#But on the plus side I keep finding old things I forgot I wrote

[kingkatsuki]

I just updated my navi. Someone tell me I'm doing a good job.

[taranida]

The Bright Presence: a prick of light in an ocean of darkness

The present me here. Few warnings right away: I will address the Presences by “it” as well as “she/he”, when I feel like it suits my needs; it’s a very long read and there are lots of things to tackle (and I’m quite sure that I forgot some of them; plans are not my forte, my best tactics in writing theories is “I’m drowning”); even if me, who wrote the following introduction, has yet to learn this. So, grab a cup of your favourite beverage and enjoy! Now I will give this theory back to the naïve and cheerful past-me.

Finally, I can talk about the Bright Presence! I was so excited to write about him from the very beginning, but couldn’t, really, without establishing the foundation for the story of the real Thomas Zane and what happened and didn’t happen in the 1970 or how Alan was able to pull him into the story, given he had no knowledge about the population of not-a-lake.

Now, there are several things about the Bright Presence that I want to touch upon and will try my best not to plunge into insane rambling about this or that; and keep it as tidy as possible. Obviously, we have no knowledge about the origin of the Presences and the Dark Place itself, except for it all being in Ahti’s bucket, but we at least have some information to help us understand their nature and what actually hides beneath the waves of Cauldron Lake.

Randolph, the trailer park manager has this to say about it:

“The Indians thought the lake was a doorway to the underworld.”

The Dark Place and its entities are old, tremendously old. The Dark Presence spells it for us in the final confrontation in the first game:

“I’m much older than you. Older than your first work of art.”

She’s talking to Alan, of course, but it is pointless to compare this entity with him, he’s 31-33 (depends on what you ask: the guide that puts his age at 31 in 2010, or the memorial statue, that has his year of birth as 1977), and the Dark Presence was kicking long before his birth, as we know from Thomas’ story and the beliefs of the locals. She’s talking about humanity, about our first primitive work of art. Which puts her at least at around 50 thousand years old, plus this vague “much older than you”, which will put her at an even greater age, depending on what she means by that — where her definition of “you” starts. I mean, we talking hundreds of thousands of years now or even millions; what is evolution for her, really? She finishes with a promise to find someone else to dream her free, so her definition of humanity might do something with the first glimpse of imagination. And that is hardly something that we can establish properly. The Dark Presence might’ve existed before the Bright Presence, but we have hints that they are two sides of one coin, fighting their eternal war, so I will say the Bright Presence is as ancient at the Dark one.

So, what are they? This House of Dreams gives the explanation about the Dark Place as well as its inhabitants:

"In the end, he finally understood what he had to do, finally understood the true nature of the dark place that was hidden under the waves of the lake where they lived. The lake was an opening to dark place that was much bigger than the lake itself, in fact, much bigger than the whole universe we live in. He wrote one last poem, his masterpiece, a secret poem, a hidden poem, a poem that’s not among the poems I’ve found in the shoebox. And he took his girlfriend for one last dive. Together they sank down into the depths, far deeper than he had ever dived before. In the dream, I was there, diving with them. And from the depths, something, or some things, surged up to meet them. Things of darkness, but bright things of light as well. The diver explained that these things, or these presences, were forever fighting a war between the forces of light and darkness. A dark presence had taken over his girlfriend, and a bright presence now came to take over him. And he surrendered his body to it, but at the same time, the essence of who he was kept diving deeper, ever deeper, holding the essence of his girlfriend (their spirits? their souls?). The diver (or what was left of him, his true self) spoke the words of his secret poem. The poem described a new world, an island in this sea of darkness, a safe haven, a paradise, a “baby” universe. The nature of the dark place was such that anything dreamed up there, any dream or a work of art, would come true, just as true as anything in our world can be. And the poem came true and the essence of the diver and the essence of his girlfriend escaped from the darkness and disappeared into this new world to live there happily ever after; while their shapes, his now taken over by a bright presence, as his girlfriend’s had been taken over by a dark presence, surged up, through the opening in the lake to our world, to continue their battle there."

Alan through Zane’s notes in the cabin expands on it further:

“Anything outside of writing is a struggle. I feel ill. I managed to make my way downstairs. There’s a shoebox filled with books and papers by Thomas Zane. It’s very hard to focus but I managed to read some of it. He’s a poet and a good one. He writes of muses and creators, summoning fabulous things from a magic lake, using its power to shape the world, of a realm of gods and dreams, and demons, dark things that wait for a chance to slip through, wearing the flesh of men as disguise. Zane writes about himself, his girlfriend being taken over by a Dark Presence, about growing scared of the lake. Zane believes it’s a mirror to the gaping void of darkness above, where some Lovecraftian presence lurks. I crawled back upstairs. I’ll borrow these things for my story. They ring true. They fit.”

Alright, as I believe, the shoebox trick was added into Zane’s story by Alan, and also the whole “writing Thomas and Barbara out of reality” was him as well, but it doesn’t mean that all the contents were written by Alan; after all, in This House of Dreams we have two sets of poems — one by Thomas and another by Alan (I probably should talk about it in more details someday). It also fits into the Bright Presence’s story he showed Samantha, his own words in-game and what Mr. Scratch tells us about the Dark Place. So, I will count this information as the truth Alan borrowed, not as something borrowed becoming the truth. Although, it’s really exhausting — separating what Alan wrote into reality and what was the reality before Alan started to tinker with it.

Now we have a bit of an understanding of what both Presences are, where did they come from and what do they want. Let’s summarise: they are fighting an eternal war of light versus dark in the enormous, if not infinite, realm that has an opening into our world through Caldron Lake (among other places). They are insanely old and both are not against taking humans faces to surge up. They are also drawn to our world, might be because of human’s ability to create something from nothing with just dreams or works of art; might be because the Dark Place is seen as a prison by them (the latter is also hinted at in the Bright Presence’s acknowledgement, that he wasn’t able to find a way to leave the Dark Place for good). Although, the Dark Presence and its minions are much more proactive when it comes to “find someone to dream them free”, as we see with the Dark Presence, Thomas’ story and Mr. Scratch. When both Presences got out of the lake someone or something did put them back; the boys of OGoA (just a wild guess, there is only one thing that can tie them up to events of 1970 — the name of their first album, according to the now-dead site, was “The Memory of the Slaughter” and the release date is 1971)? The whole “we have bodies now, hell yeah” thing ended as they exhausted the freeing power of having flesh, but have no one to feed them with art? Maybe this freeing power was exhausted in their clashing with no winner and they both retreated back. However it happened, back into the lake they went.

Aside from that the story of the Bright Presence goes by spotted hovering lights. In the in-universe book “The Alan Wake Files” by Clay Steward we have an excerpt from another in-universe book “Bright Falls: A History”, that has a whole chapter on local peculiarities and paranormal rumours. It’s quite a read as a whole, but we now need only this part:

"Lights in the Sky Paranormal activities and other strange events have not been limited to creature sightings. In 1901, before the invention of the airplane, and before the widespread introduction of electricity to Bright Falls, residents reported a series of incidents involving hovering lights just above the trees. The sightings occurred on four separate nights through the summer of that year, with each incident reported by multiple people. One resident, Tobias Crane, created an oil painting of the scene decades later from his childhood memories. The painting, called “Floating Lights over Cauldron Lake,” now resides in the private collection of Dr. Emil Hartman. It depicts children by the shores of the lake pointing skyward, while strange lights illuminate the water’s surface. Dr. Hartman’s collection, while not on public display, is reputed to be one of the largest gatherings of art depicting bizarre, unnatural phenomena."

And here are those lights again:

If you don’t recognise this newspaper, it’s the one with the fish belonging to doc Nelson:

This story is a result of the Bright Presence visit to the Bird Leg Cabin to free Alan.

So, the Bright Presence’s sightings are going very far back. The thing I find fascinating is I wasn’t able to find any other hint on the Bright Presence helping anyone out with the Dark Presence. Thomas’ story has him only show up to grab a body, with the boys of OGoA in 1976 we have a lightning strike, but I don’t believe it has anything to do with the Bright Presence, we have a lightning strike in the main game:

Yes, Tor is complaining that the Scratching Hag took it from him, but if we take it at face value, then things do not add up. It means the Dark Presence pulled that trick with the stage herself, killing her own minions in the process, which is not that farfetched, really, she’s, after all, bound by the story; what is really farfetched is her using a bright flash of light. Another option: Tor is just furious that the Dark Presence even dared to take his power, but not saying she striped him from it, because he did use the lightning to banish Mr. Door in 1988. Whatever the case, we have two wielders of the lightning: the Dark Presence and Tor, as far as confirmed information goes. The Bright Presence was never seen to use something like this, his light is soft and continuous, so I would bet he didn’t help in 1976.

But he helped Alan. A lot. Let’s get to it.

The very first time we see the Bright Presence happens in the dream, that might’ve occurred somewhere deep inside the loops of the first game or even before that. He’s our tutorial on fighting and understanding the forces we will face in the game. He saves Alan from certain death in the hunter’s cabin with his light, guides him to healing lamppost and then speak riddles, before explaining that he entered the dream to teach Alan. The question here is — why? Why would the Bright Presence even bother, when he didn’t bother before? Well, the loops, of course! Alan does forget quite a lot after each loop, but he leaves himself the breadcrumbs to follow: we see it throughout the second game, and even in the Control’s Hotline:

Have I been here before? Gone down this path before? The darkness wants to hide the past to make me lose my way. You must know where you've been to know where you're going. I trust what I read on these pages. I wrote them for a reason. My notes to myself. The only way to make progress.

In the first game his “notes to himself” are the manuscripts, Zane’s shoeboxes and the Bright Presence himself — his guide and helper. And his long longed-for father-figure. Someone, who knows the rules, who knows the environment, who’s wiser and more experienced. Just like an adult would be in the eye of a child. In all the interactions the Bright Presence seems caring and gentle towards Alan, he’s soft-spoken, concerned and always tries to help even if it costs him greatly, how it was with freeing Alan from the cabin.

There are several things that hint or plainly spell that Alan has an issue when it comes to the absence of the or a father in his life.

From the guide:

From “The Alan Wake Files”, which preludes the “Errand Boy” that tells a story of an 18 years old protagonist going to visit his father he never knew:

“While the subject matter changed, Wake’s fiction itself remains charged by his own unique psyche and the doubts and fears he contends with. Wake could not escape himself through fiction; if anything, his fiction reflected a deeper version of himself. Thus we see repeated in Wake’s universe, stories of fractured father-son relationships, accounts of lurking evil, and of the hero’s dawning awareness of his predicament. These themes haunt Wake’s fiction and give his fans glimpses into the epic forces that shape his emotional and creative life.”

From Alan himself in The Signal DLC:

“The playground. Wake’s pathetic memories of the wonder years and the contrary little boy pretending he didn’t miss his father he never knew.”

But let’s not forget how exactly all of this is happening. The Writer in the Cabin makes it very clear:

“I’ll be bound by the events of the story just as much as anyone else who’s been woven into it. The story must stay true for this to work. There have to be victims along the way, near escapes, cliffhangers. In a horror story it can’t be certain that the hero will succeed or even survive. He almost has to die. I’ll write my own escape into the story next. I need help. Zane’s going to be the one who’ll help me. I’ll make it happen.”

Alan is the one who makes everything in the first game happen; he’s the one who binds everyone by the story. In the cutscene when he remembers the missing week, he says:

“Zane was weak, far away. But I had written him into the story, and his light had been enough to set me free.”

And even the Bright Presence himself gives away the game:

“I’m here because it was written. I brought the light to set you free.”

Then the Bright Presence is the one to deliver the manuscript pages to Alan; he’s also the one who places the Clicker in the shoebox and gives clear instructions on what to do next — get to Cauldron Lake. As I mentioned before, the Clicker and the Light Switch are not the same.

The Clicker:

The Light Switch:

They are obviously different, although I don’t know why the Light Switch was in the shoebox with Alan’s poems, but it looks more like an old switch, that could be used in 1960’s by Thomas Zane. I will talk about it in details another time.

So, it’s safe to assume that the Clicker was delivered to the shoebox in the Well-Lit Room by the Bright Presence from the Dark Place, where it must’ve been since the whole Bird Leg Cabin disappeared with Alice’s possessions. As to the manuscript page, Alan finds there… well, he claims he didn’t write it, but if we were given a penny every time Alan claims he didn’t write something… Nonetheless, it doesn’t really matter who typed the page itself, the Bright Presence could’ve done that as well, Alan was the one to write this page into reality. As Cynthia put it: they all are characters trapped in his story. And bound to play their parts.

The Bright Presence’s part was not finished at that. He’s the one to help Alan escape from the apartment, where the Dark Presence tried to set an Alice-trap and he’s the one to give instructions on how to defeat the Dark Presence after: fill her heart with light. That’s what was written, and you know what wasn’t? Mr. Scratch.

Isn’t it odd that the Bright Presence, as we know, the long enemy of all things dark, dismisses Mr. Scratch’s escape and further activity in our world? He just nonchalantly says:

“Don’t mind him, he’s Mr. Scratch. Your friends will meet him when you’re gone.”

And simply moves on with “use the Clicker”. It’s very reminiscent of my favourite dialog between him and Alan:

“Do you understand?” “No.” “Follow my light.”

This, I believe, is the true face of the Bright Presence. He’s by all means not so dissimilar to the Dark Presence — he’s not human, he doesn’t care about things we care about, he doesn’t understand things as we do, and his goals are not at all to be humanity’s saviour or guardian. For him some little minion of the Dark Presence escaping the Dark Place is nothing, as Mr. Scratch noted himself:

“All that chaos and madness, it doesn’t really do that much down there. It’s like pouring a glass of water into the ocean, right?”

The Bright Presence did acquire some traits of Zane’s personality, as the Dark Presence took something from Jagger, but we mostly see it when it comes to Barbara: how he calls the Dark Presence by this name, how he regretfully says about it steeling her skin. It doesn’t really go beyond. This entity is still distant and alien to us, humans. He acknowledges this himself:

“This is a vast place, home to forces and beings that are completely alien.”

When Alan responds to it “the Dark Presence”, the answer is “yes”, and note that the Bright Presence, who’s the Dark Presence’s counterpart is not saying “completely alien to us”, he doesn’t specify. I will return to it.

But what about DLCs, where the Bright Presence helps part of Alan to reunite with Alan in the cabin? If Alan in the cabin, judging by the TVs is the one making all this happen, surely, the Bright Presence acts on his own volition, right? Well, it would’ve been true if we wouldn’t have the rational part of Alan, who didn’t give up. If Alan in the cabin is creating everything bad that happens with the other Alan, then someone has to create everything good. Create, meaning write or dream, the Dark Place doesn’t really care if it was put in writing, it will manifest things regardless. I doubt that Alan in the cabin, being curled in a fetal position on the floor can write much; he can’t even reach the typewriter.

For simplicity I will refer to Alan in the cabin as the Dark Alan and to Alan, who we play as — just Alan.

The Signal starts with Alan separating from the Dark Alan and finding himself on the streets of the memory-idea of Bright Falls. He instantly informs us that there is something waiting for him at the back of the diner. It’s part memory, part dreaming. He’s confused and lost and from the main game his go-to tactics of dealing with it — so-called Zane. And, who would’ve thought, the Bright Presence manifests through the mirror and explains everything! He also says that he will try to help the best he can, but ultimately, it’s up to Alan. Here, I believe, the Bright Presence has a bit more breathing room in his actions, but he’s still bound by the “story” in which his role is the same as it was in the main game: help and guide. And again, he’s acting as a father-figure, an adult to a child. This very idea Alan has of him are the shackles, that control what he does even better than the writing did before. Yes, his every step is not set in stone by the manuscript, but he must fit the role perfectly. That’s why he’s kind, patient and helps every time help is necessary (if Alan is in condition to dream this help). Even as Alan snaps at the Bright Presence during their calls, the Bright Presence doesn’t stop being kind, caring and gentle. Like a good parent with an edgy teenager.

And all because of one thing: Alan cannot imagine — dream himself out of this situation without the Bright Presence:

“The GPS system was supposed to lead me to Zane, but the shifts were interfering with it. I had to keep trying. I wouldn’t survive alone.”

Alan is not ready to be alone. He even creates imaginary Barry to keep him company. And he’s yet not stable enough to navigate the Dark Place by himself; both DLCs are about how he fell apart after finishing Departure (and consuming the Dark Presence? This is for another time).

But let’s return to the Bright Presence. In the end of The Signal he’s swooshed away by the Dark Alan:

“Swept away be the gathering insanity, Zane was gone.”

Alan can make the Bright Presence appear and play the part of a guide and the Dark Alan can make it disappear: they both use him as a doll, really, all in simple dreaming. There is nothing the Bright Presence can do about that, as we see. Alan — whichever one of them — controls the Dark Place and its inhabitants. Were those Taken, Alan fought with just concepts, ideas and memories or were they just like Mr. Scratch — entities, that call the Dark Place home, taking the appearance that Alan’s mind can comprehend?

Moving on to The Writer. In the opening we, again, see that Alan is more capable than he thinks and can deal with everything by himself. After the disastrous ending of The Signal he’s snapped back by Barry, who’s a figment of Alan’s imagination — meaning Alan himself. And the Bright Presence, who would be really helpful at that point makes no appearance. Is it because there was no need? But there was, Alan was going into the same madness the Dark Alan was experiencing. Or was it because there was no one to dream him there, since Alan was consumed by the insanity? The latter, of course. As soon as Alan gets a grip, he instantly summons the Bright Presence into the lodge. And proceeds to bind it to himself even more, now the Bright Presence is accompanying Alan.

Among levitating trees (just like the Dark Presence, by the way), giving pages and placing words around (questionable though), the Bright Presence also converses with Alan, during their journey together. And keeps the charade of Tom Zane quite alright. When talking he does it in a way that can be expected from Tom:

“This is a vast place, home to forces and beings that are completely alien.” “Sometimes transmissions can be sent between world. You’ve done this yourself. But to actually leave the Dark Place? I haven’t found a way.” “It’s like learning to control your dreams. There’s a connection.” “Yes. I taught you. You fixed the foolish mistake I made with Barbara.”

But there is a big slip up and a complete giveaway of who controls whom and how Tom is not the author of Alan’s story. After Alan is freaked out by realising there are two of him, he asks about Mr. Scratch, just to learn he’s not another Alan; and then this dialog happens:

“Zane, are you playing some kind of a game with me?” “I’m not the author of your story.” “How can you say that when you wrote that page about me and the Clicker? It wasn’t one of my pages. You directed me to it! You had Weaver guard it!” “Yes, she was needed, and you needed the Clicker. But… I am not…” “What? I don’t understand—” “Alan. You should keep going.”

And the Bright Presence just poofs (“follow my light” all over again). The only things the Bright Presence acknowledges are: he indeed made Cynthia guard the shoebox and indeed had something to do with the Clicker being in there. The page? No answer. The story? No answer. And this “I am not” might be understood in many ways, but I think it is a direct continuation of “I’m not the author of your story”, meaning “I’m not in control”, which can be read as “you made me do it”. Given so much breathing room in his actions, the Bright Presence is not following the script and here his lack of understanding of how humans connect things and interpret words shines. He didn’t expect that Alan will be convinced that his story and the Clicker were written by someone else, as he was the one to write this part into the Departure; the Bright Presence is also forbidden to step out of his role, so this dialog catches him off guard.

In my opinion this is also pointing on the real Thomas Zane having nothing to do with Alan’s story or Alan’s existence in the first place. It’s a whole talk on its own, but here I will note that if the Bright Presence took some traits from Thomas along with the body, and we know that after the possession happened there was a lot less left:

“And he surrendered his body to it, but at the same time, the essence of who he was kept diving deeper, ever deeper, holding the essence of his girlfriend (their spirits? their souls?). The diver (or what was left of him, his true self) spoke the words of his secret poem.”

He surely would be aware of Thomas writing Alan before. And it has to be before, cause on the private island Thomas has no need to make a hero, that will make his appearance only forty years later. Even if we assume that Thomas cared about the mess he created, he would be more concerned with making a hero, who will put both Presences from their new playground — meaning our world — back into the lake in 1970.

Now, there are some things that suggest that the Bright Presence is indeed the real Thomas Zane:

“Yes. I taught you. You fixed the foolish mistake I made with Barbara.” “It stole the skin of my Barbara a long time ago. She looks so old.”

And his “Barbara”, sounding as if he’s pleading for her to snap out of this darkness, when the Dark Presence returns to the cabin after Alan’s escape.

Let’s address the elephant in the room: why do I insist that the Diver is the Bright Presence and not Thomas Zane? Well, This House of Dreams was created for a reason and, considering how many references to it we have in the second game, I strongly believe, it still holds merit. Especially compared to the other online source that was scrapped — the OGoA site. This House of Dreams is still there for anyone interested to read, it is also tightly connected to Control: not only because of Ordinary, but the shoebox, indeed was in the possession of FBC and then mysteriously (ah, if only they would read the blog or had internet!) disappeared. The story there is the in-universe truth as far as the real event go; Samantha’s dreams on the other hand might be a bit of a distorted truth, but they are corroborated be the Dark Place’s inhabitants in the most important parts, so I take it as facts when it comes to the nature and populace of not-a-lake. Another piece of evidence we have is the absence of the Bright Presence in other instalments, as it fulfilled its role. And Tom the Filmmaker goes even further to prove, that the Diver is not the Thomas Zane (just as the filmmaker himself).

The abilities of the Bright Presence, the way all the lights are blinking when he talks, how he cannot enter the cabin because the Dark Presence forbid it (and we know that it’s now her place of power; even if it wasn’t before, Alan wrote it to be), his awareness of the Dark Place and total lack of concern over Mr. Scratch, his whole personality and slip up also points that he’s not Tom Zane. Even Alan, although, not in the right direction, questions the Bright Presence:

“I was glad to have Zane with me in this place. He knew the terrain, such as it was. But part of me wondered if he was even human anymore, after so many years in this place.”

But there is another piece of evidence. If there is anything in this universe you can absolutely trust, it’s the songs of Old Gods of Asgard. And we have, actually, two songs that shed some light on this whole Tom or the Bright Presence question.

The Poet and the Muse:

Now if its real or just a dream One mystery remains For it is said on moonless nights They may still haunt this place

We know exactly how the Muse is haunting the place, so it’s fair to assume the Poet does the same.

There is another line that ties up nicely with the next song:

And vowed them both to silence Deep beneath the lake

And here’s from Herald of Darkness:

He could write a new story Like Tom Zane before him And maybe they'd be happy once again

The Poet and The Muse point us to the direction of the real Tom and Barbara being deep beneath the lake, silent and not going around, making Darknados or delivering manuscripts, while Herald of Darkness heavily implies that the plan with the secret poem worked: Tom wrote a new story, he’s happy with Barbara on their private island; and Alan could try to pull the same trick with Alice and “maybe they would be happy”.

There is still one burning question left: why would the Bright Presence keep the charade? Firstly, I think because it doesn’t really mind being called Tom Zane, since its wearing his skin for four decades, took some things from the man and got comfortable in this role; secondly, as it proved times and times again, it’s not one to explain things outside of those that are absolutely necessary and demanded of it by the story (follow my light); and lastly, well — Alan. Alan decided that the Bright Presence is Tom Zane; who is the Bright Presence to object? An ancient being with unknown power, we probably cannot even comprehend? Well, yes, but also Alan’s shiny puppet, that is being tossed around like nobody’s business, whooshed in and out of the events at a whim.

Where is the Bright Presence in the latest games? Well, I have an idea about its whereabouts in AWII, but in AWAN I cannot say. My best bet is it’s so damn done with a certain tortured writer who’s playing god even with such powerful entities in the Dark Place, it skedaddled as far as possible as soon as Alan and the Dark Alan reunited in the cabin, the Bright Presence is forbidden to enter; and hoped that no Alans will venture out and remember about it.

And I would say: good for it.

[jazzmynerule]

Cars outside

prompt: this is kinda like a part two of ‘gold rush’ but in stiles’ perspective

warnings: none :)

✿.｡.:* *:.｡.✿ ✿.｡.:* *:.｡.✿ ✿.｡.:* *:.｡.✿ ✿.｡.:* *:.｡.✿

i’m packing my bags that i didn’t unpack the last time

stiles couldn’t comprehend how somebody could be as beautiful as y/n was

that way she made his stomach churn with butterflies anytime she looked his way

he knew if she was his he’d never let her go

ever

i’m sayin’ “see you again” so many times it’s becoming my tag line

he doesn’t understand how somebody so beautiful could exist

she’s like a rare crystal amongst a bunch of fossils

but you know the truth i’d rather hold you than try to catch this flight

he dreams of having the most perfect life with her

four kids, two boys and two girls, a puppy and a big house in the country surrounded by farms

he would do anything for that girl

even break his own heart

so many things i’d rather say but for now it’s “goodbye”

every day he takes the long route to his locker just so he can pass her and see her angelic like smile

makes his heart pound against his chest like he’s just finished running a marathon

you, say i’m always leavin’

it pangs his heart knowing she’ll never share the same feelings but he can’t help but fall more in love with the girl everyday

she’s like a drug

he’s addicted

you, when you’re sleepin’ alone but the cars outside but i don’t wanna go tonight

“hey y/n, i’m so sorry to ask but do you have an extra pen..? i kinda forgot mine again”

stiles chuckled awkwardly as he turns in his chair to face to big grinned girl

“of course stiles” she smiled as she handed the boy her last pen

“you’ve sucked me dry of my pens stilinksi” she giggled making tender eye contact with him

“yeah sorry about that, i always forget to give them back.. plus i don’t think you want them back anyways i always chew the lids up till there’s nothing left to chew”

she giggled at his words which made his stomach turn into a zoo full of butterflies

“you can keep it” she smiled

i’m not gettin’ in the Addison Lee, unless you pack your bags, you’re comin’ with me

he had to find a partner for the english presentation

he couldn’t go with Scott because he already chose allison and nobody else liked the poor boy

before he could even look for a partner he felt a tap on his shoulder

“wanna be my partner? my friend isn’t here today” y/n smiled up at the tall boy watching his face light up with joy

“don’t even have to ask” he smiled back at the girl

“great! where do you wanna do the project?” she questioned

“we can’t work on it at mine, dads gone a bit cuckoo from the case he’s working on”

“alright so we’ll do it at mine, does tonight after you finish training sound good?” she asked putting her stuff down and grabbing her pen out of her pocket

“yeah tonight works” he replied

the small girl grabbed his hand and wrote her address on his palm

“i’ll see you tonight then” she smiled a toothy smile and walked out of the english classroom

 leaving stiles to fist pump the air like a two year old

i’m tired of lovin’ from afar and never being where you are

there he was standing on y/n’s front porch knocking on her door frantically

his heart was pounding a million beats per/minute if that was even possible

he’s never been so nervous in his life and that’s saying something because that boy is anxious mess always

close the windows, lock the doors, don’t wanna leave you anymore

“hey stiles” y/n smiled as she opened the door

‘god she’s perfect isn’t she?’ stiles thought as he saw the girl

her hair was in the messiest bun he’s ever seen, her glasses were hanging to one side as if they’ve been fixed on multiple occasions and her eyes were dripping with sleep

even when she looked like a hot mess

she still made stiles go weak in the knees

ooh-ooh, ah-ah

“hey if you’re tired i can always come back tomorrow?” stiles said taking a step down from her porch

“no it’s fine trust me i was just taking a nap” she half smiled

“you sure y/n?”

“yes stiles”

he was starting to get a weird feeling of guilt in his stomach the more she she told him to stay like he was draining the only energy she had left for the day

i’m starin’ at the same four walls in a different hotel

he couldn’t focus on anything she was explaining for the project

he didn’t understand any of the words she was saying

all he could hear was the mumbles coming from her beautiful lips

the lips he wishes he could peck every second of the day

It's an unfamiliar feelin' but I know it so well

the way she would fix her glasses anytime she looked at stiles made him go crazy

just the way she sat so close to him was driving him insane

he doesn’t understand how somebody like y/n is breathing the same air as him

Oh, but you know the truth I would rather hold you than this mobile in my hand, but I guess it’ll do because for you I would run up my phone bill

“Stiles are you even paying attention?” Y/n sighed setting her pen down on the bed

“uhm duh yeah obviously” stiles scoffs sarcastically

“such a bad liar” she snickered looking in the boys eyes

You say I'm always leavin', You, when you need me the most, But the car's outside, But I don't wanna go tonight, I'm not gettin' in the Addison Lee, Unless you pack your bags, You're comin' with me, I'm tired of lovin' from afar, And never being where you are, Close the windows, lock the doors, Don't wanna leave you anymore

his body felt paralysed like he couldn’t move

her eyes were his favourite part of her

not her pretty pink lips or her squeezable rosy cheeks

her gorgeous glossy y/e/c eyes

the way they soften when they look at him

or how they squint when she laughs

Oh, darling, all of the city lights Never shine as bright as your eyes

“you have the most prettiest eyes y/n” stiles sighed watching as her face grew red

“if this is one of your stupid pranks to play with my emotions stiles that isn’t funny” she laughed dryly seeming as if she thinks he’s lying

“it’s not y/n seriously, you’re eyes are so mesmerising” he smiled down at the girl

even when sitting down he was still a few inches taller

“thank you stiles” she smiled back at the boy

his face held an emotion she never thought she’d see when looking at him

admiration

he placed his hand on her cheek and stroked it lovingly with the pad of his thumb

“the prettiest girl i know” he leant down and whispered in her ear which sent shivers down the girls spine

“no that’s Lydia” y/n whispered back

“nah uh, it’s you” he argued moving back and smiled

“always been you y/l/n, always you” he chuckled lightly

“what do you mean?” she asked tilting her head like a confused puppy

“since third grade i’ve been so unbelievably in love with you it’s like my heart was gonna explode every time you walked past me”

“what? no it can’t have been me i mean you literally stuck hearts on lydia’s papers every english lesson” y/n shot up from her spot on the bed and started fiddling with her fingers

“i did it to everybody y/n, even your papers but i was too scared you’d see so i ripped the page out and kept it in my bag” he answered standing up as well

“oh my god” at this point she felt like she couldn’t breathe like her lungs had collapsed on her

“hey it’s alright if you don’t share the same feelings you know kinda knew you wouldn’t anyways, he smiled down at her trembling figure

before he knew it the girl pulled his face down and gave him a quick peck on the lips as a way of showing him she does like it back

“oh well i guess you do then”

———

a/n: this took me forever and a half to write this.. i lost motivation half way through if you couldn’t tell but i kinda wanted to finish it and get it out there for you guys :)

[islesnucks]

DON'T MOVE ON - QUINN HUGHES X READER

here is the hughesy angst i promised, i cannot believe i wrote it that quickly

likes and reblogs are always appreciated, hope you like it!

Word count: 2.5 k

Warnings: just a bunch of angst and then fluff

Summary: a month after a huge fight that ended your relationship you find out from Brock that Quinn hasn’t been able to move on too

Masterlist

Add yourself to the taglist!

Today marked a full month since the fight that ended it all. You’d like to say you couldn't remember how it happened, how things got so out of proportion you ended up breaking up, but you did. You still remembered every painful detail.

It had been a long day, those that just drain you physically and emotionally to the point you want to get home and sleep so it's finally over. But you didn’t do that because the canucks were playing that night and you thought maybe watching the game at your boyfriend’s apartment and waiting for him to get back after it ended would make you feel better. You were wrong.

The canucks lost that night, it wasn’t a huge loss, just by one goal, a power play goal made by the other team after Quinn had taken a penalty. He obviously put the blame on himself and when he got home things got worse.

With both of you in bad moods things were meant to get nasty, but you never thought it would have reached the point it did. It started as a small fight but quickly things escalated. You knew you didn’t mean the things you were saying, but you weren’t thinking clearly. Suddenly all the little stuff that bothered you about each other started to accumulate and when he said you didn’t support him enough that was the last straw.

How could he say that when you were standing right in front of him in his apartment after having watched his game and waited for him? Even when all you wanted was to go to sleep and forget that day had even happened.

“I can’t believe you just said that. Seriously Quinn I do so much for you and this is how you pay me?”

“Then maybe if I’m such a bad boyfriend we should break up.” He knew that’s not what he wanted, but anger took over and he wanted to hurt you as much as you had hurt him seconds ago.

“Maybe we should.” you quickly replied and the room went silent. You looked at him, internally begging him to say he didn’t mean it, but nothing happened. The silence was deafening.

“Ok then. It’s over.” you finally said, already gathering your purse and leaving his apartment. Not having enough strength to give him a final look as you shut the door behind you and rushed out of the building.

You didn’t cry as you walked to your car or in the drive home, it was like you were on automatic mode, you just drove to your place in silence without a thought in your head.

But once you were inside your apartment it all dawned on you. Your vision got blurry and you let out a suffocated breath. Your legs stumbled and you fell down on the floor with your back against the wall, unable to take in everything that had happened. It was over.

That happened a month ago. You hadn’t talked to Quinn ever since that night. It had been the hardest month of your life. You didn’t realize he was such a huge part of your life till he wasn’t there at night to hold you as you sleep, making you a cup of tea while you studied, pointing at you in the crowd after a goal, rushing out of the lockers straight to your arms after a game, stroking your hair as you lied on his chest to help you relax after a stressful day. He wasn’t there anymore and you missed him with every bone in your body; but he never reached and you were too afraid to see him only to discover he was doing completely fine without you.

Focusing on your studies and work made it easier, you discovered if you had your head occupied the whole day you didn’t think of him. But nights were the hardest, lying alone in your bed with only your thoughts would make your mind go back to that dreadful night and you’d end up crying yourself to sleep. That empty feeling would turn from sadness to anger and vice versa, but no matter how hard you tried to get over him you couldn’t.

That’s why after weeks of pure silence it surprised you when you received a call from Brock. You debated on whether to answer or not, but figured if he called after all this time it was important.

“Hello?”

“Hey Y/N” he answered. “How are you?” You could tell he was hesitant.

“I’m … good I guess.” you replied followed by a long silence. “Why are you calling Brock?” you finally asked, wanting the exchange to be over.

Brock didn’t know how to phrase it, he knew why he was calling and what needed to be said, but he simply didn’t know how to say it without you immediately ending the call after hearing his name.

“It’s about Quinn- please don’t hang up!” he was quick to add.

“What about Quinn?” you asked. It felt weird to talk about him out loud, something you hadn’t even done with your friends.

“He 's bad Y/N. Really bad. He won’t come out of his apartment, only for practices and games, and then he rushes back home and we don’t see him again. We’re really worried about him, all the team and his friends, even his family. He hasn’t been calling them like he used to and Jack had to basically convince their mom not to take the first plane here to check up on him. Even Brady hasn’t been able to get to him. Plus he’s been shit on the ice lately, taking stupid penalties and getting into fights, he’s one bad game away from getting benched.”

“I get it Brock but I don’t know what you want me to do. It’s not my job to fix him.” you told him. The thought of Quinn suffering alone in his apartment broke your heart but after all he was the one who decided to end things and never reached you after it. You knew it was your pride talking, but he had put himself in this position.

“I know, I know. I’m not asking you to forgive him for whatever it is he did. Honestly we’re kind of out of the loop here because he won’t tell us what happened between you two. But please I’m begging you, talk to him. You don’t have to get back together, but I think he needs some type of closure or something. He can’t keep doing like this Y/N.”

You could tell by his voice he was genuinely worried, and you were sure this is something he had talked about with the rest of the team and friends. You hated to admit it but Quinn still had a place in your heart and right now it ached at the thought of him drifting away from his family and friends and even failing at the job of his dreams when maybe a simple talk could help him. So you decided to push your grudge aside, but not completely.

“I have a box with his things, tell him I’ll go by his place to return them and then we can talk.” you said, thinking that the box of his belongings you had packed some days ago and sited by the door waiting for the moment you were strong enough to give them back to him would be a good enough excuse. That was not the answer Brock expected but he knew it was the best he would get.

“Thank you Y/N. I know this isn’t easy for you, but thank you so much.” You hanged up.

-

You stood on the hallway in front of his door after knocking, waiting for him to answer. You kept repeating to yourself everything would be fine, that seeing him again after a month wouldn't be as hard as you thought, but the moment the door opened and your eyes connected with his, your heart stopped.

He looked like shit. Tired eyes, heavy dark circles around them, messy hair and you’d bet he had been wearing that old shirt and sweatpants for at least three days. You were also surprised to see that he was shocked you were standing on his doorway.

“Y/N?”

“I told Brock I’d stop by today.” you explained.

“You spoke with Brock?” he asked and then you understood his friend hadn’t informed him of everything.

“Yeah he called me yesterday to talk about … well about you.” you said, unsure if telling him you talked about him was the right thing to do. He nodded, still a bit confused but didn’t say anything. “Can I …” you said, gesturing to the inside of the apartment.

“Oh yeah sure.” He moved to the side to let you in. “Sorry about the mess.”

You walked into the all too familiar apartment where you had spent many days and nights, but now it didn’t feel like home anymore. The curtains were almost shut completely allowing little to no natural light at all inside, there were some clothes on the sofa and dirty dishes piling up in the sink. 

“So I’m guessing Brock forgot to tell you I’d stop by to drop this.” you said putting down the box on his coffee table.

“He probably did it on purpose. If I knew he was going to call you I’d have stopped him.” he simply said, like it wouldn’t be a dagger to your heart to hear he didn’t want to see you. Maybe after all he wasn’t doing so bad, or maybe it wasn’t because of you.

“If you didn’t want to see me I can go-” You started to turn around, ready to once again leave his apartment brokenhearted like many days ago, but his hand on your wrist stopped you.

“No! It’s not that I don’t want to, it's just that … it’s hard.”

“Hard?”

“Yeah Y/N, hard. I haven’t seen you for like a month. After that fight you just left and I never saw you again.”

“Well you never reached out Quinn.”

“You didn’t either.”

“Yeah but you were the one that decided to break up. You want me to process my boyfriend breaking up with me and then also call to check up on him?”

His hand was still on your arm, making you stand close to each other, so close that you could tell how his posture changed after hearing what you had said.

“I’m sorry about that, about the break up and about every other stupid thing I said that night. You were the best girlfriend I could have asked for.” he said looking into your eyes. You could tell he was being sincere and that softened something inside of you.

“I also said some stupid stuff I didn’t mean. We were too caught up fighting to actually think what we were saying.”

“I’m sorry.” he almost whispered before letting go of your arm and quickly wrapping his arms around your body.

You were surprised at first but didn’t hesitate to hug him back. By the way you were hugging, with his head low into your neck and your arms around his frame, it looked more like you were consoling him, and in a way that’s what was happening. At one point you noticed he was crying, you couldn’t see him but you felt the warm tears against your skin and the way his chest shook between your arms as he tried to hold it in but failed.

“If I could take it all back I would, I really would.” he mumbled against your neck in between sobs. You started crying too, unable to keep on pretending you were fine anymore, unable to keep on pretending you didn’t care.

“I miss you so much Y/N.”

“You do?” you asked, genuinely surprised to hear him say it.

“Are you kidding me?” He pulled away from you to look you in the face, but your arms stayed on each other. “Look at me, look at my apartment. I’m a mess without you. I miss you every second of the day, there isn’t a moment when I’m not thinking about you Y/N. I mean I’m doing so horribly I’ve got everyone worrying about me: my friends, my family, my team.”

“You never called so I thought you had moved on.”

“I didn’t. I can’t move on from you and even if I could I don’t think I want to”

You looked at the mess of a man standing in front of you, crying in your arms, telling you he regretted everything, he missed you. It was clear to see he had suffered as much as you had for the past month. There was no doubt in your mind you still loved him, you tried to push it away but there it was, strong as ever, beating deep in your heart. So you decided to go for it, let yourself be weak one more time and if it didn’t work out then that’s something you’d have to deal with later; but if it did you knew it would be extraordinary.

“Then don’t.” you said and he looked down at you with furrowed brows. “Don’t move on.”

“Is that what I think it is?” he asked, eyes getting bright with hope at the thought maybe it wasn’t all lost.

“I’m willing to try again if you are. I still love-” you started to say but he cut you off mid sentence moving his hands to your face and your words died in his lips.

It felt familiar, like coming back home after a long trip. Both your eyes were closed, enjoying the kiss, savoring every second of it. Tears started rolling down your faces and you could taste them on each other's lips. Tears of joy because neither of you could believe this was actually happening.

“I love you.” he said once you pulled away to breathe, foreheads touching and lips millimeters away. “I love you, I love you, I love you!” he kept on repeating with the brightest smile on his face. You giggled before connecting your lips once again for another kiss, something you could never get tired of.

This time his hands moved to your sides, lifting you up in his arms as you wrapped your legs around him and let out a surprised squeal between the kisses. He walked over to the couch, threw away the clothes that were there with one hand holding you close to him with the other, to then swiftly lay on it with you on top of him.

“I’m never letting you go again.” he said, placing a kiss on the top of your head as you nestled yourself between his arms with your head on his chest.

“That’s fine by me.” you replied, earning a sweet laugh from him.

-

tagging those who asked or seemed interested:

@lovingbrock @mellany1997​ @timothyjimothy74 @itoldmycatsaboutyou @stlbluesbrat @dermybaby​ 

[yourlocalfictionalenthusiast]

IN LIFE, IN DEATH...

PART TEN

:Masterlist:

A/N: And that’s a wrap! Ahh, writing this series has been so fun and I’m so glad that so many of you have liked it so much. Thank you guys for staying until the end and hopefully for upcoming stuff 👀 I hope you enjoy the finale of In Life, In Death... <3

(Also the song mentioned in part six and this part is ‘She Is Love’ by Parachute) <3

-

December 1994

Luke groaned as he woke up, squinting hard to try and adjust his eyes to the amount of light in the room.

Even before he could see clearly, he knew he must've fallen asleep in the studio judging by the soreness in his back and neck that he always got when he slept on the old couch. It couldn't have been more than six in the morning, and Luke could still feel the tiredness in his bones. So he tried to turn away from the light and hopefully fall back asleep, but there was something keeping him firmly in place.

His heart skipped when he looked down and saw that you were laying right next to him with your head on his chest and an arm thrown across his stomach. When he realized that his own arms were wrapped around you, his heart broke out into a full-on tap dance.

Waves of confusion ran through his still-foggy brain until he saw his guitar case propped up against the piano and his backpack on the floor with his clothes spilling out of it.

Then the events of last night quickly came back to him.

How he had gotten home late from rehearsal and his mom was waiting in the kitchen with his latest report card and her signature lecture at the ready. One minute he was standing there yelling, packing all he could fit into his bag, and the next, he was halfway to the studio with the rain soaking him head to toe.

He had expected it to be empty when he finally got there, but he was flooded with relief when he saw you. All the frustration slowly melted out of him the longer he laid there with you, leaving him feeling exhausted and shivering despite how warm he felt.

The last thing he wanted to do was talk about any of it, but when you asked, the words came out of his mouth before he could stop them.

He remembered rambling and crying again, the sound of your voice and the feeling of your fingers in his hair warming him up even more. Then finally, he remembered falling asleep with his chin tucked on top of your head, the smell of your shampoo filling his senses.

Without thinking, Luke reached down and carefully pushed a piece of hair away from your face, tucking it behind your ear and smiling to himself when you shifted into his touch. Then taking in a sharp breath as the realization ran through him all the way down to his toes.

You were his best friend.

The person he wanted to see at the end of a long day. Whenever he was full of anger or lost in confusion, all he had to do was look at you and everything suddenly made sense again. With your pretty smile and laugh, and your way of flipping that little switch inside him that made his head all fuzzy and the ground start spinning under his feet.

You were his best friend, and he was in love with you.

-

2020

All you felt was a mixture of anxiety and nausea as you stood on the Orpheum's street corner, biting the tips of your fingernails.

The entire plan hinged on Willie and Teddy getting everything done in time, and considering that they had betrayed you all before, you couldn’t help but expect the worst.

“Look, don’t worry. Willie said he’ll get us on that marquee.” Alex said nervously as he kicked pebbles across the sidewalk.

“This is going to work, right?” Reggie asked.

“It has to.” Luke mumbled, wincing seconds later when another shock hit them.

Two sharp pops cut through the air behind you and you all whipped around to see Willie and Teddy standing just a few feet away. Willie was watching you all carefully with concern written all over his face, his eyes lingering on Alex longer than anyone else. Teddy stood at the edge of the group, practically burning a hole in your face with his guilty stare.

“Are you guys okay?” Willie asked.

“Yeah, nothing we haven’t felt before.” Alex laughed awkwardly. “How’d it go?”

“Well, when the opening band wakes up, they’ll find their bus two hundred miles out of Vegas.” Willie said with a proud smile as he did a spin, showing off his stolen jacket with the band’s name across the back.

“With absolutely no chance of getting back in time.” Teddy added.

Luke gave Willie a fistbump and pointed up to the office above the Orpheum. “That means there’s probably a promoter up there freaking out right now.”

Willie grinned, sarcasm laced in his tone. “Nah, man. This is Hollywood. I’m sure he’s being very professional.”

You laughed and then Alex slowly inched forward, clearly struggling for the right words to say to Willie. You gave his arm a quick squeeze before following Reggie and Luke down the street to give them space. Before you even got halfway down the sidewalk, Teddy poofed next to you.

“You know, If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you don’t want to talk to me.” He joked.

“Teddy-”

"I just-I didn't want to leave things the way we did." He rambled. "I'm sorry, I should've told you everything that night in the diner-"

"Teddy, It's okay." You said. "You told me before Caleb could put the stamp on me, and you didn't know the details about the plan until after it was too late to help my friends. Plus, I know how much you're risking helping us now."

As soon as the words left your mouth, you felt some of the weight fall off your shoulders. You weren't sure why since the situation was still a little painful and awkward. But being around Teddy always made you feel a little like that kid who started working at the diner with Cece all those years ago. Besides, they were so alike that you found it hard to stay mad at him.

You held out your hand for Teddy to shake. "Despite everything, I'm glad we met."

“Likewise, Gorgeous,” Teddy said with a relieved smile as he grasped your hand. With a subtle wink, he nodded over towards where Luke was standing at the end of the street. “He’s a lucky guy.”

"What? How did you?-" You sputtered as he stepped away. You never told Teddy about Luke, or at least you didn't think you did.

Teddy just smirked in response before disappearing into the air. At the same time, you saw Willie skate away out of the corner of your eye, leaving Alex alone on the sidewalk.

You all phased next to him and Luke squeezed his shoulder reassuringly. "You okay, man?"

"Yeah. I'm good." Alex smiled slyly as he gestured to the office. "Looks like this show needs a new opening act though."

You grinned. "Let's go see if we can help with that."

-

When you got back to the studio, you found Julie pacing back and forth in the middle of the room as she wrung her hands together.

When you all poofed in, she immediately jumped into a load of questions, losing her breath halfway through and flailing her arms around.

"Whoa, just sit down," You laughed excitedly. "We'll tell you everything."

Julie took a gasping breath and plopped backwards onto the couch then stared at you all with expectant eyes. "Well?"

"It worked!" You announced. "Everything's fine."

"You should be getting the call...now!" Alex pointed to Julie’s phone on the table just as it started buzzing. You all cheered and Julie shushed you as she answered the call.

You heard a woman's voice say something through the phone and Julie gave a thumbs-up as she started jumping on the couch. You watched in amusement and mild horror as Luke and Reggie lifted Alex up into the air and spun him around.

Once he was back on the ground, Luke and Reggie made a beeline for you, each of them grabbed one of your arms and flipped you upside down over their shoulders.

You all spent the next twenty minutes laughing and screaming and Alex even got a little teary-eyed but you pretended not to notice. Then Julie called Flynn and ran off excitedly to decide her outfit for the night, leaving the four of you alone to plan out the setlist.

“Okay, so I’m thinking we start with Stand Tall.” Luke said excitedly as he wrote the words down in his songbook.

“Sounds good.” Reggie said, suddenly quiet.

“’Sounds good’? Guys, I wanna hear ‘That sounds awesome!” Luke reached out and nudged Reggie’s shoulder. “I know this isn’t the way we imagined any of this. But we need to be all in tonight. This is our second chance to play the Orpheum!”

“I get it.” Reggie sputtered. “But it’s hard. Do we even know what’s on the other side when we cross over? Do we still get to hang out together?”

You shifted your weight as the happy little bubble surrounding you popped. You had been so wrapped up in the excitement of finally playing the Orpheum that you almost forgot what tonight was really about.

“You guys are the only family I have.” Reggie’s eyes were glued to the piano as he played with his fingers. You reached out and locked his arm with yours in an attempt to comfort him.

“I don’t know what’s gonna happen either. But it’s not like we have a choice.” Alex said.

Suddenly, Reggie’s arm fell out of yours as all three boys fell back, clutching their sides.

“I’m pretty sure we do.” Reggie groaned. “And it rhymes with ‘Hollywood Ghost Club’.”

The garage doors creaked open and Julie appeared with a bright smile and a blue garment bag in her hand. When she saw your expressions, her smile fell. “What’s wrong?”

“We just got hit pretty hard by one of those jolts.” Alex said. “But we’re fine.”

“Oh, good.” She nodded, though she still looked on edge. “I’m nervous.”

“That makes two of us.” You said. “But we made it this far for a reason. We got this.”

“Can you ride there with me? I'm gonna need more pep-talk material for the drive there cause I still think I might puke.” Julie tucked her hair behind her ears.

“Of course, and don't worry, we’ll leave the windows open.” You joked, making everyone laugh.

The sound of a car horn cut through the air and Julie looked outside. "That's my dad. Are you ready, (Y/n)?"

You nodded. "Yeah, uh, give me a second. I'll meet you in the car."

As Julie disappeared behind the doors, you turned to the boys and sighed as you tried to soak up this moment. For all you knew, this could be the last little window of time you had alone with them before tonight.

Julie was a huge part of the band of course, but these were your boys. The ones who you started this all with, who had been by your side for everything.

From the look on all their faces, you could see that they were thinking the same thing.

Without saying a word, you launched yourself at Alex. He made a surprised noise but recovered quickly, throwing his arms around you and holding you tight.

"And I'm the emotional one?" He jokingly muttered in your ear and you pinched his side, making him jump back. "Rude."

As soon as your arms were open, Reggie stepped forward and hugged you so tightly that you were thankful to not need oxygen anymore because he was definitely crushing several vital organs.

You laughed and gave him one last squeeze before pulling away, locking eyes with Luke instantly.

Alex cleared his throat awkwardly and grabbed Reggie's shoulder, steering him over to Luke's songbook to 'check out the setlist again'.

"And then there were two." Luke joked.

You laughed and stepped into his waiting arms, making him laugh. You soaked up the feeling of comfort and familiarity for a minute before pulling away.

"This, uh, is for you," Luke said as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. You knitted your eyebrows together in confusion as he handed it over. "I wanted you to have it in case...well, you know. If tonight doesn't work."

"It will." You said, trying to ignore the fact that it very well could happen. "You're not getting rid of me that easily, Patterson."

"I wouldn't dream of it." He quipped back, his voice sounding softer and less teasing than you would've expected. You pulled back from him and because you didn't know if you would ever get another chance, you stood on your tiptoes and planted a kiss on his cheek.

You moved away too fast to see his reaction but the gesture made the other two boys smirk at you as you dashed out of the doors, making a beeline for the car pulling out of the driveway.

-

The back rooms of the Orpheum were a maze.

You had left for a few minutes to walk around the venue and clear your head, trying to wring out the last of your nerves.

By the time you found your way back, you expected to find the rest of the band rushing to get ready in the dressing room. But all you saw was Julie anxiously pacing as she had been earlier, a habit she seemed to have inherited from both you and Alex.

“You okay?”

She snapped her head up towards you and sighed. “Yeah, just a little worried. The guys aren’t here yet.”

You looked around the room and then at the clock, frowning. The show was in less than half an hour and that was already cutting it close. Part of you wanted to go check on them but Julie seemed to need you more at the moment.

“Okay, well, give them another ten minutes. I'm sure they'll be here. They wouldn’t miss this…again.”

You ran your palm across the front of your pocket, feeling Luke's note next to your parent’s photo, and hoped you were right.

But then more and more time passed until the stage manager came to escort Julie to the stage.

"Just a second!" She calls out and then turns to you. "(Y/n), something's wrong. They were getting those jolts pretty hard before we left. They must've run out of time."

You shut your eyes tight as the words sunk in. All you could bring yourself now was, ‘This isn't what was supposed to happen.’

The world fell out from under your feet and you had trouble even standing up straight as you imagined what must've happened to them. Your best friends, your brothers, your family was gone and there wasn't anything you could do about it.

The guy knocked again, this time a little harder and with a nervous tone. Julie chewed her lip as she looked between you and the door and you could almost see the cloud of grief settling over her.

As hard as it was, you tried your best to shove your feelings down and marched up to Julie. There would be time to fall apart later, but you knew that this what they would want you to do. "Let's go do this for them, okay?"

She took a deep, shaky breath before hesitantly nodding. You followed closely behind her as she walked out the door though the halls until she reached the stage. You waited beside Flynn in the wing as Julie settled behind her microphone and addressed the crowd.

There were scattered claps from around the venue and then she took a deep breath before singing the opening.

After the first few lines, you took your cue and materialized at the center of the stage. The crowd gasped and cheered the way they always did, but you kept your eyes shut tight and focused on the music.

Just as the song started picking up, you heard a familiar pop in the air and then the sound of drumming. You whirled around to see Alex mounted onto a drum set at the back of the stage, twirling his drumsticks around and smiling like he had never been gone at all.

Once you got over the initial shock, you wanted to cry with relief. They were okay, they were here. Alex winked at you goofily, and you ran towards Julie’s keyboard.

She had started bouncing on the balls of her feet, both of you finally getting into the song now that they were coming back. You followed suit, dancing around the base of the drum set as yours and Julie’s voices came together.

Then Reggie appeared on the other side of Julie and you ran to his side. You bumped his shoulder with yours and he grinned, moving to stand back to back.

The song was ramping up to the chorus when a staticky noise cut through the air, not loud enough for the crowd to hear but enough to make you all look over to the other end of the stage.

You could see Luke's form fading in and out, a look of anguish on his face, and the pit in your stomach opened up again. The crowd was on the edge of their seats as Alex's drumming paused and Luke finally materialized to sing the opening of the chorus.

You didn't even know you were moving until you suddenly found yourself across the stage next to Luke, unable to stop smiling as you sang.

Julie joined you, throwing her arms up in the air happily and jumping around. Reggie appeared by her side, flashing the crowd a winning smile.

Alex stood up and gripped his mic as he sang this solo. You looked back at him and flashed him a proud smile, then whooping loudly when Reggie sang his lines.

You all went down the line hitting your notes until the chorus kicked in again and your heart felt so full you almost couldn't stand it. This was what you were so close to achieving before you died, it was all you had wanted for years, and you knew that if you hadn't died, that night would've changed your life. But this night was something even more special. Because you were all here, all together.

Even if it was just for one last song.

Julie caught your attention and nodded towards the platform that spread out into the crowd. You followed her to the center and stood back to back as everyone cheered.

The guys joined in on either side of you, Alex grabbing one of your hands and Luke holding the other. You all bowed to the audience before taking your cue and vanishing, leaving only Julie on stage.

You landed in the wing, feeling a little lightheaded and overwhelmed from all the emotions you had experienced in the last five minutes. The elated smile fading from your face when all three boys poofed by your side only to fall to the floor instantly.

“It didn’t work.” You said miserably as Julie emerged into the backstage area. She grabbed Flynn and whispered something to her, pointing in the direction of her family. Flynn nodded and disappeared into the crowd while Julie ran to your side.

You hauled Alex onto his feet, letting him lean on you to stay upright while Luke and Reggie trailed behind Julie as she led the group back to the dressing room. Once everyone was inside, they collapsed on the couch or the floor, loudly groaning in pain.

“What happened? Why didn’t it work?” Julie asked tearfully.

“I guess playing here wasn’t our unfinished business.” Alex said hollowly.

“Point Caleb.” Reggie muttered as he clung to the side of an armchair.

You stood frozen next to Julie as panic spread through your whole body, both of you flinching in sympathy as the shocks continued.

“You have to save yourselves right now.” Julie begged. “Join Caleb’s club. It’s better than not existing at all!”

“She’s right.” You managed to say, your voice shaky and almost giving out. Your stomach flipped at the thought of them having to work for an evil club owner forever, but the alternative was worse. “You guys need to go now! For me. For us.”

“We’re not going back there.” Reggie shook his head.

Luke pulled himself up and stumbled forward a little so that he was right in front of you. “No music is worth making if we’re not all making it together.”

You sighed sadly, thinking back to your conversation yesterday. “So no more regrets?”

Luke let out a deep sigh and then reached up and cupped your cheek with his right hand. “Just one.”

You furrowed your eyebrows in response and Luke blinked hard as if he was trying to find the words. "I never told you why I left that night."

"Luke, don't." You gave him a weak smile. "I get it."

"You do?" He asked.

You struggled to get the words out. "Yeah, I mean it was bound to happen eventually. We just got too close and it was weird for you. I understand t-”

"What?" Luke asked, cutting you off with a confused look. "No, no, that's not it at all. Read the-"

Before he could finish, you heard Julie gasp loudly from a few feet away. You looked over to see her stepping back from Alex with an awestruck look on her face as she gripped his forearms.

Wait, what?

Before you could even begin to process what you were seeing, Reggie was reaching out to Julie, who grabbed his wrist and hauled him up to his feet. The three of them stared at each other for a few seconds before Julie turned to you and Luke.

“Guys, come here.”

Alex reached out and pulled you into his side while Luke threw an arm around Reggie’s back and Julie brought you all in closer to her. At first, nothing happened. But then there was a faint buzzing sound and the boys lifted their wrist towards the ceiling and you all watched in awe as the stamp floated away in the blink of an eye.

“Whoa.” Reggie said, his eyes still glued to the ceiling. “I don’t feel as weak anymore.”

“Yeah, me neither.” Alex agreed. “Not that I ever was that weak in the first place.”

You rolled your eyes and let your head fall over on his shoulder. “What do you think that means?”

Luke smiled. “I think it means the band is back.”

It was quiet for a second before Alex looked at you all shyly. “You guys think we can try that hug thing again?”

You laughed as you huddled together again, sniffling and laughing. Then Julie yelled out that you had played the Orpheum and then you were all jumping around, still tangled in each other’s arms.

Eventually, you all broke apart and while the boys started chasing each other around, you turned to Julie. She looked into your eyes and immediately flew into your arms, muttering into your shoulder, “I always wanted a big sister.”

The words warmed your heart and you squeezed her extra hard, grateful that you actually could now. “Well, I’m honored.”

“My family's probably looking for me so..." Julie stepped back from your arms with the biggest smile you’d ever seen on her face, you jokingly bowed to her and she copied the gesture before disappearing behind the door.

You wiped the last of your tears out of your eyes and turned around to find Alex and Reggie were talking in whispers and wearing knowing smiles. When Alex saw you looking, he cleared his throat and nudged Reggie’s shoulder.

“Hey, Reg.” Alex said cheekily, not taking his eyes off of you for even a second. “I was going to check out the next band. You wanna come with me?”

“Sure!” Reggie started strolling towards the door, stopping only for a second to nudge your shoulder and whisper ‘don't do anything I wouldn’t do’ in your ear.

Alex fixed Luke with a pointed look over his shoulder and Reggie gave him a dorky wink before they poofed away. You smiled fondly at the space where they were just standing and awkwardly turned towards Luke.

“Hi.” You said, laughing awkwardly.

“Hi.” Luke muttered back as he stepped forward until he was close enough to grab your hand. “About what I was saying earlier…”

You opened your mouth to say something but he shook his head and pointed to your pocket. “Read it. Please.”

You tugged the note he had given you earlier out of your pocket and carefully folded it open to see that it wasn’t a note at all. It was the love song that Julie had found that day in the garage, the one that he didn’t want anyone to see. You struggled a little trying to decipher Luke's handwriting. The ink was a little smudged and the song was clearly unfinished but it was the most beautiful thing you had ever read. And he had written it for you.

"I didn't leave because we got too close," He said. "It was the opposite, (Y/n), I left because I was scared to lose you, and I know that doesn't make sense because I kind of did w-"

You carefully tucked the paper back in your pocket with one hand and grabbed the back of his neck with the other, pulling him down and closing the last bit of space between you.

Luke's brain short-circuited for a second before he started kissing back, grabbing your waist with enough force to nearly knock you both backwards. It was dizzying and a little desperate, yet weirdly familiar, as if you'd been kissing him your whole life.

Most moments with Luke felt like they were happening in slow motion, but this time it was like a high-speed movie montage of your whole lives. The stolen crayons, the time capsule, the pre performance pep talks, the smell of cinnamon, the ferris wheel, his jacket, the movie nights and songwriting sessions. All of it had led up to this moment.

"I love you." Luke said immediately after you pulled away. "God, I love you so much. I'm such an idiot. I'm sorry."

“Hey, it’s okay.” You laughed, blinking another wave of tears out of your eyes. “I should’ve told you forever ago instead of skirting around it.”

“And what is it that you should’ve told me?” He said teasingly and you rolled your eyes. You had gotten so used to Luke being so shut down or nervous around you that you almost forgot how much of a little shit he could be.

“That I love you too.” You said, unable to stop smiling.

Luke leaned down and captured your lips in another kiss, this time threading his fingers through your hair as he cupped your cheeks in his hands. “I’m never gonna get tired of hearing that.”

You bit your lip to keep another laugh from bubbling up as you looked up at him, feeling completely overwhelmed in the best way possible. "So...what now?"

"I don't know." Luke admitted. "But I know one thing."

"What's that?"

"That no matter where we go, or what we do," He pushed a piece of hair behind your ear. "In life, in death... I'm yours. Always."

-

The End

-

In Life, In Death Taglist:

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JATP Taglist:

@caitsymichelle13 @sunsetcurvej​

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[mrsdeanwinchester19]

The Dinner-Sequel to The Interview

Pairing: Steve x reader

Word Count: 3k

Summary: Sequel to The Interview.  Steve takes his wife to meet his team after her interview

Warnings: None

“Steve, do you think this dress is ok?” I ask, coming out of our walk-in closet wearing my lace, off the shoulder red dress.  Steve is taking me to dinner with the team tonight, so I want to make a good first impression.  Most people would think I’ve met the team before, but Steve kept our relationship a secret in the beginning and then the team broke up because of the Accords and we got married when we were on the run, so we really couldn’t invite any of the team members.

We had our wedding in Norway, one of the few countries that hadn’t signed the Accords.  They claimed they didn’t sign because if a non-government owned unit made from people from different countries called the Alsos Unit hadn’t helped them in World War II, the Germans would have succeeded in creating an Atomic bomb in their country.  In Norway, there was one team member, Thor, who was visiting Earth; he vouched for us.

After our wedding, we went to Wakanda on our honeymoon and visited Bucky. We had been having dinner with Bucky, T’Challa, and Shuri when we told him we got married.  He was upset that he couldn’t be there, but he understood when he found out the wedding happened when he was asleep.  When he said Steve could make it up to him by naming his first son James; Steve started choking on his Umqombothi drink.  I know Steve wants kids, but he wasn’t willing to have them while being on the run. Now that we’re not hiding, we’re actively trying for a baby.  I wonder if tonight he’ll break the news that he has a wife AND is trying to get said wife pregnant.

As I walk out of the closet, I bend down to adjust the ankle strap on my right heel.  I stand back up, smooth my dress, and look up at Steve.  He’s staring at me with a dopey smile on his face, love evident in his eyes.  “The dress itself is fine, you make it look perfect.”

“Ugh, Steve, quit it with the cheesy lines,” I protest while blushing.  Men used to say these things to their wives and girlfriends back in their time, it’s why Steve and Bucky can be prince charming when they want to be. Bucky more often than Steve now that he’s more like his old self, or so Steve says.

“I’m just being honest,” he defends, shrugging his shoulders.  He comes over to me and wraps his arms around my waist.  “You nervous?”

“What do you think?” I ask rhetorically.   I haven’t been this nervous since I first met Steve. In 2014, during a career conference once for journalists, the resort we were at was seized by terrorists.  One of my coworkers and I were the only ones from The New York Sun attending, despite the fact that it was in New York. I suppose they only wanted to go if the convention was out of town so they could get out of work and go on vacation. We were held in the resort’s Grand Hall for hours until the Avengers were able to save us.  There was a pretty big fight between Steve, Thor, Iron Man, Hawkeye, Black Widow, and the terrorists but luckily no one died.  I had been hurt in the kerfuffle, a broken finger, but after Steve wrapped my finger in a brace, he allowed me to interview him.  During the on-camera interview with him, Thor was teasing him in the background, doing silly faces and the “blah blah blah” hand motion.

Steve had asked for my name and number to “keep in touch and see if my finger heals correctly”.  When I gave it to him, he wrote it down in an old-fashioned address book. I hadn’t expected him to call me ever, but he did, asking for a date.  At first, he was weary of me being a journalist, in case things ended badly and I wrote a bad article about him.  However, a year later, he was thankful I was a journalist because I had access to all archived articles about the Winter Soldier.  After that happened, I knew he trusted me wholeheartedly and I felt the same. When the Accords started happening, I had access to the signing, to interview government people about it, and relayed that information to Steve about who he could trust.  That was how I found out about Norway not signing.

“They’ll love you,” he says.  “Bucky loves you, Tony will probably love you because he’ll think the interview prank you pulled on me was hilarious.  Nat and Wanda will be happy another girl is around.  Thor likes you, even Loki took a liking to you; he would love the interview prank. Clint will like you, Bruce will like you; no one has a reason to dislike you.

I turn around and take a good look at him. Royal blue dress shirt and black pants. His hair is up and I want nothing more than to run my fingers through it. He keeps me pressed to his body closely and I rub my hands along his chest. “If we didn’t have to go to dinner with your friends, I would be all over you right now.”

“Sorry, last night’s sex is just gonna have to hold you.” I give a little laugh.  “I’m just messing with you, I’ll be all over you tonight,” he growls, pulling my face up to his and kissing me deeply.  His kisses always leave me breathless, whether they’re passionate like this or small, chaste kisses when he’s leaving for work in the morning.  This however, is a whole new level and it’s making my heart go crazy.

Steve picks up the basket on the kitchen counter and we walk out the door. When we get to the car, he opens the door for me, ever the gentleman, before climbing in himself.  As he drives there, I fiddle with the hem of my dress.  I’m so worried I’ll talk too much or too little, or I’ll offend someone or embarrass Steve. What if I mention something about him that they don’t know?  Like that he bawled like a baby at Where the Red Fern Grows and Homeward Bound. Tony would probably love that but I don’t want to make Steve feel bad, I was crying too.

My biggest worry is what they’ll think of me after the interview.  Will they think it was funny or will they look at me as unprofessional for not telling them I had a conflict of interest with the Avengers?  I think Tony will like me, and maybe Nat, but I have no idea about the others.   I don’t think Bucky would come around as much as he does if he really didn’t like spending time with both Steve and me. Besides, sometimes when Steve is on a mission and he isn’t, he comes and keeps me company with old movies and our little two person book club we started.  His first choice of book was The Hobbit, which he told me he had read it when it first came out in 1937.  He was happy but not surprised to find out there were movies based on them.

When we drive up to the compound, Steve has a difficult time getting me through security.  They recognized my face and apparently Tony told them not to let me back. “Don’t alert Tony about her,” Steve said as he explained the situation to the guard.  He looked skeptical but agreed.

Steve led me upstairs, but not to the dining room where the team was waiting. He led me to his room.  “Well, well, well, Mr. Rogers, I thought we had to meet your friends in a little bit. Though I know you could probably get it done in ten minutes.”

“Ha ha ha, very funny,” he sarcastically replies.  “I just needed to grab…this,” he says, pulling his wallet out of his nightstand.  “Forgot it here yesterday.”

I simply hum in response to his explanation because I’m too busy looking around his room.  I’ve only seen it over FaceTime and in pictures.  It’s very different from our room at home. Our house, which we had just moved to from our apartment in preparation for a family, has a farmhouse theme.  Our master bedroom has a cream colored walls and one shiplap wall which our bed’s decorative headboard sits against, while our king sized bed is covered in a thick white comforter.  There’s a gray bench at the end of our bed and a blue and white rug.  There are nightstands on each side of the bed where we keep our small before bed items and our white, shared dresser is on the other side of the room, next to the door for our walk-in closet.  We have an attached bath with a clawfoot tub and a shower stall.  Our room lets in lots of natural light, which Steve loves because he likes to let the morning sun warm his back on his days off.

This room has a completely different feel to it. It’s much darker than our room at home. The walls are gray and his comforter is dark blue.  He has a black dresser across from his bed with a TV mounted to the wall above it. A plain bathroom with just a few essentials like shaving cream, a toothbrush, toothpaste, etc sit on the counter.  While our walls at home aren’t covered in pictures, we have more than the two he has here.  One is a picture of him and Bucky laughing and the other is of his parents before his father went to war; the war he never came back from.  Both pictures he has copies of hanging up at home. There’s a somewhat large window on the wall, but it’s covered with a blackout curtain.

I did most of the decorating at home, while this decorating was all him.   “Steve?” He looks at me.  “Do you not like our room at home?”

He furrows his eyebrows.  “No.  I love our place.  Why would you think that? Also, that’s very random to be bringing up now.”

“Well it’s just…this room is so different from ours at home.  I just didn’t know if you liked the darker colors better.  I want you to be comfortable in our room at home.  We can change it if you want it to look more like this one.”

He gives a little laugh and turns to face me.  “I didn’t decorate this room, Tony’s person did and he gave me this room because it’s the “most masculine”.  I prefer our room because it’s bright and spacious.  The fact that you decorated it is special to me because it’s like a present you gave to me.  Plus, I don’t have the best eye for interior design since everything I grew up with was either floral or had doilies.  But to be honest, this one feels a bit like a dungeon.  I just don’t bother to change it because I just sleep at home.  And I didn’t change it before I met you because even then I just used it to sleep, if I slept at all,” he looks into the distance, remembering all the nights he spent up in the gym, trying to beat the memories out of his mind.  He changes the subject, “Ok, so when we go down there I’m gonna have you wait around the corner and then you can come out when I tell you.”

He leads me downstairs and has me wait in a hallway. He walks around the corner and I hear Tony say, “Alright Capsicle, what’s the surprise you have for us?”

“Everybody just sit down and I’ll get to it in a minute,” he replies.  The sound of chairs scraping the floor is heard and Tony grumbles something about how he had been planning to have lasagna with Pepper tonight.  After a few seconds of silence, Steve comes back around the corner, grabs my hand, and leads me out. I nearly trip over my heels when we start moving and the pit in my stomach only grows.

At the sight of me, Tony and Natasha stand up startled. “What is she doing here?” Tony angrily asks.

“I thought you banned her,” Natasha adds on.

They all begin chattering, asking Steve why I’m here until Bucky calmly says, “Hey Y/N.”

Sam looks at Bucky confused, “You know her?”  Bucky nods his head and Sam looks at Steve, confused and a little hurt.  “Steve?”

“Everybody,” Steve starts, setting his hand on my lower back.  “This is Y/N, my wife.”

“WIFE?!” they all shout at different times.  Steve and I get bombarded with about a million questions at once.  When did we meet, why weren’t they invited to the wedding, when the wedding was, why I interviewed Steve the way I did, etc.

A loud thud on the balcony draws everyone’s attention. Thor is standing there in his armor and cape, holding his hammer.  “Sorry I’m late for team dinner,” he begins but stops when he sees me.  “Lady Y/N, I haven’t seen you since the wedding.  How has being married to the Captain been?”

“Oh you know, being married to a man-child is a struggle, but he’s hot enough for me to keep him around,” I joke.

“Thor, you know her too?” Tony asks.

“Yes I do.  Loki does too but I decided not to bring him tonight.  I think it would have been a bad idea.”

“Alright, Tony, sit down and I’ll explain everything,” Steve says.  Tony hesitantly sits down and everyone else follows.  Steve explained everything from why we met to why we couldn’t invite them to the wedding.

As he’s finishing telling the story and answering questions from the team, Tony’s bots bring in the pasta and Steve gets up and grabs something from the basket we brought.  He opens a bottle of wine and begins filling glasses.  When he gets to mine, I put my hand over my cup.  “Not tonight,” I say.

“But it’s your favorite,” he says.

“I can’t,” I say, not wanting to get in to it.

“C’mon, I won’t let you drink too much,” he says jovially.

“No, Steve…I can’t,” I say forcefully, looking up to make eye contact, hoping he understands without giving anything away.

He understands, but unfortunately his mouth works faster than his brain.  He looks down at my stomach and an excited smile spreads on his face.  “Are you…?”

I look around the table, seeing the Avengers all looking at us expectedly.  I look back at Steve and sheepishly nod.  He gasps and nearly drops the bottle, but luckily he realizes that when I reach out to catch it.

“A babe,” Thor says happily.  “Mazel tov.”

“They’re not Jewish,” Bucky says to Thor.  “Can’t wait to meet little James or Jamie.”  I give Bucky a look to let him know it’s not happening.  “Ok, Bucky works too.”

Tony puts his head in his hands looking like he’s about to pass out.  “Oh my god, we find out Steve is married to a woman I banned from the compound, and now that he’s going to be a father.”

I look at Steve to see him with tears in his eyes. Thankfully, Natasha saves us. “I’d like to propose a toast,” she says, standing up and holding her glass out.  “To Steve and Y/N, I hope you have a long, happy marriage and a healthy baby girl that you name Natasha.”

“That was the other thing we had planned to tell you tonight.  We’ve been trying for a baby.  I guess we were successful.”  Steve finishes pouring the drinks while everybody suggests baby names.  After a while, the conversation drifts to other things.  I enjoy listening to them, though they’re constantly quipping (mostly Tony).

Bucky, who’s sitting next to me, whispers to Steve, who’s on my other side, “Are we going to church this Sunday?”  The three of us go to church most Sundays. Steve and Bucky both grew up going to church, and it gives them some hope in a dark world.

Tony, who wasn’t involved in the conversation, cuts in. “Barnes, you could live at church and you still won’t go upstairs when you die.”

Bucky’s metal hand clenches so hard around his fork I’d be surprised if it isn’t bent.  He looks at Tony and gives him a very fake, overly sweet smile.  “Tony, I love how mean you are to me because it makes me feel less guilty about what I did to your parents.”

Tony stands up, slamming his hands on the table and Bucky mirrors him.  It looks like they’re about to attack but Steve intervenes.  “Tony, Bucky!  Tony, that was uncalled for and Bucky, that was unnecessary.  We know how you actually feel about your past and we’ve watched you try to change.”  Both men slowly sit back down.  “We have a guest.”  Bucky relaxes first, then Tony does.

“Y/N,” Tony addresses me.  “I need to apologize for my rudeness towards Bucky on my first night officially meeting you.  I was hoping not to fight with him tonight.”

“You call that a fight?  You should hear these two,” I say, gesturing to Steve and Bucky on either side of me.  “These guys can bicker with each other like an old married couple for hours about the smallest things.  Last week they had a 45 minute argument on how many times you can reuse a towel before it needs to be washed.”

“Wash it right away,” Steve mutters.

“Steve, we used to use towels so many times before we washed them in the 40s,” Bucky argues.

“Yeah but that was because if we needed to wash things, Mom had to heat up water and then hang-dry it on the balcony.  It’s easy to wash things now days.”

“Anyways,” Tony says, stopping their argument.  “I guess the interview you gave Cap makes sense now…somewhat.”

“Well I was pissed at him that day, so I think he deserved it.”

Tony smiles at Steve.  “You need to bring her around more often.”

Taglist: @imanuglywombat @infernal-fire @dottirose @carpediemm-18​

[neptunetheplanet7]

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐰𝐨 - 𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦

DM ME IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO BE PUT ON THE TAGLIST!!

;mikasa ackerman x fem!lesbian!reader

;modern au, band au

word count: 2.1k

warnings: swearing, floch’s bad flirting

bold italics is a text conversation

listen to the music masterlist

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disclaimer again!! i wrote this a long time ago. i know there are things that need to be fixed and things that don’t fit right. i plan to edit this story more in the future but today is not that day :)

You took a shaky breath in as you stopped midway of putting a clean sheet on the bed Mikasa would be sleeping in. The room still had some of her old stuff in it, it's just no one ever came in here after she left. You looked around at all the items she left behind. Smiling fondly at an old picture of you two, you noticed a small figure crossed out in the background. Glancing at the rest of the photos on the shelf, you noticed that every photo had something crossed out.

After looking at each picture, you came to the conclusion the figure was Jean. She must have only taken the photos without him and did this to the rest. You frowned and walked back to the bed. Carefully, you climbed onto it and propped a few pillows up to support you as you leaned back.

For the first time in two years, you got a good look around the room. On the side of the room with the door, there was a large glass window overlooking the balcony above the living room. You always found it strange that she chose a room like that when she usually kept those blinds shut. Her bed was in the middle of the room with a tv mounted on the wall across from it. On the other side of her bed, there were a couple of bean bags below the bay window that looked out on the driveway.

You sighed and took out your phone, pulling up old texts with Mikasa. The last time you texted her was three months ago when you got too drunk at one of Reiner's ragers.

mikasa

mikasas pleasdse

come home

i miss you

i miss you so much

we all miss you so much

come home to me.

She didn't respond to that and you wouldn't know if she even looked at it. She turned her read receipts off for everyone after the first week of trying to contact her. The only time she had ever contacted anyone was two weeks after she left the house.

Don't look for me. Don't contact me.

You got a lot of your friends asking if you got the same message. She sent the same thing to everyone who tried to get in contact with her. You still didn't know where she was or what she was doing. The only thing you knew was that she was coming home the next day. You sighed. Suddenly, you didn't feel like cleaning anything else. You briskly walked out of her room and dialed the number of your best friend.

"Hey, Y/n! What's going on?" Sasha's cheery voice rang through the line.

"Hey hey, Sasha. I'm doing great. At least, I think I am. Do you wanna go somewhere? You can pick me up? Or I can pick you up if you like."

"I'll come to pick you up, honey bunny, don't you worry." You heard her struggling with her keys on the other side of the line and snorted at the noise.

"Need some help, Sash?" You grinned while skipping steps.

"Fine, thanks." She grumbled. "I'll be there in fifteen! You stay put!" She briskly hung up.

Sasha had been your best friend ever since Eren's nineteenth birthday party. She caught you and Eren coming back inside just as she was about to leave, with half the pantry in her arms. She asked for your number to make plans to hang out and chat sometime. You happily obliged, which was probably the happiest thing you had done that night.

You tossed your phone onto your bed as you walked into your room. Your room was on the first floor. You got first pick since you were the one who inherited the house. The house was big and beautiful. It was also on a lake. Perfect for the parties Eren and Jean loved to host. Perfect escape from paparazzi.

Your room had big glass doors that opened to the balcony that wrapped around the back of the house. You had a great view of the lake. The room was painted white. There was a black marble fireplace in one wall with a small wardrobe you used for storing memorable items to the band. You didn't need to use it for clothes since you had a walk-in closet in the big bathroom you partly shared with your bandmates. Jean liked to use the large bathtub.

You collapsed onto the bed and stared into the vanity mirror next to it. It was then when you realized you were still in your pajamas. "Oh shit." Your eyes widened as you hurriedly stumbled over to the closet, falling over once.

You grabbed a pair of baggy sweats and a big t-shirt. With duck socks, of course. The outfit didn't look much different than your pajamas but Sasha would probably be wearing something similar.

You threw your hair into the easiest hairstyle you could muster. You grabbed your boots and hopped up and down while trying to put them on while also leaving the room. "Jesus." You muttered.

Your phone vibrated, signaling that Sasha was here. "I'm heading out with Sasha! You're on your lonesome!" You called out to wherever Armin was in the house.

"Okay! Don't be back too late!" He shouted back.

You laughed aloud as you realized how much he sounded like a dad. You opened the front door and ran to Sasha's car. "Let me in!" You knocked on the passenger window as she reached around to find the button that unlocks the door. Once it was unlocked, you swung open the door and hopped inside.

"Nice outfit," was the first thing she said to you. You glanced at her outfit and scoffed. Your predictions were correct, she was wearing something similar.

"Gee, thanks." You gave a lopsided smile and rolled your eyes.

"Where to, honey bunny?" Sasha said, giving a mock salute while her other hand rested firmly on the steering wheel. You giggled and thought about it. You called her on such a whim that you forgot to even plan anything.

"Uh how about Brain Freezes? I could really use a catch-up with Connie right about now." You suggested.

"That sounds like a great idea! Turns out you do have a brain up there." Sasha snickered.

"Oh good one, because you're the real genius here, clearly."

After a lot of lighthearted banter, you arrived at Connie's workplace. Sasha aggressively grabbed the door handle and slammed it open, causing the bell to fall off its perch and land on your face. "Oops." You grimaced and bent down to pick up the bell. You rang it in front of her face.

"Sasha! Y/n! My two favorite customers!" Connie jumped up and down on the other side of the counter. "How can I assist you ladies today?"

"I'll have the usual." You gave a half-hearted smile, head still impaired from the bell. Sasha had quite the habit of accidentally hurting you.

Sasha snatched the bell from your grasp and started ringing it. She announced her very long order that you could barely keep up with, but Connie was used to this kind of thing, especially with her.

You noticed one of his coworkers scowling at Sasha. You didn't like Floch, to say the least. He was always inviting himself to your parties but he was rude to all of your friends at the same time. He noticed your gaze and smirked.

He strutted over to where you stood, pretending to become very interested in toppings. "How are you, Y/n? It's been a while huh?" He leaned over your shoulder in a way that workers shouldn't with their customers. You made a hasty effort to slip away from his presence.

"It really hasn't. I came here last week. I come here every week and you say that every time." You usually tried to be nice to Floch, but today you didn't feel like being nice.

"Well, even a day without you feels like an eternity." He flirted horridly. You stared blankly at him until he awkwardly cleared his throat and traded spots with Connie at the register.

Connie took off his apron and handed you and Sasha your orders. "Sorry about him. That guy really can't take a hint even if it's right in front of his face." He shot Floch a venomous glare. "Luckily, you guys got here right as my shift ended! Wanna get out of here?" His previous anger seemed to dissipate in an instant.

"Yeah, I do! Where should we go?" Sasha beamed with her spoon still in her mouth.

"Can we just drive around? I've got something I wanna tell you guys." You played with your spoon in the ice cream, averting eye contact.

"Sure thing, Y/n. Let's go." Sasha and Connie said in unison.

Sasha let you drive her car since she was preoccupied with her mountain of ice cream. Connie didn't have a car, he failed his driver's test every time he took it. You'd think he'd learn most of the material by now. "Hey, Y/n?" He asked from the backseat.

"Yeah?" You nodded to him.

"Are you gonna finish that?" He said, referring to your cup of ice cream in the front cupholder. You sighed.

"Go ahead." He thanked you over and over as he leaned over and snatched it.

"So, Y/n? What was it you wanted to tell us?" Sasha wiped her hands on her pants and set the empty container in an extra cupholder.

You gripped the steering wheel harder then relaxed. You took a shaky breath in. "Mikasa is coming home tomorrow."

Connie started choking on your ice cream. "I know, I had the same reaction." You quipped.

"Mikasa..is...WHAT?" Connie managed between coughs.

"After all this time? It's been two years. Tomorrow? That's so sudden! Are you even ready to see her?" Sasha's mouth was gaping open. You leaned over and shut it for her.

"Yes, tomorrow. I still have to get the house ready. I couldn't even make it through her old room without calling you. Jean told us this morning. I don't think we should be worried about me being ready to see her. I think we should be more concerned about her and Jean." You informed. "But, then again, she told Jean about her return first. Plus he's picking her up tomorrow at the airport. So based on that, I think they're on better terms."

"You don't think they'll get back together, do you?" Connie said, his eyebrows furrowing.

You snorted. "Of course not. You know Jean is with Marco now, and he seems pretty happy with him. They've been together for two years now, probably longer if I'm being honest."

"Then what do you have to worry about?" Sasha asked, confused.

"Are you joking? I mean, what if she has found someone? What then? What if she quits the band forever? What if we argue? She dropped off the map two years ago. Completely. She stopped responding to me, to all of us. For two years I thought she lost her interest in everything and went to live a new life, with people better than me. And now she's coming back, out of the blue! It's too much." You stressed.

Connie and Sasha made quick eye contact. "Y/n, I think you're reading too far into it. I doubt anyone could lose interest in you. You're too cool! Let's look on the bright side, she's ready to come home and you finally get to see her again," Sasha said in an attempt to lift your spirits. You smiled graciously. You really were lucky to have a friend like her. "Right, Connie?" She gestured to Connie who looked very deep in thought.

"Didn't you and Mikasa go out in high school?" You almost crashed the car from the shock of the question.

"Briefly, yes. But we weren't 'going out' so to speak. We just, like, made out a couple of times." You could feel your face grow hot at the subject. You thought you were over your crush on Mikasa, but after hearing that she was coming home, the familiar feeling was coming back.

"You're going red, Y/n. I think it was more to you than just a make-out." Connie grinned while Sasha wiggled her eyebrows.

"You're totally in love with Mikasa!" Sasha sang.

"Shut up, you two. I don't wanna get into the details right now." You couldn't even try to hide your heated face since you were the one driving the vehicle.

"Not right now? So maybe somewhere down the line, you will?" Sasha raised her eyebrows and broke out into another infectious grin.

"Whatever, Sash. Enough about Mikasa and me. I really wanna hear about you and Niccolo." You gave her a similar grin while she slowly turned red.

"Nice one, Y/n!" Connie cheered.

"You idiots should just shut it!"

posted: 8/24/21

neptunetheplanet7© 2021

no reposts, edits, or modification to my work by anyone other than me.

[dewykth]

SWEET SEPTEMBER.

a @periminkle​​​ and @dewykth​​​ collaboration.

synopsis. for many, september symbolizes new beginnings. but for namjoon, this month never fails to send him back into the past. though this time, something seems different.

pairing. kim namjoon | female reader contains. fluff, angst, slice of life au, ballet instructor!reader, single dad!nj  word count. 7.5k+  warnings. death mentions, mature audience

dae’s note. surprise !!! this fic is dedicated to my favourite virgo karla @guklvr​​​​ !! happy birthday bae i hope you enjoy this lil thing me n vira whipped up for u!! (i stress wrote a lot of this ha.) also sry for lying & keeping you up but hopefully this makes u forgive me. but i hope ur day goes amazing ILYSM DUDE !!! <333 and a huge thank you to vira for hopping on board for this idea bc i cld not have done this without her !!! pls give her all the love !!!

vira’s note. KARLAAAA!!! i always gotta scream ur name it’s mandatory to start with a good scream ykno? bUT HAPPY BIRTHDAY GIRL 🥳  i already told u this too many times today but ILYSM !! like that full day without saying a single word to u felt so weird and i kept going into our chat and rereading our mssgs and wishing I was talking to u??? which is weird to admit?? but that literally how much i missed u idk how but im addicted to u so if you leave me I will literally die :))) aNYWAY have the bestestestest day ever and i hope u love the fic bc I ignored all my uni work to finish this !!! (also i feel reallyreallyreally bad about last night sO IM SORRY AGAIN BUT I HOPE THIS IS WORTH IT) 💖

Despite the papers carelessly stuffed into his leather briefcase, the dark coffee stain on his black slacks, and his unkempt locks resembling that of a bird’s nest, Namjoon’s become accustomed to the hectic nature of his mornings.

The kitchen table is practically buried under stacks of files, yet he brushes them aside to allow one corner of the glass surface to peek through. He plops the toddler in his arms onto a high chair before racing to the counter and sloppily pouring some honey nut cheerios into a small bowl, handing it off to his daughter. 

“Daddy?” her voice squeaks, a patient smile stretching across her lips. Her brown strands are tied up into pigtails at the crown of her head with pink ribbons that flutter with the movement of her tiny head. 

“Yes, angel?” He scurries around to their bedroom, peeling the stained fabric off his body and threading one leg through another pair of slacks fresh from the laundry. 

With Namjoon’s focus pinned on checking off the mental to-do list in his head, he misses the gentle, reassuring smile that stretches across her rosy lips. The adoration for her father is clear in her gaze. “You forgot to pour the milk.”

At the reminder, he squawks and hops back to the kitchen on one foot as he maneuvers his other leg through the pant hole. Swinging the fridge door open, he grabs the carton and sloppily pours the milk into her bowl—white droplets leaping out with their newfound freedom and forming perfect domes on the glass tabletop.

Cleaning the mess falls to the bottom of his priorities at the moment, and so he speeds off to the bathroom to ensure that his appearance is presentable for work while Dasom reaches over to pluck a tissue from the box, swiping the milky beads away before diving into her breakfast. She shoves as many cheerios into her small mouth as she can, rushing because she refuses to finish her meal in the car with their wild driver behind the wheel. 

Despite her mere four years of age, she knows from experience that a bowl of cereal and a shaky vehicle is a recipe for disaster.

Namjoon races over to his briefcase with most of his hair sleeked back, only the locks of his bangs hanging out to frame his forehead. As he slips his dark blazer on to complete his form-fitting suit, Dasom scoops the last few brown rings into her mouth and slurps the remainder of the liquid.

“Did you finish your milk?” he questions while cramming the edges of the loose leaves that peek past the seam of his briefcase, hurriedly zipping it up and turning to face her.

Dasom flips the edge of the bowl up to display its empty contents, gulping the last of her breakfast down her throat. As per routine, she scans her father for any inconsistencies in his attire, landing on his odd fitting bottoms.

“Daddy, your pants are on backwards.”

His eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets, glancing down to affirm that the pockets at his sides are no longer at the front of his hips. Hastily, he shimmies out of his slacks once more and twists the fabric around to the proper orientation. 

Dasom hops off her chair, her bowl and wet kleenex in hand as she waddles over to the sink and waits for him to deposit the dirty dish into the sink and the sullied tissue into the trash. Although her short arms couldn’t reach over the countertop just yet, she’ll diligently drink every last drop of her milk in hopes of growing tall enough to take some of the load off of her father’s back.

He hoists Dasom up at the sight of the red car pulling up to the driveway, squeezing into the back seat. Namjoon doesn’t have to tell the driver to book it, as the calm man in front has learned to keep his foot pressed on the pedal. The car weaves through the morning traffic with concerning speed, snaking through the other vehicles littering the road as if they were no more than stationary pylons, simply there for practice.

Dasom remains on her father’s lap with his arms looped protectively around the seatbelt over her torso. She sinks into his embrace, fiddling around with his long, slender fingers as she watches the blurs of colour speeding past the window.

“Did you put your ballet shoes into your backpack, angel?” Namjoon loosens his grip on her, unhooking one hand to rummage through his own briefcase in order to confirm that he had indeed slid his laptop within the chaos inside. To keep her entertained, he playfully extends his digits out of her reach.

“Of course!” she chirps, a wide grin revealing the gaps between her teeth. The pads of her fingertips brush against his palm and tickle the sensitive skin there when she realizes that her arms lack the length required to latch onto his hand. “I can’t wait for class, we’ve got a new teacher coming in today!”

Humming absentmindedly, he sighs in relief at the sight of the silver device and packs the crumpled papers back in. “What happened to Ms. Kim?”

“She’s teaching the older class now.” The pout on her lips can be heard within the muffled lilt of her voice when she continues, “I asked her to stay until my birthday next week b-but she didn’t.”

Namjoon’s breath hitches at the reminder, but attempts to compose himself for his daughter’s sake. “It’s out of her control, angel, plus she’ll probably swing by anyway.”

His mind starts to fog up with the emotions he thought he buried last year–they swarm his every thought and nibble away at his sanity. He knows better than to believe that they would ever disappear. September will always be an insurmountable month for him.

“I might be a bit late to pick you up later, just sit tight and wait for Daddy, okay?”

She eagerly nods in response, noticing the dull red bricks of her school coming into view. “Okay, bye Daddy!”

Namjoon unlocks the seatbelt, wistfully watching his toddler bounce out of his arms and onto the asphalt below. No matter how many times he drops her off, it’s always difficult to be separated from her bright smile, but he reminds himself that it’s all for her; it makes things a little easier to bear.

“Have a good day at school.” He reciprocates her frantic waving through the window, craning his neck to watch her adorable form become smaller and smaller with the increased distance. Her full cheeks and crinkled eyes are engraved into the back of his mind.

Before long, Namjoon finds himself rushing into his office after an earful from his surly boss about everything from the late hour to the long list of meetings scheduled to all the work he’s got piled up. With his lips pursed and his head bowed, he somehow manages to make it past another lively morning.

Namjoon has a habit of overthinking. He figures it’s normal when you have a stressful job and a four year old full of energy to balance all by yourself. Not that overthinking about his daughter does him any good, because that is far from the reality. If anything, it just makes him, what you’d call, a bit... overprotective (over worrisome if you asked Jin). But it’s something he can’t really help. Even when she had just entered his life, so small and so blissfully unaware of the awful and evil things in the world, all he wanted to do was hold her in his arms and shield her from it all as long as he could.

Though he’s very aware of the fact that it won’t be much longer, that won’t stop him from going over every single little thing that could go wrong in the meantime.

So, of course, when Namjoon’s asshole of a boss makes him stay two hours over his shift, all Namjoon can think about is Dasom. Is she okay? Has she eaten anything? Did she drink enough water today? She’s always dehydrated after her classes too. He usually calls Ms. Kim to check up on her, but his calls went straight to voicemail, which definitely wasn’t helping his hectic mind. Perhaps something had happened to her?

Oh god, maybe someone broke in and had injured Dasom?

The doors are thrown open, the sound of the doorknob hitting the wall reverberating through the room. The receptionist wearing her usual polka-dot dress jumps in her seat, eyes lifting from the intense scene on her phone to the entrance of the building. An unsure smile stretches across her ruby red lips at the familiar figure, though a bit disheveled and breathless. But before the customary ‘hello’ can even form on her tongue, the figure is rushing past her, leaving only a gust of air in his wake. The papers on her desk fall to the ground, and she sighs.

Namjoon is prepared to fight the (fictional) person who thinks breaking into a toddler ballet class is a good idea, but the scene in front of him once he pushes past the doors of the studio is one he is wholly unprepared for.

He sees Dasom first, and the relief that fills his body is indescribable. It’s far from the usual sight he’s greeted with when he picks her up late. She’s not sitting on one of the chairs in the far corner of the room. His heart doesn’t feel heavy, which comes with seeing his daughter so glum. This time it’s her laughter that greets him, not one provoked by him but by the figure standing in the middle of the room with her.

Dasom doesn’t seem to be aware of the presence of her dad yet, but the figure twirling her around turns, and her eyes land on Namjoon.

The reaction is immediate. The carefree smile that had been on your face slips off, a look of embarrassment and surprise overcoming your features. Namjoon only catches a glimpse, and somehow finds himself wishing that won’t be the last time he sees it. You let go of Dasom’s hand, quickly making your way to the stereo on the other side of the room. And that’s when-

“Daddy!”

Dasom wastes no time running into her father’s open arms, and Namjoon suddenly can’t remember why he was so worried in the first place. “Hi, angel.” he says, just loud enough for her to hear. She pulls back. “I’m so sorry for getting here so late. I promise i won’t do it again.”

But of course, Dasom holds nothing but forgiveness in her heart for her hard-working father. She does love teasing him, though. “Don't say sorry to me, say sorry to her.” she giggles, pointing behind her and Namjoon furrows his brow until he remembers they’re not the only ones in the room.

His eyes immediately move to where you stand awkwardly near the stereo, eyes moving around the room as if you hadn’t been watching the whole exchange. Namjoon sighs, realizing he definitely can’t avoid talking to you now. He stands straight, holding onto Dasom’s hand as he makes his way over to you. You only seem to grow more nervous as he nears, and Namjoon distantly recalls Jin telling him he came off as intimidating to most people. Something about his ‘beefy’ arms, in his own words. (“And that stupid and unfairly attractive face!”) He goes for a smile because it's not like he can control his physique.

“Hi, I’m so sorry about…”

Namjoon stops.

Maybe it was the overwhelming distress before, or the really shitty lighting of the studio, but he hadn’t realized how pretty you were before. But now he’s standing right in front of you and he can’t seem to form a coherent thought. Pretty can’t be the right word. He realizes how creepy he probably looks, running in here like a madman and then downright staring at the (very beautiful) woman who looked after his daughter? Not cool, man.

You clear your throat, before extending a hand to him. “Hi, I’m ____, the new ballet instructor.”

Your voice sounds just like honey.

Namjoon stares at your hand dumbly, before the sound of Dasom snickering (very discreetly) behind him snaps him out of it. But instead of introducing himself, or apologizing, or just taking your fucking hand, he says-

“What happened to Ms. Kim?”

He mentally face-palms.

Not. Cool. Man.

Your face falls, and Namjoon has never wanted the ground to open up and swallow him whole more than he does now. “Uh, she’s instructing the teen class now.” you chuckle awkwardly, dropping your hand.

“Oh-”

“Daaaad,” Dasom's voice sounds annoyed, and perhaps it’s a bit silly of Namjoon to feel like he’s being scolded, but that is exactly how he feels right now. “I told you this. In the morning. Remember?”

He doesn’t. “Ah, right of course,” Namjoon scratches the back of his neck. It wasn’t like he meant to forget, he had just been too busy thinking about the other things every September would bring. “Sorry, I’m Kim Namjoon. Dasom’s dad.”

This time he offers his hand, and he thanks the skies above that you don’t seem to hate him because you fit your hand against his. Warm, like honey. How long had it been since he last made a fool of himself in front of a pretty girl?

Too long.

“I’m terribly sorry for arriving so late it’s just that my boss, who’s a huge-” Namjoon glances at Dasom, who is now in her own world, singing some song she learned in school, “jerk, decided to assign these reports last minute and the printer would just not work and then traffic hour-”

Your hand comes up to cover your mouth, but Namjoon can see the amusement bubbling in your eyes. He flushes a deep red, eyes falling to the floor, realizing he started ranting.

“It’s okay. Really.”

When he looks back up, there’s a smile on your face. Not like the one before, this one was more reserved, but genuine, reassuring. And just like that, he’s sure you don’t hate him.

Namjoon’s not sure he likes this feeling though.

“Straighten your arms out, girls!” you belt over the classical music that floods the studio’s walls, scanning your army of toddlers in tutus whose arms immediately tense at your command. Making your way through the row, you poke and prod everywhere from their shoulders to their ankles. “Arch your back more, Somin.”

Their muscles violently tremble in response to the strenuous routine you’ve introduced, facial features scrunched in concentration and a resolute will to uphold their positions despite the hyperextension of their limbs. A mix of pity and pride swells in your chest at their effort. “Keep your chins up, the annual recital is only a couple of days away.”

Cheers erupt throughout the small room, disrupting the focus and spoiling their perfect form, yet you refuse to quiet excitement because of the renewed vigour buzzing throughout the room. The next hour depletes all of their built-up energy with demi-piles, pirouettes and sautés.

A glance at the analog clock in the corner informs you of the five minutes remaining before the end of class, so you pause the speakers and instruct the girls to stretch themselves out as they wait for their guardians to trickle in. They collectively sigh in relief before dropping to the floor like flies.

You snort at their dramatics with an amused smile playing at your lips. “I said to stretch, not to lay down and nap.”

“Can’t we nap and stretch at the same time?”

Strolling over to the source of the voice, you cluck your tongue at her limp form sprawled across the wooden floor and cross your arms, struggling to keep your giggles from breaking your angered facade. “And how do you suppose we do that, little Miss Dasom?”

She flashes her toothless grin up at you. “Like this!” With one leg bent over the other and her hands looping around to hold her twisted limbs to her torso, she shuts her eyes and exaggerates her snores.

At this point, it’s nearly impossible to withhold your snickers, and the rest of the class joins in your laughter. You pick up on Dasom’s tinkling giggles between each of her heavy breaths. The lighthearted jokes continue as kids are signed out with bright grins on each of their faces.

You wait for the rest of the toddlers to file out one by one, waving goodbye and checking them off your list until, as usual, Dasom is the only toddler left. Her tiny feet still clad in her faded ballet shoes waddle up to you, tugging on your blouse.

“Your pirouette was a bit wobbly today, do you want to go over—”

“‘M tired,” she interrupts, slouching her shoulders with an adorable frown marring her lips. Her exhaustion is justified, since the routine is rather exhausting, and with their recital right around the corner, you worked them to the bone today.

The odd timing of the switch between you and Ms. Kim left you with a little under a week to tweak and perfect their current choreography. A sloppy routine is not the way you want to present your skills to their parents for the first time, thus you were stricter with the kids than normal.

Your sympathy wins out, and so you gather Dasom’s lithe figure into your arms as you head to the closest wall. With your back supported, you spread out your legs and place her in your lap.

“My birthday is this Thursday.”

“Mhm,” you hum, bobbing your head to signal for her to continue her train of thought.

Her back faces you, but when her head tips down to stare at her hands, you know she’s contemplating her words carefully. Rather than encouraging her to speak freely, you wait for her to feel comfortable enough to reveal her thoughts; and surely enough, her shell cracks open just enough for you to peep through. “Do you wanna come?”

“I would be honoured.” A giddy smile splits across your lips. “Is Daddy picking you up again today?”

She flips around in your hold, wrapping her arms around your waist and snuggling her head to your chest. Her words are muffled into the fabric of your thin shirt, but her tone indicates her affirmation.

Suddenly self-conscious of your heartbeat—that Dasom can definitely hear with her ear pressed up against you—picking up pace at the mention of her father, you suppress your thoughts with a guilty conscience. You internally chide yourself for harbouring feelings for the charming, taken, man, defying arguably one of the most important fundamental rules of becoming an instructor.

Do not develop silly crushes on your student’s parents.

“Ms. ____?” her faint question snaps you out of your reverie, attention brought back to the present moment. While preoccupied, your hand took on a mind of its own, gingerly patting the space between the little girl’s shoulder blades at a slow rhythm.

She gazes up at you when you halt your rhythmic movements, sharp eyes boring into yours. “Are you gonna ask Daddy to come see me dance?”

The edges of your lips flip up in what you hope to be an encouraging smile as you nod your head. Subconsciously, you begin to stress over another encounter with Namjoon, formulating a script to hopefully avoid the stiff, tense atmosphere that lingered throughout all your previous interactions.

“Daddy’s always really busy,” she slurs, drowsiness coating her words and weighing down on her lids. Grumbling under her breath about her numb legs, Dasom crawls onto the floor beside you with her head resting on your thigh. “He’s always working hard for me.”

Your eyes soften at the fetal position she’s taken up on the ground; not only was Dasom lucky to have such a dedicated father, but Namjoon was also blessed with a caring daughter. “You don’t think he can make it?”

“It’s okay,” she whispers and you have to crane your ears to listen. You stroke the strands littering her forehead, gingerly caressing the crown of her head. “It’s okay if Daddy can’t come. I know him, he’s trying to do it all because Mommy’s not with us anymore, but it’s okay. I still love him even if I can’t see him lots.”

A knot forms between your eyebrows, a bittersweet ache forming within the creases of your heart. The painful constriction of your chest ebbs and flows with your shallow breaths that can’t seem to make it past your throat. You bite your lip to subdue the plentiful liquid gathering at your waterline.

No more than a croak escapes your lips before the door to the studio flies open, meeting the adjacent wall with a bang!

“I’m so sorry, my meeting ran late and I couldn’t—” the rest of his speech gets stuck in his windpipe at the sight of you, eyes rimmed red and sniffling, with Dasom, ostensibly dead asleep, on your thigh. “Did she…?”

You blink away your incoming tears, although your dignity has been completely thrown out the window, seeing as he believes that his four-year-old kid made a grown woman, who just so happens to be her ballet teacher, bawl her eyes out.

As you go to gently shake Dasom awake, she sluggishly lifts her head off of your lap and starts to scale your torso like a koala on a tree. Your confusion is vocalized through the high-pitched hum in your throat, but your efforts to pry off her limbs, tightly wound around the small of your waist, are futile.

“Uh, Dasom? It’s time to go home now, angel.” Despite his firm words, Namjoon’s tone is unsure and shaky; he can feel cold sweat build up in the lines of his palms. He knows his daughter, and she can be periodically stubborn and insistent the way children are at her age, thus even as you come to stand, she’s stuck to you like glue. “Would you, uh, did you need a ride?”

You mimic the sheepish smile on his face, hoping the flaming blush you feel on your cheeks isn’t as visible as it seems. “Sure.”

With Dasom latched onto you, both of you make your way to the red car outside after you lock up the studio. Namjoon courteously opens the car door for you, what with your arms supporting his clingy toddler; although, with the brute force he uses, you worry for the state of the hinges. Thankfully, they stay intact and he’s able to slip into the backseat after you.

Before an awkward silence can settle, you clear your throat and prepare to ask him about his day, but you’re interjected by Namjoon’s sudden stammering, “D-driving’s such a hassle for me so Jin drives us everywhere. Jin knows how to drive though, so, don’t worry.” He finishes with a deep chuckle that dies off nearly as quickly as it began. Oh, that’s unexpected.

“You don’t to drive yourself?” Rather than being processed in your brain and logically thought through, the question immediately enters your mouth without any prior scanning for dumbass-content. You instantly regret it, feeling as though it’s much too invasive. “You don’t have to answer that, I—”

The hearty laughter that meets your ears is “No, I do. Sometimes. But its easier raising this one like this.” His tone turns sweet at the mention of Dasom as he reaches over to pat her head, and you’re overcome with an intense desire to prod more into his personal life. Why does he have to work so much? Which shirt in his closet is his favourite? How does he like his eggs in the morning?

“I’m not sure if you already knew about the annual recital on Saturday, but Dasom’s been practicing really hard for weeks and the kids are all really talented, so it would definitely be worth your time...”

As he’s gazing at his daughter, galaxies of devotion and longing swirl within his cocoa irises. The cool light of the moon shines through the windows of the car, illuminating his sharp jawline and strong brows. You’re absolutely mesmerized by the sight in front of you. “You must be really busy, huh?”

“More than I’d like to be.”

You rip your entranced gaze away from Namjoon, willing yourself to steady your frantic breaths.

The remainder of the ride still drips with awkward tension, although with a definite lighter tone than before. Jin pulls up to your apartment with your direction and you dislodge a sleepy Dasom from your torso, which is much easier now that her limbs have gone slack with sleep. Handing her off to Namjoon, who practically engulfs her tiny form with his broad chest, you rush out of the vehicle with a quick, “See you!”

You slam the door closed before he can say anything, racing into the comfort of your home with your heart in your throat.

The last thing you had expected to do on a Thursday evening was to go to a birthday dinner. Thursdays are your days off, your in-days. The ones you spend lounging on your couch with a face mask and some wine. And yet, here you are.

When you received a text this morning, the last person you had expected it to be was Namjoon. Much less Namjoon asking you to come over for Dasom’s birthday. You weren’t going to say yes, hell, you had thought of downright ignoring it. It was weird, wasn’t it? But Dasom had quickly carved a toddler-shaped hole into your heart. Truly, you had said yes before the message was even typed out.

And so now you stare at the tall apartment building in front of you, definitely feeling more nervous than before. You knew that Namjoon had to be well-off to afford a weekday chauffeur, but damn did you not expect him to be this well-off.

It seemed today was the day to expect absolutely anything.

You enter the opulent building, signing in at the front desk before entering the large, mirrored elevator. The beating of your heart picks up the more floors you pass, and you can’t help but fidget with your appearance. Namjoon had said it would only be you three, which you guessed was supposed to calm your nerves but really, it did anything but that. The mere thought of eating dinner with Namjoon was nerve-wracking. But now you were about to eat dinner and enter his home; you had no fucking clue what you were getting yourself into.

The doors slide open, and you step into the hallway. A single door could be seen at the end of the hallway, so you quickly make your way over. You stop right in front, taking a deep breath in before pushing the doorbell. A beat, a crash, another beat, then-

The door swings open, and your breath catches in your throat.

Namjoon looks heavenly as always, but seeing him in clothes other than his usual black slacks makes your heart do a cartwheel. God, this is dangerous.

“Ms. ____!”

Before Namjoon can form a hello, Dasom is running past him and wrapping her small arms around your legs. “You came! See daddy! I told you she’d come.” her tongue pokes out of her mouth, aimed straight at her father and you stifle a laugh.

“Did he think I wouldn’t?” you ask, eyebrow arched as you glance at Namjoon, who seems to have a permanent pink hue on his face.

“He said you wouldn’t!”

“Oh, really? What else did he say?”

“He said I had to help him clean either way!”

“Alright, Dasom. That’s enough.” He says firmly, clearing his throat and trying to act as unaffected as possible. His eyes shift to meet yours. “Why don’t you come inside?”

As much as this day really sucked for Namjoon, today had been… different. Not all too much. Of course, getting up was the hardest part, but he had decided to make Dasom her favourite breakfast meal instead of her usual cereal. He had also made sure to get her all the toys she had been wanting, and planned their day out to do Dasom’s favourite things. Namjoon just wanted this day to be special for her. That was all he cared about.

But when Dasom had asked him to invite you, he had hesitated.

Dasom had never spent her birthdays with anyone else but Namjoon. Not that it was intentional, but Namjoon liked to have this day just for the both of them. Because that’s how it’s always been. He didn’t know what it was about you that made his daughter talk about you all the time. Or why she wanted to spend a birthday with you. But how could he deny her? And so, the text was sent.

And now, as Namjoon puts away the dishes while you sit on his couch, he realizes he hadn’t thought of her today. Not as much as the years before. Dinner had been so... nice. It felt nice to have someone else around. Namjoon loves Dasom, but he hadn’t realized how distant he had gotten from everything that had once seemed to be the centre of his life.

Namjoon closes the dishwasher, exiting the kitchen and making his way to the living room. He places the two glasses on the table before pouring the dark red liquid.

“I hope you like Merlot.”

“Oh, please. Anything’s fine.”

You take the wine glass, sending him a thank you before taking a drink. “So,” you lean back, “remind me how to play this again.”

“Ms.____ I told you. You have to take a block without knocking the tower over,” Dasom shows you by pushing a middle wooden block out, “then you have to place it on top, like this.'' She places the same block on top of the tower.

“Ah, right! I just need to make sure if I want to win.”

“You can’t! I’m the best!”

“Oh really? And what about you?” you turn, brow raised and eyes playful.

“Pshh,” he scoffs, leaning forward. “Who do you think she takes after?”

He doesn’t think he’s ever lost a game so quickly.

Namjoon watches as you close Dasom’s door quietly from the hallway before you make your way back to the family room. “She’s out like a light. I guess all that tower building got to her.”

Namjoon snorts. He feels oddly disappointed as he watches you gather your things to go. Was it weird that he wanted you to stay? “Do you need me to get you a ride? I can call Jin to drive you home.”

“No, it’s fine! Really! I already ordered an Uber anyway.” You grab your coat near the door. Before Namjoon can unlock the door, you touch his shoulder. “Listen, thank you for inviting me today. I know you probably wanted to spend this day together instead, but I... “ you inhale, because you aren’t sure of what you want to actually say “thank you.”

Would it be weird to say how much better you made today? Probably. “You don’t… have to thank me. I think I should be the one doing the thanking. I really wanted this day to be special for Dasom and you… you definitely helped. So, thank you.”

The door opens, and the light of the hallway fills his dim flat. “Guess we’re even then.” you smile before turning, making your way to the elevator. Namjoon shuts the door once the sight of you is gone, but the smile on his face remains

“Guess we are.” he whispers wistfully

Perhaps stopping at a flower vendor when you’re already running late was a bad idea, but Namjoon wasn’t thinking about time. He had seen the bouquet of flowers and imagined the huge smile that would stretch across Dasom’s face, and that was all he needed to swerve into the left lane.

Now, though, as he anxiously watches the cars in front of him move a foot forward after thirty minutes, he’s sure he should have just left the fucking flowers alone.

Namjoon doesn’t know how long he’s been shifting his eyes from the traffic to the watch ticking around his wrist, but by a miracle, the cars start moving. Slowly, then he’s speeding down the highway, praying to the skies above he’ll make it in time. Even if he arrives in the midst of the dance, he can’t miss this recital. He won’t.

He sighs in relief when he sees the familiar glass building, though it’s cut short when he sees the parking lot. No available place in sight. Fuck. Namjoon is sure he looks insane right now, swerving around the parking lot in search for an empty spot, or really just any fucking spot that looks like it could fit his monster of a car.

Then the clouds seem to open up, and right near the entrance is a vacant spot. Namjoon swears his mouth almost waters at the sight. Quickly speeding around the lot, he parks, but not before flipping off the angry parent who tries to beat him to it. Namjoon exits his car, quickly grabbing his coat and the large bouquets of flowers from the backseat. He runs to the entrance, practically throwing the shriveled paper at the ticket clerk.

Namjoon slows as he nears the theatre doors, taking a deep breath before calmly opening it. He had completely forgotten to book seats in advance, so he’s not surprised to see the velvet seats filled to the brim. When he looks to the stage, he’s relieved to see that there’s still time until Dasom comes on.

Now, Namjoon knows he’s not the most… balanced person. It’s common knowledge that he trips over his feet and knocks things over sometimes. (Oh, but definitely more than the average person.) Now, if you were to ask Namjoon if he pays attention to his surroundings, he'd say yes.

But if you were to ask Namjoon what he tripped over, he wouldn’t know. It doesn’t matter, because now there’s a furious mother with a horrendous bob cut glaring at him, and what he thinks to be a broken camcorder on the floor. The only thing he can manage is an awkward smile and an even more awkward apology. Namjoon offers to give her the cost for repairs, hell, even offers to buy her a new one. The woman snatches the bills from his hands but she doesn’t go back to minding her business like he thought she would. No, instead she starts to argue with him, in the middle of her child’s recital, no less!

Namjoon can’t do anything but stare at her as she blabbers on about how horrible he is for throwing her camcorder on the floor. (Not like it had much life left, that thing looked like it was from 2007.) She’s damn near spitting on his face, and causing other parents to turn around and glare at them. As if it was his fault. Who knew she had such an attachment to the damn thing!

A hand lands on his shoulder, and for a second he’s sure it’s security ready to escort him out of the building. But when he turns, he’s surprised to see it’s you. Like an angel had ascended from the clouds to save Namjoon from the wrath of a ballet mom. And just like that, you’re leading him away, taking a seat two rows before the stage. Namjoon’s eyes widen at the sight of the empty seat beside you.

It’s that feeling again, and Namjoon’s palms start to get sweaty as he takes a seat. “Jesus, thank you for that,” he whispers, relishing your quiet laughter that follows.

“Of course. She was probably a blink away from going full-blown Karen on you.” you tease.

“Oh, and that wasn’t?”

“Oh, Joon, you haven’t seen how angry ballet moms can get.” you both laugh, huddled together as if you’re sharing a special secret. It seems so natural. As if this is where he’s supposed to be. So much that Namjoon almost doesn’t catch the nickname, but how could he miss it when you say it just like she used to?

The stage lights darken, and Namjoon is grateful for the excuse to look elsewhere. He’s sure if he would have stared at you for just a bit longer, he would have done something completely and utterly stupid. “This is her.” you whisper, and Namjoon buries the thought away.

A blue hue shines across the stage before the soft melody begins to play, filling the room with the sounds of strings and keys. One by one, tiny swans begin to come into view, prancing around the stage. Namjoon catches sight of Dasom, looking adorable in her white tutu and he can’t help the proud smile that makes its way onto his face. He watches with adoration as she does her pirouettes, and maybe there’s some water overflowing in his eyes as they finish their dance, bowing towards the audience.

You both stand, clapping and cheering the loudest, uncaring of the stares from the snobby rich parents because you’re both too damn proud of Dasom to care. For a moment, Namjoon pretends that it’s different, simpler. That it’s not only his child on stage but yours. Ours. He thinks he likes the sound of that too much.

Once the show ends, you lead Namjoon backstage where the buzz of dozens of girls talking fills the air. You tell him that you need to check in on the other kids and disappear through a hallway. He spots Dasom quickly, or rather, she spots him.

“Daddy! You came!”

Namjoon lifts Dasom with his free arm, twirling her around before placing a big kiss on her forehead. Her giggles fill him with delight, and he doesn’t care that his cheeks hurt from how hard he’s been smiling. “Of course I came, angel. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

He places her on the ground before he grabs the bouquet of sunflowers from his other arm. The sight of her favourite flower makes Dasom jump with joy. She takes the flowers, and Namjoon silently coos at how much smaller they make her look. Then she spots the other bouquet of flowers in his arm. She scrunches her brows together, about to ask who those are for before her eyes catch something behind Namjoon.

“Ms. ____!”

“Dasom!”

Dasom jumps into your arms, and you laugh at her enthusiasm. “You did so well! I’m so proud of that pirouette!” You twirl her around once her feet hit the ground, smiling as you watch her stumble slightly. Namjoon can’t help but smile too.

“Look what daddy got me, Ms. ____! Look!” Dasom lifts the flowers up, almost shoving them into your face.

“Wow, these are very beautiful, Dasom!”

“Look! He got you some too!” she giggles, and you look at her confusedly then at Namjoon. He sighs, looking pointedly at Dasom despite the cherry hue making its way across his cheeks. She giggles once again before running to her friends. “Dasom!” but it's futile.

If it weren’t for the consistent chatter, Namjoon’s sure there would be an agonizing silence to fill the space between you. You walk closer to him, looking down at your shoes bashfully. “Ah, these-” he takes the bouquet from his arm, “these are for you.”

You looked surprised to say the least. Eyes wide and glassy, your mouth falling ajar. “Wow, uh, really?” you ask, glancing up from the bouquet. He nods shyly.

Listen, he had only planned to buy Dasom her favourite flowers. But then he caught sight of these beautiful yellow roses, tips painted a light amber orange. Somehow they reminded him of you. And the way you had left him with his heart feeling lighter for the first time in years the other night. Maybe it was a way of saying thank you. He’ll admit, he didn’t think it all the way through, but the way you’re smiling at him right now makes him think it wouldn’t have mattered anyway.

There’s a moment where it seems to just be you and him, despite the tons of parents and children running around. He’s only focused on you, and the way your eyes drop to his lips, if only for a millisecond. Namjoon wants to say it. God, he wants to say it so badly. “Listen I… I’ve been meaning to ask you,” his voice fades away as his eyes catch yours. Hopeful. Beautiful. Glimmering.

Just like hers.

“Do you, uh, need a ride home?”

And the bubble bursts.

You step away, looking at anything but him and he hates it. He despises it. He wants you to look at him like that again. He wants nothing more than to pull you back and kiss you senselessly, like his mind is screaming for him to do. But he can’t. He can’t do it for some fucking reason and he almost wants to cry in frustration because why can’t this just be easier? Why is it so hard to move on? You don’t deserve this. You deserve so much better than what he can offer you. And that thought keeps him still.

“Uh, sure.”

Quiet.

Say something, idiot! Tell her what you’ve been dying to say! Just fucking say it!

Namjoon hates himself for the next words that tumble out of his mouth.

“Let’s find Dasom.”

The drive to your house is just like it was before, except this time there’s no chatter to fill the emptiness. Dasom is sound asleep in the backseat. You've never seemed more distant than now, facing the window, body pressed against the door. You had almost begged to go in the back with Dasom, and Namjoon doesn’t know why he didn’t just let you.

How did it come to this? This wasn’t what he wanted. This night wasn’t supposed to go like this. Everything should have gone differently.

He doesn’t know how he’ll ever fix this. If things will go back to normal. If he completely ruined it. But he’s too afraid to ask. Too afraid to know.

Namjoon has never hated the quiet more.

The sight of your apartment complex fills him with dread. All he can think about is all he wants to say, all he should have said, all he wants to take back. God, Namjoon wishes he could take it back. If only there was a way to turn back the time. Why had he been so afraid to make a move? Why did it hurt so much? But he knows going back wouldn’t help. Not when he doesn’t know if he would have done it differently.

His car comes to a stop, and the doors unlock. He faintly catches the small thank you before the passenger door slams shut. Namjoon watches as you make your way up the pathway, feet moving briskly and it feels like he’s watching you walk away from him.

You’re shuffling through your bag, looking for your key. And fuck, is he really just going to this go?  Is he that stubborn that he can’t see past himself? He can’t. He can’t let you go. Not like this.

Well do something, dumbass!

The door of his car is thrown open, and before he can overthink it-

“____!”

You still. You turn.

Namjoon shuts the door. He walks up the steps and stops a few feet away from you, but he feels like he’s miles away. You look up at him, questioning. Your eyes aren’t the same ones. Not like you looked at him before. Yet they’re still warm. Inviting. Namjoon is tongue-tied, and all those words he wanted to say are gone now.

“Are we… good?”

“Why wouldn’t we be?”

“I just…” he scratches the back of his neck. “That moment back at the recital. I… I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” you say, simply. When he looks at you, he can’t tell what you’re feeling. You’ve blocked him off. “Namjoon, really. It’s fine.”

But is it really? He wants to ask. But he doesn’t. It’s quiet again, this time the sound of the wind rustling the browning leaves above filling the space. Still.

“I… god, I don’t know why this is so hard. Ever since, you know,” you don’t. “I… I didn’t think I'd ever get an opportunity to…” he inhales, unsure of what he wants to say first.

“I just feel like I ruined it so carelessly.”

You don’t say anything for a few moments. You only stare at him, really stare at him. Like you can see through his mirage, through the walls he’s spent so long building up. You’re taking it all, but there’s nothing he can take back from you.

“You didn’t.” you whisper it so quietly, Namjoon would have thought his mind had taken pity on him. But a smile slips onto your face. Unlike the other ones. It doesn’t fill him with joy. It doesn’t give him butterflies. This one hurts.

And he knows you’re telling the truth.

“This… It might take a while.”

The wind picks up. The leaves rustle. The cold, biting.

“That’s ok. I’ll wait as long as you need me to.”

Your lips are bittersweet on his tongue.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY AGAIN TO KARLA !! ILYYYY <3

[ka-writes]

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Notes: I had already started on the second chapter before I posted the first one, so don’t expect updates every day... I also had to do a lot of googling for this chapter.

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Chapter 1 in case you missed it:

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Inspired by:

Humans are Space Velociraptors

By:FreshRoses_InMyGarden_NeedTheRain

Some kids come from storks, others come from crashed spaceships

By: mmmajora

Home Again, Home Again

By: teeth_eater

All works can be found on Ao3

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Warnings: Cussing, needles, character conflicts, intentional poisoning, poisoning, Jaws reference

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“Humans are [and text here]”

Chapter 2: What is this, an interview?

Tommy was now restrained to a chair six feet away from the weird scientist alien. He had a dark brown lab coat with a fuzzy yellow sweater underneath, matched with black pants and black leather boots. His gold rimmed Harry Potter glasses slipped down his nose bridge a bit before he pushed it up and shuffled through papers. He wore a red beanie with a big whiff of his curly chocolate hair. His skin was a weird translucent grayish color with blue speckles decorating it. He had deep brown eyes with an odd electric blue circle outlining the pupil.

His tongue licked his finger as he turned the page. This was a habit that most of the weird teachers and counselors did. It always annoyed Tommy. This time fear was also mixed into that annoyance. His saliva was tinted blue and he had sharp teeth which immediately reminded him of a shark.

“You have shark teeth.” Tommy stated absentmindedly. Clearly, this caught the scientist alien off guard.

“I have what?” The alien asked, confused.

“Shark teeth.. ya know like the weird fish creatures that eat people.” Tommy started rambling causing the shark-alien to become even more confused and slightly alarmed. “I mean I think they eat people. That’s what the shark movie showed… what was its name, Jaws I think? I dunno, my foster mom freaked out in the middle of it and we went home. That lady was weird.. She made us wear itchy clothes and take weird photos before she sent me back to the group home.”

“What?..” The shark-alien asked. Tommy jumped a bit. He forgot he was rambling to a stranger. Alien stranger at that.

“Doesn’t matter.. What's the first question bitch-boy?” Tommy liked the way the alien jumped at the randomly timed insults.

“Er- right.. First off, what’s your name?” The shark-alien asked after collecting himself.

“Tommy Innit. Yours bitch-boy?” Tommy replied.

“Wilbur Soot. Stop calling me bitch-boy!” Wilbur huffed.

“Next question, bitch-boy!” Tommy emphasized the name, getting an even angrier expression in return. Wilbur’s weird blue circle flashed red for a second which caught Tommy off guard.

Wilbur took a shaky breath before asking the next question. “How old are you?”

“Old enough! I am a big man!” Tommy stated. Yet another thing that pissed him off.

“Age?” Wilbur asked, clearly irritated.

“18.” Wilbur raised a brow, “14.” Tommy huffed. His age should only be his business not some alien-bitch who didn’t even have his file.

“If you keep lying, I may have to get the truth serum from the back.” Wilbur half-heartedly threatened. Tommy, the big man that he is, did not get scared at that statement, only slightly unsettled which clearly showed on his face.

“Now, do you have a family?” Tommy tensed at the question. It was a touchy question and was not one that was asked often especially with his reputation.

“I am a big man. I don’t need a family to be great.” Tommy stated, happy with the answer. The alien-bitch shifted awkwardly.

“Right… What is your diet?”

“Umm.. I dunno, whatever I can find. I am allergic to nuts though..” Wilbur nodded in understanding and wrote things down in his notepad.

“What plants are poisonous to you?” Wilbur asked without looking up from his notes.

“Ermm, poison Ivy, poison oak… uh I think parts of rhubarb, and most wild berries. I am not sure other than that.” Wilbur nodded while adding bits to his notes.

“What was the place you lived like?” This time Wilbur glanced up to look at Tommy. This was again another touchy subject… How many times would this alien bitch get into the sad background?

“Shitty.” Tommy snapped. That was the only response the bitch was gonna get.

“Right.. Do you have music on Earth?”

Tommy scoffed, “Of course we have music, dumbass!”

“Can you tell me about the animals there?” Wilbur asked, almost hopeful.. which was weird. What was he hoping for?

“Erm I guess..” Tommy mumbled, trying to figure out where to start, “There’s a bunch of animals. Mainly on land. My favorite would be the cow.”

“What’s that?” Curiosity stained Wilbur’s face. This got Tommy excited; he was practically beaming as he started talking.

“Well they are these big ruminants that make milk and have horns. There are a bunch of types too like the highland cow, which obviously is the most poggers one. They are a Scottish breed with really long hair. I met one once, on a field trip his name was Henry.” Tommy rambled on for the next two and a half hours, jumping from topic to topic and explaining anything that wasn’t personal. He usually ended those paths with short insults.

——————

Wilbur hated to stop the kids' detailed story, but two and a half celestial hours had already passed, and Dream would be coming to check soon. Luckily, he had a couple new poisons that could pass off as a research development. He had even managed to send the distressed signal and no doubt Phil would already be there with the SBI craft ready to fly at any given moment.

“Alright Tommy.” His voice dropped to a serious tone causing the kid to stop his story of how he got poisoned by mushrooms on a camping trip. “You’re gonna have to trust me just for a bit. I am going to get you off the ship at the next stop but in the meantime I need you to tell me how allergic you’re to nuts.” The kid immediately tensed at the question.

“I am mainly allergic to tree nuts.. almonds being the worst. After a few minutes I can’t breathe properly and I usually pass out. The doctor said if I don’t get it treated within 15 minutes, death is most likely.” He took a moment to go through the information. The kid most likely has an anaphylaxis reaction to tree nuts. Meaning either he would have to know the exact time of landing and exactly where Phil was or he needed another poison that was less severe.

“Alright, here is what we’re gonna do. I have a chemical mixture that is similar to that of rattlesnake venom. I also have a chemical substance that numbs any pain you may feel. Side effects would include being very very tired and delirious over the next few days. Along with being knocked out for a good ten hours. To put it simply I am gonna fake poison you, in order to get you off the ship. It’s your choice if you’re willing to do it.” Wilbur paused to study the kid still restrained in front of him. It was odd how relaxed the kid seemed to be in a situation like this. He had no urge as far as Wilbur was aware, to fight against anything that happened. His complaints only being those that touched on personal matters. It was unsettling to say the least, and intrigued Wilbur. He really wanted to unravel the life the kid had lived before this and how he was actually dealing with the situation.

There was a long pause before the kid spoke, “I wouldn’t mind getting away from the weird smiley bitch.. plus you seem nice and to know what you’re doing so sure. Poison me bitch.” He said the last sentence with an enthusiasm Wilbur wasn’t expecting. He took a moment to rethink his plan, which was interrupted by a knock at the door.

“Dream says you better have advanced in your stupid testing. Otherwise he’s gonna kick you off the ship at the next stop.” Stated the rather rude blazeling, Sapnap. The blazeling never liked Wilbur and made a point to argue against any advancements at meals. That led to Dream installing a new system of emails and Wilbur eating meals alone.

“Yea yea, it’s going!” He yelled through the metal door.

“Better be.” The blazeling snapped before making a non quiet track back to his quarters.

“Stupid blazeling.” Wilbur grumbled as he sorted through vials and picked up new needles and measured out the substances. “We are going to start with the anesthetic then move onto the poison.” He softly addressed Tommy.

Wilbur swiftly disinfected Tommy’s shoulder and gave the needle. He then gave the second needle. Immediately Tommy slumped over. Wilbur swiftly took off Tommy’s restraints and moved him on to the patient bed in the back corner of the room. After the transfer was done he clipped the body restraints around Tommy and waited for the alert signaling landing.

After about five minutes the light next to the door turned blue. He moved over to his seat and clipped on the safety belts. The light turned green and the ship shook momentarily before a thud could be felt. Quickly as Wilbur could, he emptied the needles into the waste bin and waited for his soon-to-be-ex-boss to arrive.

Dream stepped through the door and glanced around the room before heading to Wilbur for his report.

“Report.” The dreamon commanded.

“The subject's body would have gone through a painfully slow death and have multiple organ failures if I did not intervene. The chemical mixes used created a conflict in the patient’s body which resulted in the patient falling into exhaustion as they recovered.” He responded in a monotone tone. Dream looked over Tommy. He flinched back in disgust as Tommy grunted in his sleep.

“Is that all?” The dreamon questioned.

“No.” Wilbur swallowed down his panic, “This is the last testing I will be doing with this crew.” The dreamon scoffed.

“I am assuming you’re getting off at this planet?” Dream spit. Wilbur knew he absolutely hated when people left his crew as he saw it as a direct violation of his loyalty.

“Yes.” The phantom stated, keeping his even tone apparent. With that Dream stormed out cursing in Siestian. Somewhere in the mess of words he told Wilbur to get his things.

Without hesitation he grabbed his bag from his quarters, which was held in a small room that branches off the lab. He half sprinted down the short hallway and straight to the bed Tommy was on. He swiftly unrestrained the human and sat him up. He slipped on boots and gloves then tied a cloak around the kid. He pulled the hood up and carried him off of the closest exit. There were faint yells from Dream down the hallway and reassurances from the only two beings that put up with him. And with that Wilbur was off to find the only craft he had ever called home. The SBI ship.

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Chapter 2- End

Words~ 1774

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End Notes: ‘‘twas to lazy to reread... sorry for minor mistakes. Also suggestions are always appreciated!! Please reblog...

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Chapter 3:

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Wilbur:

[pucksnsticksnhockeyboys]

reputations

summary: you’re criminally good, and Matt can’t help but fall in love with you.

warnings: mentions of alcohol

word count: 3.7k

note from the writer: I really wrote this in one night, immediately after posting my last Matt fic. I might have a problem. lmk what you think!

part two

Matthew knew he was no angel. If it wasn’t the opposing players he pested on a daily basis, it was the media that told him so. Most of the time, he didn’t mind. Fights, penalties, and suspensions—he couldn’t help but agree that he was a pest on the ice. He knew he deserved some of the shit he got, but he was getting better and growing as a player.

But sometimes he wished he had a better reputation.

“Matt, your girlfriend is outside.” His brother’s voice interrupted his thoughts. Matt hated that he knew who Brady was talking about. Despite the fact that it had been seemingly forever since he was in an actual relationship, Brady’s tease made perfect sense to the entire Tkachuk family.

“Shut up.” Matt shot back, because he couldn’t argue, and he was too busy getting up off the couch and heading outside to listen to the jabs his brother was throwing at him. He was too far gone and had long since admitted that to himself.

The summer sun beat down on him the moment he stepped into the backyard, and he took a moment to squint his eyes to adjust before heading over to the fence separating his backyard from the one next door. Brady had been telling the truth, the one girl he couldn’t get off his mind since middle school was outside and the wide smile that grew on his face was one he couldn’t help.

You were as good as they came. Weekends spent volunteering at animal shelters, tutoring, helping the older couples in the neighborhood with yard work and other chores. He was pretty sure the moment he decided he wanted to marry you was when you had shown up to Taryn’s first varsity field hockey game with a giant sign saying something about how she would kill it just because you knew it would make her laugh.

Matt nearly tripped when he spotted you on the other side of the fence. You were suntanning in nothing more than a bikini, laying on a towel in the grass in your own backyard. For what seemed like the millionth time in his lifetime, Matt thanked whatever higher power that was up there that his family moved into the house next to yours all those years ago.

For a second, he stayed quiet, just admiring how good you looked. Sunglasses were perched on your nose as you laid on your back, arms tucked behind your head. Your music was playing softly from the speaker laying in the grass a few feet away and you were humming along quietly. He couldn’t stop the smile that grew on his face as he studied you, resting his forearms along the top of the fence with his chin tucked on top of his hands. He knew he needed to make his presence known, figuring he wouldn’t be able to explain why he kept quiet and watched you tan without sounding like a creep.

“I’ve been home for two days and you haven’t come see me yet?” He teased, his grin growing two sizes when he spotted how you lit up at the sound of his voice. Your smile was infectious, and it was the only thing keeping his gaze north of your chest as you sat up on the towel.

“Matty!” You cheered, pushing your sunglasses to the top of your head. You were the only person that Matt allowed to call him that, and he was certain that if his teammates ever found that out they would never let him hear the end of it. You stood up, making your way towards Matt and he could feel his heart pounding faster in his chest as you got closer. It was a miracle you hadn’t managed to kill him yet.

“How’ve you been?” Matt found himself asking, though the question felt a little pointless. He knew how you had been, you texted daily and even the stuff you didn’t tell him—which was a rare occurrence—he found out from his siblings.

“Oh, you know. Same old, same old.” You said boredly, waving a hand dismissively. Matt knew that wasn’t true, he could see the smile you were suppressing. Plus, all of his conversations with you as of late had been about one thing.

“Congrats on graduating, by the way.” Matt wasn’t sure it was possible, but your smile widened as he spoke. You looked happy, but that didn’t stop the feeling of guilt that was bubbling inside him. “Sorry I couldn’t make it.”

“Don’t worry about it.” You squeezed his forearm from where it was resting on the fence, and it took all of Matt’s willpower to not melt under your touch. “You were busy chasing the cup, and I know for a fact that you’ll win it for me next time.”

And then you jokingly winked at him, and suddenly Matt forgot how to breathe. He knew you were teasing, but the fact of the matter was that he knew if he was going to win the cup for anyone besides his parents, it was you.

“And besides, you’re coming to my grad party, right? I need someone there to save me from my relatives asking about where I’m working in the fall.” You continued, and for the second time in ten minutes Matt had been interrupted from his thoughts.

“You don’t already have seven jobs lined up?” Matt teased you. For as long as he could remember, you were always ten steps ahead of everyone. He distinctly remembers you stressing out at eleven years old because you got a seventy-five on a test and thought it would go on your permanent record and you wouldn’t get accepted into college.

“Shut up.” You rolled your eyes, nudging his arm playfully as the both of you chuckled. Matt felt a bit repetitive, thinking about how beautiful you were. He was sure he looked like a lovestruck idiot, but he couldn’t help himself. His self-control was low to begin with, but throw you into the mix and he was absolutely done for. “I’ve applied to a few places, interviewed at some. I’ve got my eye on one place, though.”

“Any places I know?” Matt was a little caught off guard since he hadn’t heard about you applying. He knew you were looking into some places, some in St. Louis and some out of state, but he didn’t realize you started taking the next step. A nervous look flashed in your eyes, and Matt wondered what could have prompted it, but as soon as it was there, it was gone, and you were back to smiling brightly at him.

“And ruin the surprise when I finally land one of the jobs? Not a chance, Hotshot.” You teased with a shake of your head. Matt knew you like the back of his hand. He knew how you liked your coffee and that you hated when he got into fights. He knew that you were a romantic and that you were a little self conscious about your laugh because when you were fifteen and Danny Baker from three streets up told you he thought it was weird. That was the closest he ever got to punching someone off of the ice—and sometimes he still thought about giving the guy a piece of his mind.

And he knew that the nickname ‘Hotshot’ was your way of trying to deflect, and he knew enough to drop the subject. Not that he had a choice, really, because your phone started buzzing from where you left it on your towel. When you bent down to pick it up, he busied himself by admiring the flowers he knew you helped your mom plant instead of blatantly checking out your ass.

“Hey. Matty, I’ve got to go. Mrs. Henderson asked if I could help her with the bake sale for her son’s soccer team.” You spoke up after checking your phone. Matt couldn’t help the way his heart flipped at the fact that you were still volunteering for families around the neighborhood. The only time he could remember actually volunteering, not including Flames events, was when he needed to fill his high school requirement to graduate.

God, you were too good for him.

“Yeah, I’ll see you at the party tomorrow.” He waved as you retreated into your house. He watched as you left, only pushing off the fence and heading back into his own once you shut your back door. He made his way into the kitchen, finding his whole family already in there and looking at him with smug grins. Matt just knew they had been watching his entire interaction with you out of the kitchen window.

Brady was the first to speak up, making obnoxious kissing noises while Taryn started saying your name in increasingly higher pitched voices trying to mock how gone he was for you. He rolled his eyes at his sister, but that didn’t stop him from putting Brady into a headlock.

“If you boys break something…” His mom trailed off, giving her boys a pointed look over the glass of water she was sipping on. The empty threat was enough to get Matt to let go of his brother, but not before messing up his hair for that extra bit of pettiness.

“Leave Matt alone, he’s in love.” His dad teased, looking much too proud of himself at his comment for Matt’s liking. He groaned, dropping his back to further prove his annoyance before he grabbed a drink out of the fridge and left the room.

He still couldn’t argue his family’s comments.

Matt didn’t see you again until it was time to head over for your graduation party, and it took everything in him to not stop dead in his tracks when he spotted you across the yard. You were talking to a few of your extended family members, he was sure he had met them once or twice over the years, and you looked effortlessly stunning. You were wearing a new sundress, he was certain of that because if you had worn it before he would have remembered, what with the way it made your legs look, especially paired with what he knew were your favorite pair of wedges.

Brady knocked into his shoulder, sending him a smirk before slipping off to find a drink. Matt rolled his eyes at his brother, letting his attention fall back to you. His breath hitched as you turned to face him, and he wondered if you felt the weight of his stare. He didn’t have much time to ponder, though, because he recognized the look in your eyes. It was the one that told him those were the family members you told him you’d need rescuing from.

He crossed the lawn quickly, smiling warmly at your mom when she called his name and waved. He’d greet her properly later, you were his current priority. You were his priority all the time, if he was being honest with himself.

“Hey, Matty.” You smiled and as soon as he got close enough your arm slid around his back. He copied your action, his hand settling a respectable distance up on your waist. Before he could stop himself, he pressed a kiss to the side of your head, even though he probably shouldn’t be so blatant in his affection in front of distant family.

“Is this a boyfriend?” Your—great aunt?—questioned. Matt felt his face flush at the idea, he spent the better part of his adolescence imagining what it would be like to call you his. But he never could get himself to make a move. Too nervous to lose you and too worried about what moving away would do to your relationship—if it even got that far.

And then there was the problem of his reputation.

He had grown up watching you do all these amazing things for your education and to help other people. You always had a smile on your face and cried for an hour at the ending of Marley and Me. You even volunteered to help move Brady to Boston when he left to go play hockey there.

He pushed around six ounces of vulcanized rubber on ice. In his mind, he didn’t measure up to you in the slightest. As much as he wanted you, he felt as if he didn’t deserve you.

“No, this is just Matt, he lives next door.” You explained sweetly and Matt forced a smile on his face as he shook hands with your relatives. He hated how terrible your words sounded to his ears, how he was ‘Just Matt’ to you.

“Hey, Taryn said she needs to talk to you, it’s urgent.” Matt lied after a few moments of watching you squirm under the interrogation your relatives were putting you through. From the mischievous look in your eyes he could tell you knew what he was doing. You politely told your relatives that you would see them later, and Matt’s heart jumped in his chest as you slipped your hand into his to pull him away.

“Thank you.” You said to him under your breath, giving his hand a squeeze before dropping it as you reached the drink coolers. Matt grinned at you, watching as you pulled out two beers for the both of you. “They hit me with questions about my love life, job prospects, and whether or not I’ll be moving out of my parent’s house before you arrived.”

“Sorry I didn’t get there sooner.” Matt teased, taking a sip out of his bottle while watching you shudder playfully. He tried to ignore the green monster that settled in his stomach at the thought of you having a love life, no matter how selfish it sounded. Instead, he focused on the way you smiled at him, and how warmly you interacted with his mom when she came over to give you a celebratory hug.

Seeing you laughing with his mom was doing nothing for the feelings he had harboured for you.

By the time darkness started to settle on the party, the majority of the guests had left. Besides your parents, him and his siblings, and a few of your cousins that were spending the night, your backyard was empty. Your dad had started a campfire so everyone could make s’mores, and you seemed to think it was the best part of the day. You were probably feeling the effects of the beers you had been sipping on, though you only had one or two, and tried to feed Matt a s’more, giggling uncontrollably when you got marshmallow in the scruff of his beard.  

He just about died when you flicked your finger across his chin to collect the marshmallow, absentmindedly licking it off as you laughed at something Taryn said. His gaze zeroed in on your finger, and the fact that you had no idea the effect that you had on him was dizzying.

“Get a room.” Brady groaned, though he had been sitting next to Matt and spoke low enough that the parents sitting on the opposite side of the fire didn’t hear. Matt was also lucky that you didn’t hear, distracted by your phone ringing. He glanced at the screen out of habit and a little bit of nosiness, seeing that it was a number you didn’t have saved to your contacts before you jumped to your feet and retreated inside to take the call.

If he had been looking a little closer, he would have recognized that the number had an area code for Calgary.

You had been gone for a few minutes and Matt was starting to get restless. Your mom came out of the house and handed him two popsicles, one for him and one for you, so he figured you were coming back soon.

You did, and you were wearing a wide grin that made him curious. You didn’t say anything, instead you took one of the popsicles and slipped your hand into his now free one, tugging lightly to signal for him to stand up. Once more, you led him across the lawn, only this time you went around the house to the front yard, away from the prying eyes of both your families.

“What’s up?” Matt questioned as soon as you came to a stop in front of him. You were grinning up at him, and he could tell from the look in your eyes that you had news to share.

“I got a job. My top choice one, actually.” You stated as if it was something boring, like the weather. Matt beamed at you, the feeling of pride he had in you coming to the surface the same way it did whenever you accomplished something you wanted.

He wrapped you in his arms almost instantly, careful not to knock your popsicle out of your hand or get his in your hair. He held you tight to his chest, never wanting to let you go.

“Where is it?” He asked after letting you go. Your smile grew wider as he looked at you, and he raised a brow as you hesitated. The longer you stayed quiet, the more he started to panic. He knew it was selfish, but he didn’t want you to leave St. Louis. The best part of coming home during breaks or playing the Blues on their ice was the fact that he would get to see you.

“Calgary. Surprise?” You chuckled nervously, but Matt felt like he had just been told the best news. After years apart for college and hockey, you finally would be close to him again. He was ecstatic, and couldn’t help himself before pulling you into another hug,

“Surprise is right.” He teased as soon as he moved back, though he couldn’t get himself to go far. He was practically buzzing with excitement and the closer he was to you the better he felt. You were grinning, shifting from foot to foot and that simple action told Matt that you were anxious about something.

“But I have one more thing to share.” You said, and that worried Matt once more because he could hear the nervousness in your tone. Matt nodded, unable to get himself to form words in response and instead let his mind run wild with all the ideas about what it could be. “Matt, I, uh, well, I’ve had feelings for you for a while, and I think you feel the same, well at least I hope you do, and I was kind of hoping that we could start something now that we’ll be living in the same place.”

Matt felt like passing out. Out of all the dozens of things you could have said, that was not one of them. He watched, wordlessly, as you licked the popsicle out of nerves and the need to busy yourself somehow while he stayed quiet after your confession. That seemed to spur him on, though, because he used his free hand to cup your jaw as his lips landed on yours.

You tasted like grape popsicle and chocolate, and though it was an odd combination he decided it was the best thing he’d ever had. He briefly registered that the popsicles slipped from both your hands as you gripped each other, and he knew that he’d have to pick them up after because you had drilled into him the importance of keeping the Earth clean when you were in eighth grade and went through a sustainability kick.

It was that thought that had him stilling. He couldn’t do this to you, not when you were so good and not when he was in the press every other week for being the very opposite. You deserved better than him, a philanthropist that donated all their time and money to children’s hospitals—the charity he knew you volunteered at, at least three times a year.

You were too good for him.

“Is something wrong?” You questioned him, dropping from your tip-toes back to your flat feet, putting some distance between you and him. It wasn’t enough to defog Matt’s head but he was pretty sure that wouldn’t happen for weeks, not with the way his entire body felt on fire from just your one kiss.

“I can’t do this… I can’t do this to you.” Matt settled, though he hated the way he sounded so unsure of himself and he hated the very fact that he even had to say it. He hated that you felt the same way he did but he couldn’t do a thing about it because he had always put you before himself. But most of all, he hated how your face fell and your eyes started to get glassy.

“Do you not like me?” You questioned and if Matt wasn’t so defeated by the whole situation he would have laughed. He couldn’t remember a time when he didn’t like you, you plagued his thoughts on a daily basis and he had a framed photo of you and him from his first game in Calgary in his apartment that earned him so many chirps from his teammates. But you looked so proud of him, and you were wearing his jersey, so no matter what the boys said he kept it up—the photo was his most prized possession.

“No, that’s not it. That’s not it at all.” He told you, and somehow your face fell even more. Even when you were so clearly upset, the way your brows tugged together in confusion and the slight pout to your lips was devastatingly attractive to Matt.

“Then what is it?” Your question sounded so tired, so weak, that Matt wished he had never followed you out front and never put your friendship in the position it was. But it was too late now, he couldn’t back out now and he had to stick to his guns. He took in a shuddering breath, one hand tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear before he said what he felt he had to.

“I want you to be happy, and you can’t be happy with me. I’m not good for you.”

[mostly-marvel-musings]

Birthday Love

A/N : I wrote this as a birthday gift to myself! I’m getting old lol. Feedback's and re blogs most welcome!! My first reader insert one shot! 

Pairing : Reader x Tom Hiddleston

Warnings : Curse words, swearing. Drinking. Attempts at fluff...

Word count : 1438 

Birthdays. You were never really into making a big deal about your birthday. It was just like any other right? As long as you got to spend it with the people you loved most, doing the basic dinner and drinks at your favorite restaurant, you’d be happy. This year however, things weren’t looking up. Almost all of your friends had something else to do that day. Even Tom, your best friend got stuck at work. Somewhere in your heart you had hoped at least he would make it, he knew how to make your day special, and he always had. You were hoping this birthday you would finally gather up the courage to tell him how you really felt about him. But that wasn’t gonna happen.

Sure all of them called and apologized and you put on a smile and said it wasn’t a big deal anyway, but somewhere deep down you couldn’t help but feel bummed. Things come up, people have priorities right? Well if they do, so do you. You decided that you wouldn’t be alone moping around, spending your birthday on your couch watching stupid rom-coms on your TV. So what if your friends cancelled on you? Fuck them. You would treat yourself, you deserved it!

So here you were at your favorite bar, on your fifth drink of the night, chatting up with the bartender, Max, who was giving you advice on everything right from how to make perfect sangria at home to how to over a hangover. He was always nice to talk to. Bartenders usually are, aren’t they?

You were starting to get tipsy which made you wonder how in the world you were supposed to get home safely. The fact that the bar was right around the corner from your apartment was a plus. But you had a tendency to wander when you got drunk. But today wasn’t about acting responsible, it was about enjoying your day. You could get back to reality tomorrow.

“Another drink my dear (Y/N)?” Max asked.

“I really shouldn’t….so I will!” you replied with a big grin, brandishing your now empty glass for him to take and replace with another drink.

“Alright, one more then I’m cutting you off. You need to get home in one piece” he said.

“Hey, you’re supposed to make people drink!! You’re not a good bartender” you stuck your tongue out to him in a very un-lady like manner. You finished your drink, checked the time, it was only 10 in the night. You decided to call it a night and settled the tab.

As soon as you stepped out of the bar, the cool breeze did very little for your now drunk self. Wrapping your jacket tighter around yourself, you managed to stumble your way back to the apartment. Unlocking the door, your two year old cat Loki (It shouldn’t be a surprise that you named your pet after your favourite Marvel character of all time) started walking between your legs, meowing his ass off, looking up at you accusingly.

“I know I forgot to leave your food out, I’m sorry! Stop giving me shit about it” you said to him, keeping the keys and jacket on the side table. You made your way into the kitchen, stubbing your toe on the island counter and crying out in pain. You put kibbles in Loki’s food bowl and he immediately started gobbling it up. You changed into your pajamas and decided to raid your fridge to find something to eat. You found a bottle of tequila instead. A couple of shots hurt no one right? Also it was still your birthday for another hour and a half.

It was about 11:45 pm and you were properly drunk at this point. You were watching re runs of your favorite TV show and were almost dozing off when your doorbell rang. You jolted awake and reached the door almost falling over Loki who got startled by the noise and had decided to bolt towards his hiding spot. “Loki you little shit you almost had me fall on my face!” you screamed at him as you opened the door with a little too much force, and coming face to face with a surprised looking Tom.

It took you two seconds longer to register he was really standing there with a bouquet of lilies (your favorite) and a bottle of wine. “Heyyy..look..look who decided to show up!!” you said as your face broke into a wide grin and you gave him a big hug. He wrapped his arms around you and said “I apologize for not making it here sooner, but I couldn’t miss seeing you today. Happy birthday love.”

“Thank you Tom. No one could make it today but I was like “I don’t need anyone” so I treated myself to a wonderful night and had a great time” you said a little too proudly as you both walked into your apartment and plopped down on the couch. Tom felt a pang of guilt in his stomach as you spoke. He should’ve been there to celebrate with you, especially when all of your other friends couldn’t make it.

“You don’t-don’t have to worry about it. I had a pretty amazing time. And guess what! I got home s-safe and decided to drink some more because why the hell not!” you said as you rest your head on the back of the couch and closed your eyes.

Loki crept out from behind the couch and jumped up on Tom’s lap. Tom smiled as he scratched Loki under his chin which made him purr before curling up into a ball and closing his emerald green eyes. He liked Tom. Sometimes more than he liked you.

“I should’ve been here. I’m guessing you haven’t eaten anything (Y/N), I’ll be right back” Tom said, picking Loki up and putting him back on the couch before getting up from the couch and walking into your kitchen. You mumbled something nonsensical with your eyes still closed.

Tom returned fifteen minutes later with a plate of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches with small candles sitting on top of it. A little sandwich cake! You giggled at the sweet gesture and blew on the candles before picking up the sandwich and offering it to Tom. He fed it to you instead and in no time the plate was empty. You hadn’t realized how famished you were.

“Are you sober?” Tom asked. “I’m moderately functional” you replied, empty sandwich plate now lying on the coffee table. You were less drunk at this point but the buzz was present, your inhibitions still pretty far away.

Tom grabbed your hands in his own and made you look at him before saying, “(Y/N) there’s something I wanted to talk to you about. If I don’t get this out now I probably never will. We’ve known each other for a long time now and I’ve come to realize that I don’t feel so deeply for anyone as I do for you. You really are the most important person in my life. Do you know where I’m getting at? ”.

You kept quiet for a while looking at him intently before saying, “I’m sorry, I keep getting lost in your eyes, what were you saying?” The alcohol making your otherwise reserved self bolder and a shameless flirt.

Tom’s cheeks turned a little pink and he laughed generously. Looking at his reaction thought it was a good idea to tease him a bit more. “I’ve managed to make THE Tom Hiddleston blush!! Now that’s something. I’ve never seen you blush. I love it!” You said poking his sides making him laugh some more.

He suddenly grabbed both your hands and pulled you in his lap. Steadying yourself on his shoulders, you blew your hair away from your face.

“You haven’t even realized that I just confessed my love for you darling” Tom said slowly inching closer and closer to your face.

You closed your eyes and felt him press his lips to yours softly. Your hands made their way around his neck as you kissed him back before breaking the kiss abruptly.

“Wait a minute. I was supposed to say that to you. I had a whole speech prepared before it all went to hell. Not fair! ” you said with a pout. Tom chuckled.

“Well I’m sorry. You can tell me now, love. I’m all ears”

“Mmmm. Nah.” you pretended to think before smiling mischievously.

“You’re much better with the words. I’d rather show you” you said, getting up from his lap, grabbing his hands and walking back to your bedroom.

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

 A Part 2 perhaps ? 

[an0nymousghost]

simblr asks v2

here are my answers! find the questions here.

i wrote soo much ahaha. like however much you think i wrote, i wrote more than that. imo everything i write is gold though

1. are you going to buy the new pack (cottage living) when it comes out? no, it looks really nice but i legit never ever buy packs at launch, especially cause this one is a expansion and it will probably go on sale at some point

2. do you p*rate your dlc or buy it legitimately? buy it legitimately 👌

3. what’s your favorite world? brindleton bay, it gives like seaside cottage vibes. willow creek is good but it’s boring. 

4. if you use a queue, how many posts per day do you set it as? 3 or 4. i used to do like 12 lmaoo what even was wrong with me

5. do you watch sims on youtube? yes, i watch mainly malixa, oshinsims, and msgryphi

6. what are your thoughts on the most recent pack? (dream home decorator) those sectional couches look good! but honestly im kinda annoyed because now it’s even harder to have all the items filled in when i place lots from the gallery. like i’m just saying like a lot of builds will use that pack probably and if i don’t get it then i can’t really use builds/save files 

7. how many packs/kits do you own? lemme count

expansion: all - 10/10 game: 5/10 stuff: 9/18 kits: none xo

24/38 - 63%

8. what’s your origin id? is it the same as your url? 🤗 it’s in my title, it’s celeschul. it doesn’t look that nice in my title but i use celeschul in my package files and i’m guessing people search things like, “celeschul penny hair” or something like that in order to find my cc- so i keep it in there so the search results are easier. i do want to change it though..

but no it’s also not the same! well i mean it’s the username i use for cc. my origin id used to be an0nymousghost but i changed it. i wonder if anyone’s taken that one?

9. is your simblr your sideblog or main blog? main blog ✌️ my old blog @stardze​ is a main blog as well.

my old old simblr was a sideblog but it had like 1 follower and it literally a bot so i don’t think that counts. i have a multifandom sideblog though 

10. do you have a cc finds blog? i wish. i was thinking bout it earlier and that would be sooo neat but sometimes i download stuff that doesn’t have a tumblr post attached to it, and also it’s stressful to keep up with so nah

11. are you wcif friendly? yes sir. in fact i bring the trouble of wcifs onto myself but doing them even when nobody asked.

12. what’s your favorite sized household to play with? (ex. 1 sim, 4 sims) gonna have to think on this one, honestly 1 sim is really fun and stuff goes by so fast. doing stuff with astrid when she was on her own, it was much more efficient. 

for families, i haven’t done that in a while actually. 5, 2 parents and 3 kids is cute tho. why did i write this this is honestly such a hard question

13. if you have c&d, do you play with pets? i feel like i haven’t played with cats and dogs in forever. honestly i just have no paitence. noelle fae was supposed to get a cat (there’s a food bowl + cat bed in her house) but when summer vacation started, the amount of time i spent playing ts4 decreased a lot. (this doesn’t really make sense, i have a lot more time. honestly it just has to do with my recent obsession with a certain anime/manga and some other personal thing)

i did random nightmares in may though and i had pets frequently. g5 didn’t because sofia scarlett lived in an apartment, but g2/3/4 had cici, and g1 had all the cats. but that was back in march so it’s been a while.

14. what lifespan do you use? i really want to do aging off but then i feel like it drags on. but aging legit stresses me out, sometimes i just want to sit down and do some cas stuff but i only have 2 hours in real time and there’s like 4 days left till one of my sims’ birthdays. 

15. if you own a lot of packs, how many of them have you actually played through? just so everyone is aware this question was made for me

i feel like eps require a specific save made for testing them out, but the only save i’ve ever made for an ep is noelle fae’s get famous save. 

that is literally a lie - i made a save for island living with one of my 100bc kids, maisie acapella. i did actually post it on tumblr BUT then i deleted all the posts BUT i reblogged them on my alt account BUT i privated my alt account so i honestly forgot about it

i have never played through discover university or watched anyone do it on youtube, i’ve read gerbits’ story about it so i think i’m pretty qualified. i’ve always wanted to do one with periwinkle acapella but i never got around to it

another ep i know nothing about is get to work

i tried doing a eco life playthrough but i hadn’t watched any videos and i was like..what is going on. so i quit lolx d ;;;;; i mentioned it but the whimsy stories legacy was the first time i had played with the eco lifestyle features so technically i think i know what im doing

i got outdoor retreat literally on monday of this week so i haven’t played through it yet. 

jungle adventure i still don’t know what’s going on. i remember last year before i bought the pack i was brainstorming, and wanted to do a ja playthrough with luna and cedar, who are a couple who i did a random legacy with and it was all queued to post when i deleted everything (if you’re wondering why, it’s because my queue was literally 200+ posts). except this time i didn’t save them to my sideblog so i lost them. 

i still havent had a restaurant in dine out 

also never did the vet thing from cats and dogs

i have no idea what that rock climbing thing is from snowy escape but i did most of the other stuff because rn g5

city living i did through psc stage 5 and also it was the first pack i bought anyways

the rest of them are either stuff packs or i ended up playing them through casual gameplay (seasons, parenthood)

16. what do you do as you play sims? (ex. listen to music) i listen to music most of the time, or listen to commentary youtube videos because i am an alpha chad. i also used to talk with my friends on voice call but i don’t do that anymore 🥲

17. which sims challenges have you tried? random legacy, whimsy stories, perfect sim challenge, 100 baby, legacy (just the plain get-to-10-gens one), random nightmares, berry zodiac, astrology legacy, apocalypse

i feel like im forgetting some.. honestly most of the stuff i did before simblr was either 100 baby (i love that challenge) or random saves that lasted for 2 seconds. 

18. do you like the new(ish) hair swatches? nah. 

i do appreciate that most cc hairs have a true (ish) black, thank god! and the fact that the hair update is what inspired me to update and fix a bunch of hairs with different issues is pretty nice. but will i use them? no. 

plus it takes up like 5 gb? depending on how many packs you have.

19. post the latest screenshot you took 📸

i live in cas

20. what is the cc/ingame hair that looks the most like your own? i think that dream home decorator side part hair looks a lot like my hair. honestly i havent see much like my hair but that one is kinda-? close

21. who is your favorite sim of yours and what is their story? noelle and alari fae i think! 

link to post

noelle is blonde and has blue-grey eyes. she wears purple contacts pretty often though (because she wants to 😌)

alari has light brown hair that is kinda curly, and she’s got pretty vibrant blue eyes. 

they’re sisters, alari is 3 years older than noelle. noelle was 19 and alari was 22 when they got spotted

they worked as models when they were young adults. their jobs involved dyeing their hair blue/pink, and they would model like clothes and stuff. anyways, they were pretty successful. like not ultra famous but they had enough money to not work for the rest of their lives. 

their modeling group was made of 4 girls, the others were named paisley autumn and they were green and red, respectively. some things are: 

paisley and alari started dating during this 

autumn was a single mother to a little girl named destiny

noelle dated many people during this but never ended up finding the one <3

when their contract ended after like 6 years, paisley and alari went to go live together and noelle decided to get into acting. so thats when get famous playthrough started!

there’s more but basically they’re like oc’s with sims on the side. xoxo

22. if you use cc, are there any cc creators that you have like ALL of their items? this is such a good question! i hoard hair very heavily (my folder is 11gb) i so i have like 97% from most of the popular hair creators. 

i think i had legitimately EVERYTHING from simstrouble though, i went through multiple times to check and i also have all of her retired stuff. 

i have everything from ridgeport i think-? because of the fact that she uploaded all her stuff in one big zip. 

i think that’s it.. for a long time i also had everything by clumsyalienn, but then i ended up deleting it and only keeping my faves. 

and looking at my collection, maybe ah00b? i might be missing a couple but i at least have like 99%.

23. what’s one pack you think is underrated? dine out, it’s laggy af yes but it’s such a nice thing for my sims to do. 

24. what are your favorite sims stories/legacies? melons by gerbits always and forever

this question was inspired by this ask anyways so 

25. if you could change one small thing about ts4, what would it be? most of my suggestions are pretty complex but literally just - when you add tray files, they appear at the top. my life would be so much easier

this took me literal hours to answer

[cami-chats]

Cats Get Dates

Fandom: Marvel, The Umbrella Academy (TV)

Pairing: Five Hargreeves/Tony Stark

Warnings: None

On AO3 or below

Tony didn't think about it too much before putting up the sign in his window. He felt kind of stupid as he did it-- and also like he was in that one Taylor Swift music video-- but also, that cat was super cute and he wanted to know its name. Calling it 'the stupidly cute, fluffy cat' when he was telling Jim about it was getting a little lengthy; not to mention Jim had thought he was talking about more than one cat for about six months.

Your cat's really cute. So white and fluffy, I love them was what the sign said, but it was enough. With the way windows and floors worked in these weirdass apartment buildings, he wasn't risking much by admitting the cutest cat in the world was, in fact, the cutest cat in the world to a bunch of strangers other than the one stranger he had in mind.

The next day, there was a sign in the window with an arrow pointing down to the cat's favorite lounging spot: Mr. Pennycrumb (yes, really).

Tony wasn't the best artist, but he did a pretty good rendition of Mr. Pennycrumb in a suit, with a monocle and a walking stick. I love him. He didn't hesitate to put that one up either, and he thought that would be the end of it.

He should've known that the universe would decide to throw him a nice little curveball. The next time he peeked across the street to see if Mr. Pennycrumb was taking a nap or licking his paw, he instead saw a handsome man with a criminal jawline sitting in the window, writing in a notebook.

Tony was just tired enough to sit at his own desk and stare an unreasonable amount.

Mr. Pennycrumb's owner looked up after a while and saw him. He raised an eyebrow.

Tony reached for the poster that had his drawing of Mr. Pennycrumb in a suit-- which he kept by the window simply because he wanted to keep the drawing but didn't have any other place to put it-- and held it up. Then he set it down and put his hands together in a pleading fashion.

The cat owner smirked in a very self-satisfied manner, then disappeared for a moment. When he came back, he had Mr. Pennycrumb in his arms. He plopped him in front of the window, where the cat was happy to stretch out and roll onto his back.

Tony blew him a kiss, and he was glad when the other man chuckled before turning back to his writing. Cause otherwise that would've been really awkward. Mr. Pennycrumb was unfairly adorable, and definitely worth a little embarrassment for, if the situation ever called for it. Plus, if the cat's owner had figured out that Tony was checking him out, he might've decided to close his shades, and that would've been a real tragedy.

*

Their first real, face-to-face contact came sometime after three in the morning when the two of them were the only people with both their lights on and their shades open.

Mr. Pennycrumb's owner was the one to initiate it with a note in his window that read, Do you have coffee?

Tony wrote back. Yes.

Can I have some? Everywhere's closed. And it was true. Everywhere was closed, but fuck only knew why. There was a college in this city; surely there was at least one cafe that could turn a profit from running twenty-four hours. There were grocery stores that were still open, but the closest one was two blocks away-- considerably further than across the street, and a lot more of a pain.

In response, Tony wrote down his apartment number. Someone with a cat that cute wouldn't murder him after asking for coffee. If there were two good qualities a person could have, it would be liking coffee and loving their cat. Or maybe it was loving coffee and liking their cat. Either way, it was good combination to have. Not to mention that Tony was infinitely more likely to be kidnapped, not murdered flat out. And the kidnapping type had the same look about them, which Mr. Pennycrumb's owner did not have.

When he saw the man's light go off, he got up to make a new pot of coffee. He still had some in there for himself, so he dumped the rest of it in a spare mug and started a new one. He had a huge ass thermos around here somewhere-- a gift from Jim, and he'd made sure it was big enough for a pot of coffee plus all the cream that Tony liked to add, because Jim was the best gift-giver in the entire world.

As Tony crawled in a cupboard to find it, he wondered why he didn't use it more often. Usually, it was to avoid questions. If people asked him one question, they took it as an invitation for more conversation, which was pretty much the opposite of what Tony wanted when he was carrying around a pot of coffee.

It was only after he unearthed it that he remembered Jim had sort of taken it away for a week when Tony had decided to brew his coffee with an energy drink instead of water. It had tasted like shit, but it had kept him awake enough to keep up with his coursework while also finishing off the designs for the upcoming expo and giving his notes to Howard about the latest prototype. Now that that horrible time had passed though, he should be able to start using it again.

Someone knocked on the door as he was halfway through pouring the coffee into the giant thermos, so he put it down to answer the door. As expected, it was the neighbor-- if neighbor could be used to describe someone that lived in a separate building on the opposite side of the road. He was even more handsome up close, which was a dangerous thing to be noticing in the middle of the night when his self-control was wearing thin. He didn't have much of a filter to begin with, and it only became thinner when he was tired.

"Hey," the possibly-a-neighbor but definitely-the-cute-cat-owner said. "Thanks for this."

"Yeah, no problem. I can't make it a day without coffee." Tony sort of forgot to invite him in, but he turned to go finish pouring the coffee and figured that his sort-of-neighbor would either follow him in or stay in the doorway. Tony would be very tempted to ask him to stay forever if he had remembered to ask him inside in the first place. As he started to pour the remainder of the pot, he heard the door close, and a second later, the guy walked into the kitchen. "I'm Tony, by the way."

"Five. Yes, like the number."

"Your parents weren't very imaginative."

"Actually, I only have one sibling."

"That's even worse."

"I've always thought so," Five said mildly.

"Is there a story there or are they just weird as shit?"

Five snorted. "If they had reasons, they never bothered to share them with me." Then he tilted his head curiously. "Does that thermos fit an entire pot of coffee?"

"Yep."

"That's amazing. Where did you get it?"

"It was a gift, so I don't know."

"Hm, shame."

Tony screwed the lid on and held it out to him.

"Thanks."

"No problem."

"I'll try to have it back in a couple days."

"Sure. And if you forget, I can always add it to a sign when I'm asking about Mr. Pennycrumb. How is he anyways?"

"A pain in the ass," Five said, rolling his eyes as they walked to the door. "He was playing with a plastic bag, got his head caught, flipped out, and ended up shredding it over half the apartment."

"And that's why I admire other people's cats from afar instead of getting my own."

"A wise decision," Five said flatly, but with a hint of a smile across his mouth. Tony had the strong urge to kiss him, but he was too far away for Tony to do it as an impulse decision. "See you around."

"Yep, see you."

Having a crush from a distance had been weird and a little creepy of him, but he didn't think the one minute of conversation with Five really justified it. If anything, it made it worse. Jim would probably tell him to be a normal neighbor and not make contact unless they were passing each other on the street-- but then, Jim was also convinced that Tony was going to be murdered horribly in the middle of the night because he hadn't been looking where he was going, so Tony took everything he said with a grain of salt.

*

Tony got back to his apartment one day to find a bag hanging on the door. He peeked inside and saw that it was the thermos he'd loaned Five, so he picked it up and brought it in with him.

He forgot to put it away for a while, so it was almost a week later when he grabbed the thermos to use it and a picture fell out. Curious, Tony reached for it, then he laughed. It was a polaroid of Mr. Pennycrumb. He was sitting up straight, fluffy tail curled around the front of his little feet and looking intensely at the camera-- or, rather, the person holding the camera, but it was the same effect. On the white bottom, Five had written 'Thanks' in sharpie, in all caps like he was an old man.

Tony hung it on the fridge, then went back to putting his bag together for the day.

*

The next contact came when Tony was settling in for the evening, ready to stay up all night writing code, only to realize that he didn't have enough sugar for his coffee to last all night. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, and fuck some more, he was not going to make it through the night unless he had caffeine and sugar. He glanced out the window automatically and saw that Five's light was on, and he was sitting at his desk.

There was no guarantee that he'd look up, but Tony had to try.

Do you have sugar?

Five looked up when he held the sign in front of his window. He reached to the side and wrote, and a moment later, Tony was reading what he'd written. Only if you'll come over here to get it.

Tony nodded vigorously. He could definitely walk over there. No way in hell was he going to ask Five for a favor and then expect for him to walk over to Tony's place.

Five flipped over his paper and wrote his apartment number.

Tony got up, shoved on some shoes, and hurried over. It was a good thing that it was a short walk, because it was kind of cold out, and he hadn't grabbed a jacket.

It was barely five seconds after he knocked that the door opened. "How much sugar do you need?"

"I don't know, maybe a cup?" Tony said. "It's for my coffee."

"You put sugar in your coffee?" Five asked, raising an eyebrow judgmentally.

"You don't?" Tony asked, mirroring his expression. "I guess that's fine, if you want to be miserable."

Five rolled his eyes and walked to the kitchen, pouring sugar from a large bucket to a smaller container. "Is that enough?"

"Yeah, thanks."

Five put the lid on and handed it over. Then, scarcely after Tony had his hands on it, Five put a scrap of paper on top. "That's my number. You can use it the next time you need sugar instead of hoping I look up at the right time."

Tony's heart decided to be a traitorous little bastard and started beating faster, but he hoped it didn't show in his voice when he said, "Cool; I'll do that. Thanks again," he said.

He made it back over to his apartment, saved Five's number in his phone, then sent him a text.

This is Tony, so you have my number too.

He tossed his phone onto the desk and went to pour some sugar in his coffee. On the desk, his phone buzzed with a new message.

Good to know, was all Five said. A minute later, he sent a photo of Mr. Pennycrumb. It was obvious that he'd just taken it, and the cat was glaring at him as it sat atop his laptop keyboard. The King of the universe says hello.

Tell him I love him.

And have it go to his head? But your message has been passed on.

*

Things continued in that vein for a while. Five would send him pictures of Mr. Pennycrumb in various poses-- Tony's favorite was the one where the cat had climbed into the filled bathtub and then squalled about it like it was Five's fault-- and in return, Tony would gush about how cute Mr. Pennycrumb was.

After a couple weeks of that, they started complaining about their class work, which rapidly turned into helping each other. It's not that either of them was stupid or refused to do their own work, but Five's grasp of physics was much better than Tony's (to say nothing of his understanding of chaos theory), and in return, Tony helped him with the finer points of chemistry.

And since they were helping each other with work, they might as well meet in person rather than halting texts back and forth whenever they remembered to check their phone. Tony didn't think anything of it until it was leading up to the end of the semester and he went to Five's favorite coffee shop to buy him a cup before he headed over-- instead of just letting him brew coffee like normal. Since when did Tony go out of his way to do something nice? The answer used to be: hardly ever. Now, it looked like the answer was: for about three weeks. Because he'd been doing things to try and be nice to Five for a while, even if it inconvenienced him.

With his usual tact, Tony knocked on the door and as soon as Five answered, he asked, "Are we dating?"

"We won't be if you don't hand over the coffee," Five said, his eyes going straight to the cup with laser focus.

Tony handed it over.

Five took a sip, savored it, then brushed a kiss over Tony's cheek. "Come on, I ordered your shitty pizza, and it's useless if it goes cold."

Tony walked in, closing the door behind him. Well, the kiss answered that question. Or maybe it was the way that Five had answered his question. Either way, Tony now had a boyfriend, and that was wonderful. "It makes a wonderful snack four hours into studying," Tony argued. He knew this for a fact after a dozen times of doing it. "You can shove it in your mouth without tasting it, and you don't have to wait for something to be delivered."

"Congratulations," Five said flatly. "I'm not trying it."

"Fine, suffer then." 

[bisexualcrowley]

Fairytale of New York

Pairing: Jack Kline x Reader (Gender non-specified)

Summary: Jack gives you something you’ve always dreamt of while walking through a park on Christmas eve

Content/warnings: Fluff, songfic, little bit of angst, censored use of the F slur in song lyrics, can be read as romantic or platonic

Word count: 2, 581

A/N: I absolutely recommend you listen to the song while reading, I know it’s not really everyone’s taste but I feel that it adds to the mental image, plus there's a bunch of instrumental bits that I think are worth being included :) // Originally wrote this as a Jack fic, but felt that Jack fit better

The snow fell in a light drifting throughout the city, glistening in the glow of the streetlights and setting the scene for what in most movies would be seen as the perfect Christmas eve. It was quiet, peaceful, the soft noises of traffic heard behind the sound of slow Christmas music playing soothingly from a shop across the street.

Since becoming a hunter, you hadn’t really been much for the holidays, especially religious ones, but tonight as you walked side by side with Jack through the little park, boots crunching in the fallen powder with snowflakes dusting your hair as you made your way to a nearby pizza joint to meet Sam Dean and Cas, it felt different, the way Christmas should feel.

Tonight it didn’t matter that the apocalypse was approaching, the thought was shoved to the back of your head along with everything else that had gone wrong. Tonight was just snow, food, gifts, and family, and you found yourself smiling as you made your way along the path.

You were so caught up in your thoughts, or lack of them, that it took you a moment to realize you had been walking by yourself for a few seconds, and quickly doubled back to where the nephilim was standing.

You were concerned at first, his still figure bringing all sorts of unpleasant thoughts to mind, but your worries quickly evaporated when you drew closer to your friend. A peaceful smile graced his features, eyes closed and face tilted upwards, snowflakes hitting his skin and melting, the fair few settling softly on his eyelashes.

“...Jack?” You called quietly, hesitating at the idea of disturbing him but knowing he wouldn’t want to be late to dinner with the Winchesters.

Luckily, the nephilim’s peaceful expression cracked into a toothy grin as he turned his head to face you, a light dusting of snow falling from his hair onto his nose and making you giggle.

“It’s so beautiful, isn’t it Y/n. I never took the time to experience a snowfall properly before now, and it’s just... Well it’s just incredible. God did a good job with this one” He murmured happily, his gaze returning to the sky, this time followed by your own.

It had been years since you sat back and allowed yourself to enjoy a moment like this, year after year of hunting taking priority over and over again, and you were glad that there was time for it tonight. Jack was right, the sight truly was beautiful, the crystals of ice glistening as they blew through the sky and settled on every surface in sight.

You had just opened your mouth to respond when a familiar melody filled the air, and you paused in your thoughts. Fairytale of New York, The Pogues. You hadn’t heard this one in years, though you never forgot it, your teenage daydreams always somewhere in the back of your mind.

Apparently Jack had found your silence alarming and turned his attention back to you, finding you lost in thought, a troubled expression having replaced your smile from before.

“You look upset, Y/n, are you alright?” Your friend questioned, a concerned expression gracing his usually happy features, and his worry drawing a dry chuckle from your lips.

“It’s nothing Jack, lets just keep going, Sam and Dean are probably already at the pizza place” You replied in a dreary voice, sighing as the song progressed from purely instrumental to include vocals, the piano echoing sweetly in the darkened street and Shane Macgowan’s somewhat rough voice flooding your ears.

It was Christmas Eve babe

In the drunk tank

An old man said to me, won't see another one 

Turning away from Jack, you moved to cross away from the park, but found yourself held back by the angel’s hand landing firmly on your shoulder, forcing your gaze back in his direction.

“Honestly, it’s stupid, lets just keep going please” Your voice came out tight and clipped and the sound made you wince, hoping Jack didn’t think of it as rude. Luckily, in that sense, your friend didn’t seem to be offended, but unluckily it made him push the subject further.

And then he sang a song

The Rare Old Mountain Dew

“You've never been good at lying to me, Y/n, it’s clear that this isn’t stupid. Please, talk to me.” 

You shot him a defeated smile, the ache in your heart showing clearly in your eyes as you shoved your hands in your pockets, shifting your weight from one leg to the other.

I turned my face away

And dreamed about you 

“I dunno, Jack, It’s just this song.” You mumbled, gaze falling to the ground in hopes of avoiding the nephilim’s concerned stare.

“Ah, I understand. Cas explained this to me, how humans can connect bad memories to songs,” He nodded, his hand returning to your shoulder in a comforting gesture.

Got on a lucky one

Came in eighteen to one 

“No, it’s not that. It’s just... Ever since I was a kid I’ve always dreamt of dancing with someone to Fairytale of New York. I haven’t heard it in years, hunting kind of took over my life, but hearing it again makes me realize, as small as it is, I want it, so so badly. Being pulled close and spun around as the snow falls around me on Christmas eve, it’s so stupid but knowing the world is gonna end and I’ve never had the chance to experience it hurts like hell, Jack, and I know as a hunter I should have higher priorities, but honestly it’s all I fucking want, the only thing I wanted to do before I die and now I’m not gonna get the chance.”

I've got a feeling

This year's for me and you 

You didn’t plan to ramble on, spill such a close desire to your friend but as soon as you started speaking the dam broke, all your feelings slipping out at once. You were so caught up in your thoughts that you didn’t notice the tears running down your cheeks, not until a gentle hand tilted your chin up, your eyes locking on Jack’s caring ones as he brushed them away.

“That’s not stupid, Y/n... Actually, I think it’s quite beautiful. There’s so much hate and greed in this world, but all you ask for is one moment in time...”

Jack’s voice was quiet but sincere as he spoke,  and though you couldn’t work up the strength to thank him, you appreciated what he had said.

So happy Christmas

I love you baby 

“It doesn’t matter, we can’t all get what we want, right?” You smiled tightly, quickly clearing your throat and turning to head towards the road again, and once more you were stopped by a strong hand pulling you back.

"Jack please, lets go, I don’t wanna talk about this anymore, ok? It’s upsetting and it’s getting cold, let’s just go meet the guys” You huffed, now slightly annoyed at the nephilim’s stubbornness, but the feeling melting almost immediately into confusion as your friend pulled your shorter frame against his own, leading one of your hands to his waist and capturing your other in his.

I can see a better time

When all our dreams come true 

“Dance with me, Y/n.” He whispered, smiling shyly at the expression on your face.

“..what?” You managed to ask, somewhat in shock at the quick movements Jack had made to settle you in such a position.

“Look, I know this probably isn’t exactly what you were hoping for, It’s barely snowing, we’re probably going to get yelled at by Dean and well, it’s me, but if the world really does end, I don’t want you to go out having not experienced the thing you’ve dreamt of all your life. I understand if you don’t want to waste the moment with me, but if you do I’d be more than happy to share it with you”

Jack chuckled at the end of his sentence, but didn’t go on, waiting for an answer as the music picked up, moving from piano to accordion.

You had to fight back tears as your friend spoke. It was hard to believe, but it was finally happening, you were finally going to get your dance, and you just beamed up at the angel, emotions overflowing with each second that passed, and as the third verse began, you nodded, Jack responding by matching your smile and settling his free hand on your waist.

They've got cars big as bars

They've got rivers of gold

But the wind goes right through you

It's no place for the old

You hadn’t danced to the song since you were a kid, twirling around in an oversized dressing gown with a broom in Bobby’s basement, and you were almost certain Jack had never even heard of it before now, but somehow the both of you knew exactly what to do, how to move. Two steps and a spin, swinging away from the angel only to be pulled back in, each switch of your hands, it was all exactly how you had always pictured it.

When you first took my hand

On a cold Christmas Eve

You promised me

Broadway was waiting for me

1 2 3 4 5 6, 1 2 3 4 5 6. You counted silently along with the patterns played, a squeal turning into a joyous laugh as a particularly passionate spin from Jack led the both of you sliding along a patch of ice, boots leaving trails in the freshly fallen snow.

You were handsome

You were pretty

Queen of New York City

When the band finished playing

They howled out for more

You hadn’t expected Jack to enjoy himself as much as he appeared to be. You figured, hey, he’s a nephilim, I’ve helped him out, he probably feels obligated to do this, right? To see that you were wrong, the elation on his face made the already indescribable moment all the better

Sinatra was swinging

All the drunks they were singing

We kissed on a corner

Then danced through the night

The rare passerby walking through the park would smile, pause for a moment to watch the two of you spin happily across the frozen ground before continuing on their way, each one chuckling to themselves over whatever joke they came up with about once upon a time being young enough to move like that

The boys of the NYPD choir

Were singing Galway Bay

And the bells were ringing out

For Christmas day

As the two of you danced, you couldn’t help but think how beautiful this scene would be in a movie, all done up in fancy clothes, cameras following each sweeping movement you made

You're a bum

You're a punk

You're an old slut on junk

Lying there almost dead on a drip in that bed

Another step. Another swing.

You scumbag, you maggot

You cheap lousy f*ggot

Happy Christmas your arse

I pray God it's our last

Jack’s hands flew to your hips, picking you up as if weighed nothing as the chorus peaked once again, spinning you in the air and making you feel like you were flying.

The boys of the NYPD choir

Still singing Galway Bay

The moment your shoes touched the ground Jack bent you down in a dip, flashing you a goofy smile at the noise you let out

And the bells are ringing out

For Christmas day

Jack smiled, and you beamed up at him

I could have been someone

Well so could anyone

You took my dreams from me

When I first found you

The music slowed slightly, and Jack traded your previous quick footsteps for a simple back and forth box step, the softening of your movements giving him a proper look at you, with your hair mussed and face rosy from the cold. Your smile stood out the most to the angel though, the unfiltered joy crinkling your eyes and releasing whatever tension you were holding before

I kept them with me babe

I put them with my own

Can't make it all alone

I've built my dreams around you

The boys of the NYPD choir

Still singing Galway Bay

And the bells are ringing out

For Christmas day 

As the instrumental section came to an end, the wall inside you that you hadn’t even realized was there finally broke down, and you followed in suit. Your arms flew around the nephilim’s neck and you clung to him as if letting go would kill you, and you sobbed. The sudden burst frightened Jack, who quickly pulled away enough to meet your eyes, but was surprised to find that you weren’t upset, but were crying tears of happiness.

“Y/n are you alright?” He whispered, tightening his hold around you as you pulled him along, your complicated waltz now replaced by the simple motions of a slow dance, weight shifting from one side to another as the song neared it’s end

You didn’t reply at first, choosing instead to smile up at Jack with teary eyes and nod rapidly before managing to choke out the words “Thank you, Jack”. 

As the final few notes finally faltered off, you pulled away from the tight embrace, looking earnestly up at your friend, who wore a warm smile as well

“Really, Jack, Thank you. So, so much, that was incredible, I can’t even-” Your voice cracked, cut off, and unable to vocalize anything more you reached out and took his hand between your own, squeezing tightly.

Luckily Jack understood what you were trying to say. He knew he couldn’t ever truly understand the level of happiness the action had brought you, but he knew he was gonna cherish the moment for the rest of his life. It was the most fun he had had in as long as he could remember, but that wasn’t why he knew it would stick with with. There was something special about sharing such a moment with someone he loved so dearly, being able to give you that happiness that made life worth living, gave the strength to keep fighting whatever the hell would be thrown at them next.

You and Jack would have been happy to stay there forever, hands clasped together and snow dusting your hair, but as always, the reminder that all good things must come to an end was brought to you by whichever shop was playing music turning their volume way up, the blasting of trumpets from rockin’ around the Christmas tree hitting you like a truck and thoroughly ruining the peaceful setting.

Your reactions were like a scene out of a movie, the simultaneous jump, staring at each other in shock and finally breaking down in peals of laughter seconds later.

“I think that means it’s time to go” you snickered, the nephilim chuckling in response, and at that the two of you took off again, making your way towards the pizza place.

Thank you, you repeated silently. Thank you

-

Tags, let me know if you want to be added <3 @cursedbobs​ @frog-tiddies​  @imagine-whatever

[ferallymine]

Twilight Princess: In Her Place

A/N: I forgot how much i love TP and I decided Iris deserved past incarnations. Here’s a thing I wrote and it’s 2:32am so goodnight.

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

The hidden village above Kakariko was finally accessible, thanks greatly in part to the Gorons’ efforts. Link and Iris had ventured up, but the day was almost over, and they hadn’t come back down yet. The sun was setting, giving a crimson hue to bounce off the rocks in the gorge. Dust rose with the gentle wind, creating small whirlwinds around the town.

Talo began to get fidgety, “They’ll be back soon, right?”

Luda gave a small nod, “They’re strong. Should be back any minute.”

“That Iris girl seems awfully close to Link, doesn’t she?” Beth leaned against the railing on the roof, trying to get a better look of the path leading up the mountain, “What’s Ilia gonna think when she remembers him?”

“Who knows,” Malo shrugged and hopped off the wooden crate he’d been using to see over the railing, “But maybe the real question to ask is- are we too biased in our favor to Ilia to see if Iris is actually a good match for him or not?”

Beth stomped her foot, “She’s clearly not! She’s a witch! She makes monster plants and stuff! She’s a bad influence and doesn’t deserve our hero.”

Luda put a finger to her chin, “Father used to be close to botany witches in his younger years when there were more of them. I remember him telling me that they helped cure ailment-“

“Here they come!” Talo jumped and pointed at the two figures emerging from the shadows into the sunset light.

-----

Renaldo, Link, Iris, Ilia, and the children all gathered in the shaman’s house. The tension of anticipation was thick, as if one of them could cut it with their sword.

Would this work? Ilia had the key to the last piece of the Mirror of Twilight locked in the back of her memories. What if this didn’t work? What would they have to do?

Link pulled out the charm that Impaz had given him and placed it in Ilia’s open palm. A stillness pierced the tension- everyone holding their breath at once.

“I… made this…” Ilia’s voice whispered quietly. She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath, “The scent of hay…”

Link didn’t notice the look on his face, but Iris did. The yearning- the need beyond the missing key for her to remember. For her to remember him. It chipped Iris’ heart, just a little bit.

Ilia opened her eyes, a sudden excitement on her face, “Link! I…I remember!” She leapt into his open arms, a tight embrace. Link spun her around, pure joy in his eyes. He set her down and she grabbed his face, kissing his face all over. The kids cheered, jumping in ecstatic glee. Iris forced a smile, hating how much her heart twisted over something that should be a happy moment.

Renado began to gently usher them out, “Let’s give them a moment.”

-----

Iris rounded the corner, leaving the others to go to the spring. The chill of the water sent a shiver up her spine as her feet entered the water. The children’s echoes of laughter danced along the chilly air.

Midna appeared in her shadow form beside her, “Hey witch.”

“Hello, Princess.”

“…in my opinion, he’s making a huge mistake.”

“Thanks.”

Silence as the moon rose over the village.

“She spilled about the memory, but she’s keeping him there to catch her up on everything.” Midna rolled her eyes and cocked her hip, “Men and their egos. Sometimes he makes me wonder if I chose the right beast.”

“He’s the wolf, I’m just a panther.”

“Wolf or no- you’ve proven yourself more dependable and worthy of your triangle lately.” Midna reached behind her, using her power to pull out the Dominion Rod.

“What are you-“

“Take this to Impaz- that old woman you both just saved. You’ll get more information about getting to the sky for the Mirror shard.”

Iris took the rod, weighing it in her hand, “Midna.”

“Iris.”

“…Thank you.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

“Hey, Midna?”

“Hey, Iris?”

“I really love him.”

“…If it helps, I was rooting for you.”

“It doesn’t, but I appreciate the sympathy.”

Midna turned to leave, but paused. “Remember the temple in the lake?”

“We almost died.”

“You saved us from what would’ve been certain death by Zant.” A wind picked up, making Iris shiver as Midna spoke, “And the look in Link’s eyes watching you bleed out like that was true heartbreak. I think…I think he’s suppressing his emotions because he doesn’t want to feel that again if he loses you.”

“You sound like Zelda.”

Midna shrugged, “She did put her life into me. Anyway, I’m trying to say to not give up, even after what you just witnessed. We never said he was smart.”

Iris chuckled, “Sure.”

-----

“See! Link loves Ilia!” Beth jumped in a circle, hands held with Luda- which drug the poor girl along for the spin.

Talo and Collin pumped their fists in the air, chanting “Link! And! Ilia!”

Malo nodded, “Indeed, he loves her.”

“So he does.”

The kids stopped their celebrating, turning to see a somber Iris. The firelight from the window cast dancing shadows over her face. A slight glisten off her cheek where a single tear had fallen.

Beth stuck out her tongue, hands on her hips, “You’re a witch. Link deserves better than you.”

“Hey.” Luda stepped away, “They’re not all bad-“

“No…” Iris raised her hand, “I know my place in his life now. When he comes out, tell him it’s okay.” Iris toyed with a rod looped to her belt at her side. The kids didn’t know what it was, but Iris kept talking before they could ask, “If he asks…tell him I’m finishing what we started.”

And with that, she walked off into the darkness of the night.

-----

Impaz checked over Iris’ hand, silver triangle glowing subtly against her skin. “No doubts about it! Oh, I’m so happy that the Harmony piece of the Triforce has reemerged. The founder of this village often told stories of the Harmony Avatar bringing balance wherever they went. You’ll set all this right, I just know it. You even managed to get the rod of the heavens! Oh, happy night!”

Iris smiled, “Thank you. I’m honored that the Goddesses picked me to carry on this power.”

Impaz turned, walking into her abode. A chest lay in the back against a dusty old wall.

“Here we go, Miss!” She turned, handing the witch an ancient booklet.

Iris inspected it, being careful with the pages to not tear them, “Thank you for your service, Impaz. I’m forever grateful. Please, don’t seclude yourself here any longer. Go into Kakariko Village tomorrow morning and meet the lovely people there.”

“If you insist,” Impaz gave a little smile, “I have always wondered what lie beyond that pesky rockslide!”

Iris waved goodbye and began her journey back down the mountain.

-----

Ilia leaned against Link’s shoulder, arm snugly wrapped around his. She was fast asleep.

Link was sleeping peacefully, until a hand nudged him awake.

“What are you doing?!” Midna’s annoyance was very clear.

Link sat up, trying to not wake Ilia, “What are you talking about? I’m sleeping- do you know what sleeping is?” He returned the attitude in a harsh whisper.

“You had a touching reunion, but you’re not gonna continue our mission? She gave you what you needed- let’s get a move on!”

“It’s 1am. I need rest. Let me sleep in peace.”

“Least you could’ve done was tell Iris you intended on sleeping with your hometown side-hoe.” Midna leaned against the wall, arms behind her head.

His face flushed red. Then went white with realization, “Oh fu-“

“Language! You have innocent ears there.” Midna giggled.

Link freed himself from Ilia’s grasp and stood up, “Is she outside?”

“Am I Iris’ keeper?” Midna rolled her eyes, “Go out and find her yourself, coward.” She dived into his shadow.

Link opened the door, greeted suddenly by wind and the sounds of crickets. He looked to his left towards the spring, but didn’t see Iris there.

“You okay?” Link jumped at the sound, but calmed when he realized it was just Luda on the porch of the next-door house, “You look a little stressed.”

“What are you doing up so late?”

“I like the night. Plus Beth kicks in her sleep, ahah.”

Link sighed, “Hey… did you see Iris at all?”

“She was upset,” those words made his heart sink, “The kids were making fun of her. She said to tell you this though. She said that it’s okay, that she knows her place in your life now.”

Link held his breath, “Is Iris still in the village?”

Luda shook her head, “She had a weird stick thing on her belt. She said to tell you that she’s finishing what you both started and walked that way.” The girl pointed towards the path to Impaz’ village.

“Thank you, Luda. I think you should go inside and get some sleep now.”

She shrugged, “Okay… Oh, Shad came out while you and Ilia were talking. Iris was with him and they were pointing to some spots on her map. She then said she was headed back to Ordon. I don’t know why she’s doing that at night or even without a horse but I’m not gonna judge her capabilities.”

“Oh, really?” Link looked around, finding Epona tied to the fence across the street, “Thank you, again, Luda. I’m going to go track her down- she wasn’t supposed to leave without me.”

The girl stood up, “I’m in no place to judge your relationships, so I’ll just say good luck.” Luda opened the creaky, rust-filled door and went back inside.

Midna popped up after the girl was gone, “So we warping or are you seriously gonna ride your horse all the way back to catch her?”

Link shook his head, “We’re warping.”

-----

“Alright owl statue.” Iris waved the rod in a circle, “Move!”

The green hues lit up the surrounding hills thanks to it still being dead of night. Crickets and other bugs scurried away from their moss-covered home at the sight of this new and strange light. Several little hops later, the statue was out of its alcove. Desummoning the rod’s powers, Iris stepped to the symbols that it had covered.

“Ah…gotcha.” Iris scribbled down the ancient writing onto the extra paper Shad had provided before her departure.

A familiar buzzing sounded behind her. Iris rolled her eyes and sighed, foolishly thinking that she’d have at least until morning.

Midna popped up first, “In my defense I grew tired of waiting.”

Link looked angry. His footsteps were heavy as he marched towards Iris.

Iris rolled her eyes and summoned the owl statue again. It began hopping backwards.

“No you don’t!” Link raced to the alcove. He squeezed through the space before the owl fully closed off the opening.

Iris and Link stood face-to-face, cramped together in the small space. The light from the Dominion Rod gave them just enough to see each other’s faces.

“How did you get the rod?” Link searched his brain for questions and didn’t know where to start. He figured that was the best way to go.

“Take a guess.”

“Midna?”

“Congrats, you win.” Iris’ face wasn’t impressed.

Link took a breath, “Iris… I didn’t forget about you or anything I just-“

“No.”

“What?”

She closed her eyes, eyebrows furrowing, “No excuses. I don’t care about your love life. What I do care about is being led on.”

“I didn’t mean-“

“Furthermore,” Iris continued, “Now that I know my place in your life, I decided to utilize my skills to continue the mission while you enjoyed time with your lover.”

“She’s not my-“

“Link, stop.” She sighed, “I said no excuses.”

“I’m not making excuses!” Link caught himself nearly yelling at her. He took a breath before starting again, “Did I once love Ilia- yes. Yes I did. But before I loved her she was my best friend. I’m not going to save the world and leave my friends to the wayside to fend for themselves or not help them with impossibly hard tasks.”

Iris sighed, “You let all your friends kiss you? You spin them around and then sleep next to them all snuggled up and holding each other?”

“…I…” Link froze, trying to think, trying to find how to say exactly what he’s feeling.

She scoffed, “Yeah. That’s what I thought. You made this bed, now lie in it.” The rod’s light brightened as Iris used it to move the statue. It made two hops before Link grabbed her wrist.

“Stop…please…” His voice shook.

Iris stopped, sudden concern on her face. She’d never heard his voice waver like this.

A breath, “I need you to understand that I’m never good with emotions or saying the right things. But I’m going to try and convey them now.”

“Then spit it out.”

Iris felt Link’s hand tremble. “When we first met in the Twilight I didn’t trust you. But as we went along and had this journey I… I realized I couldn’t have done half the things we accomplished without you.”

“Link-“

“When I caught your hand before you went over the edge in Goron Mines. When I almost was squashed by the falling logs in Faron. All our battles as beasts in Twilight. Hell, even Yeto’s mansion was filled with traps that almost killed us.”

“I-“

“But it was Zant’s attack…” He looked up, tears welling in his eyes. Iris’ heart hurt. “You… you were bleeding so badly and I couldn’t stop it in my beast form. I had to drag you to safety after you passed out. And I couldn’t stay because I had to take Midna to Zelda.”

“I’m still here, Link.”

“I shut down after that.” He closed his eyes, tears flowing, “I didn’t know if you were dead or alive and I couldn’t take it. Midna can even attest I was so distraught that I became physically unwell. When the Master Sword changed me back I vomited, seized, and passed out. I couldn’t carry on like that and I decided that having no feelings was better than having that deep of a sense of despair.”

“So when Ilia got her memories back…” Iris placed a hand on his cheek.

“The suppressed feelings came out. I was so happy and starved from any emotion besides nothingness that everything came out at once. I had my best friend again. Talking to her for so long was therapeutic. I didn’t intend to abandon you or make you feel used I just…” he clutched his chest, “I couldn’t stand the thought of losing you again.”

“So you’re reasoning was to push me out.”

“I never said it was smart, but that’s what I rationalized at the time.”

Iris pulled Link’s face close, letting their foreheads touch and eyes close. “From this point on, don’t push me out.” A gentle whisper for only him. “Let me help you. Don’t be afraid of your emotions.”

“I won’t… I’m so sorry…”

[gravelgirty]

Hi could you talk more about caves what you said on that post is really interesting

Sure thing!

First of all, it was an amazing cave I worked in. You never forget that. I'll pick one of my favorite topics,

the FALLOUT SHELTER AGGRAVATION TAX.

Clears throat.

Limestone caves are literally stone libraries in the geologic record of the world. Twice a year the airflow would change and then you'd smell smoke from decrepit old torches dating as far back as 1812. People made saltpeter in these caves, they were natural mines for things that went boom, and one of those 'requirements' meant airflow so you wouldn't suddenly and embarrassingly, drop dead of too much Underground. This is why the coal miners were eternally bemused and asking us questions like airflow. Sometimes you gotta canary. Sometimes you are the canary. This often led to predictable questions that was these old gents trying to be polite, but what they really wanted to know was,

'why the hell are you being paid $10 a trip plus tips to walk us 1.1 miles underground up to 3 times a day and no one has a mortgage gun aimed at your head?'

To which I would say, 'it wasn't quite that bad. If no one shows up at all we get paid $10.' ...Dear Saint Barbara, Chango, and the Gods of Deep Mystery, the things we tell ourselves. $10 a day. Crap. Thank goodness I had Granny's House, dad was paying the property tax, the water was on a well, and garbage was less that $20 a month. A shame we can't afford a TV, but hey, we can stay busy digging up that quarter-acre garden that will keep us fed plus the road kill Deer in the fall.

But the conditions that created saltpeter (I'll go into depth on that later if people are interested) also convinced some weird-ass people in Washington DC that caves were the perfect place to do a DR STRANGELOVE and people could go hide out in the caves, free of...well, nothing, really, because radiation = straight lines +caves, air, irradiated air and water, and everything goes down into the caves...

Look. It made people feel safe, ok? And it wasn't the worst decision the Pentagon ever made, considering they were telling the scientists working with HOT RADIOACTIVE MATTER to stay safe by sticking the stuff on a long pole so they wouldn't have to touch it.

Everybody knows about the bomb shelter President Kennedy was prepared to run to with his family in case of Cold War. It was in the Greenbrier Resort in White Sulphur Springs (I prefer to think of it as the HIDDEN FIGURES birthplace). FYI everybody who lived here knew where it was. There are only so many power stations one measly little resort that cries that it can't afford to pay for its own water bill can keep.

[insert sniffle boohoo sobbing of the pro-confederates who run that place and while I can't be there for you, try to imagine the joy I am stockpiling for the day when we have another traitorous uprising and this time, the resort doesn't get a GO PASS GO by dangerous romantics and is finally burned to the ground.]

Anyway, the important people like the President, his family, his Secret Service, his staff, cook, maid-in-waiting, bootblack and et al got to go bunker down in the luxurious bomb shelter at the resort, which probably wouldn't be very resort-y after a certain point of Castro going, 'fuck you, you whippersnapper Irish Dog' or Khrushchev throwing a little more than his shoe around. I'm not convinced it was that great of a place to hide, really. I mean...they have lightning rods on the trees over there, and believe it or not, cavers in that country have been hit by lightning while underground. Because. Lightning. If it can bake entire acres of potatoes in the field, two subterranean surveyors with metal measuring tape haven't got a prayer.

I want you to know that I can't at this point go into detail (space restrictions) on the importance of all these caves to Union Sympathizers, slaves on the Underground Railroad, and the Far-Righter MAGAS called Confederates. Trust me when I say, if you didn't know where these caves were, you had absolutely no right to know.

In Appalachia, limestone caves were listed on properties and handed down because of their value. Thomas Jefferson made a point of making sure there were lots of caves to provide nitre for the Gunpowder Committee. I don't know if landowners had to pay taxes for having saltpeter caves (probably), but when the Cold War came around, they definitely and cheerfully sold the access rights to the government because...it was the government. I am not in the least bit joking when I tell you there are people over there who are still pissed off over George Washington's Whiskey Rebellion.

If you really want to get into the psyche of Appalachians, go read up every scene Terry Pratchett ever wrote about Lancre in his Discworld books. Just give them more libraries and a LOT of coffee stations.

Oh, dear. I forgot all about the owling and the Prohibition.

Owling = the practice of moving your herds of cattle from one ridge to the next to avoid a higher payment when the taxman came a-calling.

Prohibition = The Second Oldest Profession.

These days, many of the Fallout Shelter caves are being used for...modern needs. Meth labs, if you're a sensationalist, but if you aren't, bear in mind that hiding out stolen cattle and horses still requires big places out in the middle of nowhere. But when Mr. Gov't Man came around and offered cash for the access rights to grand-daddy's old saltpetre cave? Goodness gracious, we know we aren't supposed to take people's money from them because that's a sin, but...taxes...you know how it is... (most of the mountain folk had no real quarrel with Kennedy despite his heathen dog Catholicism because it wasn't his fault he was brought up Catholic, but when it came to the government...well, it was the principle of the thing).

In short order papers were drawn, and shelters were built and good god, they were ugly. Clapboard shantytowns, I swear. They were stockpiles whacked together with off-brand plank and tenpenny nails for where the selected few could bunker up in the cozy, damp, dripping, chilly, dusty, sneezy, probably-warm-from-stray-radiation environs. I have no idea who the Pentagon hated enough that they would send them to these caves. They had a bottleneck opening for easy defense, yes, but there was no defense against puking yourself to death or accidentally taking off your own skin with your uniform at the end of your shift.

YOU THINK I"M KIDDING?? YOU THINK IT IS A COINCIDENCE THAT CLASSIC DR WHO SHOWS DALEK HISTORY IN AN OLD STONE QUARRY? WELCOME ABOARD!

A fallout shelter's stockpile generally consisted of

*High-quality medical equipment, even though some of that stuff had a shelf life of three minutes.

*Radio Equipment. Which was probably a real belly laugh to the folks running the NARO satellite dishes up in Green Bank, because families in the most rural portion of WV (Pocahontas County) spent their evenings parsing Latin and teaching the young lads and lasses the wonders of shortwave and how to rig up your own crystals in case you needed to jackleg your own.

*Food. God. Awful. Food. It was designed to keep you alive, but you can't say anything more charitable about it. Honestly, I'm surprised nobody tried to corner a government contract on dehydrated water.

*Water. Potable water for drinking, but, I should say, I couldn't find any means with which you could make a potable distillery. Or, how much of this potable water was going to be used to rehydrate the ghastly awfulness of the dehydrated food, or the canned goods that included stuff the military couldn't wait to forget. Go ask your grandparents how much canned horse Circa WWII they ate while they served, m'kay?

*Candy. High energy, easily digestible candy. Flavor optional, at the discretion of the same government that made the WWII Chocolate Bar.

*The containers themselves. Yep, they counted. They were heavy metal barrels and tough buckets or small drums, plus the amazingly dense metal and plastic containers for medical kits, candy, and misc. I'm not sure if they had a requirement other than impervious, waterproof, and on sale. In fact, the smaller drums/buckets were supposed to be lined with the plastic used to wrap the other goods, and convert into a toilet.

Cold War comes and goes. I'm sure what happened next is shocking:

1) medical supplies goes missing in the dead of night.

2) Electronics follows. That probably makes the electricians feel good, because...what good would they have done in the wet, dust-filled atmosphere of the caves?

3) Candy. Candy, did you say? I don't remember seeing any candy..?

4) The gradual disappearance of the food rations is mysteriously in proportion to camping trips multitasking with double-dog-dares. Who needs a frat pledge if Freckles here has never been introduced to the joys of Dehydrated Ketchup?

5) If you think the backyard blacksmiths are making forges with tire rims, do you think metal containers stand a chance?

This leaves the barrels of water, but who would want to drink that stuff? It's been sitting around for how long? Ew. And the boards for those shelters...cripes.

This inadvertently makes up a tiny little side bonus for the hard-working tour guide. Because these shelters are usually ridiculously close to the entrance of the tour caves. You have to take your tour group in stages, see, and once they finish gasping and wheezing their way through the first 300 steps, you have to take their minds off how miserable they are and pause at the shelter with your flashlight, and describe this little chapter of history. By this time the bats are hanging off the boards (your chance to remind them of the exorbitant federal fines for hurting these little mosquito-hunters), the occasional lost salamander, and the beginnings of the Dreaded Cave Cricket (ten minutes with these little monsters and you'll never think pink is an effete color ever again).

And the mold. There are patches of mold the guides have been watching for YEARS. Some of them have even bothered to look them up, because...tourists. They love to stump the guides and use it as an excuse for not tipping you because you haven't taken a Master's in The Encompassing Topic of Karst Everything and are clearly a dumbass, hah-hah I'll spend my money in the overpriced gift shop, peasant.

But no, folks. If you ask them one more damn time if they're sure all the candy and drugs are gone...we're too tired to take your bleeping bleep bleep tip anyway.