#cause I was like MAN LAST YEAR NO HEATER FOR 2 AND A HALF WEEKS IN WINTER BROKE ME

[imwritesometimes]

you cannot make this shit up - my heater is out again

[xoxopandapanda]

InuKag Week 2021: Day 2

@inukag-week

Day 2 Warmth

The summer heat wasn’t exactly pleasant to be in, but the cool breeze made it tolerable during the day when she was out working to gather supplies for herself and Kaede. However, at night, her personal space heater of a husband wasn’t exactly nice to sleep so close to.

They had switched over to summer bedding fairly quickly this year, but Inuyasha radiated enough heat that she thought he could also have been a reason the season came early this year. He snorted and shuffled in his sleep, quick to latch on to her any time she made an attempt to move away from the actual fire robed man sharing her bed.

Kagome let out a squeal of disappointment as she felt herself being dragged back under the covers, having just escaped his bear trap legs.

“Noooo,” she whined, “you’re so hot and I hate ittt.” She knew she sounded like a child whining, but she also knew that it was falling on deaf ears. He would be upset and probably worry if he knew she found his body temperature too much to handle at night.

He put a lot of thought into everything she said and did, now that they were married.

Kagome brushed her sticky hair from her forehead, wishing she could just slip away long enough to take a quick dip into the river and be chilled enough to cuddle with him. She loved that he had become a cuddler but didn’t love that he was an actual coal laying in her bed.

Inuyasha snorted and pulled her even closer to herself. He had taken to sleeping nearly naked now that the weather was warmer, and she swore to herself it made it worse. Nothing was trapping his heat in from her – she was left to experience it on full blast at night.

Sango had laughed at her when she complained the other day about the issue and told her to feel lucky that she hadn’t wound up with a baby over the situation. The pointed look at her youngest gave Kagome the impression he had maybe come from a similar situation.

Finally, a breeze drifted through the room and cooled Kagome down enough to close her eyes and beg for sweet relief. But as soon as it arrived, it vanished.

Groaning loudly, Kagome promised herself a nap tomorrow in the shade.

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

Inuyasha hated hot weather. It was the worst and this year it seemed to have arrived with a vengeance that he wasn’t ready for. Kagome kept lots of water in the house, careful to keep hydrated as she didn’t want a repeat of her first summer in the feudal era.

It wasn’t fun for either of them how heat sick she had gotten, not used to the lack of conbinis to get a cold water bottle at.

Kagome always seemed to run a little bit colder than him. He chalked it up to her being of a significantly smaller stature than him, but sometimes he worried about her. She worked just fine in the cold and was quick to bundle up if necessary. She had socks and scarves that covered her up when necessary and when the sun was out the top of her head quickly warmed up.

But like him, she seemed to hate the heat.

“Are you sure it’s not some demon we can go kill to get a nice cool spring?” she had asked him one night while she laid on their bed, enjoying him fanning her exposed abdomen.

“If it was, I would have done it already.”

Kagome’s eyes were closed, but her mouth betrayed her amusement. “Maybe you killed the wrong demon and now we’re being punished for it.”

“Nah, that’d be on you. You’re the last one to kill a demon.”

Kagome’s hands lifted to smack her face. “I don’t think a snake demon trying to kill Kaede is what caused this heat.”

Inuyasha stopped fanning her and ran a finger down her stomach, tapping just above her belly button. “But it could have disrupted the balance of things.”

Kagome peeked one eye at him. “I’d hit you if I wasn’t so gosh darn hot.”

Inuyasha just smiled at her, picking up the large fan to keep cooling his wife off.

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

Well, this was going to be a joke that she regretted teaching Inuyasha. In her defense she was a little bit more than tipsy, having thoroughly enjoyed herself at the village elder’s daughter’s wedding, but damn. Did she really have to go and teach her husband some modern slang?

Where was her sensibility?

Inuyasha had a steel trap mind when it came to remembering things from the modern era that she taught him about. At first, in her youth, she had thought it was a child-like wonder that had him so enraptured by the information she shared, but now she knew it was his way of connecting to her.

It had been a particularly long day, full of planting, harvesting, and roof mending after the large thunderstorm had ravaged the nearby area. Inuyasha had been doing most of the heavy lifting, leaving the menial and tedious work to the other men.

It suited him just fine. He wasn’t as dexterous and hated having to carve out sections to lay snuggly together.

He was sweaty and nearly overheated by the time he made it to the river to wash himself off, running into his bride also taking advantage of the cool waters to bring her own body temperature down.

“It is so hot.” Kagome lulled her head back and stared at him, her mouth frowning in displeasure.

His eyes flashed quickly, and before she could tell him no, Inuyasha quipped back, “Sorry. Should I leave?”

Her frown dropped to a slacked open mouth expression.

He couldn’t have been serious.

Ah, but he was. The pride and joy in his face told her that he was quite pleased with himself for having remembered the comeback. Lifting her head, Kagome contemplated her next move.

“Sure. Wouldn’t want you to boil the nice cold water with all that hotness.”

Inuyasha paused. He didn’t know how to respond honestly. So he said whatever came to mind. “You won’t need a fire in your house with all this hotness.”

This caused Kagome to loudly snort, before she started to half-choke, half-laugh. She gasped out a, “WHO TAUGHT YOU THAT ONE?” before he took her bucket to splash himself off.

He didn’t respond, not wanting to hear anything besides her laughter.

Kagome may have hated the heat and dreaded the warm bed she knew she was going to trapped in tonight, but it was worth it to hear Inuyasha refer to himself as ‘hotness’.

[machinegunbun]

this is based on a true story and i feel stupid typing out this novel

I slept with someone miles from home whenever I was 21 who looked suspiciously like Colson some details have been edited in order to protect identities/obscure timelines

Also shitty and boring it’s a rough draft forgive my URL also thought I could changw it when I made it omg

I’m gonna send this in pieces bc it just disappeared (I can’t take the hint omg)

~££~

The sound of pans clanging against a cold, concrete floor snap you back to your senses and also prompt you to press a Bluetooth earbud further into your brain, to drown it all out and get back to the flow. As the beat pounds on and on into your canal, aggressive lyrics soothing your movements into a ballet-esque orchestra repeating the task in front of you, you begin wrapping prepped food like a machine once again. Although burns, cuts, and bruises sting across your body (some of your trade, some for fun, and some from flat out vices) you pay no mind, as it is keeping you heavily grounded; Just as well, the crisp, wet, refreshing air (just faintly tinged with cigarette smoke,) of the emergency exit door wide open billow against your back, providing necessary healing and much needed relief from the aching muscles underneath your ratty shirt.

In the middle of your last piece of the steam table puzzle, you realize someone must be smoking this cigarette you smell? And it had been quite some time since your last, so it made you suddenly grit your teeth at the craving. Quickly checking the clock, you realize it is midnight, and you’re likely the last 2 in the store, so you need to hurry it up and finish cash drop. After all, it would be a long walk home in Cleveland, Ohio sleet.

You are jarred from your thoughts with a frigid, slender finger hooking your headphones around them and out of your ears. As you realize what Chipotle veteran is still left standing alongside you, you quickly pause the music and wipe your hands on a nearby towel before turning to face him.

“My bad I’m not done yet, if I’m holding you up Colson. I only have to stick this in the walk in, and count registers.”

A chuckle escaped the blonde don. He threw his hands up, so that you had to look up to see the tall, mysterious creature, as if to surrender. “I’m not a boss man, take your time. I just wanted to see if you needed a square. It’s been since lunch rush you had a break.” He stops to look at you sternly, although in fascination. “And you were here before me.”

“That’s okay,” you reassure, stacking bowls in your arms neatly, “I have to go by the gas station after this to get some.”

Colson begins snatching things from you to pace alongside you towards the cooler. “Let me help you. Take a break, I’ll GIVE you a cig, dude.”

You cringe at dude, because that is how everyone saw you no matter how many days you came in with make up and a clean apron. Nevertheless, you were grateful, and you told him as much.

You had become comfortable in the job itself the past 18 months, and you knew every employee from sheer silent and thoughtful observation, but you were sure this was the most you had talked to Colson (or the other, less attractive crew either, for that matter) and weren’t quite as content with small talk or favors. You noted sometime last week he must be having a hard time when you had to step on the line for him after an altercation with a customer, which he walked out over. First time in a year and a half, so you knew it must be serious.

Once the task was completed, Colson abruptly grabs you by the arm and forces a menthol into it.

“Let’s do that first and then we’ll blow this joint.” Ever the jokester, as he says this, he winks and pulls a joint from behind his ear.

“You got tricks,” I laugh

We walk out the back and Colson hops up onto a stack of Buffalo Rock crates to light the J. You walk a safe distance from him to light your much appreciated cigarette.

“So you don’t talk much,” Colson hisses, taking a big inhale, before continuing as he keeps the joint from running, “but I know you smoke, cause your backpack always REEKS, dude.” He cracks a smile, eyes low and beautiful eyelashes glistening in the flurries swirling around you.

You nod in acknowledgement, no sense denying that. “It’s for my glaucoma,” you joke dryly.

Colson snorts and chokes before leaning out with the bud to pass it.

“So how you be doing that shit all day? Lifting dishpans bigger than you and shit, doubles 6 days a week?” Colson inquires, and if it weren’t wishful thinking you would say he was checking you out. Hopefully not just to see if you’re a robot.

You smile meekly. “Well, you do it, too,” you remind.

“Yeah but I’m not a girl. I’m… Well, look at me,” he boasts playfully from atop his King of the Hill stack, arms spread out to show off, as the makeshift throne wobbles slightly below. “I’m six-foot-foe,” he smirks, holding fingers up as he annunciates.

You have to laugh at his gloating. “Well, as long as I want to eat, I’ll be here,” you dismiss as gently as you can. try as you might, This brings up the uncomfortable memory of your first month here, when Colson silently pushed a plate of steak towards you on your break after watching you struggling to stay vertical.

Colson knits a brow as brushes your fingertips softly to take the blunt back. “Another question, do you really be walking home, alone, in this shit every night?” He motions to the snow beginning to swirl.

“Yeah, I do what I have to. It was rough at first, now it’s like meditation. Only, like, 15 minutes,” you dismiss. You know you could have a car by now if you could give up the pills, and you feel the shame, all too familiar, welling up like a tight ball in your stomach.

“Well I can tell you you ain’t doing that shit tonight,” he affirms seriously, “cause I got a whip now!” His tone of concern Cascades easily info one of excitement.

You’re blushing now, whyyy? You’d been able to avoid everyone up to this point, sans your dealer. “You really don’t have to do that,” you say, though the wind off your face did sound more and more intoxicating as it whipped around the two of you.

“I INSIST,” he barks, putting the roach out between two fingers.

You make quick work of counting the registers while Colson stared on, expression unreadable. You grow more self conscious with each single you lay down , but try to ignore it.

“Damn, you a pro at this,” he snorts, sticking the same stack of hundreds through the bill counter over and over. “You one with the bands or something. Almost faster than this thing,’ he motions to the machine on the desk.

"And that’s a wrap,” you conclude, stacking drawers inside the safe with a quickness. “I’m just gonna change and we can leave.”

Cautiously and curiously, Colson stands in the doorway, waiting.

“Oh, my bad, you might wanna do that in private,” he smirks, stepping to the side.

Quickly you pull the door closed to the tiny office and pretend you aren’t trying to see if Colson is looking thru the small glass window, while you quickly strip to a crop top, sweatpants and a light jacket. Once finished, you attempt to gather your composure, and exit to find him scrambling to gather his as well.

You head in silence to his car, a used ‘96 Toyota. Once inside, Colson shakes and rubs his hands together, flicking a heater on immediately. “Sh-it, it is freezing,” he remarks, warming his hands by his mouth, eyes grazing across you, “aren’t you dying in that??” He motions to your flannel.

“Business as usual,” you say. If only he knew how many pharmaceuticals and trauma went into that demeanor.

“Shid, fuck that,” he resists, and begins digging in his backseat. “Here, this is Slim’s, wear it to make me feel better.”

You slip the jacket over your lap and give a nod of appreciation. You hated feeling like a homeless hopeless.

Colson reaches for the auxiliary cord and stops himself from pulling his phone from his pocket. You try hard not to stare at his briefs peeking over his belt.

“Let’s see what you’re bobbing your head to all day,” he smiles, hand out.

You oblige, only to realize who it was paused on.

“Oh, wait, not that playlis–”

“Dawg, is this my shit??” Colson almost screams, although curiously he doesn’t seem creeped out, he’s… Excited?

“Uh…” You bite your lip. “You… Did promote it constantly. Well, still do,” you stammer.

“No, no. Do NOT be embarrassed, this is fuckin sick! Incredible,” he whispers in disbelief, hooking up the cord, as he pulls a devil’s horn with the other hand. “We have a fan!” He triumphs before putting it in reverse and backing away.

“So, I was thinking…” He trails, fingers drumming almost nervously on the steering wheel, “we could hang at my place for a bit? Our names are next to each other on the schedule, so I know you have TWO whole days off, too,” he reminds, almost shutting down any attempt at refusal.

“I have smoke,” you offer, “but no wraps.”

Colson grins big. “Perfect, I got both at the house.”

***

[lunarmessenger]

hi!! i wonder if i could request a one shot angst with saeyoung. so mc have a huge anxiety and she always closed up everything even after she's with saeyoung. one day when saeyoung snapped at her out of stress, she end up missing for like around two weeks without any traces even saeran cant help saeyoung to find her

after searching for the whole times they end up finding out that mc got in accident and still in the hospital because her injuries was so bad and actually someone from rfa (u can choose who) try to hide this from saeyoung because mc told them everything

i know its quite hard im sorry 😭

ohohohoho anon you give me too much power for requesting an angsty prompt. i hope you enjoy, thank you so much for this request! I will have to split it into quite a few parts because otherwise...it’ll be much too long haha ^^;; - luna xx

p.s. sorry requests are taking so long!! the holidays have been insane, but i promise after christmas and new years i’ll go back to posting regularly!

warnings: graphic depictions of major injuries, mentions of hospitals, and mentions of mental illness.

word count: 1.9k

(pt. 2) (pt. 3) (pt. 4)

Hard Regrets (Pt. 1) - 707 x MC

Her nimble fingers switched on the heater as a cold chill ran through the house, hands reaching up to the small blanket she’d thrown over her shoulders. The soft patters of rain thumped against the roof of the apartment, the only sound competing with the rain being the soft clicks coming from Saeyoung’s computer and the flicker of paper as Saeran read through one of his many books.

She smiled fondly as Saeran’s eyes danced across each page, filling his mind with the story as he burrowed deeper into the couch. That smile faded as her eyes slowly switched to his brother, her boyfriend, the man hunched roughly over his desk as he typed furiously. Empty cans of soda and crinkled bags of honey buddha chips littered both his desk and his floor, causing her to sigh as she walked over to help clean up.

This project had ended up being one of his longer ones, tomorrow making it about two months since he was assigned the task by Jumin. She was used to seeing Jumin overwork Jaehee, but now that it was affecting Saeyoung the way it was...it made her anxious. Of course his exhaustion worried her, but he became much more irritable when he became fixated on an important project.

Within the past month he’d grown incredibly distant so that he wouldn’t have any sort of distractions, and that meant that she didn’t get to spend time with him as often as she wanted to. The last time she’d reached out to him he had glared at her, telling her that while yes, he loves you, he needed to finish this project.

“No distractions, MC.” She whispered softly under her breath, a reminder he himself had given her the last time she interrupted. All she’d wanted from him was a hug. She slowly approached, bare feet softly tapping against the wooden floors as she made her way over. She was a couple of feet away from him, stopping as she hesitated. Maybe coming up with some sort of excuse would help guide him away from his computer? It wouldn’t be seen as a distraction since it wasn’t selfish; more like a welfare check?

“Are you boys up for some tea?” Saeyoung didn’t move an inch, mumbling a rough no as he continued to type and click across the screen. She visibly deflated, the bags under her eyes from lack of sleep growing heavier from his rejection. He hadn’t even been sleeping in their bed lately; he would sleep right there, on that god damned desk of his. She was snapped out of her rejection at the sound of the couch cushions moving; Saeran gave a small smile as he book marked his page, placing the book on the coffee table as he stood.

“I would love some, MC. In fact, I’ll help you make it. Come on...” The soft tone of his voice was a nice contrast in comparison to the rough rudeness of Saeyoung, the weight on her chest slightly lifting as she walked with him into the kitchen. Saeran grabbed the tea leaves while MC weakly grabbed three glass mugs; despite Saeyoung saying he didn’t want any. She readied the kettle, pressing the on button and watching as the blue light illuminated the dim kitchen and the water slowly started to come to a boil.

“MC...I’m sorry that Saeyoung is...the way he is.” The sudden apology from Saeran made her eyes widen as she turned to look at him, parts of her long hair falling into her face as she cleared her throat.

“What? Oh, no I mean...I guess...” She tried to think of an excuse for him, tried to come up with reasons on why it didn’t bother her that he got so invested that he not only forgot about her and Saeran, but forgot to take care of himself. Her eyes grew hot with tears for a split second as she shook her head.

“I just, I don’t know what to do. I can’t be honest with him about anything, because the last time I tried he...” She started to visibly shake, the only thing keeping her together being the sudden tap of the kettle signaling the water was ready. When she’d interrupted him before he almost flipped the chair because he was so angry; her distraction had caused him to mistype due to ruining his focus; according to him.

The only people who knew how he was making her feel was Saeran and Zen; the thought of the two men’s kindness towards her when Saeyoung was the way he was when he was writing made a soft smile grace her exhausted face once again. Though she hated to admit it, sometimes she wondered why she had not moved on to either Saeran or Zen. Both men would treat her the way she deserved, and she knew that, really she did.

But Saeyoung...she just loved him so much.

The way he was when they first met; how he had tried so hard to push her away and he just couldn’t. Because he didn’t want to. She didn’t want him to either, and she stayed because she knew that he loved her. Something in him changed, she can’t really remember when it happened; it just did. When he got a new project it was like MC didn’t exist; and he acted like he didn’t treat her that way when it was finished. No matter how much she hated it, no matter how much it made her cry; she just couldn’t leave.

All because she loved him.

“MC...? Should we take these to the couch? Maybe I can read you a couple of chapters?” She was snapped back to attention by Saeran, giving a slight nod as he took two mugs and she carried the last one. The sweet smell of honey and chamomile filled her nose as she slowly walked over to Saeyoung’s desk, his body still in the same position she had left him.

“Saeyoung...” Her voice was soft as she tried not to startle him, her anxiety slowly building with the tension as Saeran noticed what she was doing.

“Wait, MC; maybe we should just leave the tea over here?” She paused furrowing her brows as she tilted her head and slightly turned towards him.

“Then how is he supposed to know we at least made him a cup?”

“MC—” She turned back around to continue walking when her foot caught on one of the empty cans, causing her to lose her balance as she let out a gasp.

“MC!” She tried to redirect the cup as it flew out of her hands, the hot tea splattering all over Saeyoung’s desk and computer. Her heart sank in her stomach as Saeran was instantly at her side, Saeyoung leaping from the hot temperature and the sparks that flew around his desktop as he yelled.

“Are you...are you kidding me? Are you fucking kidding me?!” His voice boomed throughout the apartment as he turned towards her, golden eyes filled with rage as he loomed over her. He was so angry that he hadn’t realized her hand was red from being burned; she’d managed to get most of the tea spilt on her in an attempt to salvage his tea. 

“Oh, MC...oh God you’re burned; we need to get you to a hospital.” Saeran helped her up but Saeyoung was quick to push them apart, getting in her face as he pointed at his desktop.

“Do you know how long it took me to figure that out, MC?! You’re so fucking lucky that I had a back up running at the same time because I swear to God...” His voice was low, teeth clenched and nose scrunched as he angrily glared at her. Saeran grabbed him by the hood, yanking him away from MC as she shook from his outburst. He has never physically grabbed her and yelled at her the way he just did.

She watched as the two brothers went head to head, noses almost touching as they screamed back and forth. It became too much for her as she got up, trying not to catch their attention as she slid on her shoes and slowly opened the door. The rain had started to come down harder, the wind howling as her loose bun instantly came undone and wildly blew her hair around her face.

She almost, almost second guessed her decision until the sound of glass breaking caught her attention, the mug of tea that was supposed to be hers now smashed in pieces by one of the walls. Saeyoung’s chest was heaving while Saeran got up from a squatted position; almost as if he’d dodged whatever Saeyoung threw.

 Those pieces mirrored her heart; that mug was one that Saeyoung had bought her when they had first started going out. A picture of a cat had been printed on it, the cat making a winking face as the phrase I meow you! cradled the toon cat. It was one of her many prized possessions, and he had smashed it like it meant nothing to him.

That finalized her decision.

“What, Saeran? Stay out of this!”

“Are you so damn selfish that you haven’t realized that your girlfriend has burned half of her body to try and save your desktop? We need to get her to a hospital! Now!” He quickly turned to where she was squatting down by the wall, pausing when he realized that she wasn’t there anymore.

“MC...?” Saeran’s brows furrowed as he walked down the hall, leaving Saeyoung to cool off as he looked back towards his computer. The monitor screens were black as the tea slowly seeped into his keyboard and monitors. The more anger that left his body the more he’d realized what he’d done, his body slowly going into shock as he stared at the broken mug on the ground. The pink heart was in pieces, the larger part covered in brown tea as Saeran’s voice slowly became white noise in the background.

What had he done?

This entire time he’d been an absolute shit to his girlfriend; the one person who had supported him from day one. He slowly shuffled over to the broken pieces, socks growing wet from the spilled tea as he picked up the pieces.

“What have I done...?”

“Saeyoung! Saeyoung she’s gone!” He slowly blinked, not even bothering to adjust his glasses and messy red hair in tussles as he put down the glass and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“What?”

“She’s gone! Her phone is on the coffee table, and she didn’t take her bag! Saeyoung we have to find her; there’s a storm outside and she’s by herself!” Saeran was rushing to put on his coat and grab an umbrella, his boots clunking against the floors as he grabbed Saeyoung’s shoulders.

“Saeyoung, if you love her, you need to get off your ass now and help me find her. Now!” He slapped his dumbfounded brother, forcing him on to his feet and throwing a coat at him as he grabbed one of the many car keys hanging from the key shelf. Reality sank in as he threw on his sneakers, grabbing a beanie from the coat rack and tossing it on. He felt his stomach churn as his hand brushed against her coat and scarf, grabbing the scarf she always wore and wrapping it around his neck.

We have to find her, we have to find her.

I have to find her.

[captain-barnes-writes]

Someone Like You [2/6]

Summary: In which Sebastian tries to win you back a year and a half after your relationship’s rupture, but only because there’s a new man in your life. [Part two]

(Mini-series)

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x Latina

Warning: Angst (lotssss), suggestive language, 18+, future chapters will include smut (just warning y'all!) NOT PROOFREAD

Word count: 1.8k

Sebastian’s steel blue eyes hardened at the sight of you in what seemed to be a music video.  Not because of you, but because you were with another man.

 You were barely clothed in flimsy delicate lingerie with your dainty hands wrapped around another man’s neck who was laying down on a crimson red bed. The screen panned out to different scenes, you on top of him peppering kisses on his face; your hands all over him with your body pinned to the bed . Other scenes had you in a jade satin bodycon dress that reached mid thigh parading around a garden full of roses hand in hand with the jerk-off face he had come to loathe within a few seconds. Why was he so greedy? He was grabbing at you like you were a piece of meat and even going as far as kissing you with obvious desperation. He couldn’t grasp the storyline, maybe the artist meant to show a video with a couple that was in love but really it seemed he was only taking this opportunity of being with you to get his hands all over you.

“That’s a Dominican bachata singer, man!I can’t believe he got her to be in one of his videos.” Anthony exclaimed to you, his voice slightly muted so the rest of the set mates wouldn’t overhear. Though they were in their own world, having their own conversations and not paying mind to the pair who were huddled at the far end of the table.

“Well, she’s Latina…” Sebastian managed to mutter under his breath. His grip on the phone was deadly and his searing eyes were wide. God, what the fuck was going on in that video? 

Thankfully your latest movie hadn’t required you to have a sex scene with your on-screen partner, just a few heated kisses that had made him squirm on his sofa when he decided to watch it. Though even those few on-screen kisses had made him feel uncomfortable and angry that his large hands had balled into fists. Is this what you had felt when you had to see him kiss other women on screen? Or even when you knew he’d been kissing women off screen, you were there. Sure, you’d shown your anger to him countless of times and even broken down into tears in front of him but he always ended up making it up to you by fucking you. He always fucked your anger and jealousy away. Now here he was eating his own words of you’re just overreacting or it’s just acting. Because it sure as hell looked more than just acting.

A whole year and a half later and you still had that earth-shattering effect on him. Fuck, you looked more than beautiful. Everywhere he looked for the last few months, there you were looking etherial and even more gorgeous than he could remember. You were as thick as he remembered, all thighs and ass. Your dark curls had grown in length and even your skin was glowing.  He knew he’d fucked up as soon as you sent that message but his ego had prevented him from fully reaching out to you again. He’d found himself on your street many times, even going as far as walking up to your apartment complex but becoming a coward and defeatedly walking back to his car. Even while dating other women, he did this. He was a coward, he knew. He was more than that, he was an imbecile.

“Video sucks ass.” Sebastian seethed, handing the phone back to Anthony who had an amused and all-knowing expression printed on his face. A smile swiftly took upon his features as he patted Sebastian on the back, laughing at full force at his friend who was obviously seething with jealousy.

“You’re so jealous, man. She still has an effect on you...never should have let her go in the first place.” Anthony shrugged, placing his phone on the wooden table and quickly taking a hold of his cold drink and sipping on it. His eyes were still glued on his friend who seemed agitated, hands fiddling and body language seemingly uncomfortable.

“Ya know it wasn’t my decision to make. She’s the one who ended things.” Sebastian said, eyes meeting his friend’s own wide ones.

“How could she not? She was obviously into you, I don’t know if you ever noticed but the girl only had eyes for you. Your commitment issues only pushed her away.” Anthony replied. Was the man blind, he thought to himself. It had been incredibly clear to him from the moment he met her, but his friend was apparently blind.

“I think you got too comfortable and she got tired of it. She was there for you and you couldn’t even give her a place in your life. Women like her deserve the whole world and it seems like she’s getting just that.”

Sebastian's eyes peered down at his fiddling hands at his friend’s words. He knew he was right, but hearing it was confirmation of the major fuck up he’d committed a year and a half ago. You did deserve the whole world and more.

“I’m going back to my room, Ant. I’ll see you tomorrow on set.” Sebastian said, placing sufficient money on the table to cover for himself and his friend. Anthony nodded when his friend patted him on the back and made his way out the.

Upon retreating back to his large hotel room, Sebastian couldn’t cope with the thoughts swirling through his head. Receiving a few texts from the pretty blonde he was currently dating made him even more agitated and he shut his phone off. He was too concentrated on thoughts of you.

He had betrayed you by not becoming fully engulfed in you, not giving you your rightful place in his life and letting you slip through his fingers without a single fighting word to stop it. No, sending roses to your place for weeks wasn’t enough after that definitive text you’d sent and neither were the meek few sentences he’d penned down on small cardstock paper trying to put a bandaid on the issue that he simply couldn’t grasp. That wasn’t enough and he knew it.

Seeing you with another man had ignited a fire within him that only you could extinguish. The more he thought about you becoming as enthralled with another man as you’d been with him was slowly enraging him, but it also brought upon a wave of anguish. You were not only an alluring woman, but also carried an aura that made everybody feel comfortable and loved. Being embasked in your very being and ambiance should have been a privilege because you were truly as perfect as anybody could get.

The more Sebastian thought, the more he kicked himself for having been so blind.

“Hard week at work?” You asked as soon as you saw Sebastian’s full frame walk into your apartment. Dark under eye circles and a sluggish walk were evidently key to figuring that he was tired. He looked the part and surely walked like it too, even his clothes were slightly disheveled.

“You have no idea, babe.” He responded back, blue eyes peering down at you as he wrapped his arms around your body. Engulfing you in a warm and much needed hug, more for him than for you it seemed as he sighed and kissed the top of your head. Your nostrils were overpowered by his strong cologne, scent of earth and peppermint as your face was planted against his strong chest.

“My poor baby.” You whispered, pulling away from him and jutting your lower lip out imitating a sad face hoping to lift his spirits with your stupid mockery. He laughed in response and pulled you in for a kiss. It was short and sweet, but really brought his spirits up.

“And it’s cold as shit outside. Almost froze to death making my way here.” He grumbled and you took notice of the cold white specks and wet marks on his jacket. It was snowing outside.

“Come on.” You said, pulling him into the living room by his hands and having him sit on the couch. “For someone from Romania, you sure are a wimp when it comes to the cold.”

“Hey,” he laughed loudly, not even offended at the jab. “I’m all over the place nowadays, guess I gotta get used to New York again.”

You grabbed hold of his hands and sure enough they were cold. Bringing his hands to face-level caused Sebastian to stare at you. You started to gently blow on his hands, pepper kisses on the knuckles and upon flesh on top of the hands. It was a small gesture, but he found himself dumbfounded at why you were so kind to him. And he also found himself feeling conflicted with his feelings again. He was also feeling pangs of remorse as he remembered his short rendezvous with a different woman only a few days ago. It had only involved a few kisses and a quick blowjob, but staring at you in front of him did something to him to feel such regret.

“What are you doing?”

“Warming you up, dimwit, can’t you tell?” You replied, pulling away from his hands and proceeding to use the fleshy lips that had been on his hands only mere seconds ago and kiss his cold cheek.

“You’re an ass.” Sebastian grinned and his lips joined yours in a kiss, running his hands through your array of dark curls and pulling you closer. This was why he was here. The mere comfort of your warm body did things to him he couldn’t explain. It was your hands running through his hair, the way your eyes lit up as they stared at his, long lashes peering up at him and lips engulfed on his very being.

All too soon you pulled away from his tight grasp and stared at him with wide eyes. It was awfully cold.

“I’m gonna make some hot chocolate. I can’t even kiss you without shivering, Seb. You’re too cold.”

“You have a whole heater in this apartment and you tried to warm me up by blowing and kissing my hands first?” He said, grinning at your reddening cheeks at the sudden realization that indeed your apartment had a heating system and you’d been too enthralled in him to even remember.

“Shut up.” You laughed, placing your hands on your face in embarrassment.

It wasn’t even one of the most memorable moments you’d created together, but Sebastian’s memory had taken him to that snowy day for some reason. You were the first person he went to see upon landing back in New York. On that snowy day, in particular, after a long week of work only you could make him laugh and feel at home. You’d even tried to warm him up yourself instead of turning on the damn heater. He’d been so dense back then to the true nature of your feelings for him, and his own as well. It had been so obvious. All your actions were so obvious.

He was kicking himself the more he drowned himself in his thoughts.

(To be continued)

-----

Let me know what you think! Hope to post the next chapter tomorrow. 

[cosmiclatte28]

#6 A December to Remember (Jaemin x you)

Sixth day of Christmas

A December to Remember (Jaemin x you)

I do not own the pictures, but I own the stories :) hope you enjoy this

It is the sixth day of Christmas, you’re having your holiday already and you are simply enjoying the peaceful winter inside your room. You tune on to Christmas carols, turn the heater on and binge watch your favorite film. It is always the best feeling when you’re snuggled inside your thick warm blanket, with the pillows on their best supporting position and the amount of light coming through the window is not too bright.

“Perfect,” you sigh as you play your movie marathon and put your phone aside. Leaving the online world for a while won’t be a nuisance right? You almost fall asleep but your phone rings and causes you to jolt from your slumber.

The noisy ringtone doesn’t end even after you leave the caller there, lazily you pause your film and reach out to pick up the call.

“(y/n)! You did not forget right that you asked me to pick you up at four to drive you to the mall, right?” your best friend Jeno called and the first sentence he mutters was that.

You shake your head and scramble from your bed to fix your face and change to appropriate clothes. You glance over your phone “No I did not forget. I am preparing myself.” You lie and Jeno just buy your lie, he can clearly hear you running to rush your preparation.

You jump on your bed, “Shit-“you curse slowly when you totally forgot about this.

“Why? You forgot?” Jeno sounds confused on the other side.

“Don’t run. I’ll wait, besides I am not on the way yet.” He sits down on his sofa when he knows you’re not ready yet. What’s the point of waiting inside his car when you’re not ready yet?

“Give me 15 minutes and you can pick me up. Thanks, Jeno,” you hung up as you quickly take a shower, do your hair and apply a thin make up.

How could you forget, tonight is the night you and the Dream squad gather in Chenle’s big mansion to celebrate your late Christmas and just hang out until the year comes to an end. You were going to do the countdown with them and maybe stay over if you’re too tired to go home.

You’re glad you’ve packed your belongings last night and you just need to change into a nice costume tonight. You did not bother putting on a full make up, you just do what’s comfortable for you and right on time when you spray your perfume, your phone rings.

Jeno’s name appears and you gladly pick it up, “I am going down.”

“Hey there!” you greet him heartily when you make it into his car. “Here’s something for you. Merry Christmas and happy new year!” you hand him a bottle of perfume. His eyes twinkle, “Woah are you my santa?” he asks. You chuckle and shake your head, “No. I gave that because you’re my favorite and I want to give you a present. I will be buying the present for the secret santa now.”

“Woah thank you! So shall we go?” his map starts navigating the car and the two of you made it into the mall in half an hour.

“Want me to go with you or do you want me to meet you here later? Maybe you want to keep it anonymous the prize…” the taller man raises his brow.

You’re glad Jeno is a smart one, of course it won’t be fun if he knows what you are buying. So, after you two agreed on a time and a meeting place, you split up.

You use the directory to find the electronic shop you’re looking for and rush there. You know the person receiving this gift will be super happy, this person loves this thing so much and you happened to successfully make yourself skip coffees for weeks to be able to afford this gift.

You smile when the cashier hands you a nicely wrapped present. You did not take the bag and just bring the present in your bag.

You find Jeno waiting for you and you told him you’re ready to head to Chenle’s.

Chenle’s big house is always the best place to party and just gather around. Your friends are present there too and the other Dreamies are bringing along their significant others. You thank Jeno for the ride and waltz to greet your boyfriend with a surprise back hug.

“Nana!” you giggle when you successfully surprise him with a back hug and the blonde man jumps a little.

“(y/n)!! Sorry I cannot pick you up, my mother just came back from Paris.” Nana greets you into a tight hug and even kisses your cheek although there is Renjun and Jisung there.

“I miss you!” you change the topic, you’re already here with him and that is all that matter.

“Don’t challenge me. You did not know how hard it for me was to keep my head straight when you are running around in my head!” he dramatically gasps and you playfully pinch his cheeks, “My drama king. Just being away for a week to attend a Winter course for his dancing and acts like you’re back from the war!”

He giggles, “That is how much I miss you! It feels like hell! The training was tiring, and they did not allow us to use our phone during breaks. I couldn’t call you and at night the Internet sucks.” Jaemin explained. Well, he was in Russia one week ago to join a ballet winter course. He almost turned the offer down because he did not want to be away from you, but you reminded him how hard he worked and how hard was it to get a chance to join the workshop. So, with much bribing he left.

He did enjoy the class; he learned many new skills and Jaemin is more than excited to teach them to his own ballet class. You know Jaemin from your dance studio, you were there to send your niece to her ballet class and that was how you meet Jaemin. He is an angel when he teaches young classes the basic theories, but once he moves to teach the older and advanced class you see how serious he is about teaching ballet.

“Thank you, Jae, for going there and doing it for me too.” You rub his back, well ever since your car crash accident you’re not able to dance anymore and so when Jaemin took his chance to get to know you, you slipped your dream into his shoulder. You dated Jaemin for a good four years already and still going strong.

The dinner soon started and everyone of you are seated around the room, enjoying the barbeque party Chenle called for tonight and after dinner comes the game time.

Whoever has the idea to put on Just Dance on the screen, must be given a reward. Everyone is competitive to win the highest score, and while taking turn to play, you sit beside Jaemin on one of the sofa. Squishing yourself to half sit on the chair and half sit on his lap, He automatically rounds his hand over your waist and holds you in place so you cannot fall or slip away to the floor when you were laughing at how competitive Mark, Jeno, and Haechan are.

“Not cold?” Nana asks after he examines your dress. You’re wearing a dress while he is snuggled warm inside his favorite knitted wear.  You shake your head and he frowns.

You sip on a glass of wine in your hands to warm your body a bit. Mark opened a special wine for the night which is probably also why those three guys are super competitive over a dancing game.

“Wait here, let me take a blanket.” Nana pushes himself to stand from the sofa and you just let your body fall to the sofa. Your eyes are still glued on the screen and suddenly Jaemin has returned to you. He nicely sits himself back, have you on the same position and he drapes the blanket over your lap.

“Thanks,” you smile to him as he is being warm and considerate to you.

“Of course, anything for my love.”

The night goes deeper and it’s finally time to exchange gift. Everyone has placed their presents under the Christmas tree and one by one we will take the gift with our name.

Once everyone has done that, we all take turns in opening it. You’re excited when you get an Alexa home assistant! Wow everyone was jealous of yours up to now.

It was Jaemin’s turn that has you secretly holding your breath. Well it’s you who was assigned to find hm a present.

Jaemin unboxes the small wrapped box and was cheering when he finds a velvet box.

“Woah is that gold?!” Haechan already jumps forward to look closer, Jaemin laughs and feels his heart also nervous. What is this, inside a very nice box. Is it what he is thinking about? Or is this just a joke?

When Jaemin opens the box, he tears up and closes his mouth. He was speechless and Haechan who is dead curious walks to see the gift and he screams “THIS IS THE REAL DEAL!!”

“What did he get?” Mark also looks interested. Everyone is, you also play along to not make it obvious. You’re glad Nana seems to love it already.

“This, a necklace I’ve been wanting since long time ago.” Jaemin brings out the golden necklace with his zodiac and initial engraved. He gladly undo the hook, and with Jeno’s help (who is sitting beside him), Jeno helps Jaemin uses the necklace.

“Wow seriously whoever got me this. Thank you! I really love it and whoah what did I do to deserve this?” Nana wipes his happy tears and he just looks into the pendant with hearts in his eyes.

Everyone unwraps their gifts. It’s an hour to midnight and you all take a seat on the floor circling. Everyone shares stories, sends gratitude speeches and just reminiscing what you all did this year and what you wish to happen next year. You’re enjoying the night as you sit next to Jaemin and just holding hands as you listen to your friends’ talks.

“Let’s go out and see the fire works,” Chenle opens the door to his indoor garden and you guys flood the places. Looking for the best spot to capture some fireworks pictures.

“3…2….1..”

“Happy new year!!!” you hear different kinds of screaming and yelling. Everyone’s giggling and hugging one another, glad that we can start another year with good health and complete like this.

Jaemin pulls you into his embrace, “Happy New Year love,” he whispers and places his lips over yours. It’s a nice kiss to start the year and you smile when he pulls away.

“Happy new year too Nana,” you whisper and snuggle your head into his neck.

He hugs you close and when his friends pass by he just gives them high fives while shouting “happy new year!”

You stay with Jaemin under the bright sky from colourful and loud fireworks. He hugs you from the side and the two of you are looking to the sky.

“Thank you for everything, for being by my side. Trusting me, loving me, caring me! I am so lucky to have you. I love you so much (y/n) and I just want us to continue and take small steps together until we’re ready to tie our bond.” Nana looks seriously into your eyes. You blush and kiss him quick. “I’ll be here, don’t worry. Thank you for also being there for me. I love you too! Let’s hope this year can be a good year for us.”

“Also I want to thank you for the gift.” Nana smiles and your face drop, “You know?”

He giggles, “No one else knows I want this. I only told you and I got it for Christmas. It must be you.”

You laugh at your action, “Well sorry if it’s no longer a mysterious santa. Glad you like it.” You reach out to see the pendant and you really have no regret of saving money for this present.

“I’ll keep it safe and use it with me everywhere I go! This is like a piece of you in me!” he ruffles your hair and when you shudder from the cold wind Nana wraps his arm around your waist and ushers you back to the big house.

“Guess you need to change if you don’t want to get sick. Anyways see you tomorrow!” Jaemin waves his hand after helping you with your bag to the guest room Chenle provided for you.

You blush, “Thank you Jaemin, see you and happy new year! Love you!”

He smiles after closing your door and walking away to the boys room. It’s the best present he ever wanted, but you are the best present for him everytime!

He kisses the pendant and tucks it inside his sweater, if it’s near his heart he can keep you safe and warm right?

 see you tomorrow

Christmas masterlist

[austarus]

HR Wells x Reader Scars Across Time

**A/N: The picture/edit/gif does not belong to me. It belongs to @acewest360

Word Count: 6245

*Hey everyone! Please remember to hit that reblog button as well as liking and following! Sharing the content makes the world spin~ This is probably going to be the last fic I post until winter break. Things have not been going too well for me, I rarely have time to sit down for myself and write or play pokemon at all. But I promise I’ll be back with more fics and series parts with the winter season

“I can’t feel my fingers.”

“And this is why we keep our gloves on,” you emphasized, taking your gloves off and handing it to him to wear as the two of you walked to your apartment, “especially during a snowball fight.”

“But you’ve got to admit, I nailed BA pretty hard.”

“You did,” you giggled and pecked his rosy-cold cheek. “And I’m proud that you did. Knock some sense into him and Harry while you’re at it.” You mumbled the latter part to yourself. The other Wells doppelganger was still having trouble with his daughter, who’s back on Earth-2. She had ‘kicked him off his own Earth’.

“It’s too bad Jesse wasn’t here; I think she would have liked it.”

“She’s still upset with Harry, HR.”

HR did a half shrug, side-glancing at you as he took your hand in his, “She missed all the failed igloos and speedy snow angels, the laughs and arguments we all ended up having on who cheated or not.”

“She’s busy on her Earth being the Flash, though. That must be taking priority over everything else.”

“I know,” he sighed, taking your hand into his. You felt how frigid they were through the knitted gloves you had given him. His eyes met yours are the two of you walked, the chilly air piercing the layers you have on. The novelist hoped that his doppelgangers daughter has been taking care of herself as she takes care of her city. “Harry shouldn’t have avoided her and the issue between them though, that’ll only create a greater rift between them. I know he’s not good with emotions, but… Something doesn’t feel right, like… it just doesn’t add up.”

You only offered the novelist a half-shrug, not really knowing what to say. “I think they’ll end up talking it out, whatever it is that happened between them. They’ll eventually get through it together.” You unlocked the door to your apartment and pushed it open. The door creaked nastily from its hinges; you’ve been meaning to fix that. “Now, let’s first get you inside and thawed out, I’m pretty sure I have some cold sludge stuck down the back of my shirt.”

The two of you entered your cozy apartment, kicking off any spare snow remnant that had clung onto your boots and clothes. Both you and HR left your boots by the door. A shiver ran down your spine, the ice-water mix shifted in your shirt as you moved uncomfortably through your home. You attempted to not track any water on the hardwood floors, eagerly locating some dry towels while HR brought a laundry basket from one of the rooms. The taller man returned with one as you handed him a fluffy towel. You and HR stripped off the winter-y layers of clothes, placing them into the basket. Your long-sleeve shirt clung to your skin, the cool damp cloth making you a bit antsy to get out of it. The Earth-19 being took the basket to throw in the washer, adding in the appropriate amount of detergent and softener. He whistled throughout completing his task, towel around his neck. HR started drying his hair off as he walked back to the living room.

You turned on the weather channel, overhearing Iris mention something about a serious storm going to hit. Flipping through the channels, you finally landed on the Central City News station and just in time for the weather spokesperson to come on screen. The woman fully articulated the severity the storm could cause as well as how many inches of snow to expect with an estimated time. HR’s ears had perked up, eyeing you from behind the couch as you watched the news. You ran a hand through your damp-ish hair before deciding to set it in a towel turban. Well, it’s a good thing I went grocery shopping yesterday. I should still have the portable heater that Cisco made just in case. The candles and matches should be in a spare drawer somewhere.

You glanced over your shoulder to see HR with chaotically messy hair and the collar of his shirt soaked. You nibbled on your bottom lip while setting down the TV remote. “Hey, um… HR do you want to stay over the night? There’s a winter storm coming and stuff,” You sheepishly wrung your fingers for wanting to ask him to stay the night when you knew he probably had an upcoming deadline to meet. Am I being selfish? I’m mean… we’ve been together for almost a little bit over a year now. Gah, fuck, I’m overthinking again. Stupid past relationship trauma and emotional distress. You just didn’t want to inconvenience him.

You will never deny how safe you felt around him, how you didn’t need to be careful of how to act. You can be you. And HR can be the dorkily cute novelist that he is with no filter in regard to his ideas and thoughts and expressions. The two of you complimented each other, two wounded souls just fixing and adoring each other. It took a couple of weeks for you to open up about your past relationships to the novelist, which he listened with understanding and concern taking hold in his eyes. He had done the same thing you had done. HR had proposed to ask three questions and you would need to answer fully and honestly with the reward in return. A reward of something you had long forgotten because having HR understand your past like you had done with him caused your heart to swell to a grand scale.

HR’s gaze softened at you, a gentle smile gracing his lips. “I don’t mind staying the night.” It’s so much better than sharing space with one grumpy scientist back at the labs who’ll probably hurl objects at me if I do anything out of line in his eyes. He saw that bit of insecurity eating at you, and he would do all he can to brush it away. Your insecurities had lessened over time, but every now and then it pops back up. But it’s understandable, you were trying your best to be a good and considerate girlfriend.

HR’s heart melted when you perked up, a bright smile crossing your face as if your sullen thoughts had washed away in an instant. “That means we can even make s’mores tonight!”

“How-“

“-I bought this handy dandy electric s’mores maker-”

“-Birdy, we’ve talked about this. You can’t buy every single thing from Amazon.”

“But… but the s’mores.”

“Do I need to take your debit card from you?” HR joked at the pout you had given him, the both of you knowing he would actually do no such thing. But he worried of these little impulse buys you get yourself into. Especially when prompted by Cisco, Iris, and Caitlin.

“I will fucking fight you.”

“No, you won’t.”

“You’re right, I love you too much.”

“Was it really necessary though?”

“… Yes, the state of my survival depends on it.”

“Liar,” HR sighed to himself. “I’m guessing Cisco and Iris happened to be browsing through Amazon again when they got bored? And you happened to be with them? Browsing from page to page, especially the bargains section.”

“… Maybe~”

“…”

“Don’t worry, I made sure I paid my rent and taken care of the apartment before deciding to buy the s’mores maker.”

“Good.”

“Plus, I really bought it for you.” HR felt the tips of his ears warm a bit. “You said it was one of the things you used to make with your mom, but now you just don’t have the time to camp or be by a fire to make them. So… I got this for when you’d come over and stuff…”

“How did I ever get so lucky to have someone as precious as you in my life, my little birdy?”

Your giggle allowed his heart to jump through hoops. Hail started pounding on the windows of your apartment catching both your attentions. “We should probably go wash up. I think I still have some clothes you left when you slept over a few times.” An idea lit up brilliantly in your mind, your brain already gathering the necessary materials.

A smile graced HR’s face, feeling his heart flutter as you shuffled to gather his clothes. I would do anything for you. The taller man looked out the window, observing the outside world ravaging in the heaviness of white fluff. The power might go out soon. If we’re lucky, then it doesn’t. But mother nature doesn’t seem to be letting up anytime soon. “Which drawer are they in?” He questioned, padding off to your bedroom but throwing a glance at you.

“I think they might be in the top left drawer,” you lied to him, needing to buy some time. “I’m not really sure. But if not, you’ll have to look around for them in my closet or something.”

You hurried to the bathroom once he was out of sight, stepping closer to the closet. Twisting the handle, you were greeted with towels on one shelf and scented candles on another. Now, what to choose. You opted for the scents of Balsam-Cedar and Autumn Leaves from Yankee Candle. Scattering the small candle containers around the tub, you made sure they were positioned in a place to avoid any fires. This is going to look simply divine. You mused a cheery hum from your lips as you worked fast. The electric lighter was in a drawer along with the bath bombs for relaxation. You contemplated whether the tiny flower petals were a bit overkill, then figured that it would be. I’m extra as fuck anyway, so why the hell not. You pulled out the mason jar filled with pastel pink-blue hydrangea and hibiscus petals. With everything set up, you just had to fill up the tub with water and work your magic. Shutting off the bathroom lights, you shuffled over to your room right as HR let out an ‘aha!’ when he found his checkered cotton pajama bottoms.

“Come take a bath with me,” you started, taking his hand and squeezing it meaningfully with jubilant warmth within your eyes. “We can warm up faster in less time before the storm cuts out the power.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to…” He trailed off; his other arm held his clothes to his chest. You knew what he meant and nodded assumingly. An ex many years ago had tried to drown you once, but… Your ex isn’t HR. The man in front of you is considerate, kind, dorky, and quirky. The man in front of you is more wholesome and beautiful inside and out than any other man you had been with. You knew the novelist would never dream of hurting you. We’ve proven that much to each other in the past year, we wouldn’t hurt each other no matter what.

“I trust you, HR.” You leaned up and kissed his nose gingerly, “You know I feel safer around you.”

“And I, you,” the taller man allowed you to tug him to the bathroom once you had pulled out your own pajamas and undergarments.

“Before we go inside, I’m going to need to you wait out here for a few moments.”

“Interesting. What are you planning, little birdy?”

“Who? Lil ol’ me? Nothing really!” You responded with a cheeky grin before entering the bathroom. HR just kept that boyish smirk on his face then sneezed. God, he loves you, but he needed to get out of these clothes soon. Another sneeze left him when the sound of water graced the silence in the apartment. The hail had stopped, but heavier clumps of packing snow fell onto the city.

“Done~” you mused with childish delight, opening the bathroom door and ushering him inside. HR held his breath as the scents of the forest greeted him. The candles were beautifully lit around the tub, flickering and wavering as it cradled the bathroom with a dim glow. The bathroom lights were off to allow the candles to work their magic in the darkness. Neither of you would deny the warmth the candles brought as the flames danced happily in their respective glass communities. Scents of cedar oak, maple trees, and autumn leaves flourished in the air, but it wasn’t overbearing. The running water moved gently as you had begun to strip down and out of your clothes. Your movements shook HR out of his trance, tugging his own clothes off, but stopped short of shrugging his pants off when he saw all of you. Your eyes caught his intense gaze. A tight knot formed in the pit of your stomach.

“HR?”

“You’re…” He couldn’t find the right words. Any word couldn’t justify the beauty in front of him. “You’re elegantly divine.” Is what he settled for as he felt hot oil splash onto his cheeks.

“It’s not something you haven’t seen before.”

“It’s something that I hope I don’t have the misfortune to never see.”

You screamed on the inside as your mind started spinning at his desire. A smug grin grew on his face as you looked away, stumbling over to a jar on the sink counter. HR fully stripped, coming up behind you with his arms encasing you and strong hands resting on your hips as he watched. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head. You leaned back into him, dropping a good two handfuls of flower petals into the water. His body, while chilled from your earlier winter-y activities still provided your own with a spectacle of warmth. Goosebumps gradually ran over every in of your skin. The taller man watched you with tired eyes.

“You know you’re going to have to let me go so we can wash up, right?”

HR pouted, to which you leaned up on your tippy toes to try to kiss his pout away. “Fine, but I think we both deserve some time to cuddle.”

“I was going to trap you in bed, regardless.”

A quiet laugh left his lips. Breaking away from his sturdy limbs and wonderfully sculpted body, you rifled through a drawer for a bath bomb. Milk and Honey~ Unwrapping it and disposing of its bindings into the trash, you set it down into the water as it instantly fizzed.

“Wait, you like bath bombs?” HR questioned with an arched eyebrow.

“Yeah, but only the organically made ones- that way it doesn’t irritate my skin.” You shut off the hot water and pulled out the necessary towels for the both of you.  “Also, they smell phenomenal!”

“They do.”

“What’s wrong?”

“One year on this Earth and I hadn’t even noticed that you had bath bombs too. Do yours also release an underwater firecracker?”

“An underwater firecracker??”

“Yeah, little ocean sparks underwater that also stimulate the water to move like the waves as if pulled from the effects of the moon.”

You just stared down at the slowly fizzing bath bomb in disappoint. “Why don’t you do that? Rude.” The novelist craned his head down to kiss your cheek with a snicker at your evident disappointment.

You stuck one foot in, the warmth enticing you as a hum left your lips before going all in. A wave of relief washed over your muscles as a tired groan left your lips while shutting your eyes. Leaning back, your skin touched the cool marble of the tub as the water drifted in multiple directions. The water rose to just above the top of your cleavage. HR had followed suit once you fully entered, sitting across from you with his legs crossed. A sigh had left him as he felt the tension in his body break away, the scents also helping him ease into relaxation. After a moment he pulled you in between his legs and you humored him because his were so long that they needed the space. Your eyes finally adjusted to the brightness set by the candles from your position.

You eyed the scar on his chest, teeth raking over your bottom lip. The one where Savitar had left his mark. Those thoughts came back. Your throat dried instantly. Swallowing thickly, your mouth moved on its own accord. “I almost lost you.” HR froze as he leaned his broad back against the tub, an arm on the rim of the cool marble. You reached out a hand to trace over the scarred skin. The closer you had gotten- the more you looked at his upper body- was the more you mentally berated yourself under the soft glow of the candlelight. Scared paths and crossroads of tinged undertones on his skin, some faint- others dark and deep. A few were clean and a few others were messy. Even the scar, perfectly hidden by his left eyebrow seemed to be clearer to your eyes now. Your heart sank in your chest, frustration and anger and hurt welling up inside you at the pain HR must have endured over the years. But mostly, anger and hatred towards yourself. How have I been so blind? How many times have my eyes overlooked these? How pathetic and ignorant have I become? HR shivered under your touch, under your gaze over the ugly reminders on his body. “We’ve been together for a year,” you started, “a little bit over a year- and I’m a damned fool for never truly seeing how hurt you’ve been.”

“I…” The words died in HR’s mouth. The sullen look in your glassy eyes, the pained expression on your face. His heart felt heavy, yet it oddly thrummed loudly in his chest. The warmth of the water didn’t help how you were feeling.

“And for that, I’m sorry.”

“Just being by my side and seeing who I am- how I’m worth something, exceeds any grim reminder of my past.”

“But, I didn’t-”

HR took your hand and intertwined your fingers together, “You’re the light of my life, you allowed me to forget my past and accepted me, all of me. I don’t hold it against you that you didn’t notice, we’ve been going through one hoop after another with these crazed villains. Hell, I forget the scars are even there when you’re with me… I feel whole when you’re with me.” The novelist strained emphasis on the last sentence. You felt the tears start to riot in your eyes before streaming down your face. HR gently cupped your face, wiping the tears away with a dry hand. “I’m happy that you overlooked them. I’m happy that I could shed them when I’m around you.”

You were silent for a few seconds. “I’m still mad at Iris,” you whispered with a sharp sniffle, your fingers finding the scar over his heart once more. “No, I’m pissed that she didn’t the willpower and guts to speak up when she had a chance. We… we could have prevented… both of you could have-”

“-We could have gone through a million different avenues, but the results would have led to the same road.”

“Wouldn’t it? You, at least, couldn’t have been hurt if we had done something differently.”

“Iris could have been hurt.”

“You were hurt!” You snapped as your voice wavered. “You were going to die, had it not been for Julian and Cisco and Barry. I… I can’t lose you. Every night, a dark thought slips into my mind. You could have died- You could have died right there when you were just starting to live a life of your own. All because of Barry and Iris.” Your cheeks felt wet and only then did you realize that the tears had pooled up and escaped. His gaze softened at you, nonetheless, the tears didn’t take away from any frustration that you had presented.

HR recognized the bitterness in your voice. The fiery anger within your eyes as you looked up at him with desperation. The same anger that he had long disciplined himself to distance from. Anger blinds all gates of logic within the mind. Because in a way, you were right. Iris could have easily said something when she was disguised as his persona. Instead the queen of the castle seemed reluctant in sacrificing herself, instead allowing the pawn to take the fall. HR had thrown it all away to save someone who didn’t really care to know him and treated him with disdain at first. All to prove to the others that he was worth being on their side. To prove to Savitar that he wasn’t a coward like the projected future had revealed. But most importantly, to prove to himself that he’s capable of more than just standing on the sidelines as backup. The anger and distraught and hate. HR worked tirelessly to move past them. You were his future now. You and the fact that in the end he seemed to earn his spot. Sadly, even at the expense of his own life. At the end of the day those were the cold, hard facts. Ones he willingly chooses to not give in to.

“But I’m here.” HR wrapped his long arms around you, pulling you closer to him. You choked back on a sob. Your anger waned at his gentle touch. “I’m here and I’m alive,” he let out roughly, letting you cry it all out as he rubbed your back soothingly. HR knew everything you had said had been true. And even if it did work out in the end, he didn’t want to imagine a reversal of the situation. If it had been you who had traded places with Iris instead of him. The novelist can only hope that the team wouldn’t have to put anyone else in a situation like that. That Barry and Iris wouldn’t have to play close to this dangerous game of chess again. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you sniffled, calming down with a stutter. You knew that anger blinds judgment. You didn’t hate Iris, but you resented her inability to save both her live and HR’s. HR wet his hands and cleared your face from any remnant of tears. kissing your eyelids sweetly.

“Interesting that you put hydrangeas and hibiscus petals.”

“How so? And how did you know?” you raised a questioning eyebrow at HR.

“The jar’s labeled.” You facepalmed at yourself. Of course, the jar’s fucking labeled, I’m such a dumbass. “But also, I studied the language of the flowers as well as the language of the colors for my writing.”

“So, what do hibiscus plants stand for?”

“From what I recall,” HR scratched the back of his neck in recollection, “they stand for love and affection between family members, friends, and others. A perfect statement of gentle feelings towards the others. It can even symbolize passionate relationships.” You had placed both hands on his shoulders as he spoke, mesmerized by his knowledge of the flower. He wiggled his eyebrows at his later statement, causing you to giggle with flushed cheeks.

“What about the hydrangeas?”

“Ironically, heartfelt emotions,” he kissed your cheek, rubbing the skin of your lower back as he continued. “Gratitude for being understood.”

“I would call it more of a fateful coincidence,” you mumbled, pressing your lips to his for a chaste kiss. But truthfully, he just wanted to roll around in bed with you and kiss you silly to his heart’s content… amongst other certainly heart-fluttering bedroom activities. When you pulled away, your eyes drifted over his figure. “Can- Can I ask you about them?”

Them. HR knew what you were referring too. That curiosity of yours is one day going to land you in trouble, birdy. HR mused to himself with a little noise of thought. He was well past the mental pain, taking up meditation and various things to acknowledge and push past it. But the idea of you feeling the need to know didn’t rub him the wrong way like it should have. Rather, it stirred something deep in his heart, a playful glint hidden in his eyes. “Depends on what’s in it for me, little birdy?”

You thought deeply for a minute and HR remained silent, running patterns over the skin of your arm. You felt warmth build up on your skin with every contact. “One night.”

“One night…?”

“One night, you can do anything to me- within reasonable bounds. You decide when the night can be.”

The Wells doppelganger immediately licked his lips and felt his blood rush at the notion. “Is that your final condition?” Because if it is, this big bad wolf’s going to make sure to devour his little red riding hood all night long. HR tilted your head back, a hooked finger under your chin as his lips skimmed over yours. There’s much planning that needs to be done.

“Y-yeah.”

“‘Yeah’ isn’t a word of confirmation.” Learned that one from a law buddy back on Earth-19.

“Yes,” you won’t deny the anticipation in your voice. The murky white waters retaliated with every movement from the two of you. “One question, one scar.”

“One question, one scar, one night.” The novelist smirked down at you, a cocky look on his face.

“Fair enough.” I essentially ordered one love romp of a night… I’m so fucked, literally and figuratively. I just hope I don’t have to come into the Labs the next day, neither of us.

HR watched you closely, grabbing the body wash as you decided with a focused look on what scar to choose. Your eyes roamed his body. You already knew of his mental scars, and he knew of yours. The novelist waited patiently as you quietly processed the image of them on his skin. Some scars on his body were from hitmen, bullies, or muggers- mainly during his young adult life or when he was creating STAR Labs with Randolph. That bastard probably sent some after me, wouldn’t be surprised since he knew I would be executed if I crossed dimensions. Bath sponge in hand, he lathered your body wash on the sponge with every intention that he would help wash you while he reiterated a scarred tale.

“What’s the story behind the one on your eyebrow?”

That one took HR by surprise; usually human nature would be intrigued with the most noticeable of things- big things. Instead, you pinpointed the one that was easily concealable in plain sight. Settling for the smaller scar in comparison to the others. The novelist took your arm, scrubbing your skin with lips pressed thinly. You opened your lips to ask if he’d rather you choose a different one, but HR cut you off in a matter of milliseconds.

“I got it back during my university years. I was an English Arts major,” he paused for a moment, switching to your other arm to give it the same treatment. “My father obviously didn’t approve, but I didn’t care. I just wanted to keep going with my literary studies, taking up photography in my spare time. One day, I was just walking through the city in the late evening. Dismal and dark, with fog everywhere.” HR rinsed off your arms, gesturing for you to turn around between his legs so he can start on your back. He plucked off the PanOxyl Foaming Wash bottle from beside a candle, using a different sponge specifically for the backwash. You had told him that sometimes you unfortunately get acne on your back and shoulders, so you use this backwash to keep it clean and acne-free. To your surprise he wasn’t revolted in any way, instead he admired your constant diligence with wanting to keep good hygiene, especially since so many factors can trigger different responses from the human body. You silently waited, listening intently as he continued. “I heard whimpers. Cries coming from down the alley. There was this… this small puppy- I-I can’t really recall what breed it was, but it looked hunger and tired and scared.” You looked back at him, heart aching as you saw his eyes show the pain in his heart too. “I thought to myself. How could someone leave a helpless baby animal to starve in the city’s alleyways? Why couldn’t someone have the heart to nurture it?”

“What did you do?”

HR ran the water over your back to remove any bubbles or foaming wash from your skin. “I saw myself in the puppy. Lost. Abandoned. Alone.” he whispered as he raised his chin, eyes finally meeting yours as you fully turned to observe him. Your gaze softened; your wet hand reached out to cup his jaw. Droplets of water fell from your skin into the colored water as he nuzzled into your touch. “I approached it, I wanted to keep it safe and warm. It didn’t object when I picked it up, cradling it like it the baby that it is. It trembled and shivered in my arms.” His heart dipped remembering the way the puppy felt in his arms. One of his larger hands held onto yours, the one cupping his chiseled jaw. “I had to do something, couldn’t just leave it there.” I couldn’t abandon it.

“There’s a ‘but’, isn’t there?”

“There always is…” He let out a mirthless laugh. “Things went south when a couple of drunk guys found me and the puppy. Turns out these were the same guys that had been harassing the little one through the alleys. They had been trying to use the puppy in illegal cage fights.” HR bowed his head slightly. “One thing led to the other, there was a knife and I was running like hell with the puppy. Until they cornered me, hence…” He trailed off, gesturing to his eyebrow scar with a free hand.

“HR,” you whispered, but he squeezed your hand as he took it off his face. Your other hand tightened into a fist in the water. HR’s eyes caught the movement but didn’t say anything.

“They roughed me up pretty good- I’m wasn’t- I’m not a fighter, but I would have been damned if that little puppy had been hurt. I ended up finding the little guy a home where he can be looked after and well-fed and safe.” You unclenched your fist, gently listing it to stroke his stubbly cheek as he concluded. HR ran his fingers down the length of your arm.

“You’re safe.”

“I know. You’re safe too, my little birdy.”

“I know.”

You twisted your body, stretching an arm out as you reached for his Old Spice body wash. It was your turn to help wash him. You started working away at his sturdy chest, obviously doing your best to not ogle at his abs and his entirely toned framework. But he caught your eyes drifting off more than once.

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For always listening to me.”

“I love you, HR. And I would do anything in the multiverse to keep you safe and loved. You’re my one one one after all.” You winked at him, eliciting a deep chuckle from his lips. Music to your eyes, smiling as the corners of his lips lifted upwards. “There’s that radiant smile I love so much.” The man blushed but continued to grin.

HR ran a hand through his hair before catching a glimpse of his hair in the mirror. He squinted a bit as he held a lock between two fingers. “Looks to be about that time of year again.” Your fingers threaded through his hair once he released the strand.

“I’m assuming a haircut is needed.”

“Yup”

“I will never understand how men ask for their hair to be done.”

“It’s honestly really easy, with the provided visuals of course. I should take you with me once.”

“I’d be okay with that.”

“Probably going to need to dye my hair black again.”

“I think I have some leftover dye in a cabinet somewhere. You know… I wouldn’t mind seeing silver streaks on you. Makes you look like a sly silver fox to me.”

“… I’ll keep that in mind for next time as long as you allow me to learn how to do those intricate braids in your hair.”

“You drive a hard bargain, Mr. Wells.” You leaned up to kiss his lips.” The novelist smirked against your lips as he ran a hand over your bum. Neither of you had noticed that the water was starting to become lukewarm, the candles and warmth of each other distracted the two of you. “It’s a done deal.”

Taking his Old Spice Shampoo in hand, you squeezed a good amount out meanwhile he tilted his head down closer for you to reach. HR’s hands settled on your hips, steadying you on his lap to have your legs wrap around his waist. You scrubbed and massaged his scalp, creating a bubbly hairdo for him. You couldn’t help the giggle that escaped your lips. But once your bright eyes met his baby blue ones, you felt your heart skip in your chest.

HR felt your hands slow as you retracted them but made no effort in submerging them in the water to get rid of the bubbles. Instead your smaller hands rested on his broad shoulders with the tips of your fingers doing a sort of feather-light dance against his skin. The novelist found himself mesmerized by your radiance, never mind the candlelight that continued to flicker around the both of you. You felt hypnotized by his baby blue eyes, pulling you into an ocean of wonder. HR licked his lips with half-lidded eyes as you moved to kiss him deeply, your lips slowly moved against his with a sensual kind of dance to it. The doppelganger breathed you in slowly and he pressed forward. His palm rested on your cheek while his other hand took one of yours to hold onto. The kiss broke but was soon reconnected. Over and over again. The moment wasn’t rushed. There was no hurry to get to the finish line. It was just you and him and the wisps of fire around the two of you. HR nibbled on your lower lip before you reluctantly pulled away. Your tongue ran over your swollen bottom lip.

“We should probably finish up before the power decides to run out,” you started in a low-ish voice. HR noted the slight jitter in it and his heart swelled at the effect of his kisses on you.

“I don’t think it might get to that point. We’d probably end up snowed in, but there’s a chance that the power might not go out.”

“It’s better to be safe than sorry.”

“I know. If we must, then by all means,” The novelist murmured, nuzzling his nose with yours before the two of you finished washing up.

HR stepped out first from the foamy waters of the tub, stretching a fine limb over for some dry towels. He handed one to you when you had stepped out after him unfortunately a little less graceful as you almost slipped on the tiled floor. HR’s hand reached out to steady you. Giving him a sheepish smile, you whispered a thank you to which he returned with a wink. He knew you could be clumsy at times, but nevertheless he’s grown to love that about you. HR had come to realize that him being able to catch you from tripping over your feet or stopping you from running into things would give him a sense of ‘being your hero’ or ‘saving you’. It was just a small thing that made him happy. A ‘your hero in-the-moment’ kind of thing.

You wrapped the towel around you to rid your body of the water and bubbles. The two of you had cleaned each other well which made you sigh in contentment because feeling clean and being clean made you feel satisfied and relieved after a long day. You couldn’t help the stare you had fallen into as your eyes roamed over your boyfriends’ body as he dried himself off. Subconsciously, you licked your lips at every dip of skin, every inch of muscle. Wrapping another towel around your hair, your eyes never left HR until he turned towards you. You blinked for a split second and hastily busied yourself with pulling your undergarments from your clothes pile. HR walked back past you with his pajama’s on. The novelist had every intention in extinguishing the candles that were left only to land a soft smack on your ass. You let out a little yelp in surprise at the impact.

“See something you like?” He teased as he blew the fire out. He knew. There was a large mirror in the bathroom after all. A smirk finally settled on his face, one that he had been repressing until he smacked your ass. The heat had stayed on your cheeks from the bath and getting caught.

“Maaaaaaaaybeeeeeeee.” To be honest, it was a nice ass.

HR chuckled, “Well, since you’re done why don’t you get that cute ass of yours in bed while I go and get the smores maker?”

“How can I ever refuse such a generous offer?” You hummed, leaning up to kiss him. The Wells doppelganger nipped at your lips in return then broke away from you. He stepped towards the door. “HR?”

“Hm?” He turned back to you with curious eyes. There was a soft glow that had settled within your eyes. The sight made his body tingle.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

[eyes0ny0u]

Pastel Mafia

@quagmireisadora finished Chapter 2 - FINALLY! TT ^ TT

CHAPTER 1: A ROUGH DAY

CHAPTER 2: WHEN THE GOING GETS ROUGH

Kibum sighed as he entered his apartment. Leaning against the door as he took off his shoes. He glanced at the microwave clock he could see from where he stood: 2:18 am. He's got maybe three hours before he has to get up for his part-time job at Albert's, a fancy bakery in the upper east side, at the opposite end of town. He would love nothing better than to sleep in tomorrow, but Albert's paid the best out of all his part-time jobs, and he got tips. 

Right now, he needed all the tips and extra hours he can get. His last roommate had bailed on him, leaving him with an entire two-bedroom apartment to pay. He had begged his landlord to let him pay for his half of the apartment and will get him the rest later.

Kibum remembered the call from St. John's collection department, he still owed them a portion of last month's installment. His fist clenched at the embarrassment of admitting to a total stranger he didn't even have five dollars to his name. His last one disappeared when he lost his wallet.

Kibum trudged to the tiny kitchen and pulled out the leftover Chinese from his bag, thankful that the shift manager had let him take home whatever portions were left. He popped the take out carton into the microwave and looked around his apartment, with its peeling paint and cold air - he had barely turned on the heater since winter began. He was sleeping with thick clothes on, the thermostat just above '5' at the dial. 

Kibum's eyes landed on the syllabus stuck to the fridge. The tears exhaustion couldn't squeeze from him poured at the thought that he will have to stop school. 

 God, he was tired. 

 So tired - but life didn't care. 

 Kibum wiped his cheeks. Squaring his shoulders as he pulled the warmed up Chinese and dug in. No use in indulging his tears. He didn't have enough food to drown his feelings.

  - O -  

 "Carlos Amarillo at 57, was confirmed to have passed away by his son, Gian Amarillo today. No details were given to what caused the business tycoon's sudden death. Amarillo, who was the head of the Amarillo Group conglomerate, was a noted businessman and humanitarian in the area -," Jinki tuned out the late night news, lips tightening at the praises. 

 "What a bunch of hypocrites," Taemin sneered at the TV. "Not a month ago, they wanted Amarillo's head for Hawthorne Bridge!"

 "Had they pushed a little further, they would've found proof of involvement," Minho interjected. 

 "They would have gotten paid off or threatened," Jinki said, reviewing the report on the shipment of electronics that arrived yesterday. "Or found their contact dead."

 "True," Minho agreed, swirling the scotch he had been nursing since the news started. "What do you think Junior will do?"

 Jinki leaned back, loosening his tie. He'd never worked with Gian before. All he knew about the new head of the Amarillo was that he was in the business, and he was ambitious.

 "I heard Gian was banished from the main family for running that side deal with Salazar," Jinki said, referring to a semi-prominent Mexican cartel. "So, I'm not sure if he's going to declare war or be open for business."

 "My money is on declaring war," Taemin said, slurping an oyster. "If he wants to gain the respect of his father's men, he'll be doing just that. I mean, you did when you took over the business."

 "Yeah, but Gian has a hater with his father's numero uno," Minho said, leaning over Taemin's oyster bucket to reach for the charcuterie board. "Rumor has it Vincenzo Benotti might be the old Amarillo's love child."

 "Really?" Jinki asked Minho. "I've never heard of this."

 "I'm not surprised," Minho shrugged before popping a cracker piled with pate and cheese into his mouth. "It's parlour game rumours; some drunken Amarillo lackey may have blabbed over drinks or said out of spite. You know how it is."

 Jinki turned to his computer and pulled up the file on Carlos Amarillo. Under the 'Known Associates' directory, was a picture of Vincenzo. The man had black hair and brown eyes. Just like Amarillo Sr. Being Italian that didn't mean anything. But something about the slant of the man's jaw reminded Jinki of Carlos. 

 "Minho, investigate Vincenzo," Jinki ordered. "I want to know everything. What town his ancestors were from to the brand of their favourite red wine."

 Jinki wasn't sure if he was seeing things, but it was worth investigating. Lovechild or not, Vincenzo might be vying for the top seat. Gian Amarillo could need some help with ensuring his position in the organization. His deal with Carlos Amarillo may not be as dead as he thought it was. On life support, but it looked like it could be revived. 

 He just needed to convince either Vincenzo or Gian that he would make a good ally despite the little fiasco last week. What're a few bullets between business partners? In their world, it was practically considered a nicety. 

 "By the way," Jinki suddenly remembered his pet project. "What do we have on the guy who saved my ass last week?"

- O -

 Albert's was, as usual, teeming with yuppies, grabbing their trendy breakfast before heading off to work. Kibum rang up orders as fast as he could, but his mind still on the unpaid bills he needed to take care of. Kibum glanced down the line, trying to determine how much longer the rush was going to last. With detachment, he noted the quality of apparel Albert's clientele sported and envied the financial security, all of them exuded. 

 "A croissant and a large of your medium roast, please," a woman with flawless makeup and Gucci bag said, barely looking him in the face as she pulled out a Valentino wallet. Kibum punched the order in; $15.08 for Anna. A breakfast for Anna was Kibum's meal budget for 3-days, courtesy of his employee rate at the Dong Fan Chinese restaurant.

 "An espresso please and the fruit and protein box," man in gleaming Rolex and Balenciaga briefcase ordered. His suit was probably Italian, ranging around $5,000.00 to $8,000.00, depending on the make—the leather briefcase around $2,000.00. The Rolex was at least $3,000.00. The guy's entire ensemble would have more than paid off his grandmother's hospital bill. 

 Sir, would you mind pawning me your Rolex so that I can get the hospital off my back? Kibum silently asked the yuppie who didn't bother leaving a tip. 

 "The yogurt parfait and medium-light roast, please," a red-head regular asked. The diamond engagement ring on her finger was so big; it was at least 2 carats with a platinum band encrusted with tiny diamonds. Kibum's entire year of schooling was sitting on that woman's ring finger. 

 Would you mind lending me your ring so I can enroll? Kibum asked the woman in his head as he flashed his practiced smile when she dropped a toonie in the tip jar. I would like to make more of my life than bussing tables and waiting on people. Please. 

 The next customer was dressed in a simple navy blue pinstripe suit. One could say the man didn't belong in the "fashionable" line. Working at Albert's for the past three years had taught Kibum how to size people at a glance. Gauging where they belong in the socio-economic ladder had become his weird expertise. Though the outfit was simple, borderline plain, the perfect fit of the shoulders and elegant drop of the knife-edge crease of the pants said tailored. The understated silver - most likely platinum - watch and leather loafers screamed old money.  

 "The blueberry muffin and a tall medium roast, please," the man said, handing Kibum a fifty dollar bill. 

 Kibum barely stopped an eye-roll. C'mon, dude, it's barely 8 am. Have a little sense, and don't drop a bill so large so early in the morning. "Sir, do you have a smaller bill?"

 "No change?" the man asked an eyebrow raised. 

 "Unfortunately," Kibum said with a fake apologetic smile. 

 "Keep the change then."

 "Sir, your total is $12.30," Kibum exclaimed. 

 "I don't have a smaller bill," the man said as he placed the bill on the counter and walked away.

 "Sir -," Kibum called out, but the next customer stepped in front of him. 

 Kibum punched the payment on auto-pilot and dropped the change in the tip jar, almost feeling nauseous. That was hella over the top, and somehow assholish in its extravagance. But he was thankful for the extra cash he was going to get. 

 After his shift at Albert's, Kibum rushed to the bus stop for his afternoon shift at Dong Fan. The bus was pulling away from the curb when he arrived. Kibum gritted his teeth against the frustration surging through him. He was going to be late for his shift and that meant income loss. 

 Kibum took a deep breath to stifle the string of curses rising from his chest. He took out his phone to call the restaurant but noticed he had an email from St. John's. He was tempted to ignore it but tapped on the icon anyways. 

 Kibum blinked at the message. He scrolled up again to check the sender. Yeah, there it was, St. Johns Hospital. But something was wrong because the email contained a receipt for the amount he owed the hospital.

 Confused, Kibum clicked on the phone number in the signature, brow furrowing as the call went through. After being transferred to accounting he asked about the status of his account. 

 "Your account is up to date."

 "Excuse me?"

 "Your balance was paid for in full yesterday."

 "By whom?" Kibum asked still in disbelief, afraid to believe. "I didn't make the payment," Kibum said. "No one else would make the payment."

 "Payment came in electronically from Jjinggu LLC," the agent answered. "It could be one of those angel-sponsors."

 "What's an angel-sponsor?"

 "They're anonymous individuals or organizations who will settle random accounts as part of their charity work."

 "And you don't know their names at all?"

 "No, I'm sorry. Payors are not required to identify themselves."

 "Ok... but you're sure, they made the payment against my account?"

 "Yes, sir," Kibum heard the operator's smile. "I'm one hundred percent sure, Mr. Kim." 

 "OK," Kibum whispered. "Thanks."

 "Was there anything else I can help you with?"

 "No, that's it."

 Kibum disconnected the call, reeling from the relief. Tears pricked his eyes as the weight of the debt lifted off of his chest. Kibum cupped his hands over his phone, holding it against his forehead. 

 "Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you," Kibum chanted in whispers, collapsing on the bus stop bench, trying to contain the tremors running through his body. Glad for a very long time he was alone. 

[yurtletheturtlehenderson]

S.T. REWRITE - S2:E7; Chapter Seven, The Lost Sister - [Pt. 2]

A Will Byers x Reader Series

In their search for answers, psychic visions draw Eleven and Y/n to a band of violent outcasts and an angry girl with a shadowy past.

||Reader's POV||

I hug my jacket tighter around my chest, my teeth chattering still from the cold air. Luckily the seats El and I picked ended up near the bus' heater. Though at least the chill is keeping me awake and alert. I remember drifting off on the futon at Becky's, the next thing I know El is shaking me awake and pulling me down the stairs. All I had time to grab was my jacket and slip on my shoes and we were out the door. Hell, I didn't even get to change out of my pajamas.

I tried asking her what happened and where the hell we were going, not to mention so late at night. She was much too spooked and truthfully I haven't seen her run that fast. Well, at least since last year. But no matter how much I tried to ask, she just kept silent, apart from a few words which I'm pretty sure were to shut me up.

"It's not safe."

So here we were, on a bus heading who knows where. I felt a pair of eyes on me and I looked cautiously to my side, several people were giving us strange even some sympathetic looks. I remember for what seems like the billionth time that I am in sweatpants and tee-shirt, and I hug my jacket tighter around my torso. I turned to look at El, and I can make out her disheartened reflection watching droplets of rain cascade down the foggy glass. I rest my head tiredly on the back of my seat and I attempt to break the silence.

"El?"

Her head rolls across the seat to face me, I can tell she is tired like me though I sense a great deal of it is emotional exhaustion as well as physical. A million questions run through my head but I only.find myself asking one.

"Are you okay?"

She sniffled but gave me no immediate answer. I could tell she was debating on whether or not she should lie. Finally, she speaks, her voice cracked and a little broken.

"No."

I wince, my a lump forming my throat feeling as if I am unable to help her. I extend my hand, as she did this afternoon, and she took it. I gave her palm a reassuring squeeze and I looked in her eyes.

"El, what happened? You can tell me," I reassure.

Her brown eyes fall to my hands, and I can tell she is trying to blink back tears.

"She called us in." She whispered, sniffling. "I'm sorry."

"Wait, what do you mean? Why are you sorry?" I ask gently.

"I heard her," she choked back. "She called for the policeman. And... And she gave them your name. I'm sorry Y/n."

"My name?" I gulped. "So, the police are gonna, know I'm...?"

She nodded, tearfully and I could see the remorse in her eyes.

Instinctively, I gave her hand another reassuring squeeze and forced a half-assed smile.

"It's okay, it's not entirely your fault El," I said. "Yeah, I'm not going to lie. That's not good, but I also knew what I was risking when I went with you. The truth is, things really haven't been going super well at home. Everyone's fighting - more than usual,"

El cracks a small smile at that, and I feel one spread across my face as well. But it quickly fades as I continue.

"Like I said before, Mike hasn't been himself since you left. And now Will is acting up, in fact, he's... completely different. He's sick, he's really sick and he's angrier than usual. The party is falling apart, and I've felt more alone these past few weeks than I have in a really long time. And on top of it all," I lower my voice even more. "I'm still finding stuff I didn't know I could do. I've been having trouble, controlling my powers."

El looked to me surprised, her eyebrows raised though I was relieved to see I had halted her crying. I nodded.

"The point is, you showing up has been just what I needed. And yes, it's really scary, but thanks to you I found out how I got here, where I came from. That's really good! I have you to thank for that."

We shared a weak smile, and there a beat of silence. I took a deep breath and she was the first to break the ice.

"I found her. The girl."

I perked up a bit, and I looked to El El hopefully.

"Really? That's great! So did you get a name? Maybe the girl's name or where we're going?"

The hope in El's face fell, and she shook her head. But her face scrunched up thoughtfully as if she was trying to remember something she might have missed.

"A city." She looked at me quizzically, and she spoke the next words and it was clear to me she must have been repeating a word she heard only in passing. "Shuh-cago?"

My eyes widened. "Chicago? We're going to Chicago?"

El shrugged her shoulders.

"Shuh-cago."

I took a deep breath, letting the information sink in as well as trying to tame the anxiety I knew was soon coming to settle in.

"Um, okay..." I sighed, my eyes falling to my lap and I noticed my leg has begun to bounce. "Well, are you sure? Is that what you heard, or maybe saw in the background somewhere?"

El nodded. I nodded as well, thinking about the road ahead.

"So you really think she'll help huh?" I ask.

She gives me a weak, but reassuring smile and soft squeezes my hand. "Yes."

I smile gratefully, but we fall into silence quickly after.

The familiar feeling bubbled up in my stomach again, though it is much more intense. Sure I had anxieties about leaving with El, but this succeeded that. At least I had the small chance of not getting caught, that I'd be back the next night and it could all be explained away by being at the Byers house. But this was quickly spiraling. This had already spiraled, and I was beginning to feel sick to my stomach with nerves. The moment the chief got her message than it was only a matter of time before my mom was notified, and oh no...

According to Dustin, she's going to the ends of the earth just to find Mews, I can't imagine the stress she'll inevitably be under when she finds out that some woman across town filed a report about me and it certainly doesn't help that I'm on a bus to Chicago.

I try to remind myself to take deep breaths, the last thing I need is my anxiety itself spiraling into something destructive. I still need to learn how to control my powers, though I'm a bit upset with myself for saying everything's okay when it's not.

I always had a problem with that. And yet, even though I meant what I had said to El about finding out where I came from, part of me is upset with myself for letting it go. Maybe I did it cause I felt bad for El, and she seemed sorry and she was in trouble. But then again, I was in trouble now too. Part of me is hoping Chicago is a dead end, and while I feel awful for feeling that way, I do. I find myself longing to be with Will again. The old Will. He always had a knack for knowing when I wasn't okay.

He always made me feel validated when I was upset, and he listened and then he'd do anything to get me to smile. But for now, I had to keep these thoughts to myself, for as long as I can at least though I don't know how long I'll last.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

I don't realize I have drifted off until I feel a tap on my shoulder. I blink away the sleep to the best of my ability and I find El gesturing towards the isle. Once again, I close my jacket tightly around my torso, the cold air reaching my neck and nipping at my ears. We had spilled out onto the busy streets among the several people leaving the bus with us. I looked around in an odd mix of awe and fear. Mom was never a city dweller, and the last big trip she took she came home with a daughter. So apart from programs on TV, this was the first I was seeing a big city.

El seemed to be experiencing it too, but my awe was quickly smothered when my eye level returned to the ground. We were lost in a sea of strange people, nobody seemed to know anyone and they all seemed angry.

I tried to remind myself of the things El told me earlier today.

"Y/n, we can defend ourselves, remember?"

She did have point, but then again if we were put in a situation where we were forced to use them, all the closer we going were to being caught. I look to El, to gauge her reaction and I find she's still very much lost in the towering city skyline and she a genuine smile on her face. For a moment I wish I can enjoy it as she does, but I am still in sweatpants and a tee shirt and I haven't the faintest idea when or if we'll find exactly where we're going.

Eagerly, she starts walking down the streets and I follow her. I'm thankful I was able to retrieve my shoes and jacket, but I still can't seem to drag my thoughts away from the fact that my teeth are chattering once more. The words I spoke earlier today pop into my mind only to mock me, "I guess I kept myself warm,". Another reason to learn how to control my powers, it sure wouldn't hurt-

I'm jolted from my thoughts when I feel a strong force struck my shoulder. I tumble back slightly, quickly catching my footing but my heart still spikes. I whirl around to see a large, glowering man sneer over his shoulder at me as retreats.

"Watch it, kid."

This time I fiddle with my jacket as an excuse to keep my hands busy, my heat creeping up in my chest as my tempter rises. I return my attention to El and our walk when I find her glaring at him. And if looks could kill - which hers quite easily could - he would be six feet under.

"Mouth-breather," She says menacingly, her eye line falls slightly and I panic.

I turn just in time to see the man stumble forward onto the concrete. Angrily, he sits up, looking around frantically and glaring at anyone who laughed at him. All worry washed away when I could barely make out the string of curses directed at his shoelaces as he hotly tied them.

El looked to me, suppressing a smile and she had a wildly mischievous look in her eye.

I felt myself crack a smile and my anger slowly melted away.

Okay, that was pretty funny.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

If I thought I was cold before, I was dead wrong. We've been walking for two hours, my feet are killing me and my sweatpants are clinging to my legs. About half an hour ago, a truck drove through a puddle and I caught the tail end of the splash when we hooked around a corner. To pass the time, I've been trying to dry them subtly with my hands against my legs, but it didn't get me very far, even with El's tips. I finally gave it a rest after a while, I wasn't getting very far and I didn't want to risk draining myself if the walk was much longer.

By now I've grown used to the odd and wandering looks we've gathered, especially me given my state. But the tension crept back in when El lead us down an incredibly questionable alley. We were definitely in the riskier parts of the city though I tried to hold my tongue and save questions until later. My instincts told me I needed to appear more confident than I was than I'd have at least a sliver less of a chance of being a target. El seemed to hold up that exterior, though even her confidence was waning slightly.

We were surrounded by many sluggish people, milling about one another and the alley was lit up by fire pits in steel barrels. The stench was horrid, it wreaked of booze, cigarettes, and urine. Subconsciously, El and I grew closer I realize cause I feel the ends of her hairbrush against me when I flinch back.

A frightening, cackling man had stepped towards my face as we walked by.

"They're dead. They're all dead!"

His hyena-like laughter bounces off the cement walls and echoes in my ears. I can practically taste his awful breath and I duck my head down avoiding eye contact as I pull El along forward with me.

I can sense her eagerness to leave the alley and hands still clenched tight, we broke out into a small jog and out of sight. We didn't stop until we reached what looked to be an abandoned underpass. Graffiti littered every wall, and we emerged from the darkened space to find an old warehouse. Like the underpass, there wasn't a wall that wasn't painted with spray paint and neon color and El stopped suddenly.

I glanced ahead of me at the building, the small door supplied with only one window that flickered with yellow light, and back at El, searching her eyes.

"El, is this it?" I ask.

"Yes."

She sets off towards the building and I quickly follow behind, attempting to prepare myself whatever we might find. Inside is not much different to the exterior, boxes, crates, barrels, and planks littered the interior and it was harder to find a surface that wasn't covered in graffiti. The entrance we stood in was part of a small alcove, and it was clear the further you stepped inside the ceiling extended. But what caught my eye were the four people huddled around another makeshift firepit.

One girl, who was perched on several cushions and lighting a cigarette began to giggle teasingly.

"You should do stand-up, Axe. There's a spot a few blocks away."

The group chuckled, and a tall lanky man with a large mohawk unlike anything I've seen before rolled his eyes with a smirk. Among them, a rather large and beefy man, who clearly seemed to be the muscle, and another young woman in cuffed jeans, gloves and a dark green flannel.

El called out to them and I panicked, though logically I knew we needed make ourselves known regardless.

"Hello?"

The group stopped and turned, their faces illuminated by the fire gifting to them a very chilling tone.

A sickening smirk curled along the tall lanky man, and he struts around the fire towards us.

"Well, well... What do we have here?"

The others rose from their spot and I looked anxiously between El and the others, though I somehow managed to keep a still face.

The others began stalking towards us and I could feel my heart rate pick up. The woman in the green jacket scoffed, looking us up and down and it seemed she couldn't tell which of us looked, stranger.

"What are those, overalls?" She asked finally.

The other young woman had stalked around us and she stopped at me. I tensed and she looked me up and down before jabbing a finger in my shoulder and nudging me roughly.

"And get a load of this one," she squeaked, blowing smoke into my face.

I coughed, swiping it away and they all laughed. She turned to me and faked a pout.

"What's the matter girlies? Thought your little slumber party could use a fun little adventure, in the big city, huh?"

The others chuckled softly, and I stifled an eye roll. Her mocking tone fell into a serious one shortly after.

"Well, you ain't gonna find it here, go on back to the farm now."

"We're looking for my sister."

My eyes flickered to El in surprise, but they quickly returned to the group. Once again, not wanting to give away too much but I do have to applaud El's quick thinking.

"Aw..." Cooed the man with mohawk mockingly. "Shirley Temple lost her sister. So sad."

"I saw her. Here."

She reached into her bag and pulls out the photograph from Becky's.

"Uh-uh," The large man said suddenly. "Hand out of your pocket. Slow."

El complied and the lanky man ripped the photograph from her hand.

"Give me that shit."

For the first time, he hesitated, shocked and caught off-guard and the woman in green stepped forward when she caught a glimpse. She ripped it from his grasp, just as he had done previously and gaped.

"Is that Kali?"

"Kali?" El asked.

Mohawk stepped forward, growing tense and took advantage of his height and towered over El, zeroing in on her. I tensed but I never left her side.

"How did you find us? Who else knows you're here?"

El backed up slightly and I spoke up urgently.

"No one knows we're here."

"And no one asked you, shithead." My face soured and he returned to El. "Is this true Shirley Temple? So, what then? Poof! You just show up like magic with that picture?"

"Stay calm." The woman in green warned. "They're just kids, alright?"

He turned on her quickly, snapping at her.

"Some kids that could get us all killed."

He returned his attention to El and pulled something from his pocket. My eyes fell to the object in his hand and I was as certain my eyes were wide as saucers as sure as I was that everyone could hear my heart thumping against my ribcage.

"If I have to ask again, Shirley, you'll start losing things." He unsheathed his knife and began pointing it at El's face. "Starting with those pretty little locks of yours. Yeah?"

I looked desperately between the man and his companions, each of them seemed uncomfortable with his actions in varying degrees. The woman in green stepped forward, extending her arm.

"Come on, Axe. Put down the knife." She warned.

The blade grew closer towards her face and he only grew angrier.

"How did you find us?"

"I saw her." She said, her voice came out rushed and shakey not that I blamed her.

He advanced further, the knife growing closer to her face and everyone's voices began to drown in the deafening roar of blood pumping in my ears. He was beside me now as El kept backing away.

"That's not an answer!" He roars.

"Axe!"

I throw aside my common sense and step towards them. Before anything can happen, he freezes and begins examining his hand frightfully. He steps backward, his blade-wielding arm extended as far away from his face and torso as possible and his breath becomes shaky as he speaks.

"Jesus. Jesus Christ!" He huffs.

He chucks the knife on the concrete behind us, the blade nearly nicking my legs. He looks up and down his torso, and his face goes pale. He frantically swipes at himself, several squeals of fear elicit from him and El and I share a confused look.

"Get off! Shit!"

He is running across the room, hunched over, and desperately swatting at his head, face and arms deranged. I have to step back to avoid his path as he maneuvers around me and his companions have to do the same.

"You're a terrible dancer, Axel."

Everyone including myself turns our heads towards the source of the British voice. On the stairs, leaning on the banister with a sly smirk was another young girl. Half of her head was shaved, the other half was tinted purple and like the others, she dressed in grunge, but oddly they didn't seem shabby or cheap.

The guy named Axel relaxed, only for a moment before it evolved into anger. He smacked his head angrily and gestured towards her as she came down the steps.

"I told you, Kali, stay out of my head." He spits.

"So we're threatening little girls now, are we?" She asks, striding towards us.

"They know about you." Axel defends.

The girl with the bow, the one mocked me, stepped forward with the photo El had and gestured to her.

"Farmgirl here had this."

The new girl, the one I can only assume to be the one we were looking for, grabbed the photo. She seemed to be hiding her shock, and El cautiously approaches her. She eyes El up and down suspiciously, her gaze flickering past her to me on occasion.

"Where did you get this?"

"Mama," El answers, taking the photograph back and placing it in her bag.

"Your mother gave this to you?"

"In her dream circle," El says.

I raise my brow, and as I suspect the others don't take to it, or her very easily.

"Dream circle," Axel scoffs, pacing the room. "I think she's a schizo or something."

I gape at him, unable to stop myself but he doesn't see me. I desperately want to say something but I know I have to be careful less I start something.

"Says she's looking for her sister."

"Yeah. Like I said, schizo."

I take a deep breath, clenching my fists. I'm reminded of the first night we met El. When we both overheard the boys saying those awful things about her. That she was from the nuthouse. It angers me that so many people out there are so quick to judge people they don't automatically understand. My glare follows him across the room and as he bends to pick up his knife. I smirk when I see the knife fly through the air and into El's waiting hand.

Mumbles of surprise bounce around the group, but I simply watch as El confidently folds the knife and hands it to the girl.

"I saw you. In the rainbow room."

Something in the girl's eye changes, she begins to stalk around El before she stops halfway to stand beside her.

"What is your name?"

"Jane."

I can't say I was expecting that, but yet I wait. I concentrate my energy on keeping my jaw clenched. I've been fighting my chattering teeth ever since we entered and the muscles in my jaw have grown weak. But in a weird way, I begin to forget it's there as I watch what is unfolding before me.

Kali grabs El's left wrist and pushes back her sleeve to reveal her tattoo. El reaches for Kali's left wrist and they compare before sharing a chilling look. El's eyes grow cloudy and I can her lips trembling.

"Sister." She whispers.

"Sister," Kali says.

The two embrace in a tearful hug I grow uncomfortable where I stand. I tuck my arms in further where they have been fused against my chest, and I shift on my feet my tempter growing short. I don't understand why I feel this way but I do. I want to be happy for El, but something feels off. Maybe I'm jealous because I thought me and El were close, she was the first real female friend I had and we both came from the same place. But I guess she found that with someone else. I never really was from there, not that I wish I was but at least I could someone to lean on with having powers.

And yet, that didn't seem to be what bothered me most. I couldn't quite put my finger on it, but I can't help but feel like things are only going to get more slippery.

Before I can dwell on it more, they break apart and Kali takes El's hands in her own giving them a squeeze before releasing. The two smile at one another and my eyes fall to my feet. The ends of my sweatpants are still soaked I can feel the water in my shoes. And yet the most chilling thing I felt at that moment was Kali's eyes on me.

"Jane, who is this?" She asks.

"Y/n. My friend."

I break my gaze away from my shoes and I give her a small wave, forcing a smile.

"Hi," I mumble, trembling.

She looks me up and down, her suspicious gaze creeping back up in her eyes. Her intimidation faltered when she allowed herself to register my odd outfit. The question seemed to have a bigger demand than her previous one, and she seems to dismiss a thought.

"Why are you in pajamas?"

"Long story," I mutter, my teeth chattering once more. "We had to up and leave unexpectedly and I didn't get a chance to change or grab any spare clothes."

Her brows furrowed suspiciously, and for a moment I worry. I can feel myself squirm under intimating gaze but then I feel a wave of relief when I see her crack a smile. She chuckles and looks to the tall woman in the green jacket.

"Funshine, take her upstairs and help her find some warm clothes. I'm gonna talk to Jane. Alone."

Her eyes fall on me, her amusement fizzled out into what I could have sworn looked like a warning glare as she spoke the last word. My eyes fall to El and she smiles happily at me, before looking excitedly to Kali unaware of the cold shoulder Kali was giving me. I tense, not wanting to be separated from El, but I try and comfort myself in the fact that Kali does seem to genuinely care for El. Though that was just as worrisome.

The larger man nodded, stepping forward and gestured to me. I looked to him surprised, my eyes flickering to Kali and she smiles.

"Don't worry, he's nothing but a big softie," Kali says, turning and leaving with El.

I look back at the man and he smiles warmly, I can feel myself relax and I even find myself smiling back at him.

"Don't worry, we'll get you some nice warm clothes."

Reluctantly, I follow. We walk side by side, falling in line behind El and Kali though they disappear around the corner and Funshine directs me to one of the makeshift bedrooms. My eyes fall to the fire pit in the corner and I eye it longingly. He gestures towards it and ushers me along.

"Go ahead, wait but the fire. I'll be right back with some warm clothes." He says, heading through the doorway.

I smile shyly, eagerly gravitating towards the fire.

"Thanks."

He left through the door and disappeared around the corner, and I stifled a smile. I could feel the heat washing over my body and I felt myself relax in the slightest. I only wish there was a faster way to dry my legs but before much longer, Funshine returns. He glides across the room with some clothes in his hands.

"Here, I gathered around stuff that I thought would fit you best." He tosses them on the bed next to me and begins to walk out. "I'll let you change."

Eagerly, I pick up the clothes and I watch him retreat. Out of the whole bunch, and my brief encounter with them, I trusted him the most and I couldn't hold my tongue any longer.

"Hey," I call out, growing nervous.

He stops suddenly, and turns around, giving me a curious look.

"Thank you," I mumble, smiling. "For the clothes."

Another friendly smile stretches across his face and once again he nods.

"You're certainly welcome."

+++

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[sea-salted-wolverine]

Okay so last week was a shitkicker and was literally so bad I spent the better part of the week trying to delude myself into thinking it was a good day. Like, we're talking, "the sun is shining and I'm here to see it so today is a good day" and "I'm having a bad day- fuck me I am not haveing a bad day- I'm having a good day- I'm not having a bad day". Denial is a powerful tool for mental health, apply judiciously. I get that everyone on earth is kinda having a shitty year but it feels like things just kinda escalated in my little corner

The 7th had a huge snow storm that brought traffic to a stand still. No one could leave the house and university class was online anyway. Batshit customer demanded to pick up her gear anyway. I drove in because I was the only person with keys to the shop that could get to the building. It took me a solid 2 hours going 15mph on the highway. The snow in the parking lot was up past the fenders of my truck. Crazy lady gets 10 out of 18 of her survival suits back but the other 8 still have holes in them because our only repair tech is also the only one who answers the phone or runs the computer or handles customers or cleans or disinfects anything or stores gear. I'll give you one guess who that person is.

Did you guess me? Good for you. Fun fact this was not the case in October.

Crazy lady swans off through the snowed in parking lot and because she cant find the exit, blasts straight through the ditch and onto the road.

I say fuck it and leave. I've been at work for 2 hours. I have made 24 dollars for my trouble. It takes me another hour to get home.

The 8th is Saturday and I'm supposed to be at work. No one can drive. There was another 10 8nches of snow last night. I say fuck work and go to dig out the plow truck. The canopy over the plow truck collapses as I walk out to clear the snow of it.

I do not scream.

My partner and I get the truck running and go plow people out of their driveways and then go do the shop.

We come back home and the heater doesn't work. We just spent most of last week frantically trying to limp the thing along because no heat at -20°F is in a word fucking unpleasant. At least now its 40 degrees warmer because if the snowstorm. We take it apart again. The house smells like diesel. The house smells like exhaust. The house is not cold because the wood stove can keep up at 20 above zero but it won't keep us through the winter.

There is no saving the oil heater. We need a new one.

Its 730 and neither of us have eaten. I start rice in the pressure cooker so I can throw a tasty bite on top and call it dinner and that dies too. Explosively.

Dinner is half cooked rice and microwaved curry.

Sunday is spent finding a way to stretch our increasingly thin budget to buy a new heater. Between us we actually have 2275$ and we will still cover the mortgage. Somehow. All our Christmas gifts will be hand made this year. The next thing that breaks will stay broken.

Monday, power outages due to snow storm. No wifi, no zoom meetings. Another 8 inches of snow. This is now more snow than my city gets for the full year.

My boss calls sobbing. The dog died. Joey, an 11 year old, 130lb mastiff with a tumor the size of a football on his liver has been her constant companion for at least 8 years. The pandemic has confused the bejesus out of him because while he loves the lock down and going out to play every hour or so he doesnt really like the concept of strangers in masks. Hes a guard dog and doesnt understand that men in masks coming into the shop are not here to kill mom they're wearing masks so they don't kill mom.

Mondays the shop is closed anyway and I spend it installing the new heater. It doesn't quite fit in the space the old heater came out of but its warm.

Tuesday, I go to work, everyone cancels class, I once again gently explain to a regular that eugenics is bad. I would like to curse him out. I cant. He drops a grand on scuba gear and leaves, talking about how great his trip to Mexico will be.

I do not scream.

A friend calls to ask how I'm doing. Not great. Yea, her niether. She asks if I want to go out to the backcountry with her over the weekend. I explain that my leg physically does not move and I'm downing copious amounts of advil to remain upright. The doctor sent me in for an MRI but has not yet called back. Plus I'm supposed to go to Valdez for the weekend and actually go diving. That I can do with limited use of my leg.

She says yikes, take it easy, take care of yourself, I love you.

I say, yikes, I'm tired of taking it easy, I wanna play, I love you too.

Hit me up if your plans open up and we can do something gentle on your leg. She says.

God yes. The cold woods away from people sounds like paradise. I dont even care that it will cause me rending physical pain to get there. I need a break.

Its Wednesday. I go to school. I get pulled over. Miraculously I dont get a ticket. I'm white female and conventionaly attractive, maybe not so miraculous. I rolled through a stop sign but I'm pretty sure I couldn't afford a ticket.

I get a text in class. One of the instructors who works with the dive shop has tested positive for covid. I haven't seen the man in 2 months. I needed a spare instructor but he was nowhere to be found. But hey, evidently that's a good thing.

I go to work. I vacillate between doing the job a 4 people and having nothing to do.

I go to the grocery store because I misjudged my last monthly grocery run and even though I'm increasing my exposure I'm out of cheese and tea damnit.

The store is packed. Pandemic who?

My partner and I haven't had a date nite in a while and this week has been shitty. I want a nice dinner. I pick up a couple boxes of the carton sushi which isnt terrible and is about as nice as I can justify on the new budget. I grab a gallon of milk and a few other things. I forgot my wallet in the truck and the cashier is chill and sets my stuff aside while I grab it.

I pay and take my stuff home and realize I left one of my bags at the store. No cheese or tea for me.

Thursday. 10am my phone goes off with an emergency alert. The govoner has grown a spine in light of recent elections and is instituting a voluntary lock down. My state has 500 new cases a day. That might not sound like a lot but theres only 300,000 people in Alaska and we've got poor medical infrastructure.

Unfortunately Alaska is full of Alaskans and nobody can tell us what to do. Nothing changes. 7pm rolls around and I'm teaching scuba classes in the pool.

I load a few hundred pounds of scuba gear into the back of my truck. In a wet wetsuit. In the snow. In a fabric facemask. 6 feet apart. In the pool.

I dont get paid for pool time.

Over the summer we had 6 dive masters including me, all big burly dudes, much better suited to picking things up. Its November and I'm the only one.

The kids I'm teaching are going to Hawaii. They're 10 and 13 and so wildly excited about breathing underwater its beautiful to watch. And they're traveling to an island. In a pandemic.

Friday.

Unload scuba gear so it doesnt get stolen out of the back of my truck while I'm at class. Were doing a make up lab today. Hey of the five student in my class only one of us has covid so theres that.

My boss calls an let's me know that shes left for Valdez without me. If I'd like to make an 8 hour drive by myself in a snowstorm I'm welcome to follow.

I'm in class till an hour before shop closing. I'm not driving across town so I can run on the open sign for half an hour.

The shop stays closed on Friday.

Saturday.

I explained to everyone we had business with that the shop would be closed over the weekend and Friday. I planned on being in Valdez. Hell I canceled plans to be in Valdez.

I open the shop and immediately field calls about why we werent open. I start to explain about the Valdez trip and logistical difficulties and then I realize that shes not mad about that. The woman was here before I opened early this morning. We have never been open that early. The hours are on the door.

A regular comes in. Hes also confused as to why I'm here.

Sunday finds me curled up in bed, reluctant to leave. Getting out of bed has not played out well for me recently.

A friend comes over to chat with my partner about specialist rifle parts. This isnt that wierd, he works at a gun shop and they've been discussing upgrading my partners current rifle set up.

He is wearing a full Scottish kilt. Red tartan. Looks very lovely.

I make zucchini bread and my proportions are a little off because I have too much zucchini so it's a little over moist but it's good. I'm recovering from an asskicker of a week and next week will be better.

Monday morning:

Baby brother has covid

Dads getting the results of his rapid test tonight.

Mom isnt getting tested because she says she doesnt have symptoms but that's not the fucking point mom.

So, I'm not going home for thanksgiving. I'm not diving in Valdez. I'm not skiing backcountry.

I'm not sick. I'm not flat broke yet. I dont have a ticket. I have a job. I have people who care about me. Im managing my physical and mental health as best I can. Im just fucking exhausted.

[lindseybaby22]

I left a job I loved. I have worked as a wedding day coordinator for 4 almost 5 years. I have worked hundreds of weddings from all diverse backgrounds and cultures. The wedding that finally broke me...was a wedding where I was basically assaulted.

It was a Hindu wedding. The groom's family was Hindu, the bride was not. His parents planned this whole thing and it was THEIR wedding, not the couples. They had an American wedding planned later where her family and friends would attend. At the wedding rehearsal, I knew this group was going to be difficult. The mother of the groom was yelling at their officiant. I want to note that this group planned an OUTSIDE wedding and reception in OREGON in OCTOBER. October in Oregon is rainy, damp and cold. Keep that in mind. They had asked me about the heating situation for the reception. I let them know we had 2 heaters and we would close the tent flaps but it could still be chilly. They told me they would bring in their own heaters.

The wedding day had arrived. The venue I worked for did something I absolutely can't stand. They had a morning wedding, 2 hours to flip the ceremony and reception site for an afternoon wedding. I arrived a little earlier than usual knowing this and knowing the crew before me would probably need help...and I was right. I arrived a half hour after their event was supposed to be over and their bride and groom were still there. I jumped right in to help the flip. I took down the decor from the previous wedding, swept the tent up, helped changed linens. Then the Father of the Groom called me. He wanted to make sure the heaters were turned on. They were on for the morning wedding but at that moment they were off. We were still about an hour from when they were supposed to and allowed to arrive to our venue. I went to the manager from the previous event to ask about the heaters. The groundskeeper told her to keep them off while we flipped because the propane was low and he wanted to make sure they would last for the wedding that night. Ten minutes later, the dad arrived. He was fuming.

I tried to explain why I hadn't had the heaters on yet, but he didn't care. I immediately turned them on. Now throughout this event, the dad called me numerous times. No, not numerous, an obsurd amount. I was doing absolutely everything for him and hos wife. I did more than what was in my job description and what we allowed for clients but I made an exception for them.

We were about 3 hours from the ceremony time and he asked me to wipe the ceremony chairs down. It was raining. I told him we typically wait until closer to ceremony time to wipe the chairs since it was still raining and that way the seats would be dry for the guests. This is when he put his hands on me. He grabbed me. He grabbed my arm, pulled me closer to him so that my face was right in his, squeezed me arm and said "No. You will wipe down these chairs now. I need them wiped down so you will go wipe them right now." I was in shock. I have NEVER had a client, let alone anyone really, put their hands on me and speak to me like that. I told him I would get right on it. I had to run to our other facility to grt some art supplies for them so I hopped on the golf cart and drove there.

When I arrived to the other facility. I was trying to keep my composure and wrap my head around what had just happened. When I got inside, a co-worker working another wedding said hi, then immediately asked if I was okay. I lost it. I broke down and started to cry when I told her what happened. She couldn't believe it. I composed myself and went on my hunt for these supplies for the family, when I ran into the manager from the earlier wedding. She asked how I was, I lost it again. I spent about 10 minutes composing myself and decided to just not think about it because I had a job to do. When I got back to my venue, my manager had arrived. I told her what had happened, tried to keep my composure and finally said if there was any way I could leave early I would GREATLY appreciate it. That never happened.

Fast forward, the parents were looking for every little thing that could be wrong with their event. We have a BEO, Banquet Event Order, that we follow like the bible. They go over this with their sales/event specialist. Their event specialist...well...we always havr a problem with her events. Things will be missing from the BEO, a lot of he-said she-said things. She once even hid in a bush during an event so the client couldn't see her since she messed up and didn't want to take any heat for it. That's another story. This event, was missing info in the BEO. Surprise, surprise.

I finally told my manager we needed to call our Operations Manager because these parents were upset, the father put his hands on me and it was a mess. While the ceremony was going on, she called. Nothing happened though. Not one person eveb talked to the father about grabbing me. The night went on. Him and his wife continued to verbally assault my manager and myself the entire night. The family finally made my manager cry and when I was finally able to leave, I ran.

I knew I would be hearing from the sales team and operations manager, especially after the grabbing. The next day the father tried to call me. I hit ignore. I never wanted to see or hear from that man again. Two days passed, and they finally called me. All three of them together. They had spoke to the father and now wanted to speak with me. They wanted to know about the heaters and why I didn't have them on immediately and how that was my fault and set the tone for their bad behavior for the rest if the event. Then they wanted to know about another thing that was missing from thr BEO that the sales team forgot to include. That was apparently my fault as well because I should have called her yo make sure the information in the BEO was accurate. Did I mention that every week they have meetings where they go over EVERY detail of these BEOs? You'd think they'd catch their mistakes there. Then finally they brought up the father grabbing me. I was told that I should have told him No again and told him myself that him grabbing me was unacceptable. They then asked if I would have a sit down meeting with him. I told them I was very uncomfortable with that. The phone call ended and I was in tears.

No one asked if I was okay. All my company cared about was covering their own butts and not having to lose any money. They talked to him first over me. I worked my butt off for this company, through morning sickness, training all the day of coordinators, even working an 11 hour wedding the DAY BEFORE my daughter was born. And this is how I was being treated. I sent my letter of resignation that night.

They eventually met up with the father, and he agreed to send an email with an "apology". If that is what you want to call it. Here was his apology:

"I wanted to take this opportunity to thank you for your help in making our celebrations a joyous occasion . Thank you also for playing a part in understanding our concerns in the lapses that followed. I was distressed to hear that my reactions that day may have caused you stress and anxiety . That was never my intention , and I apologize for that ."

I miss the wedding industry. I miss my co-workers. I miss the connections I made with families. The night before this hortible wedding, I had one of the most fun and best groups I had ever have. They were one of my all time favorite couples, families and group.

If you made it this far, thank you for reading and letting me share a portion of that horrible event. Maybe I overrracted, however, I firmly believe a man should NEVER put his hands on you in any way.

[youshouldknowmystory]

My life started like most do, born in a hospital, my Father’s joy and my Mother’s nightmare. I was late, mom had postpartum depression, she did not want to hold me.  So I bonded with my Aunt Ann, one of my Mother’s many sisters who lived near us.  Everything my Mother could not provide, came from my Aunt. We lived in an apartment on the north side of Chicago.  2 bedrooms, 1 bath, 1 space heater.  When it got cold out I froze, my room was so far from the heater. 

 I had a dog briefly. but he didn’t like me.  When I was five we got cats, two Seal Point Siamese kittens.  My best friends, Si passed away early, he had feline leukemia. Amie lived to a very old age of 18.  whenever my Dad lost his temper with me, she was my comfort.  

My Father was a mixed up man, sometimes he was so sweet and other times he was a monster.  He didn’t drink or use drugs.  He overate.  I guess his childhood sucked, so he made mine the same, but he would try to stop himself.  I would get a beating for bad grades, missing chores or just cause I walked in when he was mad.  He constantly told me I was useless, stupid and that he could not love me because of that.  That last part hurt the most.  Kids need to know that there is a chance their parents love them.  Need to hear the words.  But to hear him says, he didn’t love me, broke something inside me that would never heal.  

I worked hard everyday hoping I could redeem myself, trying to figure out what I did wrong so I could fix it.  What could a 5 year possibly do that would warrant such a statement from a parent.  I would never really fix that relationship, but 20 years later I would at least understand why.

I joined the Navy after high school, I thought boot camp would be a breeze after 13 years of Daddy.  I was right, there was nothing that CC (company commander) could say or do that would break me after all the love and support Daddy gave me (ha ha).  I think my CC was confused at first, other girls broke down and cried or just looked defeated, but I kept a blank face, no tears.  Emotions and tear were signs of defiance to my dad and got me smacked harder. 

Bootcamp lasted 8 weeks, under the hot sun of Orlando FL.  After bootcamp they sent all of us home for a week.  Dad seemed proud, Mom was worried and my Aunt Ann was just happy to see me safe and sound.  She thought I might have trouble.  Ha, I was made for this.

From that short week vacation, I moved forward to my training school.  Meridian Mississippi.  Oh goody more heat.  School was another 8 weeks, training for StoreKeeper.  No, not a shop keeper with a broom sweeping out a store front.  We kept inventory, handled the check book and ordered supplies.  If you wanted TP (toilet paper) you came to me.  I handled other stuff too, nothing exciting.  I should tell you a short story about in time in Meridian.  The military does not hire grounds keepers, we make the base’s pretty all by ourselves.  One afternoon we had lawn duty.  The Chief passed out mowers, clippers, hedge trimmers, rakes and so for.  By the time he got to me, nothing left, no tools.  And just like a smart ass, I said well I guess I will just head back to barracks and chill.  BIG mistake, chief had a great sense of humor as he handed me a pair of scissors, you know like from your kitchen, darn.  I spent several hours cutting grass with those scissors, my hands ached, but I was working the entire time in the shade.  So maybe not that bad.

There was another incident that really sticks in my memory, it was very scary and my first taste of the real world.  Military life is for any race, color or creed. we did see any color but Navy Blue.  One day we decided to rent a car and go to the local mall.  we rented a car and headed to the mall.  We were only half way there when the flashing lights and siren sounded. we pulled over.  we were all in uniform.  Officer tells me friend who was driving us to get out, lay down on the ground and stay silent.  We (three girls) asked what was wrong, were we speeding, the car is rented from base...The officer choose that moment to scream at us to shut the f up.

Nightmare continues, he asked my friend if he stole the car, where did he get the uniform, why was he traveling with white girls, my friend was black.  I was now seeing first hand something that i thought only happened in movies.  Racial profiling.  Black man driving a nice car in that state most be bad news or something.  I honestly thought my friend would be hurt, this officer was crazy.  We were in the middle of nowhere.  I was scared shitless and i am sure my friend was too. 

I am not a religious person, I got faith but I don't visit god very often.  But I took a chance he might still hear me.  Afterall superman wasn't’ likely to show up and save the day, right.  Instead another car pulled up behind the officers car.  The voice was firm, strong and commanding.  The strong voice said “what is going on here, why are one of my trainees on the ground”.  “Did you call this into base”,  “answer me now”.  The officer didn’t like this man and to this day I have no idea who he was.  But he was some commander on base and he had seen this scenario play out before. The officer told my friend to get up, get in the car and go back where he came from.  Not sure if he meant that day or in general.  

I felt so bad, I apologized to my friend, this was all my fault, it was my idea to go off base.  I never imagined this would happen, never thought is was even a possibility. My friend said it was not my fault and he was use to this....seriously, Fudge.  How does a person get “use to this”.  this should never be normal.

After we graduated from our training school, we went our separate ways, I had orders for the east coast and he had orders for the west.  I think about that day, wonder where he is, if he is ok, does he have family now...you know the usual.

I went from Meridian Mississippi, to Norfolk VA.  More heat, i am just so lucky.  In case you have not noticed, i am a snow loving girl.  Give me a blizzard, 20 degrees and i am a happy person.  Heat makes me sticky, and crabby.  Besides there is only so much clothing to remove before you are naked and still hot and sweaty.  In the cold you can layer up or cuddle :).

To be continued....

[itsaudreyhornebitch]

Kastle College Professors AU Part 4

(A/N: So I lied earlier. One more part after this. Sorry if you’re not a fan of the slow burn, but whatcha gonna do? I’m only, like...75% happy with this chapter? So let me know what you think!)

READ ON AO3 HERE

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Epilogue 

Despite the fact that the university operated a dry campus, Frank always kept a bottle of scotch in the bottom right drawer of his desk. The good stuff—Lagavulin—and it was for special occasions only. He had purchased it 7 years ago—on his first day teaching at the university—and it had remained in his desk for years afterward, collecting dust. It turned out that Frank wasn’t all that great at celebrating. Didn’t often see many reasons he considered important enough to break out the good stuff. The day his first article had been published, he’d bought himself a Twix bar at lunch as a special treat; after his promotion to Associate Professor, he’d gone with David and Curtis for a pint and crawled into bed early; when he was awarded the Alfred P. Sloan Research Fellowship, he’d taken the kids to Coney Island and bought them so much junk food that Frankie Jr. threw up on the way home.

           But never once did he break out the scotch. Not that those weren’t momentous life occasions for Frank—they were. But he had never really been one for ostentatious celebration; never the guy to throw a party in his own honor. He was, he told himself, waiting for a moment truly worthy of ceremony for the Lagavulin.

           Since meeting Karen, however, he’d broken out the bottle on three separate occasions. The first time had occurred about a month and a half into their working relationship, when Karen realized, mid-rant about her latest run-in with Danny Rand, that it was her three year anniversary of earning her PhD. She’d jumped up from her desk so suddenly, stopping mid-sentence, that she nearly gave Frank a heart attack. He’d watched, half-confused and half-charmed, as she’d run out to the coffee shop to buy herself a cupcake. (She was, and always would be, a firm believer in celebrating the little things). She had looked so excited, rummaging around in her desk drawer, searching for a candle to blow out, that Frank had figured “why the hell not,” and offered her a congratulatory drink.

           The second time had followed about a month later, when mid-term student evaluations had come out. They’d both sat on the floor, getting slightly tipsy, and read theirs out loud to each other. Karen had laughed until she’d toppled over when one of Frank’s students wrote, “Dr. Castle is kind of like a sexy shark—like he looks really good, but I’m super scared of getting too close to him, because he might bite my head off.” For a solid week, every time Frank approached Karen’s desk, she’d hummed the Jaws theme song under her breath.

           The third time had taken place only three days ago, when Frank finally removed the duct tape boundary from across the office. At some point in the nearly 4 months since Karen had moved in, the clearly-delineated separation between “his” side of the office and “her” side of the office had completely broken down. Karen’s little potted succulents—which needed direct sunlight—had ended up on the windowsill behind Frank’s desk (she assured him that they didn’t need to be watered every day, but he kept an eye on them just in case). When one of Frank’s bookshelves collapsed, he’d moved a great deal of his heavy, forbidding Physics books to Karen’s side (her Maggie Nelsons and Searles were beginning to look quite cozy pressed up against his Capassos and Sobels). And the former no-man’s-land between their desks had become what Karen affectionately called “the family room,” which she had filled with floor cushions “thrifted” from Foggy’s apartment, all carefully placed around a low coffee table. It was where they sat to eat their take-out dinners, and where Karen did her grading when her desk became too restricting. After much prodding from Karen, Frank had finally admitted the duct tape line was a farce, and pulled it up with great ceremony. She had clapped, he had bowed, and they’d toasted with a glass of Scotch.

           It turned out that Frank found a lot more worth celebrating with Karen around.

           So when David Leiberman knocked on Frank’s office door at 7PM on Friday evening, he figured it was cause enough to break out the good stuff one more time. After the obligatory hugs, and the thinly-veiled references to how much they’d missed each other, Frank set about pouring a generous glass for his friend.

           “So how long you in town for?” Frank asked over his shoulder to David, who was somewhere behind Karen’s desk, probably snooping. He looked down at the glass in his hand, then tipped in just a little more of the amber liquor. It was a Friday after all—no work in the morning.

           “Just until Sunday night. I’m speaking at a conference at the Kimpton,” David looked up from his current task of closely examining every inch of Karen’s bookshelf. He ran a finger along her collection of titles, smiling when he noticed a copy of The Fundamentals of Photonics wedged between Witness and Memory: The Discourse of Trauma and Speech Acts.

           “You should have called ahead—I would have planned something. Maria has the kids this weekend,” Frank walked over to David, who had pulled out one of Karen’s books and was thumbing through it. (It was, he noted with interest, filled with the most bizarre and incomprehensible shorthand he’d ever seen). He put it back in its place and accepted the glass from Frank.

           “Well, you know,” David shrugged, taking a sip and humming in approval. “I wanted to surprise you. See the look on your face and all that.”

           “Didn’t take you as the kind of guy who went in for dramatics,” Frank leaned back against Karen’s desk, observing his friend with a keen eye.

           David dragged a hand through unruly curls, looking sheepish.

           “Also I just kind of forgot.”

           “Ah, there it is,” Frank lifted his glass in a mock-toast. “That sounds more like you.”

           “Wouldn’t have made much of a difference at any rate, I’m afraid,” David continued his perusal of Karen’s little library. “They’ve got me booked at the conference all weekend. Wouldn’t have a spare minute anyway.”

           “I could’ve at least planned for you to see the kids. Frankie Jr’s starting to talk about building his own computer. I figured that was a conversation for Uncle David,” Frank ran a knuckle against the polished wood of Karen’s desk, wondering idly if she was planning on returning to the office sometime soon.

           “Ah, well that just gives me an excuse to come back again,” David gave one last, lingering look at the bookshelf before turning to inspect the rest of the office. “Maybe bring the kids with me next time. Make a trip out of it.”

           Frank watched David wander about the space, and noticed the way his eyes caught on all of Karen’s little touches—the lingering imprints of her scattered about. Her succulents on the window sill, her pink Himalayan salt lamp, the gauzy blue curtains she’d hung in the window (she liked to close them in the afternoon to watch the way they played peek-a-boo with the sunlight). He paused to inspect the sticky-notes Karen had stuck to the wall by the door—little memos she left for herself about errands to run or sources to look up. (The one that read, “Yell at Frank about leaving the window open overnight!” in large, bold letters had him biting the inside of his cheek to keep an amused chuckle down).

           “The, uh—the place looks different, Frankie,” David tried for casual as he turned to Frank, hands in his pockets. Tried to look as though he hadn’t been impatiently biding his time until he could loop the topic of conversation around to Karen. “More…lively,” he rocked back and forth on his heels slightly, grinning.

During the far-too-infrequent Skype conversations they had managed to catch over the past few months, David had begun to notice an increase in the amount of times Frank made mention of his office mate. It had started off-handedly, with Frank dropping in a small detail about her every once in a while—“and then Karen walked in and almost spilled her coffee all over my radiometer, so I had to deal with that shit.” Just carelessly bringing her up in passing, almost like an afterthought. Then, after a while, it became Frank relaying long, complicated stories about his latest adventure involving Karen—“so she fuckin’ signed me up for this interview with a freshman, David. I was ready to strangle her.”

More and more, Karen began to leak into every conversation David and Frank had. It was a progression so natural that it took David a month or so to catch on.

Until finally, he noticed Frank using that oh-so-special word when talking about Karen: we.

“So we decided to order take-out and do some grading”, or “we were tired of the radiator always going on the fritz, so we brought in a mini-heater”, or “we left the window open the other day and a pigeon fuckin’ flew into the office and shit on my desk overnight.” Frank didn’t even have to mention Karen by name—every time he said “we,” David could safely assume he was including Karen. He didn’t think Frank realized he was doing it—but at some point, every story he told was about Dr. Karen Page. Him and Karen. Karen and him. Always together. And David was incredibly eager to figure out what that was all about.

“Now it actually looks like a human spends time in this room, instead of a robot,” David ran a finger across one of Karen’s sticky notes for emphasis.

           “Yeah. That’s all Karen,” Frank swirled the Scotch in his glass, grinning to himself. David doubted Frank knew how dopey that grin looked, or he would have worked harder to cover it up.

           “Hmm,” David continued his leisurely walk about the office. “Lots of very un-Frank things going on here,” David gestured vaguely to the floor cushions. “Can’t really imaging you sitting on one of those.”

           “Eh,” Frank shrugged, “it’s not so bad. More comfortable than my desk chair. And Karen likes ‘em.”

           “Seems like Karen’s changed a lot around here, huh?” David wandered over to the loveseat that had been wedged between the two desks. As he sat, he noticed the soft-looking throw draped over the arm—Karen again. “I would have thought you’d have a harder time with someone coming in and invading your space. But it seems like you’ve handled it quite well.”

           “Yeah, well. Turns out I don’t mind it so much.”

           “If it’s the right person, huh?” David said with a knowing little smile.

           And it was that smile that had Frank instantly suspicious of where David was leading their seemingly-innocuous little chat. His friend had a habit of talking in circles, leading you around and around the topic of conversation he really wanted to discuss, until it drove you crazy. Frank hated it—had no patience for the whole thing. He stared at David with narrowed eyes, fingers tapping against Karen’s desk as he took a sip from his drink.

           “I mean,” David continued, nonchalantly, “it just seems like anyone else, and you’d be dying to get rid of them. Get your space back. But with Karen, you don’t mind one bit. Just interesting.”

           “Interesting, huh?” Frank spoke slowly.

           “Yep,” David took a sip of his scotch. “Just interesting.”

           There was a beat of silence, during which David sat coolly under Frank’s assessing gaze.

           “If you want to say something, just say something, man,” Frank sounded slightly annoyed. “Hate it when you beat around the bush.”

           “Not saying anything, Frankie,” David held his hands up defensively, but the quirk of his lips gave him away. “Just making some casual observations.”

           “Yeah, I know you too well to believe that any observation you make is casual,” Frank set his glass on the desk and crossed his arms. David had to stop himself from laughing at how stereotypically-Frank the move was. “So why don’t you try that one again, buddy.”

           “Well, I guess I’m just wondering,” David paused, crossing one leg over the other and throwing his arm over the back of the loveseat, “you know, very casually,” he emphasized the word with a raised eyebrow, “when you’re going to get around to admitting that you’re in love with Karen Page.”

           David had never seen Frank go so still before. It was a little alarming, watching his muscles freeze up rigidly, his eyes unblinking, mouth pressed in a hard line—David was half worried that he wasn’t even breathing. For a full fifteen seconds, Frank stood there, unnaturally still, while David sat patiently, waiting for an answer.

           It was the loud sip David took from his glass that seemed to shake Frank out of it.

           “I—” Frank coughed, clearing his throat, then tried again. “No idea what you’re talking about.” But his voice lacked certainty—sounded a little edgy.

           “Yeah,” David nodded, as though Frank’s response were exactly what he expected, “see, your words say ‘no idea what you’re talking about,’ but that incredibly strained pause you just took, plus,” he gestured to Frank’s face, “that terrified look you’re wearing say otherwise.”

           Frank felt that familiar little throbbing begin between his eyebrows—the one that only David seemed able to incite. Suddenly, he forgot why he was so happy to see his friend only moments earlier.

           “I’m not in love with Karen,” Frank tried to summon up a little conviction, but missed the mark by miles. Instead, he sounded like a petulant child who refused to admit he’d taken the last cookie while his hand was still in the jar. “We’re just friends.” The words felt wrong in his mouth, heavy and unwieldy. Tasted like vinegar on his tongue—the way lies always do when you’re body decides to reject them.

           “Hmm,” David hummed a little disbelieving sound, and brought a hand up to his chin in a thoughtful gesture. “Now normally I would take you at your word, you being my closest friend and all, but I’m afraid you have a particularly bad case of chronic emotional constipation, Frank. It’s just one of your many quirks.” He shook his head sadly.

           Frank sputtered indignantly, before remembering that arguing with David was pointless. Always had been—the man was like a dog with a bone when he was trying to press his point. And suddenly, Frank didn’t have the energy to fight it.

           “You’re a smart guy, don’t get me wrong,” David waved a hand in the general direction of Frank’s many framed degrees. “But you’re unbelievably shit at understanding your own emotions.”

           “Oh, and I suppose you’re here to enlighten me?” Frank’s voice had a sardonic edge. He moved from Karen’s desk, grabbing her swivel chair to drag it in front of David. He sat down with a heavy thud.

           “Only if you’ll allow me,” David sounded way too amused—too pleased with himself. The throbbing in Frank’s forehead ticked up. “I only enlighten the willing.”

           Frank leaned forward with his elbows resting on his thighs, eyes narrowed and searching David’s face. The other man, for his part, tried to maintain a look of blasé innocence.

           “Talk,” was all that Frank said. He hated to admit it, but he was actually curious as to what David had to say. Because, as painful as it was, David did have a point, and Frank knew it—he had never been the best at sorting through his own confused jumble of emotions. And—yeah—he’d been having some complicated feelings about Karen for a while. Some complicated, white-knuckled feelings that sometimes left him a little breathless and gutted when he looked at her. So as much as it hurt him to admit, he’d take David’s insight if he was offering it.

           “Well,” David made a big show of stroking his hand across his jaw thoughtfully, “you’re a hard guy to read, I’ll give you that. But over the years I’d like to think I’ve become well-versed at recognizing the various mating rituals of the elusive Frank Castle. I’d say I’m somewhat of an expert. Maybe the only one in the world.” David was clearly enjoying himself, if the shit-eating grin on his face was anything to go by. It wasn’t often that Frank let the conversation veer into emotional territory, and David planned to savor the moment. Frank, for his part, was not amused.

           “If you’re gonna be a little shit about it—,” he made as though to get up from his chair, and David lurched forward to stay him with a hand on his arm.

           “Now, now, Frank,” David shook his head. “Don’t be so hasty.” Frank’s jaw ticked in that dangerous way—the way that said he was running out of patience. But David noticed, with some measure of satisfaction, that in spite of his annoyance, Frank settled back into his seat with little resistance. “I’m just having some fun.”

           “I’d appreciate it if your fun wasn’t at my expense,” Frank grunted. Having to turn to David for guidance was painful enough—but adding unnecessary teasing on top of it was a bridge too far.

           “Well, one of us should be having fun. From the look on your face, you’d think you were having a fucking root canal, instead of a conversation with a dear and valued friend,” David tried not to sound bitter about it. He did not succeed.

           “Yeah, sometimes talking to you feels like a fuckin’ root canal, buddy.”

           “Do you want my help or not?” David held his hands out in a take-it-or-leave-it gesture.

           “No,” Frank managed to speak through painfully-gritted teeth.

           “But you need it.” It wasn’t a question—it was a statement.

           A beat of silence, then:

           “Yes.”

David had never heard the word so grudgingly muttered. He let the quiet stretch out between them, as though checking to see that Frank was truly done with his complaining. When he was satisfied, David continued.

           “So let’s look at this from my perspective, huh?” He leaned back on the loveseat once more, looking vaguely philosophical. “I’ve known you for a long time, Frank. A long time,” he repeated for emphasis. “And you’re not exactly an easy guy to get along with. I mean, let’s be brutally honest: you’re a bit of a misanthrope. You’re inflexible, you’re unapproachable—you’re stubborn as hell. You can’t handle criticism. It’s practically impossible to pull any sort of real, meaningful, emotional conversation out of you. I mean, you’ve got your walls built up a thousand feet high. And I’m saying this as someone who loves you, man.”

           Frank would have been offended, but he was far too self-aware to even pretend David’s assessment was inaccurate. Insulting, sure, but not inaccurate.  Instead, he settled for grumbling in acknowledgement.

           “I mean, it took you years to even learn how to tolerate me,” David pressed a hand to his chest. “Some days I’m still not sure you really do.”

           Frank snorted, which David took as confirmation.

           “So what am I supposed to think when this Karen comes into your life, and all of the sudden…you’re none of those things? Not with her.” David leaned forward to make sure he had Frank’s attention. His voice, suddenly, sounded much more serious. Almost pleading. “I mean, come on, man. Look around you.” David gestured to the office, which was filled with little pieces of Karen everywhere he turned. “You’ve allowed this woman to come into your life and just—just turn it into something else. And not in a bad way,” David quickly amended, holding up a hand when he saw Frank frown. “Actually, in a really great way. I mean, this room feels like it’s alive, man. Like it’s a home. It’s a fucking office in a university building; that’s as impersonal as it gets. But it feels like a home. Do you get how crazy that is? How weird it is for me to see all this, and know that you had a part in creating it?”

           Frank wasn’t looking at David. He was focused instead on that throw blanket of Karen’s just over the other man’s shoulder. It was soft and plush—with a pattern of roses stitched around the edges. It was so not Frank. But dammit if he didn’t love that fucking throw blanket. Because it was Karen’s throw blanket. Because she’d bought it the day after she’d walked in on Frank taking a nap on the couch, and thought “I bet he’d sleep better with something warm.” Because it was more than just a blanket.

           “And it’s not just the office, Frank. It’s you.” David swept his hand up and down in Frank’s direction. “You’re different, man. You talk about Karen all the fucking time. I mean, all the time. I wish you could hear yourself. You’re voice gets all…all tender and shit. It weirded me out at first, gotta be honest.”

           Frank scoffed.

           “It’s true,” David shook his head. “You talk about her like she’s some kind of magical being that you can’t believe wandered into your life. With, like, this reverence I can’t wrap my mind around. It’s like you’re thinking about her all the time or something.”

           And Frank jerked back at that. Because David had hit it right on the mark.

It was true. He thought about Karen constantly—what she was doing, who she was with, if she was having a five-cups-of-coffee kind of day or a just-tea-for-me kind of day. Sometimes, when he was alone, he stopped and thought about the fact that Karen was out there, wherever—talking to other people, making them laugh, telling them crazy stories, caring for them in that quiet, graceful way of hers—and he started to feel jealous. Jealous of the fact that she was somewhere else, saying beautiful things, having soft little moments, making weird little jokes, and he wasn’t there to see them.

           Shit. Frank’s fingers started doing that fidgety thing they did when he got overwhelmed.

           “I just—I don’t know, Frank,” David scratched the back of his neck. “I’ve gotta be honest with you, because from the outside, it looks like you’re head over fucking heels with this woman. I mean, there’s no other explanation.” David smiled, but this time it was sincere—no trace of mocking or mischief. “All I can say is that the Frank I knew about four months ago isn’t the Frank I know now. You just—you seem happy. You seem content. Like you’re, I don’t know, the sunshiney version of yourself. The version of yourself that doesn’t kind of also hate yourself.”

           Fuck.

David was right. David was so, scarily right. Karen made him feel like he wasn’t so much of an asshole. Made him feel like a functioning, living, breathing real boy. Frank knew he could be difficult. Gruff, unfriendly, demanding, exacting. But the moment he crossed that threshold and saw Karen at her desk, making faces as she read through her students’ essays, all of that just dissolved. He became someone who was gentle. Who could be content and unburdened and relaxed. Someone with hands made to hold.

           “I mean, just answer me this, Frank,” David waited until he had Frank’s eyes on his own to speak, his voice solemn. “Does it ever scare you sometimes, what you’d be willing to do if she asked you?”

           Frank’s answer was a strangled kind of noise—something a little animal. David, being particularly knowledgeable in the numerous nuances of Frank’s grunts, could tell that it was an affirmation.

           “Good,” David nodded, running a hand through his messy hair. “Good.”

           There was a pause, in which David could almost see Frank’s mind at work. The idiot, he thought, he really didn’t know he was in love.

           The two men sat for a moment, silent. The office felt saturated in something strong—something that felt like inevitability.

           After a minute, David spoke again.

           “And, I mean…obviously you’re attracted to her.” Frank recognized the tone of David’s voice—it was the way he spoke when he was trying to lighten the mood after a serious conversation. “I mean,” he shifted in his seat, “I saw pictures of her online. Now, I’m a married man,” David pressed an adamant hand to his chest, “but come on.” He raised an impressed brow at Frank.

           Frank chuckled, and the tension in the room broke.

           “Yeah, I know. Don’t know how I get any work done.” Frank dragged a hand over his face. “Fuck.” The curse didn’t have any power behind it, only a kind of delighted, terrified resignation.

           “Yep, buddy,” David leaned forward and patted Frank’s shoulder. “You’re in love. Scary, huh?”

           Frank let out a huff, shaking his head. “You have no idea.”

           “You know, I find it kind of weird that you needed me to explain that to you,” David picked up his scotch, which he’d abandoned on the arm of the loveseat sometime during the conversation. “I mean, you’ve been in love before. You were married, you moron.”

           “Wasn’t the same,” Frank was staring at his hands—his fidgety, restless hands.

           “What do you mean, it wasn’t the same?” David furrowed his brow. “Isn’t love just…love?” He wouldn’t know, he’d only been in love once. It had only ever been Sarah for him.

           “No, it—it’s just different,” Frank couldn’t find the words to explain what he meant, and that was an uncomfortable sensation. “Just—just more, this time. More of everything.”

Falling in love with Maria had felt like jumping off of a cliff. It had happened so fast—too fast for Frank to even think. One moment he was just Frank, and then the next, he was in love, and married, and a father. Like he’d tipped over the edge, and fallen into this new life. And maybe that’s why their marriage hadn’t lasted—you can only free fall for so long before you hit the ground.

           Falling love with Karen had felt like falling asleep in the bathtub—letting go one muscle at a time and sinking into something warm and safe. Like waking up slowly on a Saturday morning and knowing that nothing in the world could touch you so long as you stayed in bed. Like going home. And that, somehow, was just so much more. He had built something with Karen—he hadn’t just fallen into her—he’d created something with her.

           That’s probably why he hadn’t recognized the feeling earlier; he’d never felt it before. Never felt it like this.

           “Jesus Christ,” Frank muttered, “I need another fuckin’ drink.”

           Karen Page, you are such a fucking coward. As Karen stepped into the cool night, leaving the warm, whiskey air of the bar behind, the thought entered her mind unbidden. A spineless coward.

           Hitching her bag further up her shoulder and shoving her hands ruthlessly into her pockets, Karen shook her head at the thought, as though she could make it go away. She’d just spent the past two hours sitting at the bar with Trish, trying to go over some changes to the other woman’s dissertation proposal. Trying being the operative word. Because the entire time, all Trish wanted to talk about was why Karen hadn’t admitted her feelings to Frank yet. Every time Karen had asked a question about a source for the lit review, or about how the dissertation panel selection was coming along, Trish had countered with a question about Karen’s cowardly refusal to just make a confession already. An embarrassing amount of time had passed, uneventfully, since the afternoon of the pit bull video, and Karen was still carrying around her feelings for Frank like her own private burden.

           Avoiding a puddle of what looked disturbingly like vomit, Karen continued her trek back to campus, and wondered (not for the first time), why she’d bothered to tell Trish about her situation. The woman was so nosy—as all natural-born reporters were. It was just that—god—it was so nice to have female friends to confide in, and Karen had never been any good at keeping her feelings bottled up inside. They always needed to find an outlet—and Trish had been Karen’s outlet. Karen’s nosey, over-involved outlet.

           It’s not that she didn’t want to tell Frank about her feelings. She did—or at least she thought she did. Of course she had some apprehensions about the whole thing: What if he didn’t feel the same way about her? What if it made things awkward between them? What if their entire friendship fell apart because of it?

But she also had a lot of hope—hope that he would be understanding. Hope that he would maybe—just maybe—return her feelings. Hope that, even if he didn’t, their friendship would be strong enough to overcome the awkwardness that would inevitably ensue.

           And Karen was brave, damnit. It was part of her identity—something she felt defined her. Unafraid of new experiences, unafraid of failure, unafraid of getting hurt. Which was why it was so annoying that she had such a mental block about telling Frank how she felt. But it just seemed so…so fucking important. Massive. Life-altering.

           Karen smiled and waved at one of her students, who was frantically running to the bus stop, as she reached the outer edge of campus. She wondered if Frank would be in the office when she arrived—he didn’t have the kids this weekend, and he liked to use the Fridays they were with Maria to spend some guy-time with Curtis. If he was there, Karen resolved, tonight would be the night she would tell him. She was sure of it.

           But then again, she’d made the same resolution a million times over the past few weeks. She was going to tell him over Chinese food last week, but had ended up distracted by his explanation of how quarks had been discovered. Then she had planned on telling him a few days later, as they sat in the car on the way to a party at Foggy’s (at which she had avoided Matt like the plague)…but she’d lost her nerve when Frank started singing along to Earth, Wind, and Fire’s “Shining Star” under his breath, and she’d fallen in love with him all over again. And, more recently, when Frank had come over to her house to watch the premier of that ridiculous fantasy show she liked to watch on HBO, but she’d decided she didn’t want to tell Frank she loved him with an incestuous sex scene playing in the background.

           So maybe Karen wasn’t that great at keeping this particular resolution. She huffed out a sigh, watching her breath become mist in the chilly air, and tilted her head back to look up at the stars. She supposed, in the grand scheme of things, that this wasn’t so terrible a dilemma. She was lucky, she told herself, if the most pressing issue in her life was how to tell a man she loved him. What a beautiful problem to have. To be capable of love—to be filled with the stuff—to the point of overflowing. As she walked forward, breathing deeply of the winter-sweet air, Karen felt a brief and startling rush of euphoria—felt, for a mere moment, how unbelievably magnificent it was to be alive. To be breathing and heaving along; to be on the brink of something huge. And as quickly as the feeling had rushed upon her, it faded away, leaving Karen with a mystified feeling.

           As she neared the Physics building, she looked up toward the window of the office. Noticing the light was still on, her breath caught in her throat. He was there—she would tell him tonight. Surrounded by the little home they’d made together, out of books and ungraded papers and takeout cartons, she would tell him that she loved him.

           She paused a moment, to watch the play of shadows as they danced before the window. She saw what was clearly Frank’s shadow move across the back wall of the office—then her heart sank as she saw another shadow follow close behind.

           Shit. Frank had company.

           Karen scuffed the toe of her boot along the sidewalk, and contemplated turning around and just going home. She didn’t want to interrupt whatever he had going on—probably Curtis stopping by before they left for “boy’s night.” But then she remembered that she’d left her laptop on her desk, charging. And she couldn’t go the entire weekend without her laptop. With a sigh, because her big confession would have to wait, she made her way into the building.

           “No, no, no, that’s not what happened.” David’s voice, he knew, was beginning to slide ever-closer into “drunk slurring” territory, but he wasn’t too bothered. That’s the thing about being tipsy—you’re never bothered by anything when you’re tipsy.  “Listen, listen,” David reached out in an attempt to grab Frank by the shoulder, but leaned forward a little too far and almost slid right off of the floor cushion he was sitting on. Catching himself quickly, he continued adamantly. “You were the one who gave Lisa the baseball bat, Frank, not me. So technically it was your fault.”

           “But you were the one that gave her the ball, David.” Frank, while beginning to show his own signs of inebriation (glassy, unfocused eyes; diminished coordination), was slightly less tipsy than David. He, at least, was able to maintain an upright position on top of his own floor cushion. “If I’m gonna take the blame for giving her the bat, then you gotta take the blame for the ball.”

           “But—”

           “Nuh uh,” Frank pointed sharply at David, cutting him off. His arm barely avoided knocking over the almost-empty bottle of scotch that sat between them on the coffee table. “You were also the one that bet her she couldn’t hit a ball over the roof. Like an idiot.”

           “I—hey—,” David held his hands up defensively. “How was I supposed to know she’d actually try to do it? I’m not a—a—,” David searched for the right word; couldn’t find it. “A person who knows the future.” Close enough.

           “You—but,” Frank sputtered, disbelieving. “Have you met my kid, Lieberman? How could you not know she’d try?”

           “Yeah but, I mean, how was I supposed to know she’d break three windows?” David was grasping at straws. “I thought she’d, y’know, have better aim!”

           “She was eight,” Frank exclaimed, exasperated.

           “Yeah, but—I mean,” David made some vague gesture with his hands—Frank wasn’t sure what it was supposed to signify, “she was a very mature eight.”

           “Sarah agreed with me that it was your fault,” Frank shook his head.

           “Yeah, but Sarah—,” David stopped suddenly, his eyes unfocusing on Frank and refocusing on something else (with great effort). Frank watched, puzzled, as David’s facial expression changed almost instantly into something he could only describe as manic glee. “Well hello there!”

           Frank turned around, following the direction of David’s gaze, and saw Karen standing in the doorway of the office, a dumbfounded look on her face. She looked like all of his fantasies come to life.

           “Karen.”                                                                                                          

           David may have been slightly-sloshed, but even in his altered state, he noticed the way that Frank said her name—in that soft, thoughtful little way. Like even just speaking it out loud was a privilege he couldn’t believe he had. It was still a little disconcerting for David to hear.

           “Well now I know how it feels to be the only one who wasn’t invited to the party,” Karen leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, and a smile fighting its way to her face.

           “That was my entire life story in high school,” David muttered. Karen snorted, tilting her head in David’s direction with curiosity. Suddenly, he seemed to remember that it was generally considered polite to introduce yourself to people you hadn’t yet met. “Oh, I—,” he attempted to jump up from his cross-legged position on the cushion, but snagged his foot on the leg of the coffee table in the process, tumbling to the ground instead.

           Karen jerked forward, arms out, as though in attempt to catch him. Frank, whose reactions were slowed by the scotch, reached out to help a solid three seconds too late, and let his arms drop limply to his sides.

           “Well shit,” David didn’t even make an attempt to get up. He just laid on the floor, sprawled out, staring up at Karen. “I’m David. Sorry ‘bout that.”

           “I, uh—I actually know who you are,” Karen managed to stifle her laughter long enough to approach David and offer him a hand. “I’ve seen your picture before. I’m Karen.”

           David took her hand, and she leaned back, using her weight to hoist him into a sitting position. Instead of releasing her hand once he was upright, David shook it (with a little too much zeal).

           “Back atcha, Karen,” David’s grin was downright ridiculous. “About seeing your picture, I mean.”

           Frank, who had been watching the exchange with trepidation, decided to cut in. He wasn’t entirely sure David could be trusted to talk to Karen while drunk—the man had never been particularly fantastic about keeping secrets while sober, and he tended to get extra chatty when he was buzzed.

           “Uh, sorry about taking over the office, Kare. We can be out of your hair if you need the space,” Frank watched Karen release David’s hand and turn toward him with a smile. For a moment, Frank felt his heart squeeze roughly in his chest at that look. He’d had a similar reaction to her smile before, but now he had a name for it. Now he knew why it hit him with such inescapable force.

           “Don’t be ridiculous Frank,” Karen dismissed him with a wave of her hand, “I wouldn’t ruin your fun. Just came to grab my laptop.” She pointed over her shoulder to her desk.

           “Oh, you should stay!” David clapped his hands together. “We were just reminiscing about the time Frank let his daughter hit a baseball through my front window!”

           “That is not what happened,” Frank glared pointedly at David, “and I’m sure Karen has more important things to do.”

           “Uh,” Karen looked back at her laptop, which was waiting for her with a half-finished syllabus, “I actually don’t really have anything else going on.”

           “See!” David threw his hands up. “It’s cosmic, uh,” he cast about to find the right word, “It’s—kismet! The lady has no place to go on a Friday night, and we’re having a party. Meant to be.”

           Frank gritted his teeth. If Karen stayed the evening, the chances of David saying something terrible and embarrassing shot way up. But he also didn’t like the idea of Karen going home alone to an empty apartment when she could be here, with him.

           “You sure you don’t have something you need to do?” Frank looked at Karen, who was grinning at David, obviously entertained by his befuddled state. “You don’t have to humor us or anything.”

           “Nope,” Karen shook her head, sending her curls flying back and forth. In his tipsy state, Frank thought they looked even more like spun gold than normal.

           “Oh, ignore him,” David scoffed at Frank. “He’s just worried I’ll say something embarrassing to you. Like tell you about the time he gave blood without eating beforehand, and when I went to pick him up and take him to lunch, he passed out in the Chipotle.”

“Jesus Christ,” Frank put his head in his hands. He was going to regret this entire night, he could already tell.

David laughed, patting the floor cushion next to his own in an invitation for Karen to sit. She cast a quick glance in Frank’s direction, silently asking his permission—she really didn’t want to intrude on their time, as she knew that Frank didn’t get to see David all that often. When he shrugged resignedly, she took her seat next to David (who noticed, with utter delight, that Karen reached out to subtly squeeze Frank’s forearm in ‘hello’ as she sat).

           “That story sounds amazing.” Karen unbuttoned her coat, tossing it in the general direction of the coat rack. “Do go on.”

           “Actually, uh,” David looked confused for a moment. “I think that was the whole story.”

           Karen almost choked on an unexpected laugh.

           “But,” David was quick to add, “I have a lot more where that one came from.”

           “Careful, buddy,” Frank raised a warning brow at his friend, “you’re not the only one with ammo here.”

           “Yes, but all the stories you have about me are charming,” David planted an elbow on the coffee table and cupped his chin in his hand, grinning widely. “I’m a charming man.”

           “Not nearly so much as you think you are,” Frank rolled his eyes with a smile.

           Karen watched the interaction with great interest. It was so fascinating to see Frank converse with David—to see him so at ease with someone who wasn’t her. There was an affection behind Frank’s eyes that warmed Karen right down to her toes.

           “Alright, alright,” David sighed, “I’ll only tell the stories that make you look good. Though I don’t have as many of those.”

           Frank grabbed a pen from on top of the coffee table and flung it at David’s head. David’s reactions were too slow to be of much help, but luckily Frank’s aim was equally as impaired, so the pen missed by inches.

           Karen shook her head, lips quirking. “I feel bad that I don’t have someone here threatening to tell all of my embarrassing stories.”

           “Well, you’ll just have to tell them yourself,” David reached behind himself to find the discarded pen. He flung it back at Frank, who didn’t even attempt to dodge it, it was so off-course.

           “I’m afraid Frank already knows most of my embarrassing stories,” Karen sent Frank a look that David could only call ‘lovesick.’ Jesus, these two, he thought with an internal sigh.

           “Well I don’t,” David pinned Karen with an eager look. “And that hardly seems fair.”

           And that was how Frank ended up sitting on the floor of the office listening to Karen recount the story about how she had been absent on the day they taught sex-ed in 6th grade, and had been so scared there’d be a quiz over it when she got back, that she locked herself in the hallway closet with the encyclopedia and read the entry on “sex.”

           (Just as it had the first time, the story had him laughing and groaning in equal parts).

           This had been followed up by an anecdote from David—about the time he’d tried to scare his kids on Halloween by turning the house into a haunted mansion while they were at school, only to succeed so tremendously that Zach literally shit his pants. That, somehow, turned into David talking about how much his kids loved their Uncle Frank. Frank had a sneaking suspicion that David had willfully steered the conversation in that direction in order to talk him up to Karen. Play wingman.

           It worked, because as Karen sat there, engrossed in David’s story about the time Frank taught Leo to play “Smoke on the Water” on the guitar, she felt those soft parts of her heart devoted solely to Frank thump wildly.

           Frank was content to watch his best friend and the woman he recently realized he was in love with bond. Occasionally, he did interject a correction when he felt that David was telling a story inaccurately (which was often, because David was prone to exaggeration). But for the most part, he sat and listened as Karen charmed the pants off of a slowly-sobering David (as he knew she would), while David did a little charming of his own. There was an entire stretch of conversation that left Frank baffled, as David and Karen realized they were both super fans of the Discworld series. This led to a long and winding conversation about how amazing Terry Pratchett was (Karen went off on her little rant, one Frank had heard many times before, about how Pratchett was the world’s most severely-underrated fantasy author). It was nice, seeing everything just click. Karen made sense here—with him. In his life.

           It wasn’t until two in the morning that David finally decided to call it quits. Frank was surprised that his friend had lasted that long, as he wasn’t exactly a night owl these days.

           “Alright kids,” David had managed to speak around a yawn, “I’d love to do the whole all-nighter thing with you, but I’m shit out of energy.” He stretched with his arms above his head, and his back made a rather disturbing popping noise. God, he was getting old.

           “You need a ride to the hotel?” Frank began patting at his pockets, looking for his keys.

           “Nah, don’t worry about it,” David pulled out his phone. “Uber’s easier. I’m trying to get my 4.8 passenger rating up to a 5 anyway. Don’t know why the fuck I got docked .2 points.”

           “I’m surprised your rating is that high, honestly,” Frank muttered, shaking his head.

           “Hey—I’m a great passenger. Very polite. And extremely not-murdery. Which, y’know, is important.” David began gathering up his coat and his scarf, bundling up to protect against the chilly, early morning air.

           Karen stood up to say her goodbyes.

           “It was great meeting you, David,” her voice was muffled by the big bear hug he pulled her into, with her face smashed against his scratchy scarf.

           “You have no idea how great it was,” David gave her a squeeze before releasing her. Frank shrugged when Karen shot him a quick, amused look.

           “Am I gonna see you again before you leave?” Frank asked.

           “Well Sarah wants me to stop by Maria’s on Sunday to pick up a casserole dish we left at her place forever ago. Apparently, it’s a very important casserole dish. So if you stop by, then yeah,” David was looking at his phone, so he didn’t see the way Frank froze up at the mention of Maria.

           But Karen did. It was so strange—every time the conversation veered toward mention of his ex-wife, Frank got a little cagey. Like he wasn’t exactly comfortable talking about the other woman with Karen. And she couldn’t for the life of her figure out why; everything else seemed to be fair game with Frank, but only Maria was a topic non grata.

           “Uh, yeah, I’ll definitely stop by,” Frank sounded a little guarded—a little uncomfortable. He grabbed his own coat from the rack. “Let me see you off man.”

           Karen stayed behind in the office as Frank walked David to the curb to wait for his ride. She wanted to give them some alone time to say goodbye.

           Whenever Frank left the office, he seemed to take a majority of the air with him. It felt colder when it was just Karen—lonely.

           With a sigh, she sat on one of the floor cushions, then decided that she needed to lay down, grabbing another one to pad her head. Staring up at the ceiling, with its cracked crown molding, she thought about the Maria problem.

           Not that Maria herself was a problem. Just that Frank’s unwillingness to even broach the subject of Maria felt a little…off. Usually, when a man didn’t want to talk about his ex, it was for one of two reasons: he was either still bitter about the break-up, or he was still in love. Karen knew that it wasn’t the former with Frank—there was no anger there, not toward his ex-wife. He never seemed tense or irritable after picking up his kids at her place, or spending the afternoon with her at Lisa’s baseball games.

           But she also didn’t think it was the latter—or, at least, she hoped it wasn’t. As far as she could tell, Frank actually kind of liked Maria’s new boyfriend. She didn’t think a man still in love with his ex-wife would be so forgiving of a romantic rival.

           Which left Karen confused. She couldn’t think of any other reason he would get so damn tense every time Maria was mentioned. (She, of course, did not even consider the most obvious reason of all—that Frank wasn’t sure how to bring up the woman he used to be in love with to the woman he was currently in love with).

           After a few minutes, Karen began to drift off, her eyes growing heavy. She was awoken what felt like mere moments later by a gentle hand on her head. She cracked her eyes open to see Frank crouching over her, his thumb rubbing across her temple.

           “Time to go home?” His voice was quiet, and he smelled like crisp, outside air. Karen breathed deep.

           “No. Not tired,” Karen shook her head. She wanted to talk.

           Frank raised a skeptical brow, but the adamant look on Karen’s face brokered no argument. She had that “we need to talk” look. With Karen, that look never terrified him the way it did when other people wore it. Karen’s “we need to talk” was always gentle. With a sigh, he tapped her head lightly. “Up.”

           Karen lifted her head, and Frank took its place on the cushion.

           They sat, facing each other, nothing between them, close enough that the toe of Karen’s right foot brushed Frank’s knee. The position should have felt strange; a little too intimate. But it didn’t. It felt natural. There was something about the atmosphere at that moment—the way a room always feels after it’s been cleared of good company—like the lingering effects of comradery still hang about. It felt like the kind of space where a man like Frank and a woman like Karen could rest against each other.

           There was a moment of silence—relaxing, comfortable silence—then Karen spoke.

           “You never talk about Maria.” It wasn’t a question; it was a statement. Said in that way Karen had when she was trying to set the topic of conversation; letting you know that this is what you were going to talk about, regardless of your feelings on the subject.

           Frank made a kind of grunting noise. Karen, like David, knew him well enough to recognize it as a confirmation that he was listening.

           “I just…” Karen trailed off a little bit, biting her lip. “I just think it’s strange, y’know? You talk about your kids all the time. About David. And even Curtis. But not Maria.”

           “Does that bother you?” Frank began to absent-mindedly pick at a loose thread on the seam of his jeans.

           “No,” Karen shook her head. “You don’t have to talk about things you don’t want to. That never bothers me. I was just curious.”

           “Hmmm,” Frank made a considering noise. After a moment, he nodded to himself. “Do you—” he thought about how to phrase the question. “Are you curious about her?”

           Karen brought her hand up, chewing the end of her thumbnail thoughtfully. “Yeah, I kind of am.”

           “Why?” His voice was quiet—curious.

           “I guess because,” Karen lifted a shoulder in a half-shrug. “Because I feel like I know everything else about your life. Except for the parts that have to do with her.”  

           “Okay,” Frank nodded again, rolling his shoulders. “Okay. What do you want to know?”

           “Anything.” Karen pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs. She looked so small that way, Frank felt something delicate twinge in his chest.

           “Uhm,” Frank scratched the back of his neck. “She lives in Westchester. She works in the HR department of a pharmaceutical company. She’s on the PTA, but she hates it. She plays tennis with her friends on the weekends. She has one brother, who—”

           Karen interrupted him with a chuckle. “I feel like you’re giving me a fast facts sheet about her, Frank. I don’t need to know her social security number.”

           “Well you’re the reporter, Page.” Frank cocked his head to the side and smirked. “Ask better questions.”

           “Okay, uhm,” Karen scrunched her nose in thought. “How’d you meet?”

           “I was getting my Master’s in Material’s Science at MIT. She was working in a little bakery across the street from the library. I had my eye on her for a while before I got up the nerve to ask her out. And the rest is history,” Frank shrugged.

           “’The rest is history’?” Karen scoffed. “You can’t just end a story with ‘the rest is history.’ It’s bad storytelling.”

           “Oh, well excuse me,” Frank grinned. “Didn’t know I was being graded on my handling of narrative, Dr. Page.”

           “Sorry,” Karen didn’t look at all apologetic. “Continue.”

“Uh. We dated for three months before she got pregnant. Asked her to marry me the day she broke the news. We were together for five years.” Frank pinned Karen with a pointed look. “That better?”

           “Not much, but it’s something. You are definitely not a natural-born storyteller,” Karen shook her head sadly.

“I’m a scientist, Kare. Not Dr. Seuss,” Frank nudged Karen with his foot.

“Thank God for that,” Karen frowned, “His books always creeped me out as a kid.”

Frank chuckled, shaking his head. Karen was always dropping strange little tidbits about her life into conversation, and then never explaining them. He supposed it was just part of her appeal—she was mystifying.

Karen played with the hem of her shirt as she thought.

“What’s she like? Y’know, as a person?”

           Frank didn’t quite know how to answer that. Some days he thought he knew Maria like he knew himself, and other days she felt like a stranger. People were like that, he supposed—full of secrets and contradictions and private little corners. And maybe that was part of the problem with the two of them, he’d never learned how to uncover all the parts of Maria that she kept hidden away.

           After a moment of thought, Frank spoke.

           “She’s…a great mother. Just a natural at it—compassionate, understanding, but tough. Doesn’t let those kids get away with anything. If they turn out alright, it’ll be because of her,” Frank glanced up at the ceiling.

           Karen poked his thigh in a “go on” kind of gesture. “Uh, she’s traditional, I guess. When we were married, she did the whole wife staying home with the kids thing. She grew up Catholic, so--y’know--very concerned with doing things the ‘right way.’ A lot of times we didn’t really agree what the ‘right way’ was. Or if it even existed.” Frank sighed. He looked down at Karen, whose eyes were somewhere far off. When she noticed his pause, she glanced at him.

           “More,” she said quietly. “I like hearing you talk like this.”

“She’s—uh, a very passionate person. She loves really hard, and she hates maybe harder. Everything’s black and white to her—no shades of gray. Makes her hell to argue with. Just unable to compromise; unable to see anyone else’s side.”

           Frank began to fidget a little bit, picking at a loose thread on the floor cushion. Karen watched the movements of his fingers.

           “She’s stubborn as hell, too. Doesn’t know how to walk away from a fight. Doesn’t believe in it.” He paused. “But she’s loyal to a fault, and fearless. And generous—gives a lot of herself to other people.” Frank was a little bit surprised how effortlessly all of this was coming out. It might have been Karen—how easy it was to be honest when she was watching him with those understanding eyes—and it may have been the fact that he’d been holding all of this inside of him for far too long.

           “She sounds like an amazing person,” Karen’s smile was far away, as she tried to hold an image of Maria in her mind. Tried to piece her together with Frank’s words.

           “Yeah, she is. I think you two would get along.” Frank tapped a knuckled against Karen’s knee gently.

           Karen thought for a moment, about how to best ask her next question.

           “So why, uh—” Karen squirmed a little, nervously. “Why didn’t it work out with you two?”

           Frank had been expecting it, so he wasn’t surprised. Of course she’d want to know about the break-up—wasn’t that always the most dramatic part? Frank might not have been a great storyteller, but people, he knew, liked endings. They liked to have a tidy little bow wrapped around their stories.

           “Well,” Frank let out a puff of air, “we only dated for three months before we got married. You know, those three months are exciting; the honeymoon period,” Frank ran a hand over his jaw. “Lots to talk about—your past, your family, your future. It’s like, just getting to know someone else—it takes up all your time.” He dropped his hand to pick at the cushion again. “Then she was pregnant, and we were talking about the kid nonstop. Planning, panicking. And then the wedding—all the arrangements and preparations. Then we actually had the kid, and your life just becomes being a parent. Talking about school and sports and punishments and how to not fuck them up for life.”

           Karen was captivated—she always was whenever Frank spoke like this, candidly. He didn’t often talk about himself for more than a moment at a time, but when he did, Karen was mesmerized.

           “Being a parent—I mean, that shit consumes your life. You just forget how to be the person you were before. And you forget how to be a couple. Strong couples—they survive. Because they remember what it was like to just be the two of them, as a team,” Frank paused, staring off. “Maria and I…we weren’t together long enough to get to that place before being Mom and Dad. We skipped passed that whole stage.”

           “So what happened? You just…woke up one day and realized you…” Karen trailed off, unsure, “you just weren’t in love anymore?”

           “Actually, something like that,” Frank tilted his head in a half-nod. “We went out on a date this one night, and we made this rule, right? That we wouldn’t talk about the kids? Not even once—no kid talk. And it was…it was rough. We sat there, for two hours, with nothing to say to each other.”

           Karen tried to imagine it—sitting across from Frank without anything to say. Tried to imagine feeling awkward or unsure around him. She found that she couldn’t.

           “We just…I guess we didn’t really have anything in common, y’know? Didn’t remember how to talk to each other. We’d never learned.” Frank ran a hand across his jaw. “We’d gone from getting to know each other, to being married with kids so quickly. Never took the time to figure out if we worked together.”

           “Hmmm.” Karen chewed her bottom lip, brow furrowed. She’d only been in love once before Frank, and it had ended badly. Like ‘I will call the cops if you show up at my apartment again’ badly. So she couldn’t imagine love ending any other way—ending peacefully, on its own time. “Do you still love her?”

           Frank jerked back, surprised. He had not been expecting that question.

           “I mean,” Karen was quick to clarify, “like, in the way that one human being loves another human being. Generally.”

           “Generally?” Frank frowned, confused.

           “You know, in a—” Karen gesticulated vaguely, searching for a way to explain herself. “In a kind of ‘you’re terrific at being a human and I’m glad you exist’ kind of way.”

           “You’re asking me if I’m glad my ex-wife exists?” Frank chuckled.

           “No—I mean, obviously you’re glad she exists, I mean—”

           “I know what you meant,” Frank gave a lopsided grin. “Yeah. Think I always will love her. I’m just not in love with her.”

           Karen knew as much, but it was still a relief to hear him say it.

           She let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, and Frank’s grin slid into something a little softer.

Suddenly, the air in the room seemed to grow thicker; become heavy with something that felt an awful lot like anticipation. Karen became newly aware of just how close she and Frank were sitting. She could even see the tiny laugh lines beginning to form at the outer corners of his eyes; could probably count his lashes if she tried.

She’d forgotten, over the years, that love could be such a physical sensation. That it was more than just the head and heart that got involved, but the body as well. That it could make your spine tingle so deliciously—that it could make your skin feel like it was buzzing. The pull deep in her gut ached pleasantly when she looked at Frank, and Karen smiled. It felt so good to be alive. It felt so good to want this strongly.

Frank noticed his heart begin to thud uncontrollably in his chest, as his eyes flitted over Karen’s face. She was just so fucking beautiful, staring at him like that. With those wide, gentle eyes, and that sleepy little smile. Looking at him like she had all the time in the world—like everything she had was there, in the room, between the two of them.

“I—” Frank spoke, and his voice came out husky. Karen’s fingers twitched with the sudden desire to reach out and drag down his throat, feel the vibrations of that deep, low voice pulse through them. She curled them into her palms instead.

He cleared his voice—tried again. “I learned a lot from Maria. About myself.”

“Oh yeah?” Karen’s voice was equally as wrecked—breathy.

“About what I want.” Frank’s eyes darted down to Karen’s lips, so quickly that she didn’t register the glance. “About what I need.”

“And what would that be?” Karen felt herself swaying slightly, almost imperceptibly, closer to Frank. He noticed, with singular interest, the way her bottom lip was glistening. Fuck.

He was going to do it. He was going to tell her.

He could taste the words on his tongue—sweet and right.

“Karen, I—”

The chorus of Styx’s “Mr. Roboto” cut through the thick undercurrent of breathless tension that permeated the room. Karen jerked back at the sound, startled.

“Motherfucker,” Frank muttered under his breath. David. He wouldn’t answer the phone for anyone else, but if David was calling, it was probably important. He jammed his hand into his back pocket—a little more violently than strictly necessary—and ripped out his phone.

“David?” The man’s name came out like a bad word. And, at that moment, it felt like a bad word

Karen watched while Frank listened to whatever David had to say, observing the play of emotions flit across his face, mostly exasperation and disbelief.

“Are you sure you don’t—.” A pause; a sigh. “Well, did you check—?” Another pause. A heavier sigh. Then resigned acceptance.

“Yeah. I’ll find it. Give me a minute and I’ll be there.” Frank hung up, his lips pressed in a tight line.

“Everything okay?” Karen’s voice vacillated somewhere between concerned and strained.

“David left his wallet here. It’s got his key card in it. And the concierge won’t give him the spare without his ID, which,” Frank groaned as he stood up, “is in his wallet.”

“Oh, well,” Karen bit her lip uncertainly. “I guess I should probably be getting home anyway. It’s late—uh, early.” She corrected, massaging the back of her neck. A small part of her was hoping that Frank would say something else—anything else—to address the moment from earlier. To at least recognize that something had been happening there.

Instead, he just looked at her over his shoulder as he rummaged around for David’s phone, something tight and pulsing in his eyes. Something she couldn’t even begin to name.

“Want me to drive you home?” He found the phone under the loveseat, sliding it into his pocket as he watched Karen shrug into her coat.

“No, that’s okay,” Karen smiled mildly. “I want to walk. The cold air will keep me awake.”

“Okay.” Frank stood a little awkwardly with his hands in his pockets.

“Okay.” Karen nodded to herself. She paused a moment, mulling something over in her head. Then she took three steps across the office toward Frank.

“Thank you,” she spoke quietly, leaning forward with her hand on his arm, brushing a kiss against his cheek. In a moment, all of Frank’s awareness centered in on the feeling of her lips against his skin.

“For what?” He barely breathed it out.

“For everything, Frank,” Karen shrugged lightly, releasing his arm. “For being exactly who you are, I guess.”

By the time Frank was able to respond, Karen had already waved goodbye and walked out the door. He waited until he heard the elevator ding open before letting out a long string of expletives.

He was going to kill David.

[dorevenge]

where ignorance is bliss - chapter 15: and follow

SUMMARY: Tony is home for the holidays, and Howard has one last mission before he and Maria go on vacation. (last chapter!!) [AO3 LINK]

CHAPTERS: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 [15] ☆

December 16, 1991 – Manhattan, New York City, Stark Manor

“Wake up, dear, and say goodbye to your father,” I say to Tony, hearing Howard’s footsteps enter from behind me. Tony is passed out on the couch beside me, covered in a red blanket, snoring softly. I sit at the piano, singing to myself as I wait for Howard to get ready to leave.

“Who’s the homeless person on the couch?” Howard asks as he lifts the blanket off Tony’s head. Tony rouses himself, groaning, and adjusts the Santa hat he’s wearing.

“This is why I love coming home for Christmas,” Tony retorts, matching Howard’s tone. “Right before you leave town.” They still fight like cats and dogs, fire and ice, baking soda and vinegar. It breaks my hard, so I keep playing at the piano to avoid the conflict. We were so close to making it out the door without an emotional explosion.

“Be nice, dear, he’s been studying abroad,” I say, closing my eyes to focus on the keys before me.

Howard gears himself up for another response. “Really, which broad? What’s her name?” He snatches Tony’s hat from his head.

“Candice,” Tony says sheepishly.

“Do me a favor,” continues Howard, “Try not to burn the house down before Monday.”

“Okay, so it’s Monday. That’s good to know. I will plan my toga party accordingly. Where you going?” Tony asks me.

“Your father’s flying us to the Bahamas for a little getaway,” I reply.

“Weren’t you just in France?”

“That was only for a couple days for our anniversary. This will be a week.”

“We might have to make a quick stop,” Howard starts.

“At the Pentagon,” Tony interrupts, finishing for his father with a sly smile. “Right? Don’t worry, you’re gonna love the holiday with the commissary.”

“You know, they say sarcasm is a metric for potential. If that’s true, you’ll be a great man someday. I’ll get the bags,” Howard says on his way out of the room, not able to resist one more dig at Tony.

Once Howard is gone, I say “He does miss you when you’re not here. And, frankly, you’re going to miss us,” I rise from the piano and walk to Tony. “Because this is the last time we’re all going to be together. You know what’s about to happen. Say something.” I place a hand on his arm to pull him in to me, to try to make him listen. “If you don’t, you’ll regret it.”

Howard reenters the room, carrying both of our luggage. Tony looks from me to him. They pause. Howard’s cold brown eyes hold Tony’s eye contact for longer than he’s comfortable. Tony breaks first and looks at his feet.

“Would you two leave already?” he asks, pulling away from my grasp on his arm. “I told my friends the party starts at 6. It’s 5:50, I don’t want you to ruin the vibe before it has a chance to start.”

Despite Tony pulling away from me, I grab his shoulder to kiss him on the cheek. He’s already taller than me. He has to let me kiss him goodbye because I’m his mother, and he doesn’t fight it. “Goodbye, dear. Lock the door behind us, please.” I wave to Edwin as I step out onto the front porch. Howard follows right behind me.

Before the door closes behind us, Tony shouts, “I’ll send Candice your regards!” and shuts the door with a force. Edwin helps Howard load the luggage in the trunk, wishes us a “Happy Christmas” before returning inside. Howard gets in the driver’s seat and starts the car, turning up the heater.

Outside, snow is just beginning to fall. Howard rubs his hands together to warm them up as a thin layer of white covers the lawn and dusts the lampposts.

“Are we really stopping by the Pentagon?”

Howard sighs. “It’s on the way.”

“Is it the serum you showed me last month?”

“Yes. I have a full batch finished and ready to deploy, the test subjects ready and waiting. Everything is in place. Once we deliver it, as far as I’m concerned, Project Brooklyn is done. I’ll retire once this is in the hands of General Ross. Promise.”

“Is this the kind of promise that you’ll keep?” I ask him. I know Howard, faults and all, far too well.

He smiles at me. “Yes, dear.”

It gets dark very quickly, as it does in the winter, and we haven’t seen any other cars in several miles. We’ve only been driving for an hour, it’s not even 7pm, but we can’t see more than twenty feet ahead of us. It’s a quiet drive to Washington. Howard keeps fiddling with the heat dial, and I warm myself with thoughts of the Bahamas.

A motorcycle comes up behind up. I can hear its engine, and I turn to see it tailgating us. Howard steps on the gas and the car responds.

“Let him pass,” I say to Howard.

“I am! I’m already going ten over the speed limit. He can pass if he wants to, I’m not gonna speed even more in this weather,” Howard replies. The motorcyclist behind us continues to rev the engine. He then goes around us, passing in the left lane before taking off.

“Good riddance,” I say to myself, and rest my head on the window next to me.

A moment passes, and there’s the motorcycle, standing still, in the middle of the road.

“Howard,” I say, and he’s already slamming on the brakes, a horrible screeching filling the air. “Howard!” He swerves to avoid it, and we careen to the left.

We hit a tree on the side of the road. The front of the car crunches horribly. My head throbs. Smoke pours out of the engine and into the cab, fogging my vision. I hear the motorcycle turn back around towards us, its headlight cutting through the smoke. “Howard,” I say hoarsely, reaching for him. His face is smattered with blood. His nose is probably broken, but he’s awake. I can’t open my door from the inside.

“I’ll open it from the outside,” Howard says, squeezing my hand three times. He opens his door, undoes his seatbelt, and falls to the ground outside. I undo my belt, and I gingerly touch my forehead. My fingers come back red. My heart is pounding in my throat.

From my seat, I can see the man dismount the bike. I can’t make out his face from here, but he has long dark hair, dressed in all black. I’ve heard of those motorcycle gangs, causing trouble to people passing through. I don’t know what he wants from us. Suddenly, he picks Howard up, grabbing him by the hair. Howard struggles, then he says-

“Sergeant Barnes?”

“Howard!” I call out again. I start to cry. I don’t know why I’m crying, but I can’t help it. I’ve never been more scared.

The dark man strikes Howard in the face, then again, with a metallic arm, the silver glistening with Howard’s blood. I call out his name again, then cover my mouth so as not to scream. He drops Howard to the ground. He makes a dull thud.

He picks Howard up again. This time, Howard shows no resistance. The man places Howard’s body in the passenger, dead, his head on the wheel, his lifeless eyes pointed towards me. I start to hyperventilate. The front of the car is on fire. My head feels like it’s on fire. My neck hurts. My husband is dead, and I’m going to die.

The man stalks around the car. He pauses at the trunk, opening it by brute force. He throws our bags to the ground, rifling through its contents. I can barely make out the scene from the cracked rearview mirror, watching, holding my breath until he finds what he’s looking for. The metal container with Howard’s vials. He sets it next to his bike.

The man walks over to my side of the car and effortlessly rips the passenger side door off.

His hand is warm against my throat. It’s cold and snowing outside, almost freezing, but somehow his hand is warm. He chokes me. My fingertips claw at his hand. Everything hurts. I’m dying. My vision goes black. It’s over. It’s all over. Tony, I love you.

-

If you ever met Howard Stark, you only knew half of the man.

He was lauded as a genius, a gamechanger in every field, a philanthropist for tomorrow, the best of humankind – yet he managed to be the worst of it at the same time. He was obsessive, compulsive, arrogant, and I loved him. For he was kind, attentive, and loving. I only wish everyone got to see that side of him. I wish his son had gotten to see the good side of him.

I met him at a casino in ‘60, charmed and overpowered after losing millions for the thrill of it, and we married shortly after. It was the beginning of the last twenty years of my life, but I wouldn’t have had it any other way. I was never bored with Howard, lonely at times, yes, but I never felt unloved.

 … Where ignorance is bliss,

 Tis folly to be wise

 – Thomas Gray, 1742

Notes: Part of scene taken from Civil War, here (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hZFyJjx8jo4) and here (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LbFbFqlg7w4). I finished the end of the conversation as they leave myself, because Tony didn’t really say “I love you” to Howard.

[rogue-snorunt]

Why I made a ko-fi

I got an anon who said that if I'm going to ask the public for money, than I need to explain why and it better be good. Which. Subtlety kind of rude but I get it. I'd want to know the story too and while I did give the explanation already in my first post about it, because I broke my own link with my incredible stupidity, I took it down.

reposted the link to my Kofi that hopefully works now but did leave out the explanation because I feel bad involving others in my problems and I don't want people to hear em and feel guilted into anything.

So here it is: the full obnoxiously long saga of the series of unfortunate events that had led me to making the Kofi from start to finish describing my 2017-2018 life presently.

It all started back in January of last year..

The cafe in which I work.. Worked? Work.. closes every January for cleaning for anywhere between 2wks and a month and in the time they encourage us to apply early and collect unemployment. This would be my first and last ever time doing this.

Why close? Mainly because my bakery is an old fashion French bakery where our lawyer city boy rich owner went to France and liked some countrymans brick oven so much he dropped I think it was a million or so to not only buy the oven, but to actually bring said oven to America brick by fucking brick.

And to clean this wood fed oven the size of a living room, you need AT LEAST 2-3 wks to let it cool down enough for some poor scrawny guy to climb in through the tiny wood stuffing hole and excerise all that soot. Plus deep cleaning a detached two story bakery; the kitchen and cafe itself..

Anyway back to the plot:

So on Jan 1st,2017 I applied and by Jan 14th2017, the place temp closed for cleaning.

I had saved 900$ for this because I'd be okay for the month.. $200/month for rent; $50 for phone, $35 for gas, $130 for groceries for me (who has strict diet of lactose and gluten free diet because I WILL die if I eat gluten because my organs swell; attack themselves and try and shut down. Rip™ my diet gets fucking hella expensive. Bread alone is &4-$5 bucks) $300 monthly student loan etc..

Well: not a week in our gas heater said fuck you. So to help repair, there went -$400 bucks. A WEEK IN. Than my grandmas car died, -$250 a week later. Fuck me gently.

Than the fateful blizzard night of Jan 31st 2017 that would be the catalyst of unfortunate bullshit leading today.. at 4:35 on my friend was bringing me home after a fun weekend, as I do not have a car, and he wanted to make sure I got home safe before the super storm hit. The cafe was reopening Feb 10th.

I was later informed that at around 4:56, my friend hit black ice and we °360 hard into a tree. I only remember seeing it about to happen and worrying about my glasses about to break, then nothing. Then looking at my blurry hand and even with my one good but still kind of blind eye, I saw that it was black; blue and I couldn't move it. Then I guess I said "well shit" and went to sleep.

I had broken not only my glasses trying to protect them, the fucking irony.. but my metacarpals; my nose, inhaled the chemical death from the airbag and recieved mild chemic Burns to face and throat. My smol rib cage was punched by the airbag so hard it got bullied out of place and was now compressing my lungs and a severe concussion.

My friend luckily being a 6' ft some man was set far away from air bag and being the impact was more my side, had only bad bruising to the limbs but okay. His truck now an accordion.

The doctor only looked at my hand and ignored my concussion, as I had an in the ambulance and was apparently making stupid nonsense jokes. So they assumed I was fine I guess.

I had to call in to my job and sadly tell them the news I would not be able to work for maybe a few months.

A month later while home and coming down the stairs, I suddenly could not breathe and got light-headed. Not good when you on stairs. I ended up refuckin up my metas and now add broken tail bone to the list.

My return to work just went from hopeful 3-4 months to 6. I was not financially equipped for this

But wait rogue! The unemployment!

Ah yes. The fucking thing that would fuck me harder then the airbag and stairs combined.. You see:

I had asked everyone I knew that had ever collected unemployment before what to do and even the girl who did the disability thing: for I was unable to work; disability would not kick in until at least a month. I got bills men, life don't stop cause bad shit you know?

Everyone told me, collect unemployment until Disability kicked in. Then stop. Okay.. these 6 people would know best right? Dingdong: unfortunate event #3 so far:

By the time disability kicked in I had collected $700 caps. Nice! Right? Well my honest naive ass thought how you cancelled unemployment was to tell em to cease and why. So I did.I explained what happened. This proved to be the biggest mistake of my pathetic life and installed the lesson of "don't be honest with big brother." They said "oh no you got injured? Well guess what fucko. You now have to pay back the $700, or else and guess what, we adding an bonus fuck you of $200 ."

Hahahahahaha-what?

I'm not able to work; disability only gave$100 some and I got friends and family I am in debt to for helping during these shenanigans.

Then unfortunate events #4-#9 took place. my aunt died.

I had to be hospitalized for pancreatitis; kidney stones and infections a few times, sometimes for all em at once.

Then my dog prostate cancer became apparent and despite the medicine and surgery every thing that could hell, he had to leave us for the rainbow bridge.

Than my grandma's car died again.

Then my stepmother died.

Grandma had to get surgery for her knees and began to complain of occasional blindness and migraines.

Went back to work early because you guys do what you gotta do man, only it's 7 months later and in a couple more, the fucking Cafe is going to close again.

By the time it did, I had been using every paycheck to catch up on bills; pay back the my friends and family lent, paying the late bills from my dog and car repairs, back owed payment and feedback to the student loan. and just as I had started seeing the light at the tunnel.. we closed and I wasn't prepared.

Unemployment have nothing but the middle finger.

It'll be fine.. I can handle a month. It'll suck but-

ITS NOW MAY AND THEY AIN'T OPEN.

During the time I was laid off this year I spent my time as follows:

Joined Tumblr and began to meme to counter that bi-polar depression and made some friends, looking at you @m-is-for-mungo 😘💞💞

A man grabbed my hand that didn't heal right and squeezed it so hard he fucked the bone. Had to go back to p.t. Hand once again fucking useless and I had posted about this way back, if you dig in my archive, you'll find the posts.

Applied for a state job at our prison with my friend whose already there, as kitchen worker

Got the surgery that I could no longer put off as it was too fix the anatomical problem contributing factor to my organs rioting like they do, but thankfully since it was considered life threatening, my insurance covered it.

Finally deal with death of my dog; and my family. Then my dad having a stroke and other family stuff.

Got that pesky rogue ribcage displacement taken care of

Fell down the fucking stairs again.

Adopted a special needs cat.

Became once again a financial burden and the moment I could, filled the still laid off time by trying to help my friend at their restaurant as much as possible.

Got the "we want you asap BUT thanks to state Bullshit like budget stuff.. We have to wait for the actual state to say yes" call from the prison call.

My uncle was discovered to cancer but by the time it was found, he had a week left. Then he died.

Got my shit broken by the scorned ex of our roommate

And then got the fucking letter from unemployment mildly threatening me to pay up.

But you said you didn't have a car in January 31st but then you do now??

After the car event, my friend told me to seek comp because I did get fucked up and being a baker who broke their hands, shit ain't good.. I did not want to because it was my friend, it wasn't their fault and if I had had my own car or just during go there in the first place this wouldn't have happened. Reluctantly after much badgering, I did.I did not get anything however until a year and half half later. and yeah, I’ll tell you how much seeing how Im being brutally honest: $10,000.

I immediately bought a $4000 car so I would never again be a burden and every single car I’ve ever owned have been $100+ garbage death traps I got from shady people and for once in my fucking life I wanted a car that wouldnt break down or try to kill me a week later; helped my grandma buy a car that wouldn't fail her, bought her a new fridge because hers died and paid some of her bills she got behind on. My friend had fallen behind on their bills as well and I owe everything I am and still being alive to these people.

You bet my stupid ass, I used almost every dime to help them. And id fucking do it again because: homies help homies.. And when your Nana whose been both mom; dad and nana to you and is the reason you weren't place in foster care needs you.. You fucking help her no matter what.I did have enough to pay the student loan for last month and this month. I got a new track phone because mine broke, bought a pair of shoes because I've only ever had my loafers and the soles fell off finally and I brought groceries. I have enough to pay rent and I am now tapped out.

My only debt is this $900 fuck you from the government and my $15000k student loan.

And now y'all caught up on the fucking disaster that is my life.

I'm sorry for this sobstory of me crying about my problems but i.. I really do not like asking for help.i hate asking for help. I hate that I have to ask for money because I've been in desperate shitty situations my whole damn life and managed to somehow scrape by but for the first time, I'm in a situation that I can't fix alone. And I fucking hate it and that I have to admit it. but I need help .

This is why I made the Kofi

A kofi that is absolutely only for and will only be used, to pay that $900. I promise you that even if I become homeless, I am going to pay that goddamn bill before anything else. Because I helped everyone with their debt and they are all good now, we all squared and now it's my turn to be okay glib-dimit

[highbuttonsports]

Oilers Finally Realizing their Full Potential

(Feb 17 EDM; 3, WPG; 2)

The Edmonton Oilers defeated the Winnipeg Jets 3-2 on Wednesday night, acquiring two out of a possible 4 points in the series.

The Oilers started off strong with Jesse Puljujarvi and Leon Draisitl jumping up on the rush and scoring back to back goals within 21 seconds of each other, giving the Oilers an early 2-0 lead.

Connor Mcdavid picked up the primary assist on Puljujarvi’s 4th of the season, cementing his place among hockey royalty with his 500th career point in just 369 games.

Mcdavid tied Sidney Crosby for 8th fastest in NHL history to reach that milestone.

Mark Scheiffle scored on the Jets power play at the end of the first period to cut the Oilers lead in half heading into the first intermission.

Although the Oilers were outshot 35-30 on the night, Mike Smith put on another impressive performance, making 33 saves and posting a .943 save percentage on the night, securing the Oilers 3-2 win.

(Feb 19 EDM; 2, CGY; 1)

The Oilers extinguished the Flames 2-1 on Friday night in Edmonton, putting on a low scoring clinic.

Edmonton started the first period on time with Jesse Puljujarvi scoring just 5 minutes in to give the Oilers an early 1-0 lead. Not only was the offence flying high, but the flames were stamped out early and were unable to even register a shot in the first 7 minutes of the game.

They closed out the first period with a 1-0 lead over the flames, and Gaetan Haas extended the lead late in the second, but the flames responded with a goal from Rasmussen Anderson less than a minute later, bringing the flames within one heading into the third.

Defensively, the Oilers were confidently able to shut down the Flames offense and hold on to secure the win, improving their record to 10-8-0 and winning 5 of their last 6 games.

(Feb 20 EDM; 7, CGY; 1)

The Oilers dominated the Flames in the second half of their back to back meetings, defeating them 7-1 at home.

Connor Mcdavid, who was held off the scoresheet last game came back with a vengeance scoring a natural hat trick with two assists, leading the Oilers to the dominant win.

Mikko Koskinen made 43 saves and posted a .977 save percentage on the night.

“Your team has to grow.” Said head coach Dave Tippett postgame, who seemed happy, but not yet satisfied with his team’s overall performance.

“Early in the year there’s lots of video, there’s lots of growing to do. I give our guys a ton of credit; they've embraced how we wanna play as a team.”

The offense is buzzing, both goaltenders are performing well, and the Oilers have passed Montreal for second place in the North division. But as Tippet highlighted postgame on Saturday, there is definitely still room for growth.

The Oilers D-men have a tendency to cycle low in the offensive zone, creating dynamic pressure on the opposition. While this can prove to be an effective offensive strategy, it can often result in odd man rushes from the opposition.

So team defence is obviously an issue. The Oilers are missing players like Bear and Klefbom desperately, as they currently rank 27th in goals against. But as they continue to build upon their forward momentum, certain issues have be improved upon in order to keep up with a rapidly accelerating North division.

“We’ve found some results but there’s still more growth than this… there’s just parts of our game that can continue to improve if we wanna become the team we really wanna be.”

Dave Tippett seems ready for the challenges that lie ahead for his team

(Feb 23 EDM;4, VAN;3)

The Oilers stunned the Canucks with a 4-3 comeback win in Vancouver last night, extending their winning streak to 4 straight.

Although the Oilers seemed feisty and physical early on, they’re offense was immediately deflated as Bo Horvat managed to score from an awkward angle off the boards, giving the Canucks the early lead.

Seven minutes later, Tyler Myers scored with an unforgiving blast from the point (and an unfortunate tip from Tyler Ennis) extending the Canucks lead to 2-0. Elias Pettersson would then score at 15:17 to extend the lead further, but it was later undone by Dominik Kahun, settling the score at 3-1 heading into intermission one.

After a scoreless second, the Oilers came out flying in the third period, quickly climbing within one with another tally from Kahun at 0:55. Connor Mcdavid would then tie the game on the powerplay, causing for a dramatic finale.

With the Oilers confidently cycling the puck in the Canucks zone, Adam Larsson released a blast from the point richoteting first off the leg of Jujhar Khaira, then off the foot of Tyler Ennis and into the back of the net, finally awarding the Oilers a much deserved lead and thereby redeeming Ennis for the tip in own goal earlier on to secure the hard fought victory.

Oilers fans will look at this latest win as nothing short of triumphant. As head coach Dave Tippett has repeated constantly “your team needs to grow.”

That overall team growth has been quite noticeable in the team’s recent performances, as they’re finally trending upwards in a constantly shifting division.

Looking ahead

The Oilers face the Vancouver Canucks again on Thursday night. Hopefully another thrilling comeback won’t be required and the win streak continues. With steady goaltending and coherent defence and offence, the Oilers will be hard to stop.

After the Canucks, the Oilers will have to face the first place leafs three times in a row at Rogers place. While the Oilers have been on a heater, the Leafs won’t be laying down so easily. Both teams pride themselves on high powered offence, so expect some high scoring contests.

Will the Oilers continue to improve in the face of such adversity? Can they keep the winning streak alive against the league best Leafs? We’ll discuss it all here next week.

-Dave