clear spot against one of the walls where you’d been sitting, a patch clear with papers spread out around you, wording and statements on them that made his head spin as he looked at them. Business definitely wasn’t his forte.

You rubbed a hand over your forehead, cursing a little as you tried to find a pen that wasn't a highlighter, and he didn’t miss the crack in your voice as you scoured the paper stacks. Leaning down to pick one up from the dropped pen pot on the floor, and offering it to you. A little sigh passed your lips, before you were taking it from him, clicking it into action and signing your name on both of the forms to confirm the delivery, a simple ritual of habit by this stage, as he knew that even if you didn’t he wasn’t risking any legal action from you.

You rubbed a hand over your forehead afterwards, rolling your shoulders and shaking yourself down as you tried to hit that reset button on your mood, but it wasn't working, it didn’t take a genius to see it, and so he reached out, placing a comforting squeeze to your forearm, fingers slipping a little lower to latch onto your wrist loosely.

“Okay, you’re a little overwhelmed in here, huh?” You let out a weak laugh, glancing around yourself and nodding. “It’s time for a break. Take your lunch break now, we’re getting out of here.”

“I can’t leave, I have too much to do. I’ll just get something from the food courts, a sandwich, maybe.” You slumped down into your desk chairs, the wheels on it carrying you backwards slightly, and he placed his hands on his hips, shaking his head at you.

“You have to go. It’s doctor’s orders.”

“Which doctor?” You scoffed, rolling your eyes at him, and he gasped a little, hands finding your own and pulling you to your feet, despite the whine that you let out.

“This doctor. I went to medical school, I get to give the orders. You, my dear, need one hour of rest and relaxation from your workplace, stat.” You started up at him for a second, seeming to weigh it out in your mind, but he wasn’t backing down, and he swore he saw that realisation click within your eyes, because you caved.

Slipping your heels on and grabbing your jacket from the back of the door, you logged your timeout of the building in the lobby with Angie, who cooed at you a little as she watched you go, a pitiful look on her face as she knew just how hard you were working too, before his hand was settling on your lower back.

A ten-minute walk, finding a table in a small pizzeria on the corner of a street, one that he’d been dying to try for months now, and a quick order, and you were slumping down tiredly against the table. The workload always increased at Christmas, sales shot through the roof, all the expansions of your company were filing for Christmas bonuses, parties, annual reports and then, of course, there were the usual rises and falls in statistics over the year that needed to be dealt with.

It was chaotic, to say the least.

Over a hot and freshly baked pizza, your selection of toppings, and a soda that made you wrinkle your nose from the fizziness within, you looked like there was a little more life within you when you’d been leaving.

You spilled it all to him, telling him every struggle you’d been facing, and while he didn't understand half of what you were saying, he was more than happy to just to listen. He couldn't offer much advice, or anything of the sort that might be helpful, but it seemed that just being able to talk to someone had made the day a little brighter.

The chill in the air and the biting winds had made you wrap your coat around yourself even tighter on the walk back to your work, but there was more of a pep in your step and a lighter tone to your voice, a little more chipper and slightly less drained as you began to make your way back across the carpark. His arm was sitting around your waist, keeping you pulled up to his side against the cold of the winter. Instead of guiding you over to the door, though, his first stop was his car, ensuring that you couldn't see what he had placed on the passenger seat until he was ready for you to see it.

Leaning yo back against the cold metal, he unlocked the car, making you promise to cover your eyes, and while making a few jokes about how you were sure this was how friendly guys would kidnap a girl, you did as he’d asked. You gasped a little at the rustling of fabric in the wind and under his hands, seeming to guess what it was before ever seeing the gift, because a wide smile spread over your features.

“Is that what I think it is?”

“Depends, what do you think it is?” He teased, making you wait a little longer, and you dragged your lower lip through your teeth, a hopefully look spreading over what half of your face he could actually see.

“Flowers, maybe?”

“Then you would be correct!” Your hand fell away from your eyes, taking a second to blink back into adjustment of the rays the winter sun gave off, before you were brightening up even further at the bundle he was holding in his hands.

Soft petals in different shades of yellow, some duller and some standing out to shine like the sun, but it was a stunning bunch all over, and he’d been sure to pick the freshest and best-looking plants from each pot as he built the bouquet especially for you before leaving for his delivery. He let you stare at them for a second, running a finger over some of the petals, sniffling the collection carefully, and admiring each individual plant, before finally looking back up to him, a brow raising as you waited for an explanation on the plants.

“I just thought yellow was a bright colour. Nothing particularly special about these ones, I wanted to cheer you up.”

He scratched nervously at the back of his neck, and you hummed happily, bringing them up to admire once again, before letting out a happy little sound from the back of your throat, one that made his cheeks flush with embarrassed warmth, bringing a pink tinge to the pale skin. “Don’t yellow roses mean friendship?”

His stomach dropped a little, but he swallowed thickly, and nodded. He was impressed that you knew that, a random fact to know, but he almost felt like he was being friend-zoned by the statement, even though he was the one who’d given you the flowers. It was only a few days ago that he’d realised he might have feelings that weren’t going away any time soon, the original fascination and infatuation was becoming something a little deeper, he often found himself thinking of you when he was at work and filling or orders, or at home cooking, or even letting his morning coffee. You seemed to be on his mind a lot nowadays, and he was beginning to regret the yellow rose choice, worried he’d sent the wrong message. How ironic.

“Well, I’m really glad you consider us friends, Chris. I think you’re great, and I hope we’re friends for a long time.”

He tried to contain his disappointment, nodding his head as he stuffed his hands into his pockets. Walking you up to the front door, both of the receptionists made a point of fawning dramatically over the flowers in your arms as you signed back in, exactly an hour later and perfectly on time for the end of your lunch break, but with a lot more joy and a rejuvenation for the work you were doing, enough to carry you through the rest of your day.

Standing at the elevator and waiting for it to arrive, his cheeks were warm enough as it was, the attention you were getting front he not-so-discreet spying of the receptionists making him even more nervous, but if Angie and Clara were watching then that's their choice, because he didn’t have much left to lose, now.

Cupping your cheeks in his hands, he made sure that you were looking at him, a soft and shy smile on your lips as he thumbs smoothed over your skin, trying to reassure you without using words. “Chin up, sweetheart. You’re gonna’ be just fine, okay?”

“Okay, Chris.” You nodded your head, words whispered as you agreed with him, and when he pulled you a little closer, you tipped your head to meet him, his lips pressing to your forehead in a tender kiss, his heart leaping in his chest as you did. The elevator dinged, and he snapped away from you, both of you lingering for a moment longer, something unspoken laying between you, but it was broken as a colleague stepped out of the box, excusing himself as he squeezed past you, and the moment was over.

Waving goodbye, he wiggled his fingers in response to you, and he took a moment to himself to steady his racing heart once the doors had closed with you inside. He bid his farewell to the two women ogling him with wide eyes from behind the desk, trying not to let his nervousness show, to be confident like Mark had taught him to be, and it lasted all the way to the car, before he broke it with a ragged sigh and a little cheer to himself, immediately dialling his best friend on the car’s phone as he pulled out of the parking lot.

It was the kind eyes of Angie that met him as he stepped into the building, palms sweating a little and a shake to his breath, and the flowers in his arms were practically vibrating with nerves as he approached the front desk. Placing them down on the glass surface, she admired them quietly, taking a look at them all before he was being offered the candy dish that she usually had hidden, and he took a peppermint gratefully, red and green swirls along it through the clear wrapping, the festive theme of the late December days was shining through.

“Only the one bouquet this time?”

“They, uh, they aren’t for Mr McKinley.” He mumbled, unwrapping the hard sweet and shoving it wrapped into his pocket, placing the treat on his tongue and sucking on it lightly for something to do, sweetened mint flavours exploding over his senses.

“Oh, so these are a pretty bouquet for our lovely (Y/N), then?”

He could only nod, wondering absently whether or not sweat was beginning to physically show through his shirt, and just how fast his heart was going, because he felt like he was about to pass out. “I think she’s in a meeting right now, but I can get them sent up for her, if that works for you, my dear?”

“Can I just go and drop them off in her office? It’ll make a nice surprise for her to come back to.”

She considered it for a moment, mulling over the security risk and all other options, and he was ready to give up, before she eventually agreed. “Alright, but only if you tell me about the flowers. She’s been telling me all about the pretty bouquet you make with meanings, even showed me your website.”

“She did? She does?”

Pride flushed through his system at that knowledge, and Angie seemed to pick up on it, her face cracking in an even wider smile. “Yes, and they were all beautiful, but I don’t remember this set on there.”

“It’s new, I made it. It’s a personal one, I suppose.”

“It got a name, yet?” He mulled it over, staring down at the pretty bunch in his hands. Dark shades of blue and black, splashes of purple that were speckled with white, and he decided it resembled the night sky rather nicely.

“What do you think of ‘Starry Night’?”

“Very fitting.” She confirmed, and his heart managed to slow a little in his chest as at least one thing on his to-do list became sorted. “So, blue roses, but what are the rest?”

“They would be black pansies and gypsophila.” She hummed, continuing to fix him with that curious gaze, and he knew that wasn't going to cut it. “The blue roses are for mystery, and gaining the impossible. I dye them myself. Black pansies mean broken love, which, I guess isn’t totally suitable here, but combined with the gypsophila, it’s more like the chance of a new beginning, and not necessarily unrequited feelings.”

“You really like her, huh?”

“That obvious?” He grinned, knowing that his feelings may as well be lit up with a neon sign above his head. “You’ll get them to her after her meeting, then?”

“Of course, I will.” She took them over the desk, writing down a memo on her notepad so that she didn't forget, and he watched as the pretty bundle was carried away. “Did you leave a card, or do you want to write a note?”

“Just tell her to text me if she likes them?” She beamed, nodding her head, and he backed away, turning on his heel, a little disappointed that he didn’t get to give them to you himself, but simultaneously relieved at the fact, because he could feel his pulse racing right to the tips of his fingers with how intense it was.

You’d clearly had a busy day, because it wasn’t until Chris was shutting up shop that he finally felt his phone buzz, doing his last check over of all the systems and machines, when a text from you came in, diverting every ounce of attention that he had.

[stardust 🌌 ✨] so, do these flowers have a hidden meaning, or did you just put them together because they look good?

He grinned at his phone, shaking his head slightly as a laugh left his lips, and he leaned on the wall, fingers hovering over the keyboard as he thought out his response.

> a little bit of both.

It was a few minutes before you replied, this time, a photograph coming through, of you carrying your flower out of the building, setting off towards the elevators from your office, if he was depicting the background correctly.

[stardust 🌌 ✨] gonna tell me what it is, or do I have to google it?

He paused, not quite having got that far, and the relief of not having to explain his feelings or you before had drowned out the fact that he’d have to tell you at some point, and his heart was leaping into his throat.

He gave himself a minute, checking over the locks and windows to make sure everything was sealed up, setting the thermostat and setting the alarm, not yet activating it, but making sure that everything was done, right down to holding his keys for the main door in his hands. Locking up the building, he sealed down the metal guard, triple checking the padlock, and making his way to the car.

Engine on, heaters up, his lights being the last to flood the parking lot as he tried to man up, before finally bringing back up the unopened message, taking the notifications and opening his texts.

> long story short, I’m trying to ask you out. using flowers, because words normally fail me in times of importance.

He let out a slow breath, running a hand over his face and just hoping that it was acceptable, his phone buzzing before he’d even managed to start up the car property for his journey home. His hand hovered over where it was laying on the passenger seat, considering whether or not to pick it up, before forcing down his nerves and reaching for it.

[stardust 🌌 ✨] friday night work for you?

He stared at the message for a few seconds, confirming that they were real, and he wasn’t just making it up because it’s what he wanted to read, before letting out a loud and victorious set of cheers for only him to ever know about.

> I’ll pick you up from your work at 5.

Chris was sitting in one of the white leather chairs that had been scattered around the lobby, shifting slightly awkwardly, nerves getting the best of him. He knew you wouldn't stand him up, but as the clock ticked over past 5:10 PM, he worried a little that you were trying to find a way to let him down, having decided that you’d changed your mind on wanting to go out with him, and he tried to steady his nerves.

Brushing over the flowers in his hands, he adjusted his grip on them a little, not wanting the plastic to become damp with his sweaty palms, and swallowing thickly again. Finally, the elevator doors chimed, and he let out a nervous sigh, taking a deep breath and sliding his eyes shut as he calmed himself down, certain that his heart no longer had a rhythm and was just beating erratically and rapidly like the seismograph in a disaster movie.

Twisting his head a little, he let out a deep breath, watching as you came toward him, looking far more casual than he had ever seen you ever had before. Jeans and jumper, a striped scarf that looked suspiciously handmade in the sweetest of ways, and sneakers on your feet instead of heels, dropping your height down by a few inches, and he was so used to looking straight at you, never needing to look down, that it caught him a little by surprise.

“I’m sorry I’m late!” You looked a little flushed, sounded slightly out of breath, and he realised you must’ve been rushing, not stalling, and he felt a little calmer at that thought. Placing down the flowers on the chairs, he stood up properly, letting out a slow breath.

“Don’t worry about it. You look beautiful.”

“I thought I’d change, heels and pencil skirts are great for work, but not so comfy for a first date.” There was a bag on your arm, which he assumed your business-wear was stuffed in, and he gave himself a moment to take you in. He liked you better this way, you looked more like yourself, the version of you that he knew you to be from hours of late-night calls and texting, weeks of getting to know one another, both in-person and via messages, and the formal outfits he was so used to seeing you in were just a cover for the real you.

He realised he’d been staring too long, jumping slightly in his panic, before turning away and grabbing the bundle that he’d brought with him. “I brought you flowers. Not as special as normal guys, since I own the flower shop and it's not the first time, but I did create this bouquet design just for you.”

“I think it’s pretty special.” Your words were whispered, taking the bundle of flowers and bringing them into yourself to admire delicately, a combination of red and white roses, with green bells peppered throughout. “Okay, so, let me guess on this one.”

He only nodded his head, watching as you considered the bundle, licking over your lower lip and taking it hostage between your teeth as your thoughts whirled before his very eyes.

“White roses are innocence, right? Seems fitting for a first date. Red roses are romance, of course.” You smirked a little then, glancing up at him through your lashes, and he grinned, feeling totally at ease now that he was under your gaze. “What about the green ones?”

“Green bells. They’re for good luck.”

“Well, I don’t think you’ll need any luck, you’ve pretty much already got me wrapped around your little finger, Chris Beck.” You adjusted the flowers in your arms, taking his hand with your other one, and lacing your fingers together, and he squeezed back in security as heat flooded over his face in a warm blush. ���However, I do think it’s sweet, so I’ll accept it.”

“I wanted to do something Christmassy for you, but I didn’t want to go with any of the typical ones. Holly, mistletoe, poinsettia, they didn’t feel unique enough.”

“I don’t know, I think mistletoe can be good.” You leaned in a little, his brows raising slightly as your wide smile dimmed down, the humour of the moment changing, and his free hand found your waist, fingers playing with yours on the other, and he pulled you a little closer, taking the hint that you were laying down.

“Maybe just this once.” He teased, nose bumping against your own, and he could still taste the sweet honey on your breath from the herbal teas you were always concocting, warm breath shared between you. As your head twisted to close the gap, he became acutely aware of the lingering feeling of not being alone, the both of you jumping and snapping apart a little when the loud crashing of a mug on the floor sounded out loudly.

Two sets of voices cursing followed it, Angie’s and Clara’s heads both ducking down behind the desk as they looked at the mess on the floor, and his jaw dropped as he released the two had been watching on eagerly this whole time, and he’d been so wrapped up in you that he hadn't realised there’d been an audience all along.

He would’ve been embarrassed, had it not been for the way your face pressed into his shoulder as you tried to contain your laughs, and he found the amusement in it too, his arm slipping around your waist as he matched your laugher, shaking his head as he watched the two women try and clear up the split coffee and smashed mug.

“Hey, ladies, I’ll see you Monday!”

The popped back up, sheepish looks on their faces as they nodded, and he gave them both a little wave, letting you tug him along by the hand that was still connected to your own, towards the open doorway of the building, a chill rolling in. As you stepped out, a chill took over, and his hand slipped from yours to sliding around your waist instead, pulling you closer to him, and you guided him over to where your car was parked, and he was more than happy to simply follow.

“So, what do you have planned?”

“I thought something a little more relaxed would be fun. How do you feel about a tree lighting ceremony, and some street food?” You curled into him a little more, a happy sigh leaving you.

“Sounds perfect to me.”

Unlocking the car, he let you go, long enough to put your back in the trunk and lay your flowers out on the front seat, locking it back up as you deemed yourself ready to go. “Ready to go?”

“Yes, but just one thing, first. Something I’ve been waiting weeks for.”

His brows raised, lips parting to ask you waist it was, but your hand latched onto the front of his shirt, tugging him forward as you leaned up, and he groaned a little, a soft sound but vibrating through him as your mouth closed over his, soft and warm, lips pressing together, and a shock ran along his entire body. His hand slipped to your waist, one cupping your cheek as he pulled you a little closer, pressing you back into the car as your bodies came flush up together, and he felt like his legs were going to give out underneath him as you sighed out against his mouth, a breathy moan carried with it.

Twisting his head to the side, he barely pulled back for breath before he was diving right back into you, more confident and passionate this time with his movements. He took control, feeling the way you sagged into his hands as he did, lips working with yours in an intimate dance of their own making, slow and teasing movements, before finally he was pulling away, just far enough to press his forehead to your own as the two of you panted lightly, trying to catch your breath.

“Worth the wait?” He mused, feeling your breathless giggle wash over his lips, before you were leaning up just enough to peck his lips once more, and his lips were still pouted, chasing after you as you backed away for a second, before he was licking over them and cracking his eyes open to look at the adoring expression on your face.

“Definitely worth the wait.”

[twomoonstwosuns]

graduation.

back to you [series masterlist]

previous part · next part

pairing: professor!poe dameron x reader

warning: a swear word or two

word count: 3.3k

a/n: ok I have not proofread this, I wanted to get it up before I was out of town for the weekend! I hope you enjoy this, I can’t BELIEVE we’re almost at the end. 

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“Why are we standing outside the field house?”

“I’m watching them unload the truck. They’re hauling a thousand plus chairs into the football field for graduation tomorrow.”

You followed Jessika’s line of sight, watching as staff members moved rows of folded up chairs on dollies from the moving truck and into the back entrances of the football field. Jessika sighed heavily and you looked at her. 

“Reminiscing already? We haven’t even graduated yet.”

“I’m not reminiscing,” Jessika said, not taking her eyes off the movers as she sat down on the grass. “I’m wondering how anyone’s going to be able to understand anything that’s being said across an open football field.”

You snickered as you sat down next to her, watching as they finished unloading the first set of chairs. 

“What are you even doing here?” Jessika asked. 

“I was on my way back from dropping off a paper and I saw you.”

Jessika nodded, shifting so her legs were outstretched in front of her. 

“You ready for this?”

“Not at all. You?”

She shook her head. “Glad I’m not the only one.”

You bumped her shoulder against hers, a sign of support. 

Finals were done. Final papers turned in, exams taken, and anything you had checked out from the library as a resource was returned. Packing had already begun for Karé, who was beginning to move things into Snap’s apartment. The lease for your apartment was up in July, still a month and a half to figure things out. But while Karé knew what she was doing, you did not. 

You didn’t know what would happen when you moved out. Would you go home and live with your mom…almost an hour away from Poe? Or would you move in with him despite only being together for less than four months?

You didn’t know and it was making you anxious.

“Hey!”

Karé and Snap walked towards you hand-in-hand. 

“What’re you guys doing here?” Snap asked as they approached you, looking over towards the field where you were just looking. 

“Just…thinking about tomorrow,” you answered. “How’d you know we were here?”

“I used your location to find you.” Karé said. 

“Okay, creepy.”

“Well, it was better than calling you and saying ‘where are you, we need to tell you something’ because then you’d be worried.”

You glanced at Jessika, the both of you standing up. 

“Wait, what is going on?”

Snap sighed. “You remember that job I interviewed for at three weeks ago? I got it.”

“Snap! Congratulations!”

“They want to send me to their London office.”

Yours and Jessika’s smiles faltered. Snap looked at Karé and squeezed her hand. “We talked about it and we’ll be moving to London at the end of the summer.”

“Y—You’re moving?” Jessika asked quietly. Karé nodded.

“At the end of the summer. Which means we have three and a half months that we’re still here.”

You swallowed thickly and looked at Snap, who gave you a soft smile. 

“We’ll fly you guys out there anytime you want. They’re starting me at a high salary so I can afford it…you know, because I’m kind of a genius.”

You laughed and shoved his shoulder. “Yeah, for a guy who was late to pretty much every class, you did okay.”

Snap chuckled and shoved you back and you smiled sadly at him. 

“So?” Karé asked hesitantly. “What do you think?”

Jessika put her arm around Karé’s and put her head on her shoulder. “I think I miss you guys already.”

Karé held her arm out to you and you stood next to her, holding your own arm out for Snap. He stepped in, the four of you hugging each other like you’d never see each other again.

And so it hit a little harder when President Organa congratulated all of you and had you move your tassels to the other side of your caps. 

Black caps flew into the air as cheering filled the air. The bright sun shone down over a thousand new college graduates as they celebrated loudly and hugged their friends, their college careers now at an end. Friends and family members stood and applauded their loved ones, wiping tears away as they celebrated a major milestone. 

You hugged the friends that sat around you, the excitement and happiness eclipsing any other emotion you were feeling. Music started playing, a signal for the graduates to head out. You followed the line of black robes, looking amongst the stands for your Poe and your family, making eye contact with the latter and waving at them. The minute you got outside the football field, you thought up a meeting place for your friends to meet you for pictures and you grabbed your phone and texted both your family and Poe. 

I’ll meet you guys by the fountain in front of the field house for pictures!

“Y/N.”

It was the second time you’d heard his voice call your name at school in a matter of months, only this time it didn’t make you angry. When you turned and saw your father standing a few feet away from you with his hands in his pockets, you felt nervous.

“You made it,” you said, giving him a soft smile that he returned. 

“I did. Congratulations.”

“Thank you.” You took a step towards him, looking back at the direction in which you were just heading. “I’m, um…meeting everyone just over there if you want to follow me.”

“Actually, I was going to head out. I just wanted to see you before everyone else got here. We’re rebuilding our relationship and I want to take it slow, not put any pressure on you or make things more awkward.”

You nodded, the air around you becoming a little awkward. 

“The ceremony was nice,” he said, the small talk of strangers nearly making you laugh at how ridiculous it seemed. “Kind of slow, though.”

“Oh god, so slow.”

He chuckled, the sound warm, familiar, and full of memories of easier times. 

“So…how do you feel?”

You shrugged. “So far, if just feels like I’m going on summer break like I do every year. But I’m sure it’ll really hit me when I start working full time and when I don’t go back to school in the fall.”

“Do you have anything lined up yet?”

“Not yet, but I do have an interview on Thursday in Los Angeles.”

“I’m sure you’ll do great.”

A warm smile crossed your face and he reached inside his jacket pocket and pulled out an envelope.

“Um…this is for you.”

You took a few steps towards him, taking the envelope out of his hand and opening it. Inside was a check, the amount big enough to make your jaw fall to the floor. 

“I…I can’t take this…” You held the envelope and the check back out for him to take and he gently pushed it back towards you. 

“Not everyone gets a job right out of college, let alone one they love and want to make a career out of. You can pay off your student loans and the rest of it will make sure you’re comfortable doing whatever until you do find that job…so you can start your life.”

Your lip quivered and you looked up at him with tears in your eyes. “Dad…”

“I was going to give this to you on your wedding day, but with everything we went through this year, everything I’ve put you through…I felt this was the more appropriate time to give it to you.” You sniffled and he put his hand on your shoulder. “This isn’t a bribery to make you like me again and I know it can’t make up for the hell I put you through, but you deserve it. I am so, so proud of you and I love you very much. And I’m so sorry for hurting you.”

He was taken aback when you wrapped your arms around him but soon returned the hug, kissing the top of your head as a few tears trailed down your cheeks. You looked up at him and wiped a stray tear away. 

“Thank you.” 

He nodded and gave you a warm smile. Stepping back, you started to fan your face with your hand.

“Crap, I can’t remember if I put on waterproof mascara this morning.”

He chuckled, taking an opened pack of travel tissues out of his pocket. 

“I shed a few tears watching you walk across that stage,” he admitted as he took one of the tissues and dabbed under your eyes. “You did indeed put on waterproof mascara.”

You smiled as you wiped the remaining tears from your cheeks. He put the tissues back in his pocket and looked at his watch. 

“I should go, let you meet up with everyone. Coffee next week?”

“Friday morning ok?”

He nodded and you gave him another hug, kissing his cheek as you did. 

“I’m so glad you made it. And thank you so much for the gift. it’s…more than I think I deserve.” He put his hand on your cheek. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Y/N.”

He kissed your forehead before leaving and you watched him until he was lost amongst the bustle of 

students before continuing to the designated meeting place. Tallie and your mom were already there, looking around for you until they finally spotted you.

“There you are!”

You walked into your mom’s embrace, followed by Tallie, who’s seven month pregnant belly was making it a little harder to hug. When you pulled back, your mom put both your hands on your cheeks. 

“My baby all grown up and done with college!” You giggled and rolled your eyes playfully.

“Where’s Chris?”

“I sent him ahead to start getting things set up at the park,” Tallie said. “So…where’s the boyfriend? I’m dying to meet him.”

“He’s probably saying congrats to other students or talking to other professors. He’s a popular teacher. I told him we’d meet up here and if he misses us then to just come to the park.”

“‘Popular’, huh?”

“Shut up, Tallie.”

“Girls…” Your mother’s warning tone made you shut your mouth. Looking at Tallie, you muttered an apology and fiddled with the envelope in your hand, forgetting for a moment what it was. 

“Can you hang onto this for me?” You held the envelope out to your mom and she glanced at it as she took it. “It’s a gift. From dad.”

She smiled softly and placed it in her purse. “So he made it.”

You nodded. 

“And? How do you feel?”

“I feel….okay.” You smiled softly at the memory of the interaction that had happened just moments ago. “It felt normal. I hugged him, which I know doesn’t seem like a huge thing…”

“It is though,” Tallie said. “You really struggled with this. It’s a good first step.…” 

She trailed off in the middle of her sentence and you furrowed your brow. 

“Tal?”

“Okay, don’t look now, but there is a very handsome man looking at you and walking towards us.”

You looked where she was looking behind you and smiled when you saw the one other person you were waiting for.

“Excuse me a sec…”

You ran to Poe as fast as your wedges would let you and you jumped into his arms, hugging him tightly. He kissed you sweetly, knowing your family’s eyes were on you. You didn’t know if people around you were seeing you kiss your professor and gossiping. And quite frankly, you didn’t care if they were. You were too happy. Poe pecked your lips several times before setting you down.

“Congratulations, baby. Cum laude, huh?” he asked, smiling widely and tugging on the extra cord around your shoulders. You nodded bashfully. 

“Yeah…your girlfriend’s smart.” 

He chuckled. “Well, I knew that already. Guess I just didn’t know how smart.” 

You giggled as he flirted with you, the butterflies you felt in your belly the moment you met him still very alive. Tallie called your name and you glanced back at them, biting your lip nervously as they looked at you expectantly. 

“It’ll be fine, Y/N,” Poe said reassuringly, rubbing his hands up and down your arms. “Unless you want to wait.”

“No, I don’t. I’m just nervous….but let’s do it.”

You grabbed his hand and he gave it a reassuring squeeze as you walked over to your mom and sister. 

“Mom, Tallie, this is my boyfriend Poe.”

He smiled warmly and shook Tallie’s hand before your mom’s. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, I’ve heard so much about you.”

“Good things, I hope.”

“Nothing but good things.”

“Oh bull, I’m sure she’s bitched about me one time or another.”

You shot Tallie a look like ‘what the hell?’ and Poe chuckled. “Well, that’s what sister’s do, right? I’m an only child so I’m just assuming.”

Tallie smirked at him. “No, you’re right. I’m just giving her a hard time.”

You ran a hand down your face, your cheeks tinting red in embarrassment. The sound of your name made you turn your head and you saw Jessika, Karé, and Snap walking towards you. Your mother immediately opened her arms for your friends and hugged them tightly. 

“Can we do a few pictures here before we head over to the party?”

Your mother opened her mouth to answer but Tallie cut her off. 

“I’ll take them. Mom, you talk to Poe.”

You glared at her as Jessika pulled you over towards the fountain. As Tallie took pictures, you kept glancing at Poe talking to your mother and looking for any signs of disapproval. They smiled politely at each other and even laughed a little bit and the more they did it, the more you relaxed through your pictures. 

“So…” Tallie asked when she finished up taking pictures. “What are you and Poe doing now?”

You waved at your friends as they rejoined their families, promising to meet you at the park later for your party. “I don’t know.”

“Are you moving in with him?”

“Probably not. I don’t know.”

“What do you know?”

“I know I have a job interview in L.A. next week on the same day Poe has his job interview.”

“L.A. Really? Does Poe know?”

“Yes, he does.”

“What’re you going to do if you get it?”

“For god's sake Tallie, I don’t know. Enough with the interrogation.”

“I’m not interrogating, I’m just asking—“

“I literally just graduated, we don’t know what’s happening yet.”

“Girls…”

You sighed heavily and looked at your mom, who had interrupted her conversation with Poe to give you and Tallie a second warning tone. You weren’t interested in hearing a third one. Tallie’s phone pinged in her hand and she looked at it before looking at you and your mom. 

“It’s Chris, he says the food is just arriving, we should get going.”

“I’m gonna stop by my apartment and get different shoes but I’ll meet you guys there.” You looked at Poe, who took his car keys out of his pocket. “We’ll meet you there.”

Your mom kissed your head and waved at Poe before heading towards the parking lot with Tallie in tow. She shouted a very loud “no quickies!” back at you and you flipped her off as she disappeared towards the parking lot.  

“I’ll go grab my car…since you’re coming over to my apartment after the party anyway.”

You smiled and nodded, pecking Poe’s lips before heading in the direction of your apartment. It was a short distance away and you took the time to look around as you walked.

You thought about your first few days on campus, how nervous you were that you weren’t going to make any friends and make all the wrong decisions that would get you kicked out. You remembered the first party you went to, how you got so embarrassingly drunk so quickly that you were the laughing stock of your dorm hall for weeks. You remembered staying up until five in the morning with Karé and Jessika listening to Karé talk about her first date with Snap…and now they were moving to the other side of the world. 

So much growing up had been done in four short years and you regretted making fun of Jessika for reminiscing the day before. It was exactly what you were doing now. 

You got to your apartment and quickly found your sandals, changing out of them and grabbing your sunglasses. Poe was already outside your building when you got back down to the entrance. 

“Beebs!” You exclaimed as you got to the car. You had seen the little dog’s head through the back window but thought maybe it was a reflection of something else. 

“I figured he could run around while we enjoy the party, get him some fresh air and room to run around. He’s good off the leash.”

“Tallie is going to love that, she loves dogs.”

He smiled as he put the car in drive, but you put your hand on his.

“Wait…can we just sit a minute?” Poe nodded and put the car back in park as he looked over at you.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, just…the last half hour was so rushed with meeting up with people and pictures and I just want to relax a minute.”

“Just not too long though, otherwise your sister will make jokes about us being late.”

You giggled as you leaned back against the seat, closing your eyes and sitting still for a minute. Poe put his hand on your knee, rubbing it so slowly you’d thought you’d fall asleep. When you finally re-opened your eyes, you gave him a soft smile and nodded. 

“Okay. I’m good now.”

He gave your knee an affectionate pat and pulled away from the curb in the direction of the park.

“I want to ask you something.” Poe glanced at you and raised his eyebrows and you turn to look at him. “So, I’m graduated now…”

He chuckled. “Yes you are, that’s why we sat through that three hour long ceremony with the same speeches I’ve heard four years in a row now.”

“Oh ha ha,” you said with a smile. “Anyway, graduating means I won’t be going to school here or living on campus…I guess what I’m asking is what we’re going to do…”

“Well…I’ll make it really simple.” You swallowed hard and he stopped at a red light and looked at you. “I love you and whatever happens with you finding a job or moving back home, I still want to be with you. We’ll find a way to make it work, we’ve done it all year long.”

Sitting back in your seat, you gave him a small smile. 

“Well, good. I’m glad we’re on the same page.”

Poe shot you a humored smile, his eyes lighting up.

“When do you fly to L.A.?”

“I leave very early Thursday morning, interview at 10a.m, then lunch with Finn, and then I fly home. I should be home like 8ish…if you want me to come over.”

“I always want you to come over.”

“Then I’ll come over and you can tell me all about your interview and I’ll tell you about mine.”

He pulled up to the park where you could see people gathered just a few hundred feet away. The trees were full and bright green, a stark contrast to the last time you had been at the park. The abandoned ice rink was a few feet away, the middle of it brown and unappealing to the eye from the mud and puddles that took up most of the space. 

“Think I can convince you to go ice skating again this winter?” Poe smirked as he eyed the empty ice rink. 

“Only if you catch me when I fall.” You sputtered out a laugh as you internally cringed. “I’m sorry, that sounded so cliché, like ‘don’t chase me unless you’re ready to catch me’ nonsense. But seriously, do not let me fall on my ass.”

“You watch too many romantic comedies.” You nodded because he wasn’t wrong. The cheesy plots and pick up lines were comforting to you. “Besides, I thought I told you I liked the bruises on your ass.”

You shoved his shoulder and he laughed as he caught your arm and kissed you. You giggled against his lips. 

“Shut up, lets go to the party.”

tag lit [open] - @ah-callie @darksideofclarke @gloomygoregirl @leilei-draws @imaginecrushes @i-ievu @brianamaree @yeeintensifies @spider-starry @krazykatkay456 @milleniawrites @afootnoteinyourhappiness @easterncryptid @my-child-gaara @myrandom-fandomlife @onebatch--twobatch @the-cry-of-youth @p3nny4urth0ught5 @porgiez @umchrisevans @galaxy-of-stories @seeking-a-great--perhaps @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @dameronsgalaxygal @mserynlarsen @yougottakeeponkeepinon @linibirdimagine @hannie2k @starrykitn @liadamerondjarin @april-14-blog @damnyoudameron @cloud-leader @demigod-dragonrider-schoolidol @xremember-me-notx @obiwanownsmyass @princessxkenobi @yourbucky084 @frietiemeloen @softly-sad @xxidontwikeitxx @roserrys @clairesmunchkin @justanotherblonde23 @angelicadameron @millllenniawrites

[amerie-wadia]

Painting JJ’s Nails

for the prompt “painting jj’s nails” by @maybanktho

this drabble somewhat follows canon pairings but you can read into my hints at mayward because i just can’t help myself. 

The Pogues had been out on the boat all day, mostly fishing but swimming a bit before the sunset and the water was still warmed from the heat of the day. It was the first true summer day they all got to spend together since John B and Sarah...well, since John B and Sarah came home. JJ was happy to give up the driver’s seat of the Pogue, too many weeks of just himself, Pope, and Kie riding in circles around the island desperate to find some place that didn’t remind them of John B. They never quite found that place.

Even with Sarah tossed into the bunch, it was the closest to normal JJ had felt in the past two months. Grief and loneliness had sent JJ into a spiral of isolation and cheap vodka. His head hurt, missing his buzz, and he had buried all his weed in the backyard so it didn’t tempt him. It still tempted him. He promised Pope he wouldn’t do that anymore.

It had gotten to be too much. Too much vodka too early in the mornings. Too many days of ditched work. Too many unanswered text messages. Kie had been livid with him. Pope had just been worried. Both were too hard to face, so JJ hid under his duvet and hung around Barry’s house more often that he’d ever admit too. Once he worked off the money he stole, he made enough to buy better vodka that got him drunk even faster.

JJ hasn’t taken a drink in five days.

To most people, five days doesn’t seem like many. To JJ, five days is a millennia.

Sarah and John B brought beer and JJ refused to make them stop when Pope told them JJ was trying to get clean. Kie has gotten mad again, but this time it was at John B. That didn’t sit right either so JJ chugged part of a gatorade and tossed his fishing line off the side of the boat to keep his hands occupied. As long as he didn’t smell it, it wasn’t too bad. Pope sat down next to him and started talking about hammerhead sharks.

Other than one uncomfortable moment, the day had been what JJ dreamt of for weeks. The air was warm and the breeze was glistening. Soft rock spilled out of Kie’s waterproof speaker as they drifted along the marshes, laughing and reminiscing about Kie’s Kook year and the summer before freshman year when they met Pope.

The sun set before they made it back to the Chateau, so it was dark and John B stumbled as the boat slammed into the shore, flailing around to find a thick enough tree root to anchor it to. Sarah pulled out her phone’s flashlight and shined it in his direction. Pope gave Kie a hand up and out of the boat. He offered one to JJ too, but JJ just rolled his eyes and hopped out of the boat, swinging an arm around Kie’s shoulder just to have her brush him off.

“Pizza?” Kie suggested as all five of them headed in through the porch and into the house.

“I can do pizza,” Sarah agreed.

“Hell yeah, then,” Pope chimed in.

John B scrambled through the top right kitchen drawer for the menu with the right phone number on it and then held it in Sarah’s direction as she called in their order.

“Don’t forget to ask for extra pepperoni,” JJ whispered midway through the call. Sarah just waved her hand at him as if she couldn’t believe that he thought she’d forget that.

“Wonderfull. Thank you so much,” she grinned, shutting off her phone and sticking the menu back in the drawer. “They said it will be about half an hour.”

“I should probably shower first,” Kie commented, studying the patches of dried sunscreen blobs on her arm.

“No,” John B whined. Let’s do something.”

“I feel so gross right now. You guys do something and in like ten minutes I’ll join you.”

“Fine,” John B huffed, looping his arm around Sarah’s shoulders as Kie headed into the bathroom and started up the shower. The sound of the shower water was comforting and JJ crawled into the corner of John B’s sofa so he could lean against the arm rest. Pope took the opposite end of his couch and John B and Sarah curled up on the loveseat.

“Shark tank?” Pope asked as he slowly flipped through the channels.

“Eh.”

“Friends?”

“Nah.”

“John B, what do you want to watch, then? Because there’s not much on other than the news.”

“Just give me that!” John B pressed, reaching out for the remote from Pope. Sarah used the moment to unwrap his arm from around her and she stood up. He was too engrossed in finding something to watch that he didn’t pay it much attention. JJ didn’t either, until she came back with two little glass bottles of nail polish.

One was turquoise and the other looked totally clear.

For some reason, JJ couldn’t help but watch.

She rested back up against John B but leaned over and rested her hands on the coffee table. Pope and John B continued to argue about the channel as Sarah began to coat her right hand’s nails in little blue strokes. The color was light and subtle and completely popped against her tan skin. Her strokes were precise and practiced, and none of the polish spilled out onto her skin or the wooden surface below. She finished one hand and began working on the next.

“What do you think?” she asked—surprisingly, looking directly at JJ.

“Looks great, babe,” John B answered as he flipped the channel again, barely glancing down to see the marvelous job she had done.

Her eyes didn’t stray from JJ’s. In fact, they widened in a bit of an offended gesture as if she was truly interested in JJ’s opinion on her manicure.

In all fairness, JJ did have an opinion on it.

“They look really, um, nice.”

“Want me to do yours?”

JJ choked on the air in his throat and Pope glanced over his way to assess the situation. JJ felt his cheeks flushing pink so he hit down on the inside of his jaw. Him? With painted nails. Pope’s eyes were warm and Sarah wasn’t laughing. Why wasn’t she laughing? It was a joke.

“What?”

“Do you want me to paint yours too? I have enough polish.”

JJ hasn’t been worried about the amount of polish Sarah had. He wasn’t worried about anything. Well, maybe he was a little bit worried about the weird urge to say yes.

“You can say no. I just thought it would be fun.”

JJ glanced over to John B, who was still completely focused on finding something to watch. Then he looked over to Pope, who just gave him a smile and then shifted his gaze back to the tv. Sarah was waiting for a response.

“I guess?”

“You can say no,” she commented again, hesitation lacing her voice.

“No, I mean yes. You can paint them.”

“Great! Do you like blue? I have other colors!” Her eyes were shimmering and JJ could tell why John B had fallen so hard for her. She bounced on the edge of her seat.

“Other colors?” he croaked, not understanding why his voice betrayed him.

“I only have a few here though. I think I have like a light pink and then a red. It’s dark though, like a wine red.”

That was too much description and JJ didn’t want to actually think about what he was doing.

“This one is fine,” he answered, pointing to the polish that she had already used.

“Easy enough,” she smiled, twisting the cap back off and slapping the coffee table lightly for JJ to put his hands down. He spread his fingers apart like he had seen her do. He looked to see if Pope orJohn B were watching but neither were, arguing yet again over which movie they were going to watch.

Sarah lifted up his right hand and her fingers were cold against his skin.

“Relax your hand,” Sarah instructed, holding up his thumb so the nail was pointed toward her. JJ tried to relax his hand but it only felt stiffer. After a few moments he found a sweet spot and Sarah grinned.

Once she began painting his nail it was too late to turn around.

He had expected to feel more of a weight or a tickle when the little brush floated across his nail but there was nothing other than the little stripe of blue polish. It was runny and it dropped to the creases of JJ’s nail beds and Sarah dug the corner of her own nail against it to prevent the color from seeping onto his skin. It chipped her own paint a bit but she was too preoccupied with moving along JJ’s hand.

It didn’t look as soft as it did on Sarah’s hands. His hands were too rough, too hairy—though it was bleach blond and JJ was the only person who actually ever noticed it—and there was bruising around his knuckles from when he’d gotten angry with Luke and punched a hole through his closet door.

It had only been a few days ago. The fight had been enormous and he’d gotten so drunk he genuinely thought he was going to die of alcohol poisoning. He was so drunk he couldn’t figure out how to answer his phone and let him know that John B and Sarah we’re home. He woke up the next morning to bloody knuckles, two broken ribs, and about thirty text messages from Kie and Pope. He’d promised to stop drinking that day, after he hacked up the entity of his stomach and dry heaved for about an hour. His head ached when John B pulled him into a hug.

“Don’t touch anything. Here, give me your other hand.”

JJ listened, setting his painted hand gently over his knee so his nails were out of harms way. Sarah picked up his other hand and began to paint.

“What the hell are you watching?” Kie’s voice asked suddenly. JJ flinched and Sarah gripped his hand hard to steady it after a brush of polish went across his index finger. Water droplets sprinkled lightly from her hair onto the couch beside JJ.

“Sorry.”

“Keep still.”

“What are you two doing?”

Her eyes felt hot on his own so he kept his gaze on his nails and shrugged. It was a rhetorical question—or at least Sarah and JJ took it that way.

“I can do yours too?” Sarah offered as she wiped off the excess polish from his finger and continued onto the next nail.

“Mine are already done. Maybe I’ll do my toes tonight.”

Girls painted their toes too?

“Ooh, good idea. I’ll do mine when I finish JJ’s.”

She had said it out loud. Obviously, JJ knew Kie could see it happening—knew everybody could see it happening—but it was still a bit uncomfortable to hear her say it out loud. And he couldn’t figure out why.

Because it looked really nice.

Sarah’s coat was smooth and even, no polish on his skin and it wasn’t too see through either. Her hand was steady and she carefully set JJ’s left hand down in the coffee table when she was finished.

“All done! You just need to let these dry for like twenty minutes,” she explained, twisting the cap back into place on the bottle.

Kie took a seat beside Pope and reached out for JJ’s hand.

“I wanna see!”

At first, JJ didn’t let his hands move—Sarah had said to keep still—but Kie was being gentle so he let his left hand fall before her and a big grin grew from the crown of her lips to her ears.

“They look amazing, Sarah.”

“Why thank you.”

Kie let his hand go and then Pope looked over to see the final result. JJ wiggles his fingers in Pope’s direction.

“Looks good.”

JJ refused to acknowledge the pink on his cheeks as the he continued to receive attention and praise for his turquoise nails. Sarah was talking to Kie about nail polish colors when John B finally settled on friends and finally looked over to see what all the fuss was about.

JJ was a bit more hesitant to show John B his nails—unsure as to why (probably because he idolized John B and if his friend said it looked stupid he would rip all his fingernails out).

“Cool.”

JJ’s shoulders dropped, tension easing from his spine.

“Sarah, remember that time you did those little flowers on your toes?”

“Yep.”

“That was sick.”

With his new found ease, JJ let himself admire the polish. It was beginning to dry but was still glistening and smooth. They looked absolutely perfect. And JJ kind of loved them.

He knew he would have to take it off before he went home that night. Luke would absolutely kill JJ if he saw the nail polish. But at least for a few hours JJ could enjoy the feeling of having his nails painted.

Maybe someday—if he could muster up the courage—he would ask Sarah to do it again.

[thefloorisbalaclava]

Hello lovely! So a friend and I have been talking about Frankie lately and how damn adorable it would be if he were his kids little league baseball coach. Like, he passes down his old mitt to them from high school days (even though it’s comically too big for them) because it gave him good luck, and of course all the guys would come to support them (possibly Benny or Santi even trying to hit on the single moms because of course they would LOL) could possibly be in the neighbor!frankie universe with Gabi in their future some time? We just thought you’d be perfect to write these random ideas into something beautiful. If you have time or even like the idea of course!! ❤️❤️❤️

I hope you don’t mind me putting this in the mechanic!frankie AU! I think it’s a great way for reader and Frankie to bond a little more!

A/N: You run into your favorite mechanic while out running errands.

[mechanic!frankie masterlist]

You wandered aimlessly down the aisle of the store, randomly grabbing a box of cereal to throw into your cart as you whistled along to the song playing in your ear. As you rounded the corner, you ran into someone else’s cart. You quickly removed your earbuds to apologize.

“Oh! I am so- Frankie?!” It came out a little louder than you expected, making a few heads turn.

“I thought I was Frankie,” he joked and you rolled your eyes. “What are you doing here?”

“Just picking up a few things.” You looked at his cart. “You look like you’re picking up enough to feed a small army.”

“I kinda am.” He held his jacket open to show you his baseball jersey. “Got a game tonight and we’re gonna have a party after--win or lose. You’d be surprised how much those kids can eat.”

“Wait, are you telling me you coach little league?”

“I do, yeah.” He smiled proudly. “I used my own money to get the league started. I buy the uniforms and everything.”

“You didn’t tell me this last night.”

“Well, I was focused on other things,” he said and you giggled like a schoolgirl. “I had fun.”

“Me too and the food was delicious. Remember, next time I’m cooking for you,” you told him.

“Are you doing anything later?” he asked.

“Oh, wow, trying to get me to cook for you already, huh?” you teased.

“No,” he chuckled, “I was wondering if you’d like to come out and watch the game. Cheer us on a little.”

“I’ll be there. Where is it?” you asked and he told you. “Coach Frankie...it fits you.”

“Thanks.” He stood there silently for a moment. “Why is it always so hard to say goodbye to you?”

“I was just wondering the same thing. How about this? We won’t say goodbye just...see you later.”

“Okay then. See you later.”

“See ya, Coach Frankie.” You winked and pushed your cart past him and he watched until you were out of sight.

It was a nice day out so you decided to walk. The game was already underway by the time you got there, and you didn’t know it but Frankie had been scanning the bleachers for you. This time when he looked up and spotted you, he beamed and waved then turned back to all the kids that surrounded him. Once he was done, he walked over to the fence and waved you down.

“You made it,” he said.

“Yeah, sorry I’m late. I walked,” you told him.

“No umbrella?” he asked then looked up at the sky. “It’s gonna rain, you know. Can’t you smell it?”

“The weatherman said nothing about rain today.”

“He could be wrong...” Someone called his name and he turned. “I’ll see you after the game, okay? Don’t sit alone. My friends are up there.” He nodded to the group of guys sitting at the very top of the bleachers.

“Okay. Good luck, Coach.” You smiled and made your way up the bleachers.

“So you’re Frankie’s girl, huh?” one of the men asked. “I’m Benny, by the way.”

“Hi Benny. And I’ve met you, Santiago...right?” Santiago nodded and shook your hand.

“This is my brother William,” Benny said. You shook his hand too then sat down to watch the game. It made you smile to see Frankie enjoying himself, surrounded by children who obviously hung on every word he said. You didn’t hear him shout once aside from cheering for his team. At one point you got so into it that you stood up and cheered louder than anyone else. The guys snickered as you cleared your throat and sat back down.

They ended up winning the game and you all went down to congratulate them.

“What a win, Coach Frankie,” you said, giving him a high five.

“I think I might have had a good luck charm out there in the crowd,” he said and you looked down shyly. The guys came over and you stood back while they talked to him. Afterwards, Frankie reminded everyone of the little party he had put together in the park for them so you all walked over and enjoyed pizza and snacks with the team and their parents.

Frankie told you that you didn’t have to help clean but you wanted to. You weren’t exactly ready to say goodnight just yet. His friends said their goodbyes and his players all gave him a high five and a hug before leaving with their families.

When the last of the mess was thrown away, Frankie turned to you, lifting his cap to scratch at his head. “You mind if I walk you home?” he asked.

“I don’t mind at all.”

“Oops...almost forgot my umbrella.” He sprinted over to where he left it then made his way back to your side.

“You really brought an umbrella? It’s not going to rain,” you repeated.

“Yeah, it is. Here...let me show you. This is what my dad taught me.” He led you over to a tree. “You see when the wind blows and the backs of the leaves show? That means rain.”

“I see but...” You felt a raindrop on your head and Frankie shrugged.

“Told ya. Come on.” 

You two walked slowly through the park, taking the longer way around. “Maybe it won’t rain too bad.” No sooner had you said that than the skies opened up. You squealed and Frankie opened his umbrella as quickly as he could, pulling you under there with him.

“Think we can make it to the bridge?” he asked over the rain.

“I don’t know...” Suddenly he took your hand and pulled you along as he ran under the bridge then leaned against the stones to catch his breath.

“I...told...you,” he teased.

“Don’t rub it in,” you breathed. You smiled at him and he smiled back. He took his hat off and slicked his hair back before replacing it.

“At least it waited until after the game,” he said. He saw you hugging yourself and shrugged his jacket off before draping it over your shoulders. “There.”

“Thanks.” You pulled it around you tighter and were hit with a delightful smell. You closed your eyes and let yourself be surrounded by it. “Sandalwood,” you said out loud.

“Hm?”

“Your jacket...it smells like sandalwood,” you said.

“Oh yeah. One of my favorite scents,” he told you.

“Fits you. Very earthy and...” Your breath hitched as you noticed how close he was to you. “...you.”

“Very earthy and me?”

“Y-Yeah.” You two just stared at each other for awhile and you felt yourself being drawn to him, your body leaning towards his.

“Looks like it’s letting up,” he said suddenly, breaking the spell you were under.

“Oh...yeah, it does.” You tried to hide your slight disappointment.

“Shall we, my lady?” He offered his arm while he used the other to hold the umbrella. “Not my lady,” he amended, “I meant like...”

“I know what you meant. Let’s go.” You took his arm and moved as close as you could to get under the umbrella with him.

“I’m not used to this, you know,” he said after a few moments of silence. “I haven’t walked through the park like this since my wife died...” His words trailed off.

“Thank you for sharing something so special with me, Frankie.”

By the time he got you home, the rain had stopped and the sun had started to go down.

“Thank you for letting me walk you home.”

“Thank you for walking me home,” you countered and he chuckled.

“Can I call you tonight?” he asked.

“Of course. You can call whenever you like.”

“Great...awesome.” He walked backwards down the path. “Talk to you soon,” he said before turning away. As he walked along, he noticed he had started whistling I’m Singing in the Rain. He twirled his umbrella playfully and purposely jumped in a puddle.

“What a glorious feeling, and I’m happy again...” he sang to himself.

frankie taglist: @fakenoods @oldstuffnewstuff @the-bird-suit @lestrange2703 @findhimfives @windfallss @rach7 @surfsup666 @theghostwiththemost-babe @marshmallow–3 @mrschiltoncat @aplaceofpeace @josepedropascal @mitchi-c @jeeperky @allthingsnarcos @laymegentlytorest @stanfordscrush @fangirlingss @nathan-bateman @darthdumbasss @helga1031 @master-obi-wan-kenboneme @heythere80sbaby @deserttastesbitter @dindjstarin @mandodjarinn @frankie-stein18 @funkylittlebisexuall @16boyfriends-and-me @marvelousmermaid @slugbuggie @ladyblogger-margie @queenbbarnes @dodgerandevans @terrormonster55 @queridopascal @hells-bells-x @allmahfeels @elizabeth-von-winken-universe @blackberries45 @darnitdraco @nemo-my-name-forevermore @dindjarinneedsahug

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[overheardatthecontinental]

Talk Chapter 6

AO3

I was so overwhelmed from the comments from the last few chapters, I managed to spit out another chapter :) 

Love you all

...

Waking up from sedation is becoming a bad habit although she isn’t unhappy about the haziness. In the moments before opening her eyes, she could almost believe that she was wrapped in blankets, floating on a cloud rather than the concrete floor.

She tries to open her eyes, but they’re drawn shut, her lids just a bit too heavy to be opening right now. That’s alright, she decides.

She could stay like this a little longer, in the fugue-state that offered more comfort than reality. Embrace the warmth of her dream-like state.

She’s hopes Nick and Frankie are back today. Playing cards with them would break up the monotony of waiting for John…

John.

John was coming.

The last thing she remembers is the phone call. The warning that John Wick was coming. She had tried to hold on, to keep them from moving her. But they were going to sedate her. She thinks she had tried to escape but she couldn’t remember anything else.

They’d sedated her again.

Fuck.

She forces her eyes open to take in her new surroundings, wondering if she’d get the chance to send John another message…

He’s there. John is sitting in a leather armchair, eyes closed, under a wash of orange light.

Is the sun rising or setting? She really isn’t sure. And she can’t bring herself to care, looking at John.

He looks exhausted, slumped back. His hair is a little wild and there’s blood on his face. She sees no injuries and is momentarily relieved that the blood does not appear to be his.

He was always so put together in her presence. It's unnerving to see his suit rumpled and a giggle escapes her unwittingly.

John’s eyes open and he inhales, blinking awake.

“Are you laughing?” He asks, voice rough from sleep. John pushes himself up in the chair so that he’s fully upright. He rubs a hand over his eyes and it occurs to her that she’s also never seen John actually tired before.

“Sorry.” She whispers, covering her mouth with her hand. “You look like shit.”

John stares at her incredulously and then a small smile forms on his face. “Yeah, well. Hell of a weekend.”

“Yeah? Can’t say I did too much.” Helen draws the blankets in a bit tighter.

“Cold?” John asks and reaches out to touch her forehead. The warm of his hand feels like a godsend and she finds herself leaning into his touch as she nods. “Do you need more blankets?”

She shakes her head, “Nah, don’t want to overheat.”

He nods. “How are you feeling?”

She hums thoughtfully before deciding on “Hungover.”

“Hungover?” He repeats.

“Oh, yeah. Definitely. Mouth is dry, a bit nauseous, head is pounding, and I woke up in somebody else’s bed with no memory of how I got there. All signs point to hungover.”

Only Helen, he thinks.

“I’ll get you some water. Dry mouth and nausea are common with sedation.” He removes his hand, reluctantly, from her face and stands up.

Helen nods, “Yeah, they sedated me a lot.”

John stops at the way she says it, turning before he can get her water. “What do you mean?”

“They sedated me whenever I was annoying. And I was very annoying.”

He feels his nails biting into his palm as he inhales sharply, “You know, provoking your kidnappers isn’t a great idea, right?”

“I didn’t provoke them. Just went all psycho-dynamic on their asses.”

John blinks. “Freud?”

“Mhmm. Most of his shit’s been disproven, but nobody likes being told their main problems in life come from their mommy issues. And DeLuca has a shit ton of mommy issues.”

John opens his mouth and closes it. There’s nothing to say to that right now so he turns on foot and heads back to the bathroom. He fills a cup with water while looking into the mirror.

She was right. He did look like shit. His hair hadn’t been combed, he had bags under his eyes. There’s blood on his face, in his hair, and on his clothes. His suit was rumpled.

He probably should have showered and changed while Helen slept off the sedation but he couldn’t bear to leave her side. No, instead he had collapsed into the chair and barely moved for nine hours, drifting in and out of sleep now that she was safe.

He tried not to give too much thought to the fact that Helen was in his bed.

Helen. Was in. His bed.

Sleeping in his bed.

Now awake in his bed.

John swallows. He can’t think about it. He has to focus on the matter at hand.

DeLuca is still out there and, until he is taken care of, Helen is still in danger.

Exhaling, he heads back to the bedroom and tries to ignore the way his heart races at seeing Helen propped amongst his pillows.

She smiles at him. She shouldn’t be, he thinks. He’s the one who got her into this mess but there she is, quiet and non-judgmental. Smiling at him the way she always does, accepting the water from he hands her.

She drinks it down with a soft moan that his body isn’t prepared for. Helen sets what is left of the water on the side table. She reaches up and pushes back her hair, her fingers getting stuck in the mess. So goes three days without a shower or a hairbrush.

“Thanks.” She says, looking up at him.

John nods, “I had the Doctor stop by last night when I got you home. He left meds in case your head hurts.”

Helen nods, “I didn’t feel that during the first few sedations but it’s throbbing now.”

“You don’t remember getting it?” John asks, grabbing the meds off his bureau. He pours one out into his hand and caps it as he walks over to her.

“Getting what?” She reaches to her face, her fingers trailing until they reach her bandage. She winces at the touch, “Oh. Yeah, forgot about that.”

“What happened?” John asked as he handed her the pills and the water from her table.

Helen tries to push up so she can fully sit. She winces at her own weakened state and John moves closer, moving an arm around her to help her sit up against the headboard. He tries not to focus too much on the way she feels with his arm around her.

When she’s upright, he hands her the meds.

She swallows the pill, chasing it with what was left of her water. “The guys who were watching me got a call that you were coming and they needed to move me. They were going to sedate me for the move, so I tried to run when they opened the cell. I made it to the stairs but one of them grabbed my foot and I fell.”

He regrets asking almost instantly, if only because the rage swelling inside him is incapacitating. The fact that he killed the men who tried to move her is suddenly not enough. He wants them to suffer, to hurt. He should have made them die screaming.

But, at the time, his only concern had been getting Helen to safety.

And now they were dead, and as much as he wished it, he couldn’t bring them back just to kill them all again.

But the others would pay.

Anyone else who took part in stalking them, kidnapping her, guarding her. DeLuca would suffer.

John feels a hand on his and she asks, “Do we need to do some meditations here, or are you good?”

Nothing like Helen’s no bullshit policy to pull him back into the presence.

“I’m here.” She says softly when he’s back with her, her hand squeezing his, “I’m here and I’m safe.”

He swallows at the feeling of her soft hand, wrapped around his in comfort.

She was just kidnapped, sedated multiple times, and subject to DeLuca firsthand. If anybody had the right to be losing grip of reality right now, it was her. Instead, she was doing what she always did and taking care of him.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. We all have our ways of coping. I insert humor into bizarre situations, you picture killing people with your bare hands. Whatever gets us through the day, right?”

He’s pretty sure that’s not a therapeutically appropriate response but he breathes a little easier for hearing it. She’s ridiculous and he loves her.

He loves her so much and he came so close to losing her.

“Thank you for coming after me.” She says and it breaks him all the more.

She shouldn’t be thanking him. It was his fault she had been taken. His obsession which had grown out of control, his lack of focus that stopped him from seeing that others were following her.

He should be on his knees begging for forgiveness and, for anyone else, he might have to. But there was no blame in her eyes. No judgement.

She wasn’t even looking at him any different than when they met each week.

And because he’s not sure how he can begin to apologize for something so unforgiveable, he asks, “Did you doubt I would?”

“Not for an second.” Comes her gentle reply.

Her faith in him is far more than he deserves.

“We kept coming up with dead ends.” He says softly, beseechingly. Like he hopes that she’ll understand that he’s so fucking sorry. “He didn’t give a name. Only a job. And I kept searching, but he was like a ghost. I didn’t know what to do and then I got this text from an unknown number--”

“From Nick.”

John blinks, “I’m sorry?”

“Nick. One of the guys guarding me. Won a bet with two of the guards and told them I’d ask you not to kill them if I could use their phone. So no killing Nick Russo or Frankie Morelli.”

"That was you?"

She inclines her head.

He’s not quite sure what to do with that new wealth of information. The fact that she was able to convince her guards to let her have a phone, that she made a bet with them, and she had bargained with said guards for their lives…

John knew Helen well enough to know she wasn’t going to fall apart easily but there was a difference between keeping it together when in a high-stress situation and gaining the upper hand when you have no control.

“You told the guards I wouldn’t kill them?”

“I told them I’d ask you not to kill them. I made no guarantees. But, while we’re on the subject, I’d rather you didn’t kill them. Frankie’s basically a baby trying to support his mom and little brothers, and Nick… Nick’s had it rough, but I think we made some real progress addressing his repressed homosexuality.”

John’s head hurts. It really does.

All this time, he had been worried about Helen handling being kidnapped. John knew a lot about psychological torture and, sometimes, being trapped in a cage is enough to make you feel like you’d be better off dead.

But no, Helen had been the one caged, but she had been playing the game as if she were a part of the world.

“You’re incredible, you know that?”

She looks up, over those long lashes and it’s almost too much for him to look at her. Baring her battle scars while still looking like an angel as she sits in his bed.

“I really didn’t do much.”

“I was losing my mind. Didn’t have a name or any indication of who had you, and you just figured your own way out.”

“I figured out how to get you a message. I didn’t manage to escape.”

“You did exactly what you needed to do.” His hand turns in hers, tentatively. Giving her the space to pull away.

She doesn’t, only pausing to readjust her grip.

John sits back down, on the edge of the bed. Her hand is in his.

He doesn’t think he’s ever held hands with someone before.

“What did he want?” Helen asks after a moment, “In exchange for me, what was DeLuca trying to get?”

John exhales, “Political advantage. There are very… complex laws associated with the Underworld.”

“That’s where the High Table comes in, right?”

He’s pleased that she remembers, “Yes. The High Table is our council, of sorts. There are twelve seats for the twelve largest factions of organized crime. The Russian Mafia, the Chinese Triad, Los Zetas, the Sicilian Mafia, the Camorra. A few other bigwigs, too. But under all these big factions, there are hundreds and thousands of smaller ones, each trying to become a contender. But it’s virtually impossible to uproot one of big ones. Especially the ones run by families. Now, DeLuca belongs to a smaller crime network.”

“The Syndicate.”

John nods once, “Yes. Based in Rome but with branches all across the world. Italy already has two very predominant mafias. No one is really looking for a third large contender. DeLuca has it in his head if he can destroy the Camorra, he can gain control of Rome.”

“Except he lacks the intelligence and commitment to actually run something of that caliber.”

His lips twitch, “Yes. But, to his credit, he was right. If the D’Antonio family collapsed, it might be impossible for the Camorra to stay afloat. They’d lose their credibility; secrets of the family would go to the grave. A new challenger could rise. Probably not to the level of the High Table, like DeLuca thinks, but enough.”

Helen nods, piecing it together for herself. “So, DeLuca tried to send you after the Camorra, protecting himself from any backlash.”

John nods, not quite ready to reveal just how close he had come to openly declaring war against the High Table in order to save her.

She huffs a small laugh, which leaves John taken aback.

“DeLuca didn’t come up with that plan.”

“Oh?” He asks, cocking his head to the side.

“For something so carefully thought out, that had to have come from his mother.”

Again, John feels his lips curl into a small smile, “Is this going back to the ‘mommy issues’ you mentioned?”

Helen nods, “Oh, definitely. That umbilical cord is stretching from Rome to New York. His mom killed his father in order to get him in charge of Syndicate.”

John blinks, rubbing at his head, willing the dull ache to go away. “Exactly how long did you spend with DeLuca?”

“He lasted about eight minutes in my charming presence before having me sedated.”

The I love you on the tip of his tongue goes unsaid.

“I should start having you run all my mission preps.”

“You really should.” Helen agrees, closing her eyes as she leans back against the headboard. “But then, who would counsel my rebellious teens, depressed businesspeople, and wayward assassins?”

“Who indeed.”

He’s worried about what he has to tell her next.

John had been so concentrated on finding her that he hadn’t had time to plan out his next steps. There were a few dozen people who had to die to ensure her safety, DeLuca being number one on his list.

She wasn’t safe so long as DeLuca was alive. And the mobster had gone underground shortly after he had recovered Helen. A smart move on his part, John acknowledges.

Without DeLuca having Helen, there was nothing to stop John from targeting him.

But that meant that John had to track him. Hunt him down. Kill him and any other associates who might know about Helen and who she is to John.

He knew she promised those two guards who helped her that she’d ask him not to kill them and he was… considering it. He didn’t like the possibility of loose ends but saying no to Helen was an impossible task. One he was certain he might never master.

All in all, there were a few hundred reasons why she couldn’t go back to work.

There was the injury card he intended to play hard and fast.

The trauma that she hadn’t processed yet.

The fact that DeLuca’s whereabouts were unknown.

And while John was more than willing to stand guard outside her office, it was impractical for both of them.

He needed time.

John exhales, bracing himself for the argument that will surely erupt from this. Preparing himself to be strong enough to actually say no to Helen. “You can’t go back to work yet.”

Without opening her eyes, she says, “Try that again, in the form of a question. I might be more receptive.”

John swallows, “I can’t—I can’t do what I need to do unless I know that you’re safe. Will you please stay home from work until I can resolve the situation?”

Her eyes crack open, “How long are we talking?”

“A few days.”

He’s certain he can find DeLuca in that amount of time. He already had the Technician running searches remotely, already had Winston with an ear to the ground.

She was awake now and the last of his worries had been abated. Which meant that John could do what he did best. He could go out to the city. He could take out DeLuca and his soldiers and send her back to her world, knowing she was safe.

And he’d keep an eye on her. As often as he could manage without putting her at risk again. And he’d let her go.

His heart already ached at the prospect but what else could he do?

Helen lets out a small sigh, “Alright. All things considered, I should probably take a few days off anyway.” She inclines her head, “Don’t suppose you happen to have my work phone?”

John feels his face involuntarily wince, “Um, yeah, about that…”

“What?”

“DeLuca had it. Pretty sure he dropped it somewhere so that it couldn’t be tracked back to him.”

She rubs at her head but takes it better than he would have. “At least tell me he left my laptop alone?”

John nods, “I took that just in case. It’s in my car.”

Her eyes flutter shut again and he can tell she’s fighting the exhaustion.

“I’ll have to call my clients for this week.”

“Later.” John says, giving her hand a soft squeeze. “You need to rest.”

“I’ve been sleeping for god knows how long.”

“You’ve been sedated.” He corrects gently, “You’ve slept but you haven’t given yourself space to rest. You’re body’s still reeling from what you’ve been through.”

Her eyes don’t open but the corner of her lips twitch into a smile, “Look at that. You’ve been doing your homework.”

“I have a bookshelf dedicated to you.”

She hums at that, “I’ll want to see that later. And the rest of your library.” She cracks open her eyes, “You’re going to regret letting me into your home, John Wick.”

He already does, he thinks to himself. It occurs to him that seeing her here, like this, might be something he’s unable to recover from. He doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to sleep in his bed when the image of her lying there, amongst his pillows and sheets, has been unwittingly branded into his head. He might never get over the feeling of holding her in his arms and carrying her up the stairs and down the hall.

And it might take him time to track down DeLuca.

Days in which she’ll eat in his kitchen and lose herself amongst his bookshelves. He can see it now and it tears him apart.

While he has ceased to believe that life is fair, it’s inordinately cruel to have her like this, in ways he’s only dreamed, only to be forced to cut off contact.

But what can he do?

She needs to be here for her own protection but once the threat is eliminated, she needs to be as far away from him as she can be.

“Get some rest.” He tells her, wondering if the dull ache in his heart would worsen or improve if he left her presence.

He starts to stand but she holds fast.

She peers up at him with those big, brown eyes and he’s ready to fall to his knees.

“Will you hold me? Just for a minute?”

He really wishes he had it in him to deny her. But he doesn’t.

He nods and John releases her hand, moving around to the other side of the bed. He crawls over and under the covers which she has lifted for him.

This isn’t romantic, he tells himself. It’s not sexual or any other perverted pleasure.

This is comfort, like she’s shown him a hundred thousand times before.

John tries, hard, to push any other thought from his head and not to concentrate on how small her body feels as he wraps an arm, gently, around her.

She reaches up and takes hold of his forearm, hugging it to her as she nestles under the covers.

He hates himself for reveling in delight when she has suffered so much because of him. It’s his fault she was hurt at all, his fault she’s drained from trauma. And he’s the one benefitting, touching her in ways he’s only dreamed about.

But then, he thinks, he’s been Hell-bound his entire life.

And, if he’s right about finding DeLuca and tying up loose ends, he’ll only have days left where he can even bask in her presence.

Maybe, he can have this.

A minute, an hour of pretending the world wasn’t waiting outside his door. Pretending that this was more than just comfort.

It might hurt more, in the long run, to know how holding her feels like. But John can’t bring himself to care.

……………………………

He’s not sure when he fell asleep but it’s the dull vibrating of his phone on wood that wakes him up.

For a moment, he had forgotten where he was, what he was doing. He forgot her soft request for him to hold her while she fell asleep, keeping her safe and comforted after the ordeal.

All he can smell is her. She’s warmer now and, while usually heat makes him uncomfortable while he sleeps, it was different with her.

Helen had turned, at some point, her face now buried in his chest, her body curled into his while both his arms hold her tight.

A part of him wishes to stay like that forever.

But the phone buzzes again.

Helen stirs in his arms and he’s simultaneously in awe that she’s real and pissed that somebody is calling, waking her.

He disentangles his limbs from hers and she whines softly as John rises from the bed, tiptoeing quickly. He snatches the phone and hurries from the room, closing the door behind him.

Marcus.

“Yeah?” John answers, walking down the hall to the nook that overlooks the rest of the house, just above the stairs. He rests a hand on the balcony edge and leans down.

“You know I prefer to mind my own business whenever I can.”

John finds himself blinking at the unusual greeting. “Yes. It’s one of the few reasons I put up with you.”

Marcus hums at that, “I hate to ask, John, but what the fuck is going on?”

He stands up a little straighter, eyes narrowing, “What are you talking about?”

“My phone hasn’t stopped ringing since the contract came out.”

John’s stomach drops.

Surely, he thinks, DeLuca isn’t that stupid…

“What contract?” He forces himself to ask.

“Some woman no one’s ever heard of. Helen Kingston.” John thinks he might throw up but Marcus continues, “As far as anybody can tell, she’s a civilian but under known allies, you're listed.”

John swears, pushing his hair back from his face. Any remnants of sleepiness are now gone as he takes the stairs two at a time until he reaches the basement.

“When did it go live?”

“Half an hour ago. I’ve already fielded half a dozen calls from people trying to get information on who she is.”

“What’d you tell them?” John asks, propping the phone between his cheek and shoulder as he grabs a case for his handguns and a duffle for ammo. He opens each and begins selecting from vast array that hung on his wall.

“I didn’t tell them anything. I just asked them all if they really wanted to take the chance of going after a target who could be related, in any way, to John Wick.”

“How much is the bounty?”

“Four million.”

A string of swears escape.

Four million was considered a high price for a life. A payout of that amount, in a single kill, was usually reserved for difficult cases. Government officials with bodyguards or military targets trained to kill.

A four-million-dollar bounty on a civilian would be impossible for most assassins in the greater New York area to pass up. Even with him listed as an ally.

“Who is she, John?”

“Honestly?” John checks, emptying a shelf of various size rounds into the duffle bag, “She’s my therapist.”

He’s met with silence and John can’t help but smirk at rendering Marcus speechless. Funny, considering it was only two days ago when telling Winston a fucking nightmare.

“You know, I was joking all those times I told you to seek professional help.”

John shorts, “Yeah, well. Too late.”

“So now half of New York City is out looking for your therapist?”

“Seems so.”

He can almost feel Marcus rolling his eyes despite the distance between them, “Why would anybody target your therapist? In fact, I’m inclined to call her up and offer her a raise if she can make you less fucked in the head.”

“It’s complicated.”

“Isn’t it always?” Marcus huffs a sigh, “Any idea where she is? The contract went live half an hour ago. I’m sure somebody’s already after her.”

“Upstairs.”

“She’s at your house?”

John zips the bag with the ammo shut. “Also complicated.”

John closes the lid on the gun case. He has a handful of Kevlar vests packed away in a trunk. He hoists out a few and drapes them over his shoulder as he grabs the case and the bag.

“Clearly. You know, I’m pretty sure fucking your therapist is an ethics violation of some kind.”

John ignores the comment. “Fancy earning a marker?” He asks, heading back up the stairs and crossing the large expansive living room to get to the front door.

“Depends. How much work am I going to have to do?”

“Minimal.” John lifts the trunk of his car and starts rearranging things. “Babysitting while I take care of the idiot who thought targeting her was a good idea.”

Marcus hums, thinking it over. “Is she going to be a pain in the ass?”

“Most definitely. She’ll have you mindfucked so fast you won’t know up from down.”

“Not doing a great job of selling it.”

John closes the trunk and walks quickly back into the house. He still has to pack clothes; food.

“I can almost guarantee no bodily harm and you won’t be bored. That’s a rare combination.”

Marcus grumbles for a moment but John didn’t doubt him. “Text me where I need to be.”

“Make sure you’re not followed.”

Marcus snorts in a way to signify no fucking shit and the call drops.

John lets out a breath as he hits the kitchen. While he’s bugged out in the army, bugged out from squatting, and run away more times than he could count, he’s never had to pack like this in his house. It’s almost unnerving to be choosing food from a fully stocked kitchen rather than grabbing the jar of peanut butter as he runs.

Fucking DeLuca.

What the hell was that bastard thinking?

John had already wanted him dead for daring to touch Helen and now this?

What could this possibly do for him? Four-million-dollars was a lot to spend on revenge and, while the smaller mobs did well for themselves, most didn’t just have that kind of money sitting around.

DeLuca’s reasoning, however, was the least of John’s concerns as he packed up his kitchen.

He had safehouses all over the globe, most listed under different names. A handful over the tristate area but he was reluctant to have Helen that close to the hub of assassins now gunning for her.

Fuck. He stops bagging up boxes of energy bars and pauses.

How the hell was he going to tell Helen there was a four-million-dollar bounty on her head?

Hey, remember that conversation we had earlier where I told you I would take care of DeLuca with a couple days? Well, now a couple hundred assassins are looking for you, so that plan is off the table. Sorry!

He doesn’t know how the fuck he’s going to explain this new round of bullshit and goes back to grabbing boxes of crackers and bags of rice.

“Are you… packing up your kitchen?” He doesn’t startle easy, but he hadn’t even heard her on the stairs.

John turns, in surprise, and his heart nearly jumps out of his chest.

Helen, hair wet from the shower, had traded in the nightgown for one of his white, cotton shirts and a pair of his sweatpants, drawstrings pulled tight, then folded several times over.

Her skin, still damp, forces the shirt to cling to her.

He looks away, “Yeah.”

“Is this some sort of weird coping ritual or did the shit hit the fan?”

John almost hates the way she can read him so easily.

“Shit hit the fan.” He says, glancing over his shoulder, gauging for reaction.

There isn’t one. Not really. She just nods, and honestly, he wishes that she would try to protest or argue or roll her eyes. Anything. Blame him, yell at him. Complain about the situation, whine and ask why they had to move but she doesn’t.

“When are we leaving?” She asks.

“Fifteen minutes.”

Again, she just nods, “Want to point me in the direction of your library? I’d like to raid it before we bug out.”

The casualness in her voice makes his head and heart hurt. She shouldn’t be this accepting.

He swallows back the urge to start an argument because that is the last thing they need when people are searching for her.

“Top of the stairs, just off of the little alcove.”

She spins on her heels, like nothing is wrong.

John forces himself back to packing. Time, it seems, is always against them.

[probably-writing-x]

Unintentional beginnings

Arón Piper x Reader

Request by anon: hey! i love your writing!! i was wondering if you could write an aron piper x reader one where the reader is a “fan” and sliedes i to his dms and they talk for a while until aron asks her out on a date which is where they meet for the first time and instantly realize they’re made for eachother? thank you so so much 🥰🥰

Gif is not my own

Requests are closed🤍

You hadn’t thought much of it when it first begun. You’d simply started a new show on Netflix after you’d finished something else and you’d landed upon Élite. It sounded interesting to say the least but you hadn’t expected this. Now, you were halfway through the first season on your first night of watching the show and you’d already been onto Instagram to follow all of the cast. You were engrossed!

Now, it had only taken you a week and you were already coming to the end of season 3. Omar and Ander had rapidly become your favourite thing about the show as you watched with tears in your eyes at the prospect of their long awaited reunion. You had already rewatched the scene three times when you decided to pull out your phone and snap a photo for your Instagram story. It was a photo of the laptop screen in front of you, with your solo glass of wine and the blanket covering you - with the caption ‘these boys have officially killed me!’. You also didn’t think much of it when you’d tagged Arón and Omar in the photo - they’d never see it anyway.

You finished the season, went to bed that night in your flat, and only just about heard the notification on your phone at 2am. It made you jump awake, never being much of a deep sleeper anyway. You groaned and rubbed your eyes to try and make the screen more clear. But, sure as hell, you definitely bolted awake when you saw Arón’s name on the Instagram notification that had just come through.

He’d replied to your story.

‘Glad to know I’m doing my job well ;) x’

You had to blink a few more times to make sure you weren’t dreaming what you’d just seen. Though the whole process had to be reset again when you saw the notification come through that he’d followed you back...

There’s hardly a reply you can think of that would sound good enough.

‘I was talking more about Omar x’

That was okay? Right? It would come across okay?

It’s like a gut wrenching relief when you see him typing back - ‘Can’t blame you for that! I’m not actually as moody as Ander is x’

Somehow, you roll over in bed so you’re laying with your stomach flat against the mattress and you reply, and so does he, and you reply again... and you find yourself texting each other back and forth for the entire night - only noticing the time when the sun starts to rise outside the window of your flat.

‘You’ve really fucked up my sleeping pattern here x’

You smile at his message and reply - ‘Likewise x’ just as your eyes start to drop and you can no longer fight off the urge to fall asleep against the warm comfort of your bed. Was it possible to fall asleep with a smile on your lips?

- - - - - -

When you wake up later in the day, it’s already mid afternoon so you’ve only got a few hours left of sunlight - yep, definitely fucked up your sleep schedule.

You clamber out of bed and make yourself a coffee to drink on the small balcony outside of your apartment. It’s only then that you bother checking the notifications on your phone. To even more of your surprise, Arón has liked a bunch of your recent posts from your feed. He’d even commented on a couple of them with witty, mocking comments that all made you giggle like a school girl with a crush. How on Earth had this happened?!

You reply to one of them and it already feels odd to be flirting with him in the public of the digital age.

Then, you find a voice note from him left unread in your messages.

“Afternoon, sleepyhead, since you fell asleep and ignored me. Either that or I got a bit boring but I can’t see how that would work. Do you fancy watching a film with me later?”

And that’s how it all started. You’d set up films at the same time and FaceTime as you watched them to discuss. It sometimes took a few tries to get it to work properly but it was always worth watching Arón get more and more frustrated with his dying laptop.

It continued in that way for at least a few more weeks before you started to question things. You didn’t live far from each other, and yet you’d never actually made any plans to meet. Maybe this was just how he wanted it to stay, this oddly committed and casual setup you had going. But you’d found yourself cancelling plans to spend time on the phone to him and it seemed silly to do if this was all it was going to be. Though, as Arón had managed to do far too many times, he surprised you yet again.

“Yeah, I should take you there one day,” He laughs, “I think you’d love it.”

Silence falls between you as both of you realise what he’s said at this late hour over another FaceTime.

“Would you... maybe want to go with me?” He suggests, shifting in the bed so he was laying down with a pillow tucked underneath him.

You tuck your hair behind your ear as though he was right in front of you, not just through a screen, “Yeah, Id love to.”

“Great, are you free tomorrow?”

- - - - - -

At four pm the next afternoon, you’re grabbing your keys and rushing out of the house to get your taxi and make your way to the destination he’d told you about. It was to part of the set where they filmed some of Élite. For some reason, you’d got onto the topic yesterday. He’d told you that it wasnt the most attractive of places but it had rapidly become one of his favourites because of the scenes they’d filmed there.

When you arrive, you can tell what he means. It’s simply a graffiti struck bridge overlooking the water. But when you see who’s waiting on that bridge, no other appearance matters. He’s taller than you expected him to be and he’s wearing a big jacket and a cap that make him look disproportional to what you’d expected after seeing him on FaceTime. Hes already more handsome in real life and you envy it instantly.

“Here you are, my biggest fan!” He calls out to you as you approach him from the bottom of the steps as he stood at the top.

“Something like that,” You roll your eyes.

How had watching a Netflix show ending up in you now being on a date with one of the main cast?! Wasn’t this any fan’s dream?

“Hi, finally,” Arón smirks when you’re in front of him, “Seems weird to not be seeing you through a screen.”

You laugh, “Better or worse weird?”

“Better, definitely better,” He assures you, “Shall we?”

He starts walking across the bridge as you find yourself impossibly distracted by his appearance and presence, rather than looking at anything around you. You’d somehow also managed to zone completely out as he speaks up to catch your attention.

“Seems like you made the right decision to watch my show.”

[ihatecoconut]

Perfect

Cross Posted to AO3

“Katherine wants to marry you.”

“Katherine wants to… what?”

“Marry you.”

Davey, rather than continuing their pattern of repeating things the other had said (which had been known to go on for a while) responded by staring at Jack, utterly baffled. Jack stared back earnestly. There was an odd feeling surfacing and settling itself low in Davey’s stomach.

“Why?”

“Oh!” Jack’s face brightened slightly, “Well you know how Pulitzer don’t approve of me?”

“You work for him.” Davey pointed out flatly, trying to process the fact that he was apparently going to get married to one of the loves of his life.

“Sure, but he don’t want me running around with his daughter.”

“I am not following you at all.”

“He approves of you!”

Davey pulled his cap off and ran a hand through his hair, “We’re both newsies, we’re both poor, I don’t-“

“Sure, sure, but you had an education and stuff, you know, you can make something of yourself!” The earnest expression was back on Jack’s face and he was gesturing pointlessly, as he normally did when he got himself worked up, and Davey would only ever admit it to himself but he found it so endearing when Jack did that.

There was another round of staring at each other, where Davey wasn’t sure if he should address Jack’s continuing self-deprecation or the matter at hand.

“I’ll talk to Katherine…”

Jack nodded brightly, “Good plan! She’s at work.”

“Wha- I didn’t mean right now.”

“Why not? No time like the present right?”

Davey laughed, even more confused than he had been in the face of Jack’s overwhelming enthusiasm, “I mean…”

“Seize the day, Davey!”

“Alright, alright… I’m going.”

Jack nodded, “I’ll see you back at the lodging house later?”

“Yeah, sure.”

Jack nodded again with the bright and hopeful expression that seemed totally out of place for the conversation they were having and jogged off in the other direction. Davey could hear him yelling made-up headlines even as he moved out of sight.

The Sun’s office was only a few minutes walk from the World’s distribution yard, so Davey turned, put his hat firmly back on his head and started out. Thankfully, both he and Jack had been there many times to see him, and the receptionist just waved him through with a friendly smile and no longer brought out a list of questions to ask them before they could get past the front desk.

Katherine had her own office on the second floor- by all accounts she was too junior to have her own office, but when she had started the male reporters hadn’t wanted her out on the floor with them, and nobody had moved her back out once they got comfortable with the idea. Davey knocked on the half open door, peering in to see her frowning down at her typewriter.

“Come in.” She called absent mindedly, not looking up until Davey firmly shut the door behind him. “Oh, David!”

“Hi Kathy.” He replied, smiling and opening his arms to accept the hug she got up to give him.

“I wasn’t expecting you,” she told him once they had separated, “you should have said something, we could have gone for lunch!”

“To be honest, I wasn’t expecting to be here today,” he laughed, the odd feeling that had surfaced when Jack had started talking finally settling, “Jack sent me.”

“Oh.” Katherine said, and the happy playful air of before was gone unexpectedly, she sat back down and waved a hand at the other chair. Davey took it, starting to worry.

“He, uh, he said you wanted to marry me.”

Katherine blinked at him, “He said what?”

“You wanted to marry me?”

She tipped her head back and laughed slightly, bringing a hand up to fiddle with one of her hair clips, “I don’t know why I let him do anything,” she said, smiling sympathetically.

“So, you don’t?”

“No! No, that’s not what I meant, I just…” she trailed off, looking at Davey as if he would provide the words she was looking for. Unfortunately for both of them, Davey was utterly lost,

“Kath, I’m not really sure what’s going on here, but maybe I should go.”

“No!” she jumped up, putting out an arm to stop him from moving. “Alright, look. Jack and I talked about this for a while and we decided we were going to do something today, but apparently we had different ideas about what to do.”

“Ok.” Davey said, because she had obviously left a pause for him to respond, but he had no idea what to say.

Katherine sat down again, suddenly, and pulled her chair forwards until their knees were touching. “Jack’s in love with you.”

Davey blinked at her.

“I’m in love with you too.”

They stared at each other, both hoping that the other would say something, so they didn’t have to.

“Kath…”

“And!” she continued, slightly desperately, “I think you’re in love with us as well, I’ve seen the way you look at Jack, and he says you look at me the same way.”

Davey blinked at her again, trying to process the sheer amount of unexpected information he was getting. Her eyes were wide and desperate as she stared at him, and at some point, she had taken one of his hands in both of her own.

“I am.” He found himself saying, “I am in love with both of you.”

She nodded, eyes still wide and desperate, but also tinged with a little bit of hope.

“What… what are we gonna do?” He continued, glancing down at their joined hands, and turning his over so they could actually hold hands.

She lunged forwards and kissed him.

It wasn’t the best kiss Davey had ever received considering it was a little messy, a little desperate and they were still clinging to each others’ hands like they were their only lifelines, but it was definitely above all the ones he had experienced as a little boy with the girls at the Synagogue. Katherine pulled back after a few seconds and her pupils were wide and dark, and it was the most beautiful Davey had ever seen her.

“Jack said Crutchie said we could have the penthouse tonight.” She told him breathlessly.

He nodded, “I’ll be there,”

Katherine smiled in response to that, wide and gorgeous. “I’ll see you then.”

They let go of each other then, although Davey would admit that his hand trailed on hers, and he got up to leave; behind him he could hear Katherine moving her chair back to its rightful position.

“So do you?” he found himself asking, hand on the doorknob,

“Do I what?”

“Want to marry me?”

She went an interesting shade of pink at that, and waved her hands at him. Davey let out a breathless laugh and walked out, leaving the door the same amount of ajar that it had been when he had come in.

*

“You,” Katherine began, hoisting herself up onto the penthouse, “are an idiot.”

Jack looked up from the sketch he was doing that looked a hell of a lot like her and Davey, and blinked innocently, “me?”

“Yes.” she continued, situating herself comfortably, leaning into his side so he knew that she wasn’t actually mad “I cannot believe that you told him that. More to the point, I cannot believe you told him that and he still said yes.”

Jack’s face broke out in the widest smile she thought she had ever seen, “he said yes?”

“Yes,” a third voice said, and Davey’s head peeked anxiously over the edge as he clambered up, “If that’s still alright?”

Jack laughed and lunged forwards in much the same manner Katherine had done earlier, only he pulled Davey fully onto the roof before he kissed him.

“It’s more than alright.” He said,

“It’s perfect.”

[third-rail-vip]

the wanderers

*nervous laughter* yeah so it’s been a really long time since i did this, but i wrote a little early dynamics kind of intro for Mac and Ivy to warm up for the fluff prompts.  

[words: 2171]   [read on AO3]

The road out from Cambridge felt like it dragged on forever through the quiet backwaters of the commonwealth that MacCready had never really bothered with - never enough caps out here to make it worth the trip.  That morning the sun had shone and he’d thought it might be nice to wander out into what the ‘wealth thought of as wasteland, but he’d not counted on how damn hot it’d be slogging uphill for hours on end.  Weren’t winters meant to be colder the further north you went?  It was November and his hat was sticking unpleasantly to his forehead.  He was bored, irritable and parched, and for once he wasn’t complaining at the boss’s habit of carrying too much water.

Ivy had been out of sorts all morning, barely noticing even his worst jokes, the ones that would usually send her into fits of giggles before she admonished him for making her laugh at something so bad.  

A last minute stop at Valentine’s Detective Agency had left her deflated.  It’d only been a week since they’d rescued the detective, hardly enough time for him to dig up any leads on the mystery man from her vault.  But there they were at the crack of dawn, MacCready still bleary-eyed and yawning into his sleeve when Valentine had opened the door with a sorry shake of his head at the sight of them.  He had nothing more to offer them than coffee and an apology that nothing had turned up yet.  

Mac held his tongue for the boss’s sake - no point in throwing any more spanners in the works - and the detective at least seemed decent enough.  For a synth.  From what he could tell, finding Valentine was supposed to be some kind of big break for Ivy, but they were headed back with nothing to show for it and it was weighing on her. 

By the time they hit the shadow of the old Corvega factory he’d stopped bothering to try and make conversation.  They settled into a heavy silence.  Even the local wildlife seemed to have taken the hint, with not even the buzzing of a bloodbug breaking the wasteland stillness, only the sound of their laboured breathing as they continued to climb.  

Usually travelling with her was fun, something MacCready wasn’t used in the merc business -  bosses tended to want you to shut the hell up and get the job done - but not her.  Everything was new to Ivy, and he had to admit to being entertained seeing his world through her.  She always left herself an open book, every emotion easy to read in big brown eyes.  

One thing he could never guess was how she was going to handle one day to the next; some days she stuck so close to his side that they might as well be glued at the hip, all skittish like a radstag doe at the slightest sound.  

But then there were days like the Library, when she got the giggles from the damn greenskins trying to tempt them out of hiding.  “But Mac, they said it was a treat..” “No.” “Aren’t you even curious?” “No!” “Ugh, knowing my luck it’s probably an overdue book fine from 2076.”  And after all hell broke loose, she even managed to find a working camera in the wreckage and went limping over to one of the remaining protectrons - already sniggering - to try and persuade it to take a picture of them.  Like some kind of pre-war tourist.  It was her calling it ‘officer’ that broke him, left him doubled up with tears streaming down his cheeks.  

That camera was still somewhere in her pack, and waiting to be developed were some sure to be dreadful pictures of him blinding them with the flash.  It had been a good day.

But now she wandered ahead, blank and unreadable, leaving him stuck with no conversation, nothing to shoot at, and no idea whether it was going to get better or worse by the time they got to the settlement.  

“There’s a trader up ahead.”  MacCready started, trying his best to make it look like he’d been scanning the horizon for danger - and wondering how long he’d been wandering without actually looking.  “I thought I might just nip in and see if she has anything they might need at Sanctuary, if that’s alright with you?”

So this is why she picks up so much crap.

“Fine by me, boss.  Just don’t make me carry it all.”  He glanced past her to the brow of the hill where a large sign declared the Drumlin Diner was ‘open 24/7’.

If you ignored the broken windows and the occasional two hundred year old former patron - who’d thought that a milkshake was the best way to see in the apocalypse - the diner was in surprisingly decent shape.  

They paused for a moment in the parking lot while Ivy struggled to get into her pack without dropping her rifle.  He took pity on her, taking the rifle out of her hands with a sigh and propping it against the outer wall of the diner.  This close she looked exhausted, and now he thought about it, she hadn’t eaten since the night before.  

MacCready couldn’t imagine not eating when there was food on offer, but then again Lucy used to joke that he could eat a whole brahmin and still be hungry - that’s what sixteen years of cave fungus does to you.  

With a grateful smile and a quiet ‘thank you’, her rifle now safely stowed on her shoulder, Ivy headed through the door ahead of him.  The sweet smile that had been missing all morning had been mustered ready to coax a bargain out of the unsuspecting recipient - the same smile that’d somehow knocked fifty caps off his fee a couple of weeks before.  

A stern woman leant possessively on the diner counter, in a way that inevitably meant she had a shotgun tucked just out of sight.  She opened her mouth to greet Ivy but caught sight of MacCready in the doorway.  Turning an icy glare on him, she regarded him with about as much pleasure as she might a junkyard mutt that had just rolled in molerat crap.  

The smile slipped from Ivy’s lips, completely at a loss as to what had caused the unexplained hostility.  She hadn’t been around MacCready long enough to witness how often wastelanders just thought of mercenaries as well-paid raiders.  Although depending on what kind of work they took, they weren’t entirely wrong - his time with the Gunners had shown him that much.  

After the hot miserable morning he’d had, Mac could easily have just snapped, told the old biddy exactly where she could stick her supplies - oh man, did he want to - but for the second time that day, he kept his opinions to himself and slunk back outside, grumbling under his breath and lighting a cigarette as he went.  

--

After a good five minutes stalking around the parking lot, he finally perched himself on a stool, nodding to the skeleton who occupied the counter seat next to him.  Taking a final drag, he snuffed out the cigarette on the countertop, smirking at the way it sank through the varnish, leaving a blackened ring and the stink of burnt plastic.  

He’d been trying to cut back on the smoking, another promise he’d made months before, albeit a harder one to keep than watching his language.  MacCready hated waiting around for no reason - but so was the life of a sniper - so he needed something to keep his hands or at least his mind occupied, and the nicotine took the edge off his restlessness.  

Leaning back on the counter he caught snippets of the conversation he’d been so rudely excluded from.  It sounded like Ivy must have helped out with something the last time she was here and, judging by the time he’d spent in her company, it had everything to do with the blood splattered on the tarmac near to where he was sat.

He let his eyes drift up and down the road, watching for any sign of trouble - actually paying attention this time - but it was as quiet as he expected.  This was possibly the most uneventful day he’d had since leaving his homestead, and while he knew he should be grateful for the peace, he had to admit he was bored.  

A playful elbow to the ribs jolted free of his haphazard guard duty - Ivy was back, her pack looking a little heavier than before.    

“You ok?” she asked, taking in what must have been his utterly zoned out expression while she pressed an almost cold Nuka-Cola into his hand. She gave his hand the slightest squeeze before letting go of the bottle and finally he could see a real smile starting to tug at the corners of her mouth.

“Yeah,” MacCready nodded, flashing her a smirk before taking a long swig of the Nuka-Cola.  He couldn’t deny he was grateful the silence was over, and that at least something seemed to have brightened the boss’s mood.  Although he couldn’t for the life of him think what that woman could have done to cheer her up.  

“Good.” Ivy’s smile broke into a grin, her eyes flashing mischievously as she turned up the radio on her pip-boy.  “Because you are not going to believe this.”  

“What?”

“Just wait,” she teased, tearing into a packet of gumdrops and offering him one before sitting back to watch him as he puzzled over what she was up to.

The last few bars of ‘Orange Coloured Sky’ blared tinnily from the tiny speakers - great, that was going to be stuck in his head for the rest of the day.

“What did you have to go getting that--”

“Truly one of the greatest voices ever, that was Nat King Cole..”

“Who the heck is that?”

“Travis ‘Lonely’ Miles here, bringing you...”

“You’ve got to be shi-- kidding me!  Vadim was right?”  

MacCready stared incredulously at the pipboy where the newly ‘smooth’ tones of Travis Miles drifted from.  Begrudgingly he shifted his gaze up to Ivy, and the smirk spreading its way across her face.  If he didn’t know better, he’d think she’d stolen Christmas.  “You’re pretty pleased with yourself right now, aren’t you?”

Ivy held out a hand, wiggling her fingers expectantly, her smile bordering dangerously on coy.  

“That’ll be twenty caps, please.”

--

Ivy led the way up the hill again, but this time instead of silence, the radio was turned up as high as it would go.  It was like a switch had been flipped and all of that melancholy had been channeled into an obnoxiously good mood.  MacCready wasn’t sure how many more caps he’d be willing to lose if poorly judged bets were what it took to cheer her up, but at least she was back to actually laughing at his jokes again, even the really bad ones.  

Especially the really bad ones.  

She’d been humming along with the radio as they walked, and he chattered, but as soon as Travis introduced ‘The Wanderer’, Mac knew exactly what was coming.  It wasn’t the first time that song had wormed its way into her head, she’d even sing along in the middle of Diamond City -albeit quietly- but in her current mood...

Ivy sang at the top of her lungs, the slight skip in her step falling in line with the drum beat.  It didn’t take long for her hips to start to sway, and by the time the saxophone kicked in she was just dancing like an idiot up the middle of the road.  Occasionally she’d twirl around dramatically to serenade him directly - between fits of laughter of course.  Even out of pocket, he couldn’t resist laughing and singing along in the face of that onslaught.  

“Are you planning on looking out for any trouble, angel, or is that my job now?” MacCready called after her, shaking his head at the ridiculous display, and doing his best to keep the grin off his face when she looked back at him.

“If I remember rightly... and I usually do,” she quirked an eyebrow at him. “You never actually asked what the job was.  Congratulations, you got paid two hundred caps to be my audience.”

She was dead right on that one.  He’d been so desperate for work he’d not even thought to ask.  He probably wouldn’t even know her name if she hadn’t awkwardly held out her hand and introduced herself after their deal was struck.  

He’d got lucky with this one.  It wasn’t often you accidentally stumbled into a decent job without asking any questions - and there were far worse shows in the Commonwealth to be an audience to.  

He rolled his eyes at her.  “Ugh, in that case don’t get too far ahead of me, or I’ll not be able to shoot everyone who doesn’t appreciate your talent as much as you do.”

He got a gumdrop launched at his head for that one.  

[avengerscompound]

One Night In Vegas

One Night in Vegas: An Iron Man Fanfic

Buy me a ☕ Square:  @iron-man-bingo - Accidentally Married, @marvelfluffbingo - Woke up Married

Rating:  M

Warning:  Talk of sex, aftermath of drinking and drug use.

Word Count:  2753

Pairing:  Tony Stark x F!Reader

Summary:  You wake up in a Vegas suite with Tony Stark wearing the biggest diamond ring you’ve seen in your life.  The two of you then try and piece the night together.

One Night In Vegas

You woke up with your head pounding and your eyelashes stuck together.  Not that you particularly wanted to open your eyes.  You wanted to pass out again and hopefully, sleep through until your headache was gone.

Unfortunately, along with the pounding, there was nausea that was starting to get to the unbearable point and you could already feel the bile rising in your throat.  You were going to throw up, and you had to work out how you were going to get untangled from whoever it was you were currently tangled up with.

You pried your eyes open slowly.  The room was filled with the bright light of the desert sun outside and your eyes did not seem to want to adjust to it.  You groaned and tried to pull away from whoever was clinging to you like a koala.  When your eyes finally adjusted you saw it was Tony and let out a sigh of relief.  Your relationship with Tony wasn’t exactly conventional but the idea of waking up with a stranger when you were as blackout wasted as you got last night was not one you were a fan of.

He grumbled and seemed to tighten up around you more and you pushed him.  “Let me up.”  You whined.

He let you go, rolling over and grunting as you stumbled out of the circular bed and ran to the bathroom, dropping to your knees on the marble floor and emptying your stomach.

Last night had been… well, you weren’t even sure.  It had started with a few rounds of poker in the high rollers lounge.  You had a reservation at Scotch 80 Prime though so you had to leave before too much money had either been lost or made so that Tony could have his wish of eating his way through a $100 steak and drink $50 glasses of whiskey.

After that, you had gone to Tao.  There had been dancing and drinking, both with Tony and without.  Then after that was a big blank space of time.  You had no idea how you had managed to get back to the hotel.

You sat by the toilet for a while, after you’d finished throwing up and then dry-heaving.  All you could do was just keep your eyes closed and your forehead pressed to the cold marble wall.  You might have dozed off even, it was hard to tell.  When you finally got up, you flushed and went to rinse your mouth out.  It was when you were washing your hands you saw the ring.

The fact you hadn’t realized it was there up until then was a little shocking on its own.  The thing was huge.  It had a large rectangular-cut diamond in the middle with similar diamonds cascading down the platinum band in smaller and smaller sizes.  Assuming it was real - and it probably was - it would have cost a fortune.  It was sitting on the ring finger of your left hand and you had no memory of even getting given it.

You splashed your face with water and went back out to the bedroom.  “Tony?”  You said, quietly at first, going to sit on the sofa opposite the circular bed.

He was sprawled out on his stomach with just the sheet over his naked ass and he grumbled in response to you.

“Tony?”  You repeated, a little louder this time.

He rolled over covering his eyes and groaning, though once he was on his back he seemed to just fall back to sleep.

“Tony!”  You shouted, immediately regretting the decision.  The sound split through your skull and you clutched your forehead in your hands.

“Why are you yelling?”  Tony whined.

“Did you propose to me last night?”

Tony sat up and blinked at you slowly.  “I don’t think so.  I hadn’t planned to ask you to marry me anyway.”

“Then where did this come from?”  You said, holding up his hand.

He looked at the ring on your finger and then at your face before getting up and hobbling towards you, grabbing his glasses off the nightstand and slipping them on as he came over, sighing in relief once they were in place.

He flopped down next to you and took your hand.  “You’d think with all the drinking I’ve done in my life I wouldn’t get hangovers anymore.  What the fuck did we do last night?”

“Got engaged, apparently.”  You said.  “This was you, right?”

He scrunched up half his face.  “It’s a little much.  So I guess so.  I really don’t remember anything.”

“Did somebody roofie us?”  You asked.  “It’s seriously blank.”

Tony chuckled.  “Yeah, they slipped us a roofie, made me buy a ring, pop the question, then put us in bed together.”

“This is so weird.”  You said lying down with your head in his lap.  He gently stroked his fingers through your hair.  “I guess… we should figure out where you got it from and return it?”

“What?  You need a bigger ring?”  He teased.

You snorted, and immediately pinched the bridge of your nose.  “I need pain killers and water.”

“Yeah.  That could help.  I’ll call the butler to get us something, and food.  Greasy food.  We can take a shower in the meantime.”  He said.

You got up and he smacked your ass as you headed to the bathroom, he picked up the phone.  You turned the shower on and took off the ring and put it on the counter.  You had been with Tony for years and years now.  Marriage had never once come up, so a drunken proposal seemed so out of character.  You tapped the ring like you were checking it was real and then got in under the hot water, turning your face up to it and opening your mouth as it cascaded down on you.

It wasn’t long until Tony was stepping in behind you.  His arms circled your waist and he rested his forehead against your shoulder.  “I’m either never drinking again or I’m drinking as soon as I get out of the shower.  I haven’t decided.”

You laughed softly and he started to wash your hair.  “Did you want to get married, Tony?”

He didn’t say anything for a moment.  He just kept massaging your scalp until you made a strangled gurgling sound.  He chuckled and kissed your shoulder.  “Why do you not want to take the ring back?”

“No, I absolutely want to take the ring back.  If we ever do get engaged, it’s not going to be when I’m blackout drunk.”  You said.

Tony took a breath and you turned to face him.  “Is saying I really don’t actually give a shit and okay answer?”  He asked.

You nodded.  “Yeah, of course.  No wrong answers.”

“Good.  Because weird as it might seem, I really don’t.  I love you and it’s you and me.  If getting married was something that was important to you, we’d already be married.  I just don’t care about the whole thing enough to bother.”

You nodded again.  This wasn’t exactly a shock.  Neither of you had ever talked about getting married.  It did beg one question though.  “So, what the fuck is with the ring?”

“I have no idea.  I’ll get FRIDAY to take us over our steps last night.  It’ll be like watching the hangover, only staring us.”

You laughed and pecked his lips, before stepping under the water and rinsing your hair out.  “This is going to be scary.”

“You’re telling me.”  Tony teased.

You finished the shower and got out, drying off and changing into some sweats.  You moved the ring to the in-room safe for safekeeping and then when out to the hall.  Looking downstairs at the living and bar area of the suite was like looking down on a war zone where the primary weapons used were glitter and bottles.  It had been trashed and there were already maids going around and cleaning up.  You groaned and shook your head.  The Butler that had been assigned to your suite greeted you both at the bottom of the stairs.  “Good morning, Mr. and Mrs. Stark.  Mr. Hogan and Colonel Rhodes are both waiting for you at the dining table.”

“Rhodey’s here?”  Tony asked, looking both confused and delighted as he almost skipped off to the dining area.

You went to follow after him when the butler stopped you.  “Mrs. Stark?”

You turned and looked at him.  It wouldn’t be the first time someone had called you that.  “I’m not Mrs. Stark.”  You corrected him.

“My apologies.  It was what you asked me to call you when you came in last night.”  He said and before you could even unpack that bit of information he was handing you a bottle. “For your headache.  And I took the liberty of having your dress dry cleaned.”

“My dress?”  You asked.

“Your wedding dress.  You left it on the stairs.”

Your eyes went wide and you lurched towards the living room, fumbling to uncap the lid of the bottle of ibuprofen you were holding.  “Tony!”  You yelled.

You stumbled into the room to be greeted by the bemused looking Rhodey and Happy and a confused looking Tony.

“What is it, dear?”  Tony asked.

“There’s the blushing bride!”  Rhodey teased.

Tony’s head snapped around and he stared slack-jawed at his best friend.  “The what now?”

“The bride.  You guys got married last night.  You don’t remember?”  Rhodey answered, seeming to be fully aware that the two of you had no idea what happened last night.

“Someone had better fill us in on what the hell you’re talking about,”  Tony said and fixed his eyes on Happy.

“What’s the last thing you remember?”  Happy asked, and shoveled a forkful of eggs and bacon into his mouth.

“Dancing at Tao.” You said as you finally got the bottle cap off the pills and tipped some into your palm.  You downed them with orange juice, drinking it straight from the pitcher.

“Yeah, Tao for me too,”  Tony said.

“Alright.  So you gotta forgive me because it can be hard to keep track of the two of you when you go on one of your little escapades.  You were drinking a lot.  Even for you, boss.  You kept sneaking off to the bathrooms.  Pretty sure to fuck.  I think but I don’t know, you might have taken e.  Because after one trip in you came back extra level loving on everything and rubbing your faces on things like cats.”  Happy explained and took a sip of his coffee.

Tony has snatched the pills off you and downed some with coffee.

“So,”  Happy continued.  “You started both waxing poetic about how in love you were and how much better at being a couple you were than every other couple in the world because you ‘got’ each other.  You said,” He said pointed at you.  “That you were better than every married couple because they just had to shackle each other and you two were free with your love.”

He swung his arm so he was pointing at Tony.  “You said, that because you were so much better than every married couple you should probably just get married and that any wedding you had would be better than any wedding anyone else had ever had.  You then demanded we go and find a jeweler so you could get her a ring.”

“Oh no,”  Tony said.

“Oh yes.”  Happy said.  “I drove you around for a bit hoping you might sober up but you kept drinking in the car and telling me to hurry up because your love needed to be acknowledged.  I found a jeweler.  You bought the biggest fucking ring they had that also fit.  You dropped to your knee in the jeweler and proposed right away.”

“Oh god.”  You groaned.

Happy nodded and had another mouthful of his breakfast as you poured your first cup of coffee and Tony poured his second.

“So then you said,” he said gesturing to you with his fork.  “That your love was too big to wait, that it had to be announced to the world now.  You agreed,” he poked his fork in Tony’s direction.  “So you bought wedding bands and made me take you dress and suit shopping.”

“This is where I got the phone call,”  Rhodey interjected.  “Not from either of you, I might add.  Happy called me freaking out.  He knew that you would probably regret this but he hadn’t been able to talk you out of it.  I got in my War Machine armor and high-tailed it over.”

“I had hoped that at some point you would sober up and stop but no, you kept getting champagne everywhere we went.  I seriously don’t know how you don’t have alcohol poisoning.  When you had your dress and suit you made me find a chapel.  You specifically wanted to be married by Elvis.”  Happy explained.

“Fuck!” Tony groaned, letting his head fall back as he rubbed his temples.

“I arrived just in time to be your witness,”  Rhodey explained.  “There was no talking you out of it.  Then you came back here and had a ‘reception’.  Which was just random strangers drinking and partying until you guys went up to bed and passed out and we kicked everyone out.”

“Jesus.”  You hissed.

“Yep.  So that’s what happened last night.  I think I’m banning you from the state of Nevada quite frankly, Tones.”  Rhodey said.

“Shutting that gate after the horses have bolted, huh, platypus?”  Tony said without raising his head.

No one said anything for a bit.  Rhodey and Happy just finished up their breakfast while you and Tony just slumped in your chair.

Finally, you sat up straight and began to put food onto a plate.  “I guess we’re married then.”

Tony huffed and started doing the same.  “Guess we are.  Oh well.”  He said.  “Alright, So we release a statement saying we eloped to avoid a media frenzy and it was just us and our closest friends?”

“Ha!”  Happy barked.  “Nice try, boss.  But you live-streamed it.”

Tony groaned and banged his head on the table.  “Of course I did.”

“It had over three million viewers.”

Tony straightened back up and adjusted his glasses.  “Alright let’s see it.”

Rhodey chuckled, clearly delighted by proceedings and flicked his phone open.  He clicked on it a few times and flicked the screen so the giant TV that looked over the room turned on and shaky footage of an extremely happy Tony standing at the end of an aisle next to an Elvis impersonator.  The bridal waltz started up and the screen swung around to show you walking down the aisle.

“Does my dress have LED lights in it?”  You asked.

“It sure does!” Rhodey teased.

“You said it made you feel like a magical princess.”  Happy added.

“Always a look I aspire to.”  You deadpanned.  “Good god, this is mortifying.”

“We do look happy though.  Look at how in love we are.”  Tony said.

You smiled and leaned against his shoulder.  “Yeah, we do look happy.”

You watched through the ceremony, experiencing your wedding for what felt like the first time.  The smiles never left your faces and when Elvis said ‘kiss the bride’, Tony dipped you.

“Aww, you’re cute.”  You said.

“You are,”  Tony shot back.

You leaned in and kissed him gently, and he cupped your jaw, deepening it just a little.  When you pulled back the smile on his face was mirrored by the one on yours.

“If we bought wedding bands, where are they?”  You asked.

Happy fished in his pocket pulling out two matching platinum bands.  “You asked to have a photo of them taken with the flowers and then forget to get them back.”  He said handing them over.

You each took them and slipped them on your ring finger and then held them up as you assessed them.

“Guess we better call the kids and tell them mommy and daddy got married,”  Tony said.

“God, I hope they don’t get too annoyed we didn’t have them as the flower girls.”

Tony shrugged.  “If they are we can do it again properly.  Actually, invite people.  Let them choose where it happens.”

“You know they’ll choose Disney, don’t you?”  You said.

He shrugged.  “Can’t be any tackier than what I just witnessed.”

Tony pulled out his phone and dialed the nanny and for one second you were sure you saw Rhodey and Happy smirking at each other.