#custom hat bundle

[jakzlasermarketing]

Premade Patch Hats | 2-Hat Bundles, Legend & Legacy Styles–JAKZ Lazer – JAKZ Lazer Company

Shop premade patch hats and 2-hat bundles featuring Legend, Legacy, and Richardson 112/112Y styles. Perfect for dad & son sets or wholesale patch bundles.

[mactiir]

in HEMA (aka historical european fencing), much of the sport is done with fencing masks on, so identifying your clubmates during sparring or tourneys is just based on gear. you know, what color their jacket and pants are, what patches they have on it, how is their mask painted. If someone borrows someone else's jacket it's legitimately jarring, like having someone with an entirely different body type and way of moving stealing your friend's face.

Once i read about historical fishermen in the north sea and how they each had a specific hat pattern that their buddies would use to identity them while they were bundled up. It was so much part of their identity that they were often buried wearing those hats. The gear is like your name, a visual identifier of YOU when you do not have a face.

anyway, back when I was buying gear i got my pants in ELECTRIC blue. I figured i was gonna get a black or grey jacket. but HEMA gear is kind of expensive because it's all custom- or handmade, so instead of spending $400 on a new jacket I picked up one secondhand for like 20. Except the only jacket that fit me was bright, SCARLET red. And I already had my expensive, new, custom, BLUE pants. I look like a damn rocket pop or like, a mixed Icee. I was like, shit! I should switch my jacket before i become the rocket pop guy!!!

Long story short, not only am I now the rocket pop guy, the color scheme has bled into my entire wardrobe. Every-fucking-thing I own is red and blue. I look like a french revolutionary. I look like a founding father in a school play. I have become a northern fisherman in my stripey hat. Now, even if I DO get a new jacket, I feel like I GOTTA buy it in red, yk? Otherwise they won't recognize me. Maybe I won't recognize me. I'm the rocket pop guy!!!

[puckinghischier]

thinking about comforting nico during this weird playing period.. he comes home upset and frustrated with not only the team but with himself.

he’d be so mopey, just kind of dragging around, not really saying much. mumbled answers to your questions, saying he’s not hungry, no input on what to watch. he’d kind of just go lay in your shared bedroom, headphones-in-and-staring-at-the-wall, kind of mopey.

you’d pad softly into the room, knowing you had to bust him out of the slump somehow. he had every right to be frustrated and upset, but you hated seeing your bright boy so down and dark.

he’d have his head leaned back with his eyes closed, legs stretched out in front of him with his hands resting clasped on his stomach. you softly crawl onto the bed to sit cross-legged beside of him. you poke at his soft belly a few times to get his attention.

peeking one eye open, he raises his head and removes one ear bud.

“what’s up?” he flatly asks, so unlike himself.

you smile at his fuzzy hair, his lack of properly drying it before slipping a beanie over it to leave the rink evident.

“let’s go for a drive,” you propose.

he scrunches his nose up at your suggestion, not interested in the slightest at getting back out into the cold air and riding around the city he keeps disappointing.

“not really in the mood,” he shakes his head, going to put the bud back in his ear until you grab his arm.

“please?” you give him your pouty eyes, hoping they’ll work now just like they do every other time.

reluctantly he agrees, tossing a sweatshirt on and covering his messy hair with a hat.

you bundle up yourself, slipping on a pair of comfy shoes before meeting him at the door, his hand reaching for the keys resting on the hook on the wall.

your hand beats his, though, grabbing his car keys before he can.

“you’re passenger princess tonight, bud”

he rolls his eyes, holding open the door so your smug self can walk out, making your way down to the drafty parking garage and seating yourself in the drivers seat of his lush mercedes.

pulling out of the garage, you turn the radio on to play whatever he was listening to last, some swiss rap you couldn’t understand the words to playing softly through the speakers. nico isn’t talking, just looking at the various lights and buildings as you drive through the quiet city.

most of the traffic from the game is already dispersed, giving you an easy ride to the mystery destination you didn’t tell him about.

you half expect him to figure it out based on your pattern of turns and familiar surroundings, but he must really be in his head, because when you park his car on the street outside of your destination, he’s still staring, unaware that the car even stopped moving.

“hey, neeks, come back to me,” you softly touch his arm, startling him a bit.

he looks over at you, almost like he forgot where he was, relaxing once his brain registered there was no threat. just you, looking over at him sweetly, as you always do.

“sorry, got lost thinking,” he mumbles, a little embarrassed. you smile at his accent shining on “thinking”, the subtle slip of his lips when pronouncing the word one of your favorite things about him

“s’alright. we’re here, though, so we gotta get out of the car.”

his thick eyebrows furrow in confusion, turning to look out the window to figure out where “here” is.

once he sees the familiar logo on the building right next to your parking spot, he looks back over at you.

“are they even still open?” he asks you, his tone lifting in a hopeful tone you haven’t heard for days.

you shake your head yes, trying not to grin like an idiot as his small show of excitement. “called them before we left, asked if they’d stay open a little bit longer for a special customer.”

the small, swiss owned bakery was somewhere you and nico had found on one of his few days off, simply setting out to explore the city with no plan in mind. on your lengthy walk, the sky had unexpectedly opened up, drenching both of you to your core. you ran into the closest storefront you could find, needing cover from the downpour.

the second your soaked figures trampled into the store, you were met with some of the most delicious smells you’d ever encountered in your life. the small space was empty, other than a plump older woman cleaning a display case of some of the most delicious looking pastries you’d ever seen.

“oh je!” the woman exclaimed when she saw the state of the two of you.

you thought the expression has sounded familiar, but couldn’t place it before she started speaking again.

“oh you poor kids, please, come sit, let me get you something to dry yourself,” the woman insisted, pulling out a couple of chairs at a small table, rushing off to find something dry to give you.

you heard her voice conversing with someone, a language you definitely had heard before, while you took your seat in the wooden chair.

she came back out to the two of you with warm dish towels, allowing you to at least rid your face of the excess water. nico was eyeing her suspiciously as she was bumbling about her husband making both of you a hot tea and something warm to snack on with it.

when he started speaking swiss german to her, you had no clue what was being said, but you loved the way he melted into being able to use his native language with someone who understood him and spoke it back. a tall, thin old man came out of seemingly nowhere in the middle of their conversation, two mugs of tea in hand.

the older man joined right in their conversation, his kind face just as excited as nico seemed to be.

the two of you ended up sitting in the small bakery for longer than anticipated, the rain long gone before you made your exit. the conversation had eventually switched back to english, the woman explaining how they had moved to the states many years ago, their dream of owning a bakery in the city finally coming to fruition a couple of years ago.

nico was amazed at the selection of swiss desserts they had, and praised their recipes as being reminiscent of his mothers. the couple insisted you take a whole hoard of stuff home, wanting nico to have a piece of home to enjoy.

the hidden gem ended up being a frequent weekend destination for you and nico, making a visit at least once a week when he’s home. the shop was so small and off the beaten path that nico never had to worry about someone spotting him there, going and sitting and conversing with his new friends for hours as you sat and watched their animated conversations.

you even found yourself frequenting the bakery on your own when nico was gone for any length of time, needing your own pastry fix. always being welcomed with open arms, you never left without a special pastry just for nico to have when he returned home.

which is what lead you here tonight, wanting to bring him even the smallest bit of comfort you could.

“schätz, did you really?” he uses the term of endearment you loved the most, having heard the shop owner utter it to his wife several times during your visits. “you shouldn’t have, they need their rest.”

you roll your eyes at his insistence on never wanting someone go to any extra lengths for him. he never wants anyone to be inconvenienced for his sake, even during times like these when he deserves to be made to feel special.

“hush, they insisted on it. you know how they are, too stubborn for their own good,” you wave off his concern, the concerned tone of the woman fresh in your mind when you called and explained the situation. “they even told me they were making something extra special for you tonight, so i hope you’re hungry after all that skating.”

nico doesn’t react to your words, staring at you so intently you were beginning to squirm at the gaze.

sensing your shift in body language, nico breaks the loud silence of the car.

“i love you, you know that?”

you giggled at his words, because of course you know that. he tells you all the time. every day. as often as he can.

“yes, neeks, i know that. and i love you too.”

he shakes his head slightly.

“no, i mean it. i love you so much. you…you always know what to do when i’m being a pouty mess. you never fail to make me feel better by just being you, but when you do things like this, even though i’ve been closed off and pouty this whole week because of the team and how our game is right now, even when i don’t deserve it, you still always manage to know exactly what i need.”

he grabs your hand in the middle of his small speech, needing to touch you so you can feel his words and his sentiments.

“well, you do deserve this. you always do. especially with how things have been going for you lately, because you’re giving it your all, always. and i’m proud of you. win or lose, i’m so proud of you, nico.”

you squeeze his hand in yours, emphasizing your point.

nico can’t stand how far away you are from him all of a sudden, reaching over and pulling your face across the console to meet his, consuming himself in you. the feeling of your lips on his melts away any thought in his head about his job and is filled with only you. the taste of your fruity chapstick, the softness of your face in his hands, the smell of your perfume still left over from earlier.

he tries to tease your lips open with a swipe of his tongue, but you give a small laugh as you pull yourself back.

“alright now, can’t be doing all that, now. you’ve got a hot, home cooked swiss meal waiting on you i promised some very eager people you’d be by to try ten minutes ago. don’t want them to think we flaked, do you?”

“oh god, i hope it’s traditional fondue,” he groans at the idea. “i’m sorry, baby, but this american version is shit, and i can’t pretend to like it anymore,” he completely switches up on you, taken over by the thought of food, completely unaware you’d already expressed to the owners how it was his favorite, a hot pot of the cheesy dish awaiting him behind the door he’s speeding towards.

[archangeldyke-all]

Idea: Isha thinks Santa is real and is horrified of him because she thinks he doesn’t like her because she never celebrated before as well, she was a kid in the mines.

When decorating time rolls around she’s all pouty and sad until you and Sev confront the poor baby.

this is so fucking funny hahahaehhhaheahe

men and minors dni

it's christmas eve.

your family doesn't do the traditional christmas, especially since your family wasn't even a family this time last year.

you and sevika's usual christmas tradition is a nice homemade meal by the fire, maybe exchanging a few gifts, ending the night in your matching mr. and mrs. claus lingerie (just two santa hat and whatever red underwear you can find.)

but now you've got the girls, so you're trying to get a little more festive.

jinx and isha drug home a fallen pine tree branch a few days ago, decorating it with streamers and paper snowflakes they made themselves.

you and sevika splurged on christmas lights, hanging them on your front porch and lining the walls of your home with the multi-colored twinkles. of course, you've both been hoarding gifts for the girls-- anything and everything you could find that you thought they might enjoy you've piled up in the you and sevika's super secret hiding spot (under the bed) waiting to be wrapped tonight when the girls go to sleep.

it's been fun!

isha's been endlessly enchanted by the sparkly lights lining the streets, she squeals each time she sees a rudolph or snowman decoration, and she's obsessed with all the sweet treats that come around with this time of year. hot chocolate, christmas cookies, candy canes-- isha loves it all.

jinx has been having a wonderful time introducing isha to all the fun traditions that come around with the season. she custom made herself and isha matching stockings (she made you, vi, and sevika stockings too-- but none of them were quite as sparkly and fun as isha's.) she's been referring to the little girl as her 'elf'-- isha always bursts into giggles when she does. and when there's fresh snow-- jinx has been bundling the little girl up and dragging her outside to introduce her to the joys of snowballs and snowmen and snow angels.

so, overall, you've all been feeling pretty jolly.

but... you're starting to get a little worried tonight, because isha's been becoming increasingly restless.

you've got the fire going, christmas music playing on the radio, the four of you sharing a plate of cookies and sipping on eggnog in matching flannel jammies.

isha's frowning down at her feet, a worried furrow in her brow.

jinx is fighting off sleep on the couch, sevika's stoking the fire. you reach out and nudge the little girl's shoulder.

"you okay, baby?" you ask. sevika blinks over at the pair of you concern on her face as she looks at isha.

isha blinks up at you with anxious eyes. what is santa? she signs.

you look at your wife, the two of you having a panicked, telepathic conversation.

should we tell her he's not real? sevika's face reads.

you shrug. she's only five, she deserves at least one year of believing, don't you think? you ask with a quirk of your brow.

sevika sighs and gestures for you to speak. you giggle.

"santa's an old man who lives in the north pole, making toys all year with the help of his elves. on christmas eve, when we're all sleeping, he travels across the world using magic and flying reindeer, leaving presents for well-behaved kiddos just like you!" you explain happily.

only, isha looks horrified.

he comes in our house when we're sleeping!? she signs. sevika chuckles. what if he robs us?

"nah, kid, santa's a jolly old man. he's not a thief. he's been doin' this for hundreds of years and he's i've never heard of anyone getting robbed by santa." sevika says.

isha still looks skeptical. okay... but what about the song? he sees me when i'm sleeping and knows when i'm awake? how?

sevika snorts. "you're awfully smart for a five year old." she says, ruffling her hair. "santa's magic kid, 's how it all works." she explains.

isha hums, kicking her feet and digesting the new information. jinx snorts awake, blinking around and trying to pretend she's been awake the whole time.

what if he doesn't like me? isha signs.

your heart breaks a little, and you wrap your arm around her. "why wouldn't santa like you, kiddo? you're a great little girl. way better than jinx-- and jinx never got coal."

"hey!" jinx protests.

isha giggles a bit, then she frowns again, a tear trailing down her cheek. but... he never left me presents before.

your heart shatters. beside you, sevika lets out a heartbroken whimper.

"oh, isha baby..." you coo, pulling the girl into your lap.

"santa's not real, isha." jinx cuts in. you and sevika gasp and glare at her and she chuckles. "what?! it's true. he's made up, he's a fairy tale-- parents use him to trick little kids into behaving well."

isha sighs in relief. so, if i'm bad ms. baby and big mama will still give me presents? she asks.

you burst into giggles, and beside you sevika cackles.

"'course, kiddo. sevika gave me a holiday present the same year i blew her fuckin' arm off-- there's not much you can do that'll stop 'em from spoiling you from now on." jinx says.

well... shit. now you've got tears in your eyes. you didn't know that about sevika, and it only makes you love her more. you reach out and grab her hand, only to find it shaking a little. she must be just as affected by jinx's words as you are.

it takes you a few seconds to make sure your voice won't wobble before you speak. "alright, speaking of-- the two of you gotta go to your room so me and sev can put your gifts out. try to sleep, please." you say.

jinx giggles and pulls isha in her arms, both of them hugging and kissing you and sevika goodnight before wandering to their room.

the second their door clicks closed, you and sevika are in eachother's arms, crying with gratitude for your girls; the best gift you could've fucking asked for.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@kissyslut @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@lavenderbabu @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @my-taintedheart

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette

@ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re @raphaellearp

@iamastar @sevikitty @mascdom @nhaaauyen @annesunshiner

@mirconreadzztuff22 @veoomvroom @lushh-s3vik4s @katyawooga @lesbodietcoke

@strawberrykidneystone @sevikasfan @fict1onallyobsessed @dvrkhcld @sweetybuzz25

@sluttysierraaa @snake-in-a-flower-crown @ruiwonderz @littlemisszaunite

[irisintheafterglow]

a snowball collides with the glass doors leading to the backyard of the rental house, a dull thunk the only disturbance to your afternoon peace. you hear an apologetic sorry, babe! from a familiar figure bundled in a black coat, gloves, and red hat.

"was that a snowball or a bear?" tsukki grumbles from the other side of the huge L-shaped couch. his forearm is thrown over his eyes, glasses abandoned on the nearest side table. until a minute ago, he was actually able to get a little bit of rest after the boys in his room were talking nonsense until three in the morning.

"snowball, though it might as well been thrown by a bear. volleyball players and your arms and such," you reply without looking up from your book. tsukki grunts in assent and you fall back into a comfortable silence.

besides the occasional screams of triumph from the boys brawling with snowballs outside, your surroundings are serenely calm. since you woke up, a continuous powdering of snow fell on the trees, the roof, and the outside deck. with the more energetic boys declaring war on each other via snowballs, you and the calmer holiday-goers decided to make hot chocolate and watch the time creep by.

"i finally found it," akaashi announces as he returns to the living room, holding up the book he'd been digging around his bag for. "it was buried under bokuto's ungodly amount of socks."

"you sure it wasn't a few of your socks as well, considering how you've begun sharing clothing?" your eyebrows raise in amusement at the hoodie that was definitely not his, loudly printed with a huge owl with glowing yellow eyes. akaashi tended to wear more subdued clothing (and never such a large print), so there was only one other inhabitant of the house that could own the sweater...

"look at the pot calling the kettle black. at least mine doesn't have his name labeled on the sleeve," he fires back teasingly. you concede the battle with a defeated shake of your head. you're indeed wearing a crewneck that isn't yours, curled up in your cushioned corner and surrounded by a heinous amount of throw pillows. the sweatshirt is a washed out crimson, adorned with a single silhouette of a black cat and a label on the back that reads 'property of nekoma volleyball club.' the captain's name and number is embroidered on the right sleeve, a customized early christmas present that ended up being a gift for yourself. "it even says you're nekoma property on the back."

"i am no one's property, and he'll be the first to tell you that," you correct and akaashi shrugs before settling next to you on the couch. "trade me that when you're done with it?" you ask, nodding to the book in his hands, a stray fast food receipt barely marking a tenth of the way in.

"if i get done with it," he scowls. "the main characters are burning so slow, i'm gonna be fifty by the time they hold hands."

"and i will be decaying in a casket by the time i achieve peace and quiet." tsukki's voice comes out as a deadpanned grumble and you share a guilty look with akaashi, poorly hiding your smiles. "finally some quiet..."

his declaration of serenity is cut short by the sliding door abruptly being thrown open, and the participants in the snowball war piling back inside.

"guess who won the greatest fight since the trash battle!" the third year setter from karasuno, sugawara, stomps into the cabin while the rest of his teammates cheer and boast of their victory. they overrun the kitchen and fight over the last mugs of hot chocolate, scavenging for fistfuls of mini marshmallows.

"totally unfair, bokuto kept switching sides," lev grumbled while shaking the snow from his boots. "he was playing for us and then jumped ship."

"it's not my fault they were getting beaten so badly in the beginning," bokuto shrugs with his palms up in surrender. "i consider my presence an attempt to fix the playing field, not an advantage." you scooch closer to the armrest as bokuto joins akaashi on the couch, draping an arm around his shoulders with practiced ease.

"it's barely an advantage when you and hinata alone could have been your own team," konoha points out. you tune out the rest of the boys' bickering, a grin growing on your face once the very last volleyball player re-enters the cabin. he tosses his hair from side to side and particles of snow fly off like cat hair before finding you.

"hey beautiful," tetsurou murmurs, leaning over the side of the couch to plant a kiss on your cheek. his face is freezing in stark contrast to the warmth radiating from the fire. "miss me?"

"terribly," you reply, nudging your nose against his. there were still tiny snowflakes on his nose bridge and you brush them off with your sleeve. "heard you got your ass kicked in a snowball fight."

"it was a draw," he dodges and you chuckle. "i like that sweater on you."

"yeah, my boyfriend's a captain," you not-so-humbly brag and his smile grows wider. you'd never seen someone's eyes sparkle before you met him. "he's pretty hot, too. even after spending an hour in the snow."

"he sounds like a pretty great guy." he leans in to kiss you properly but is suddenly yanked away by another resident of the house.

"stop being cute, i wanna play uno!" bokuto booms, dragging your boyfriend to the game cabinet so he can reach the top-most shelf.

"can we put stakes on it? makes it more fun." noya practically bounces off the leather couch ottoman, a mug of hot chocolate steaming in his hand.

"losers have to cold-plunge in the lake," tsukki suggests, unblinking, with an evil glint in his eye.

"shoyo would probably die, i think," a mortified yamaguchi responds. that's the point, tsukki's face explains wordlessly.

"what about losers have to make dinner?"

"well that's not fair, because crows would be making dinner two nights in a row," akaashi innocently points out, but the jab is not lost on any of you. "yeah, i do think i can beat daichi--"

"this game seems a little too aggressive for me," asahi mutters. "can i team with the other third-years?"

"that's not how uno works, my friend. no mercy for anyone," sugawara says, patting his fellow crow sympathetically on the shoulder. "not even kageyama, who i don't think has ever played this game."

"who the hell said i needed mercy?"

"winning players get the master suite," your boyfriend decides with an expression that the others didn't dare contest. "for the rest of the trip." that sends a noticeable ripple of excitement through the players, the raised stakes pinning the bullseye on their competitive natures. you raise your eyebrows in amusement and tetsurou's eyes darken in a look that you know all too well.

he desired total victory, and he didn't play when it came to you.

[mumms-the-word]

I'm not sure when I'll get to play DAO, but if you don't mind sharing your mod list, I would love to save it for when I get to play 🥹

And THANK YOU for the detailed instructions!!

Of course!!

For those catching up, I posted a quick guide to how to fix DAO so that it is playable on PC (it crashes otherwise). If you need a detailed explanation for how to mod on DAO, then I have a doc here that goes into detail, since modding in DAO is confusing and no one explains it well.

My DAO modlist is below the cut!

Essentials

4GB LAA patch compatible DAorigins.exe - Unencrypted .exe file (for the 4GB patch)

4GB Patch - to fix the game

Make CONSOLE commands visible - makes console commands visible

DAO-Modmanager - mod manager that I mostly use if I'm not using override mods

CharGenMorph Compiler - compiler tool for appearance mods (see my guide for how this works)

Bug Fixes/QoL Stuff

Qwinn's Ultimate DAO Fixpack v3.52 - massive bug fix overhaul

Dain's Fixes - caveat, I only use some of these fixes, since some class with Qwinn's pack and others I just don't care about

FtG UI Mod - More Readable Fonts and UI - this plus the next mod helps for when your fancy not-2009-era resolution makes the UI unreasonably small

Nathanael's 4K Resolution Mod - fixes the UI to be bigger

FtG Quickbar - Center and Multi Rows - allows you to customize the UI a little more

Clear Dreams - no blur in the Fade - This plus the next mod if the Fade swirly effects triggers headache/migraine stuff like it does for me (totally optional though, it doesn't bother most people)

Fade Away (Fade Colour Curves) - cuts down on more Fade swirly

No Helmet Hack 1_6 - all and I mean ALL of the hats and helmets in DAO are ugly or annoying, so hide them with this mod

Bug Fixes for Awakening DLC (Optional)

DLC Transfer To Awakening Patch (UPDATED) - fixes the game so that DLC items like weapons transfer into the Awakening DLC

Awakening Silverite Mines Bugfix - fixes a pretty big game-breaking bug in the Awakening DLC

Awakening Blackblade Armor Dragon Drop Fix - super minor Awakening bug fix

Awakening endgame cutscene fixes - another minor Awakening bug fix

Awakening Riot Scene Persuade Fix - another minor Awakening bug fix (someone should bundle these)

Updated Textures/Graphics

Environment Overhaul - cannot recommend enough, it's my favorite texture overhaul

Dragon Age Origins Unofficial Remaster - Updates a lot of items and textures to use DA2 and DAI assets, as a longtime player I love it

Fine Dwarven Craftsmanship - Adds better dwarven textures that the other two mods don't necessarily add

Ultra HD Reshade for Dragon Age... - The reshade/recolors I like (your mileage may vary)

Armors/Clothes

Grey Wardens of Ferelden - dresses all Warden characters in updated warden armor, lets you spawn updated Warden armor

Grey Wardens of Ferelden Retexture - retexture of the Warden armors if you want them

Goblet De-Gobbler - a Joining chalice fix and more - fixes the goblet glitching out if you are wearing modded clothes during your Joining ceremony

Surana Circle Mage Robe - the mage robe I love so much

Surana Mage Robe Retexture - Updates the texture of the Surana mage robe I love

Crow Assassin's Armor for Zevran - cool Crow armor for Zevran

Crow Assassin's Armor Retexture - better textures for the crow armor!

Practical Morrigan Robe - An outfit for Morrigan I really like

Morrigan's Robes Collection - retextures for the Morrigan outfit

Leliana Item Pack - New clothes for Leliana

Leliana Item Pack Fixes - fixes/retextures for those clothes

Loincloth Fashion - more clothes if you want them

RLs Swan Song - Even more clothes (pick and choose individual files, there are WAY too many in here)

Noble Dress Overhaul - If you want the NPC dresses to look nicer (or you get a dress yourself that you want to wear)

Female Noble Clothing Overhaul - totally different NPC dress overhaul

Female Noble Clothing and Noble Dress Overhaul Compatibility Patch - patches the last two mods into one overhaul (it basically reassigns who wears what lmao)

Wynne's Aequitarian Robes - Unique mage robes for Wynne, if you're into that

Male Circle Robe Replacers ( Robes of the void ) - updated mage robes! Guys-only tho

Female Circle Robe Replacers (Bethany Robe Replacer) - updated mage robes, girls only

Hair (So Many Hairs)

DAO - Anto Hairstyles - various hairs

HAIRSTYLE DAY - more various hairs

HAIRSTYLE DAY VOL.2 - even more various hairs

Hairald of Andraste Hairs - individual hairs that you have to add via chargenmorph (I explain how to do this in my mod guide)

Companion/Player/NPC Retextures

Unique Face Textures for Companions DAO Edition - probably my favorite retexture set, but I'll admit, I mess with companion textures myself in the Toolset soooo you may find others you like

Sten of the Beresaad - fave Sten retexture, makes Sten look like a mix of his DAO texture and an updated DA2 texture

Sten - no clothes - if you want a shirtless Sten (goes with the Sten of the Beresaad mod specifically)

Pineappletree s Vibrant Colors - more eye colors for you

Alternative Default Eyes - my favorite eye texture

Lovely Tints - adds more hair colors

Natural Freckle Tattoos and Tints - more skin tones/hair colors plus freckles, but I think you can only use them in the Toolset

Sun's Tints - more eye colors and such!

Mabari Recolours - Origins - recolors your mabari dog!

Tranquil Brand 2.0 - Adds Tranquil brands to Tranquil NPCs

Fun Additions

***Not Recommended for First Playthrough!

Skip the Fade - ***let's you skip a quest that many find annoying

Extra Dog Slot - Let's you summon your dog as a fourth companion

Improved Atmosphere - DO NOT use the whole mod as it will break your game/mess with too much. I only use ONE file and that is the More Party Barks (party_barks.dlg) since it adds more location-specific banter

The Rescue at Ishal - ***adds a cutscene to an early quest, but I only recommend it after finishing the game once since it can be spoilery to later game events

CHANGE YOUR HERO HAIR AND FACE ANYWHERE IN THE GAME - let's you update your warden appearance but, warning, it's kinda a complicated process

Universal Voices - lets any race have any voice

ZevranASAP - ***makes it so that Zevran's encounter with the Warden happens way sooner

Fare ye well Duncan - ***a little minor cutscene added early in the game

DahliaLynn's Sleep Until Dawn - Let's you go to sleep in camp for RP reasons

Alistair's Dark Ritual - ***replaces a late-game cutscene with a new cutscene, Alistair-Romance specific, don't recommend for a first playthrough

DahliaLynn's - Alistair's Nightmare - ***adds a little cutscene to the game, totally extra content

DahliaLynn's - Alistair's First Night Love Scene - ***swaps Alistair's canon romance cutscene for a modded one (your mileage may vary on how much you might like it lol)

Alistair Romance Eavesdropping - ***adds a bench to camp where if you sit on it, you can "overhear" companion banters that are turned into full cutscenes now (it's very cute I won't lie)

I haven't yet dived into Zevran romance mods lol there are some though! And there's plenty more where this comes from, this just happens to be the mod list I use as someone who has played the game a ton and wanted a sort of "overhaul-but-still-true-to-the-heart-of-the-game" modded game.

Anyways enjoy all you modders out there <3

[asmutwriter]

My Angel (Part 1)

DESCRIPTION: You go about your day as usual. Getting some cash for your stolen items from the previous day. Little do you realise you may steal from the wrong person.

A/N - Header may change depending on how the story goes but for now I will keep it as this - enjoy

WORD COUNT: 2550

Next / Master List  

WARNINGS: Swearing, mentions of prostitution/sex, talk of low income, petty crime (stealing), a small fight if you squint (no one gets hurt), self defense

DISCLAIMERS

- This is fiction. Please always talk to your partner before doing anything and make sure they are ok with what you are doing beforehand

You let out a soft grumble. The thin sheet covering your body not doing much to keep you warm. The bare windows allowing the early morning sun to come in and tease your eyes open. You rub your face. Burrowing your head into the hard pillow.

"Come on. Get up" you mutter to yourself. Eyes stay shut as you push yourself up from the bed. Twisting your nude body to exit the bed covers. Finding your various clothing items you scatted on the floor from the events of last night. Picking up the small wad of cash your regular customer had set aside for you. Stuffing it into your bra before you bundle yourself with layers.

You walk in the brisk air. A breath leaving your lips in a cloud of fog. Ears turning red from the cold nipping at them. You'd forgotten your hat and now you were paying the price. Your hands were firmly planted into the pockets of your thick coat. Trying to gain the warmth from your palms and transfer it to your head. Plus you could hug your keys in your fist this way.

Sadly it was common for you to get cornered. You soon got used to dealing with it though. Your keys being a good choice. Couldn't be charged with a planned assault with keys. Knives and other weapons could be. But that's not the point. You get to your home. Unlocking the front door.

It wasn't much but its been your home for 4 years now. Nearly 5. Two rooms. One small one to the side for a toilet and shower. The other, bigger room. Containing a bed, fridge and sink. Once you lock the door behind you again you go over to the bed. Emptying your pockets (and bra) onto the brown blanket adorning the bed covers.

Two wallets, a necklace, plus the fifty you made last night. You sit on the bed. Going through the wallets. Giving an annoyed huff. "Great". You throw the leather onto the bed as well as the contents. "I've made an extra seven bucks and a Starbucks voucher". You give out an annoyed sigh. Bringing the item up. Looking at the faded cardboard. "What a shitty day" you mumble. Flopping down onto your bed. Head hitting the creaky mattress below. Fingers fiddling with the flimsy item still in hand. Picking at the rough edge of it. Glancing your eyes to the bedside clock. 7:07am. "Yep. A shitty day".

You give an annoyed groan. Your hands coming up and covering your eyes. "Fuck. Ok" you keep your eyes closed as you process your day out loud. "So bad start. Its ok. We have spare cash from last month that we can use for rent. We can go and get our-" you bring the card back up. Glancing at it through a squinted eye before flopping your hand back onto the bed. "Free coffee or hot beverage and decide what to do from there". You sit up. Bouncing to your feet as you grab a coat and remembering your hat.

Bounding to the door as you unlock it and swing it open. "Shit". You go back over. Grabbing the necklace too. The shiny silver being a harsh contrast to your grime covered fingers. Shoving the jewel into your coat pocket. "I can swing by Liam's before coffee. See how much this bad boys worth". You go out to the street. Locking your door behind you. Turning once again to start your confident stroll your foot meets a rather large and muddy puddle. Splattering up your leg. You stand still. Annoyance coursing through your veins. Giving out a shaky breath as you try to remain calm.

"I can see Liam after coffee" you correct yourself. Shoving your keys into your pocket, but making sure you have a firm grip around them as you stroll down a few blocks. Coming to the coffee shop in question. Going inside and getting your free beverage. They were so busy they ran out of clean mugs. So you settle for a large take out cup.

You find the only space you can in the small and mildly crowded shop. Briefly paying mind to the elderly woman you sit next to. The seat to your left being free still as you sip your drink and do some people watching. Looking out the large window in front of you. Completely in a world off your own it takes you a little while to process that someone is actually talking to you. Turning you meet a pair of blue eyes. A soft smile adorning his defined features. "Hmm?" you say softly. He smiles more.

"Can I sit here?" He repeats. You note his drink and food in hand. Giving a nod as you smile back up at him.

"Of course". He sits beside you. Watching as he sits down. You tilt your head slightly. He attempts to take a sip of his drink. Seeing the regret flash through his eyes as he burns his tongue. You try not to laugh. Giving a small smile as you start speaking. "I know most of the locals yet you I don't recognise. You must be new". He gives a small chuckle. "I'm Mia". He turns to look at you as you outstretch your hand. Taking it in yours.

"Steve"

"So what is a guy like you doing out here then, Steve?" He gives a small chuckle again. Shaking his head slightly.

"I'd rather not get into that at the moment" He faces you again. Eyes scanning your features. "How long have you lived here for?"

"What made you think I live here?"

"You said you recognise the locals. Only people who live in the area recognise locals. Its either that or a poor attempt at a pick up line". Now its your turn to give out a soft laugh. Sipping your coffee.

"Could it be both?" He smiles. Turning his head back to look out the window. "I've lived in the area for five years now. Well, five next week". His brow scrunches slightly. Turning to look at you.

"You are either way older then you look or you moved here when you were very young". You smile. Resting your head on your palm as you continue to look at him.

"I moved here when I was 17 but we don't need to get into all of that". You turn to look out the window. Drinking your drink as fond memories of your past flutter through your mind. Before everything turned dark and gloomy. You mentally shake yourself. Turning back to smile at him.

"So you're 22?" you give a small nod. Smiling as you quickly dart your eyes to his lips.

"Smart man". He smiles at the compliment. His eyes steady on yours. "How old are you then Mr Steve?" He gives a low chuckle.

"Too old for you" you smile. Turning back to your drink as you down the rest of your beverage.

"You're probably right. Besides-" Watching as you plop the now empty drink down onto the table. "You seem way to nice for me" you smile as you look at him. He turns his head. Looking at the table as a small smile and laugh escapes his lips. Your eyes quickly dart over his features. Giving out a small sigh before planting your hands onto the table.

"Right. Work calls" You push yourself up with your arms. He watches as you stand. "Its been lovely chatting with you but I got to go and make some money" he gives a low chuckle. Nodding as he smiles at you.

"Good luck" he says. A genuine kindness in his voice. You smile back. Picking up your empty take out mug you squeeze past him. Going to the bin. And hand going into his pocket. Swiping his wallet and pushing it up your sleeve as you head to the bin. Chucking it in before squeezing back past.

"Hope to see you around Mr Steve" he gives a small nod. Giving a small wave to you as you head out the door. He watches you out the glass window as you start walking to Liam's.

Going a few roads away from the cafe. Coming to a dodgy looking house. You go up. Giving it three hard knocks before stepping back. A few moments pass before the door opens. A scrawny man with a tattoo on his neck opens. White wife beater and grey sweatpants. He smiles as he removes the lit cigarette from his mouth.

"Mia!" he smiles at you. Eyes going so gracefully to your chest. "What do I owe this pleasure?" You smile. Bringing your lip between your teeth as you reach into your pocket. Taking out the necklace from your pocket. His eyes stop staring at your boobs as they go to your hand. Giving out a whistle as he nods.

"How much for this?" He places the smoke back into his mouth. Outstretching a hand. You place them into his palm. His hands also a harsh contrast of dirt to the delicate jewellery.

"20"

"Fuck off"

"Thats the best I can do"

"Its worth atleast 100". He gives a small chuckle. Looking back up at you.

"30"

"80"

"40"

"I ain't going lower then 50. I'm not an expert with jewels but those-" you motion to the item in his grasp. "Those are worth the big bucks. The kinds that kings and queens wear". He gives another soft chuckle. Leaning against the door with his back as he pushes it open. Grabbing out a wad of cash. Counting out the money loudly.

"$50" he hands you the money. You smile. Taking it from his hand. Undoing the zip of your coat slightly and managing to shove the money int your bra. His eyes watch as you zip the coat back up. "I'll give you an extra 30 if you come inside". You give a scoff. Shoving your hands back into your pockets. If you did then you would be able to pay off the next couple of weeks rent. Plus have some left over.

"50". He smiles. Hand still holding the roll of cash. He takes out the money you asked. Handing it to you. You go to take it. He moves the hand away. Smiling at you.

"100 if you let me do it raw".

"No way. I ain't risking that" He gives a chuckle. Nodding as he hands you the money. Moving aside as he motions with his hand for you to enter. This wasn't your first time doing this with Liam. You knew where to go to find his bedroom. Plus you knew what he liked so the ordeal was over and done with after ten minutes. Putting your clothes on as he rests in bed. Throwing your coat back on. 100 dollars firmly wedged between your bra and skin. You wish him farewell as you head out the door.

The smell of his cigarette smoke stuck to you. God you would need a shower when you get back. Thankfully you could afford the bill to have a nice hot shower so you deemed it as a necessity. You start to head back to your home. Walking down the alleyway. The one that was normally empty besides the odd drug deal. Today it was empty though. Your lucky day. You smile as you head to your home. Unlocking and opening the door.

You reach into your pocket. Taking out the wallet from your earlier swipe. Opening it. You think its strange that he didn't have an ID or anything but didn't think to much of it. Your mind was set of the cash. your gleeful smile turns to a frown as you open it up fully. "Fucks sake" you mutter. You take out the single note. Twenty bucks. Feeling the little zip part of the item and opening it. 43 cents. "Great. Handsome man is a broke bitch". You chuck the wallet onto the bed with the cash and coins.

"I really need a shower". You sniff your coat. "Ew" you mutter. Smelling strongly of cigarettes you shrug it off. Going and pulling the curtains shut to your main room. Darkness other then the small light emitting from the bathroom. Reaching into your bra as you take out the wad of cash. Also throwing that onto the bed before starting to strip. Chucking your clothes into the dirty pile on the floor. You'll take them to the washer dryer tomorrow. Right now you needed a quick shower. Hopping in. Letting the hot water stream down your body. Washing the smoke out of your hair before getting out.

Towel drying yourself before heading into the bedroom living area. Grabbing some clean clothes out the drawers. Pants then bra. Socks. Then shirt. You go to put a leg into your jeans when you hear a noise. Your front door. The door handle jiggling. Hearing people talk outside. Two voices you think. You quickly pull your jeans up. A difficult feat but you manage it due to the rushed nature.

You try and be quiet as you go over to the door. Picking up a bat from beside your bed. Going over and standing beside the door. Trying to look intimidating. You go to bring the bat down as soon as it opens. A hooded figure. The person has quick reflexes. Grabbing the bat and pulling it. Disarming you as it gets thrown the into the hallway outside your apartment. You don't hesitate as you bring a foot up. Squaring it into their stomach. Winding them as they fall into the wall by the door. The person behind goes to grab you. Catching your wrist before you can react to anything else.

You twist your hand. Moving it to break from their grasp. Exchanging your wrist for theirs as you take a tight hold of their arm. Other going to their upper arm as you bring them up and over your shoulder. Knocking them onto the floor beneath you. You turn. Going into the hallway. Grabbing the bat from before and holding it up. Shutting the door as you stand by it. Eyes frantic as you look at the two bodies on the floor.

"Who the fuck are you and why are you in my home?"

"I know that voice" a female says. Obviously winded. She was the one you kicked. Your turn your head between the two of them.

"Answer my damn question or I'll start swinging"

"Wait. Wait a second" the other voice - a male voice - says below you.

"Who the hell are you?" There's a small pause. Too long. You bring the bat back. Swinging it against the wall. "Answer me"

"Mia?" The female voice says. You just can't quite out a face to the voice.

"Mia?" the male mimics. Almost disbelief. You recognise that voice too but are again unable to pinpoint who they belong to. You give out a sigh. Still on high alert and adrenaline. You reach behind you. Turning on the light. Turning back. Seeing your good friend Natasha bracing herself against the wall. The man you met earlier lying beneath you. You drop the bat. Making them both flinch as it hits the floor.

"Fuck"

Next

TAGS

@wonderlanddreamer

[georges-left-ear]

But Pestilence Is Retired

This was originally going to just be a little post about a kind of sad little headcanon that I had about Aziraphale, but boy howdy it got away from me and over 3K words later, it turned into a full blown one shot fanfic!

CW: original character death, mentions of AIDS related death, grief. All mentions of these content warnings are below the Keep Reading break!

The main narrative of this fic follows the book timeline with the averted apocalypse occuring in 1990. The frame narrative is present day, however.

SUMMARY:

Aziraphale and Crowley have a favorite waiter at The Ritz, they always ask to be served by him not just for his impeccable service, but because the man reminds Aziraphale of a young student, who he grew rather fond, and used to come by the Bookshop for tea who died of AIDS in the early 1990's.

NOTE:

Good Omens was originally published in 1990, during the height of the HIV/AIDS crisis, despite Pestilence’s supposed retirement. I've posted this on the first day of PRIDE Month in honor of the thousands of potential queer people and people of color who never got to be Good Omens fans because of AIDS, and for the fans that we have lost to HIV/AIDS and hate related violence in the past 30 years since Aziraphale and Crowley did an absolutely incompetent job averting the apocalypse. This is for those who never got to see our ineffable husbands kiss on screen, who never got to see them hold hands, or gaze into each others eyes, who never got to be apart of this fandom. Remember that PRIDE is a protest. It started as a riot. We must stick together now as much as ever to ensure our rights and lives are respected and protected.

But Pestilence Is Retired

Presently, Aziraphale and Crowley have a favorite waiter at The Ritz. Although Aziraphale never asks to be seated in his section, never wanting to seem like a bother , Crowley nevertheless sneaks the host a tenner every time to make sure that it happens. Aziraphale pretends not to notice. Their waiter is a slim, effeminate young man with kind eyes and a bright smile. And, more sentimentally, he reminds Aziraphale of a young man he briefly knew in the years just after the averted apocalypse in the early 1990s.

In the winter of 1992, on a fiercely cold misty day — one where the wet icy wind relentlessly tore through every bundled layer of clothing and the humidity stuck to the faces and necks of anyone who was unlucky enough to have to trudge through it — a young man hurriedly pushed through the door of A.Z Fell and Co. He let out a short sigh and sniffled as he surveyed the antique curved entryway of the rarely open bookshop, unwrapping the hand knit scarf from his neck and removing his gloves. 

Aziraphale tilted his head back with a groan before standing from his desk toward the back of the shop. He opened the shop that day with the firm expectation that he would receive no customers due to the dismal weather. But alas, here was one intrepid — and… uhg …damp — little human come to disturb his peace. 

The man was about the same height as Aziraphale, slender, and wore thin wire rim glasses, which were slightly fogged from the mist and humidity, and a dark grey knee length trench coat. He had eyes the glossy hue of salted caramel, and a soft, youthful face dusted with a constellation of light brown freckles. A couple unruly locks of strawberry blonde hair peaked out from underneath the bucket hat he wore.  

Aziraphale greeted the man with a stiff smile and a polite “How do you do?” To which the man replied,

“Oh! Good Afternoon, Sir! I’m so glad I caught you open! I was in the area on another errand and happened to glance and saw you were open! So I just had to drop in, wretched weather be damned! I’ve tried to visit a few times, but you were always closed. That’s how I know this is a good spot! The best vintage book stores always keep odd hours!” 

Oh no… Aziraphale bemoaned to himself … an eager one… 

“Do you mind if I take a look around?” The man asked, “This place is incredible! It looks more like a well loved Edwardian library than a bookshop!” 

Off by a hundred years, but I suppose it rather is… the angel thought.

“Well…” Aziraphale muttered and wrung his hands together in front of him, actually slightly flattered by the complement, “Yes, of course. As you please, but I do close soon.”

“I understand, thank you Mr?”

“Fell, yes.” 

The man smiled and pointed outside, rolling his eyes at his own silliness.

“Of course! Thank you Mr. Fell. I won’t take long.”

Aziraphale walked back to his desk and watched the man wander around out of the corner of his eye. He stepped carefully with his hands behind his back, peering at the aged volumes with a soft smile like he was walking around a museum or an antique library. Every once in a while his eyes would widen and he would gently caress the spine of a book with one careful finger. The man seemed to show real reverence for the impressive collection of books and Aziraphale found himself letting the young man snoop around for a little longer than he expected. At last, the man found himself in the section of Aziraphale’s rare first editions. 

“Oh my God!” The man gasped. 

He eagerly reached toward the dusty bookshelf, his fingers hesitating over the spines for a moment before his excitement got the best of him and he pulled two books into his hands. 

“ From Earth To The Moon AND All Around The Moon by Jules Verne! Oh, in the original French!” He flipped to the first page and gasped again. “Mr. Fell, are these first editions!?” 

Aziraphale couldn’t help but smile, endeared by the man’s enthusiasm. 

“A fan of science fiction, I see,” He said. “Yes, I have a few of Verne’s first editions. Quite a fantastical imagination he had.” 

“I can’t believe it!” The man said, gently flipping the pages. “I loved reading Verne as a kid. You know, these books inspired the very first narrative motion picture! Georges Méliès, A Trip To The Moon! We watched it in school when I was a teenager. Most of us thought it was boring but I was hypnotized! Looking back, it is obviously a bit… colonial–-” The man cringed,

“But, I've been hooked on science fiction ever since. I found an English translation of these when I was a bit older and after that, I just knew I wanted to be a writer myself. And look what we have now! Without these books, movies might not have been the same! I mean, imagine a world without Star Trek!” The man laughed. 

“You don’t sell these books do you?! These are museum pieces, surely!” 

Aziraphale smiled fondly, charmed by the gleaming sparkle in the man’s eye as he spoke of the stories he clearly adored, even if the last reference went over his head. He remembered attending a screening of A Trip To The Moon ninety years ago with Crowley in Paris by direct invitation from the accomplished magician, Méliès,  himself. Crowley loved the film — endlessly impressed by those clever humans to put stage plays onto motion picture film to be watched over and over. He believed Crowley still had an original print of the film in the vault hidden behind the Mona Lisa in his flat.

“Yes, I did know that,” He said, gently reaching to take the delicate books from the man before he found the letter from Méliès tucked in the back cover. 

 “And no, no these are not for sale. This is my private collection.” 

“Of course, of course,” the man smiled, “Well, I’ll be off then. I won’t keep you any longer. Thanks for letting me look around!” 

“You’re very welcome, dear boy,” Aziraphale said as he walked the young man to the door. And funny enough, he meant it. There was something delightful about the little human who strolled into his shop just to admire his collection and leave. 

“Be safe now,” He said. “Ta-ta.” 

The next week the man returned, just as bright eyed and excited as the last time. 

“Mr. Fell!” He said, shaking Aziraphale’s hand. “I was wondering if you might help me with something.” 

He explained to Aziraphale that he was a creative writing student at Kings College and wanted to start researching for a manuscript for his own science fiction novel that he wanted to write after he graduated in the spring. He said that he had a feeling that Mr. Fell had some old rare books about UFOs or alien abduction from the 50’s or 60’s that he could read on his train ride home for Christmas for inspiration. 

Aziraphale cringed, yes, he did in fact have a collection of pulp novels about flying saucers, Venetians, and beings from Alpha Centauri. The popular fascination with visitations of aliens from outer space had greatly amused Aziraphale back then, considering that the existence of such beings was actually utter hogwash and seemed to be another joke that scientists just hadn’t gotten yet. But admitting that would mean that he would have to part with one or two of them. 

The man chuckled, “Let me guess, in your private collection?” 

“Yes!” Aziraphale sighed, “yes, they are.”

“You have a hard time parting with them, don’t you? How much of this place is your private collection?”

The book- seller blushed. 

“This place isn’t a front for some kind of secret criminal network is it?” The man whispered conspiratorially.

The soles of Aziraphale’s feet itched as they stood on the aged round carpet concealing an arcane magic circle painted on the floor. 

“What?! No! No! Not at all, nothing of the sort!”

The man grinned like a fox, “I’m just kidding, Mr. Fell. I know an eclectic collector when I see one,” he said. 

Crowley would like this young man, the angel thought. 

“I’ll tell you what,” said Airaphale, “I’ll… I’ll let you borrow one. It is Christmas after all…” 

The man lit up, his eyes twinkling like the string lights across Whickber street. 

“You’ve got a deal! And look, I’ll even leave some collateral.” The man reached under his shirt and removed a silver pendant and handed it to Aziraphale. 

“Saint Sebastian!” Aziraphale said, “Patron Saint of archers, and plague sufferers...” 

“Yeah, my mum gave it to me for protection because… well, anyway. It means a lot to me, so you know I’ll be back for it!” 

In the end, the young man left with three books. He was back the first week of January having read all three of them cover to cover. 

Over the next few months the young man frequently visited the bookshop, often stopping by just for tea and a chat. He told Aziraphale all about the of the novel he wanted to write that was inspired by his fascination with American UFO encounters of the ‘50’s and ‘60’s. Stories like the abduction of Betty and Barney Hill, the Mothman of Point Pleasant, West Virginia, Indrid Cold, Ufonaughts, the Men in Black, and even Joe Simonton’s space pancake — all of which Aziraphale humored in good fun, knowing that oftentimes these “sightings” were just the clumsy bumblings of unfamiliar angels or demons who didn’t know how to talk to humans with any sort of common sense. Or more recently, the manifestations of the reality altering imagination of a young anti-christ. And, that the minds of twentieth century humans were in such denial about everything resembling anything even slightly divine or infernal that they would rather come up with preposterous theories of beings from outer space to explain the blunders –- Nevertheless, while these topics in a nonfiction sense were not something Aziraphale typically kept in his shop, he agreed to help the young man by using his skills at tracking down hard to find books to source information that documented these “phenomenons.” The young man had already read The Mothman Prophecies by John Keel, and Jacques Vallee’s Passport to Magonia , but he wanted to find the really obscure stuff. UFO history that would really ground his novel in a potential reality. 

Aziraphale searched for months. He subscribed to paranormal magazines in both Britain and America, ordered the bizarre video tapes from the advertisements in the back of them, he would check out the obscure libraries of the cities he would travel to with Crowley simply because they could now. Whenever he found something he thought the young man might find helpful, he would hold it safe in his bookshop for the next time the man came by for tea. 

However, as the spring sun slowly emerged from the darkness, swapping snow for leaves and luring the nightingales back to Berkeley Square, the man’s visits became fewer and fewer. Each time he visited, the man seemed more worn down than the last. Aziraphale figured that he must be preparing for his final examinations and thus did not have as much spare time or energy. He had become quite fond of the promising young writer, feeling rather like he had found a sort of kindred spirit. He made the unprecedented decision to gift his first edition copies of From The Earth To The Moon and its sequel, All Around The Moon, to the young man to celebrate his graduation. While, the idea of giving away not one but two of his books would normally make him shrink in horror, if he was being honest, he had not opened those books in decades, and he figured this young man would enjoy and appreciate them far more than he did anymore, and not just hoard them like a greedy dragon.

“Oh, No, Mr. Fell. I cannot accept these!” The man exclaimed, after reading the accompanying card that was slid between them and the perfectly tied crimson ribbon.

“Of course you can!” the angel said.

“Really, sir, you don’t understand! I - I’m very touched by the thought, but I’m afraid I just can’t…” 

The man handed the books back to Aziraphale and turned away, betrayed by tears welling in his sunken eyes. He pulled out a handkerchief and coughed several times. The man really did not look well. Aziraphale had observed him gingerly getting out of a cab when he arrived instead of walking like he usually did. He was rather thinner than usual, having obviously lost a considerable amount of weight in the past few weeks. He moved slowly and carefully, for every word he spoke seemed to exhaust him. And, it was a warm spring day yet, the man wore a knit hat and scarf with long sleeves and trousers. 

“My dear boy, please sit. Here, have some tea.” 

Aziraphale led the man to the sofa, poured him a cup and sat opposite him in his armchair. The man sipped the tea, which seemed to at least put some color back in his cheeks. 

“Now,” Aziraphale continued, placing the books on the sofa next to the man. “I’ve rather enjoyed your visits. It’s nice to talk to someone who enjoys stories as much as I do, even if we disagree on the best genres —”

The man chuckled.

“ — And, you’ve achieved a great accomplishment! And for that, I want you to have these. You deserve them! I dare say much more than I do. I wouldn’t offer them if I wasn’t sure they would be in worthy hands.” 

The man gazed at the angel he had no idea was in front of him for a long moment. Eventually he conceded. 

“Alright. Thank you, Mr. Fell. I truly have no words. This is an exceptionally kind gift.” 

“No need to thank me,” said Aziraphale. “Oh! I’ve also finally tracked down a copy of a book I think will really help you for your manuscript! It’s called The Silver Bridge , by a man named Gray Barker! It seems similar to The Mothman Prophecies , but apparently this Barker is from West Virginia and was one of the first to investigate the phenomena of those Men In Black. A U-F-Ologist he called himself…”

The man smiled, “Yes, I’ve heard of Barker. I um…” He paused, coughing wretchedly. 

“My goodness, are you alright?” Aziraphale asked.

“I’ll be fine,” the man said weakly, “just getting over a bit of… pneumonia.” 

“I see, well, let me call you a taxi. We don’t want you having a relapse. I’m still waiting for the book to ship from America. Hopefully it will arrive before your next visit.”

He led the man out the door, waved to the traffic and a cab miraculously pulled up to the curb. 

“Mind how you go, lad,” Aziraphale said, helping him into the back seat.

“Thank you,” the man said softly. He looked at Aziraphale before he shut the door, and with watery eyes and a weak voice said, “Goodbye, Mr. Fell.”

The Silver Bridge arrived two weeks later. But, a month went by with no visit from the man, then two months, then three, and Aziraphale was starting to feel a little worried. So, he decided to phone the young man, using the number he had given Aziraphale once he agreed to help source rare books for him. However, the call went to voicemail. Crowley suggested that he probably just went on a long summer holiday.

Yes… Yes, probably right . Aziraphale thought to himself and tried not to feel too anxious. 

One sweltering day in late July however, a small parcel arrived at the bookshop. Aziraphale opened the box and was startled to find his first edition copies of From The Earth To The Moon and All Around The Moon , the ones he had gifted the young man a few months earlier. Dreadfully confused, Aziraphale picked up his telephone and called the number he had for the man again. 

This time an unfamiliar male voice answered.

Aziraphale introduced himself and asked to speak to the young man.

“You’re calling about the books,” the voice said.

“Well, yes. I confess, I am quite concerned he sent them back. I also have another book to give him for his novel! But I haven’t heard from him in months.”

“I guess you wouldn’t have heard,” the voice sighed mournfully. “I’m sorry Mr. Fell. I sent those books back to you. He was my partner, you see. He asked me to send them back to you after… but I got side tracked and delayed it. And, well it was hard to let go of something that meant so much to him at the end.”

“I - I don’t understand,” Aziraphale said.

“He died, Mr. Fell, two months ago. I’m sorry it took me so long to return the books to you.” 

Aziraphale stood there in shocked silence. 

“Hello?” the voice asked.

Aziraphale gasped, “But, but they were a gift! — H-How? How d-did it happen? I mean — Oh my goodness, forgive me. I-I’m so sorry for your loss,” he finally said. 

“Thank you. He uh,” the man cleared his throat. “He caught pneumonia, an opportunistic infection they called it, and he just couldn’t beat it.” 

“But… but young people don’t just die of pneumonia anymore…” he whispered, more to himself than to the man’s partner, his clammy hand shook as he clutched the phone. Then it dawned on him and he shivered.

“Was it…” 

He couldn’t even finish the sentence. 

“...The staff in the Broderip ward at Middlesex did the best they could. I’m sorry Mr. Fell, I have to go.” 

“But— ” Aziraphale started, but the man’s partner hung up the phone. 

God bless Diana. she should be a saint , he thought, still gripping the phone. A tear treasonously dripped down his cheek.

He had never known the man’s proclivities before that day. They never really talked about anything like that. But, of course he noticed the posters around the gay clubs advertising for safe sex practices as he walked around Soho. He could sense the insidious fear that permeated the unrelenting and courageous joy that radiated from the queer folks in his neighborhood. He saw the protests demanding for more research into a cure. So he knew what was going on and what a horrible shame it was, but AIDS always seemed so beyond him. Heaven seemed just as happy to ignore the problem as most governments were. And, it wasn’t like the old days when one had to step over the dead bodies in the streets, struck down by the black death, or cholera, or any other of the white horseman’s plagues. There was no ignoring it in those days. But these people just disappeared, mysteriously, and silently. And God helped him, even he barely noticed until now. 

And, because after all,

“ —-Pestilence is retired…” He whispered into the dial tone. 

That evening, for the first time in decades he felt the desire to watch A Trip To The Moon, in honor of his lost friend. Yes, he would call the young man a friend. He asked Crowley if he could borrow his old print for the evening and the two of them sat in the cozy evening light of the bookshop and watched the old classic on a miraculously functioning antique projector. Aziraphale tried to keep his composure as the film played, he tried to remember the sense of awe and excitement he and Crowley felt seeing the film back in Paris, and to imagine the young man’s similar childish wonder as he watched a story for the first time that would inspire him for the rest of his life. He tried to push down the heavy stone that sat in his throat and banish the intrusive thoughts that tore through his mind. Ones like: I could have saved him! He was clearly sick! If only I had paid attention! I could have healed him…

Crowley, noticing Aziraphale’s tight breaths and wringing hands, wrapped his arm around the angel’s shoulders.

“None of that, Angel,” he said, leaning his forehead against Aziraphale’s temple, “I can see you beating yourself up.” 

With that, Aziraphale forgot himself, and he cried heavily into Crowley’s shoulder.

In the months and years after the young man died, Aziraphale spent much energy researching the AIDS crisis and what he could do to help in a meaningful way to stop the spread of this disastrous virus. He regularly donated money to the Broderip ward clinic for their continued work treating patients, and also anonymously funded the research and development of a preventative medication that would eventually become PrEP. He couldn’t save his friend, but he would do what he could to still be an angel and help others. 

Now, every time Aziraphale and Crowley dine at the Ritz, they request to be served by the young man who bears a striking resemblance to Aziraphale’s old friend. The affection became mutual, when the young man noticed the red ribbons Aziraphale and Crowley wore to their lunch on World AIDS Day. 

“Thank you for wearing those!” The waiter said humbly, “We’re not allowed to wear ribbons at work because of our uniforms. But, my uncle died of AIDS before I was born. My mum still talks about him all the time though, so I feel like I know him.” 

“Of course, my dear boy! We’re so sorry to hear about your uncle. Too many good people have died so needlessly,” replied Aziraphale with a gentle smile. 

After that, the young man refused to let anyone else come within ten feet of his favorite middle aged gay couple. Mr. Fell and Mr. Crowley are HIS regulars and he would drop a table full of royals to wait on them. 

https://archiveofourown.org/works/66105529

[violamonty]

Hi Miles, could you please share your version of Romeo's hair?

OH i never actually made a download post for this one, huh! i had it bundled up all nice on mediafire and everything... oops. lol

here it is! a quick retexture of digitalangels' deimos 001. all the hair itself can be credited to the lovely @digisims2 and @profesionalpartyguest (who remi'd this hair over here) — all i did was tweak the hat texture to give it romeo's signature hat stripes and alpha out the clip.

it's all-ages, unisex, and has four colors and a gray (as well as a blonde-streaked recolor in the custom bin for my own headcanon's sake :P).

[beautifulsimslover616]

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[twistedbloodstain]

keith toshko x reader: one single thread of gold tied me to you | sanrio shenanigans

plot: the one where a drink bridges you and keith together. (and it’s not the alcoholic kind)

tags: keith toshko coco meet cute? , cinnamoroll, miffy mention, sanrio obsessed ! reader, fluff, grammatical error

masterlist

it actually frightens keith.

in actuality there’s nothing threatening about a white cartoon bunny with floppy ears and bright blue eyes originating from japan, created by the kawaii focused company that is sanrio…but if you’re keith that has been shoved out of the way and cussed off several times by strangers varying from different ages, well you start to ponder what all the fuss is all about with the cartoon bunny.

it’s as if they’d actually murder him and smash his head clean on the wall if he doesn’t move out of their way to the milktea shop.

keith is fourth in line right now, and as every customer leaves the line the closer he gets the clearer the cartoon bunny becomes in his line of sight. a lineage of toys placed by the counter are visibly seen which he must assume must all be what the fuss must be about.

it’s like happy meals for older people, he thought.

he’s never tried any of the drinks in a shop that predominantly sells milktea but apparently you can only buy the toys if you buy the appropriate refresher for it which comes in avocado dream, avocado pudding and honey jelly watermelon. keith wonders if anyone actually enjoys the refreshers they come with the toy, however he’s pretty sure this is another capitalist scam for hoarders, people with hyperfixations for the cartoon bunny and victims of bandwagon.

keith is the last of those.

surely, there must be something interesting with it though? as a child he enjoyed playing with those little trinkets happy meals gave out but as an adult? any person with a job will definitely struggle with finding time to give themselves a heart stamp from a sanrio character.

maybe it’s a gift? for girlfriends or sisters or maybe sanrio collectors?

keith comes to the realization that he doesn’t know why he came inside the milktea place, got in line and waited for at least 20 minutes for something that he doesn’t find important. now that he’s at least two people away from the counter, he comes to an epiphany that although he has an alright job, he behaves like he doesn’t have one.

there are people who would prize the little trinkets from capitalist scam more than he does but then there’s no harm in what he’s doing, so why not?

suddenly, the person in front of him calls someone to her side.

a hooded figure comes up to the girl in front of him and a hushed but brief exchange of whispers are shared before the person gets out of line and lets her friend take her place in front of him.

a glare is sent to him from the girl as she walks away from the line, likely telling him that she will be back for that toy.

keith traces where the girl is headed towards and it seems it’s towards the restroom until…

something squishy but sturdy is shoved into his arm which makes keith take a small step back, slightly shocked from the sudden force applied on him. from keith’s tall stature, he glances down at what hit him.

it’s a purple translucent bag.

with a shit ton of squishy keychains bundles up together.

keith can spot the cartoon bunny alongside other characters, some he doesn’t recognize but one figure stands out to him the most.

hello kitty.

who needs that many keychains? he practically screams to himself.

keith doesn’t get it. does he look like he doesn’t have a life when he comments on other people’s lives (internally) or is it when he takes a deep hyperfixation on something that really doesn’t matter to him entirely?

he needs a quick answer before he starts losing himself into a void that is sanrio because that keychain hybrid bag is looking pretty sick to him. especially the blue penguin with the hat and bowtie.

“oh my god. i’m sorry.” she immediately apologizes.

how do you define loser behavior? he wonders.

“it’s alright.” he smiles, she smiles back. deep hyperfixations make you look like you don’t care about anything else, and more importantly bland when you make one thing your entire personality. so how in god’s green earth does the person in front of him look more spiced up than he is?

keith notices her hoodie and it’s similar to the keychain figures littered through her bag. a white dog with black floppy ears, it kinda reminds him of snoopy and charlie.

cute.

what?

”i like your bag.” he blurts out.

what.

you turn around again and look down at your bag.

”thanks. it took me a while to get it to…look like that.” you grin.

thank god you didn’t find that awkward.

”where’d you get your hoodie? looks pretty sick.” he adds, seeing you are slowly welcoming him into conversation.

”from japan. a friend gave it to me for my birthday last year.” you eagerly reply, keith notices a glint in your eyes from his small comment. clearly, you enjoy it when people comment on your sanrio things.

”kinda reminds me of snoopy to be honest.” he chuckles.

”ohh…yeah i see it. actually, i used to like snoopy before pochacco.” you explain, “there’s a clear similarity.”

”yeah but the white bunny’s cuter though.” he remarks.

you blink at him several times as the silence soaks up the conversation.

“what.” you utter out, lacking a positive tone.

”i’m pretty sure it’s up for debate but each to our own right?” he pretends to say offhandedly.

did he say something wrong? is it wrong to say that your favorite character is kinda bland? plus didn’t sanrio get sued for trying to copy other people’s characters? like the white bunny with the bland face? he read that on the way here.

“cinnamoroll’s a dog.” you point up at the character banner above the counter.

”…oh.” keith realizes.

before he can say more, a ding rings through the room from the counter calling you to come up and order your drink.

keith is left in a daze.

you peel your metal straw from the satin case it was enclosed in and pop it into your avocado dream refresher then pull out your phone to contact your sister that was taking too long for a quick visit to the bathroom.

when it ends in a voicemail, you inform her you got the drinks and the heart stamp trinket she wanted for herself.

a person clears their voice behind you.

ah…it’s mr. bunny guy.

”hi.” he greets you.

”hey.” you reply. you urge him to sit in front of you with a wave of a hand.

”thanks…i won’t take too much of your time so yeah…” he stumbles with his words, “i noticed you didn’t get one for yourself so…here.”

he sets a cinnamoroll surprise toy on the table and this makes you stop sipping your drink. you glance at his other hand and notice he got the watermelon jelly one.

“oh…you don’t have to. i don’t mind the entire thing earlier.” you smile to ease him.

”i’m not really a fan of the entire sanrio thing, not that there’s anything wrong with it. it just never really piqued my interest.” he offers.

”i can see that.” you raise your eyebrow.

”so why go here?” you follow up.

“i honestly don’t know. i’m more of a coffee guy to be honest.” he mumbles shyly.

“i like coffee too, but only if there’s seasalt in it.” you grin at him. your phone begins to ring and a familiar ring tone emerges through the air with your sister’s caller id lighting up.

”oh shit. seems like you got some place to be. um…sorry to take up your time. again i’m sorry for that thing earlier.”

”no! wait.” you call out to him before he gets up from the chair.

you shuffle at your bag for something and it takes a few minutes for you to find what you’re looking for in that puffy keychain hybrid bag. a smile erupts on your face when you see the item you’re looking for, you pull it out and hand it to him.

it’s a blue penguin with a sailor’s hat.

”it’s for you.” you eagerly offer to him, “in exchange for the toy.”

keith stares at the keychain in amusement and doesn’t have the heart to tell you he doesn’t know who the hell this little thing between your hands is.

”his name’s tuxedo sam.” you roll your eyes at his amusement, “ i noticed you eyeing him earlier at the counter.”

keith beams at your offer and slowly takes it from your palm. he gives it a light squeeze before slinging it in his index finger.

”thanks.”

”you better take care of him.” you state in a half serious tone, “ do you wanna hang out?” the mood shifts.

”sure…sure. what about your sister?” he asks.

”i’ll just give this to her then we’re on our own.” you gesture at the cooler bag with the drink and toy inside it.

you both get up from the chair but not before you tuck in the cinnamoroll toy in your bag. keith toys with the keychain you gave him as you both head out of the milktea shop.

”so…what do you do for work?”

author’s note: i love sanrio sm so obvi i had to make a fic about it along with my all time favorite sus person keith toshko…2nd keith fic and he’s just so pretty to ignore. hope you guys love it! don’t forget to like and reblog :)

[hqpokemonzine]

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[selfless-solipsist]

°˖✧ The Fuzzy Plague ✧˖° [Wander]

「 ✦ "IT'S HAPPENING! THE FUZZY PLAGUE IS UPON US! HE MULTIPLIED!" ✦ 」

╰┈➤ Wander x Female Reader ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

> Sorry, another Wander one > I'll write one for Hater next, or Sylvia, or maybe... the Black Cube of Darkness? Could be fun!

The chaotic tapestry of your villainous conquest unfurled much as one might expect—a cacophony of terrified screams, imploding empires, and you, standing smugly in the center of it all, arms crossed, radiating the kind of confidence usually reserved for CEOs and smug cats who' have knocked something breakable off the counter. Your name was whispered in fear across galaxies. And yet, somehow, amidst the chaos, one cheerful orange nomad inserted himself into your narrative like a glittery sticker slapped on a death warrant.

You knew of him, of course. Lord Hater couldn't shut up about the "fuzzy menace." He had whined for hours about how this "happy little pest" undid his schemes with banjo solos and kindness, a combo that made the skeleton overlord gag on principle. So, when Wander showed up in your path, all sunshine and twang, you weren't surprised—annoyed, maybe, like finding glitter on everything you owned after a party, but not surprised.

What was surprising was Wander's immediate infatuation.

He crushed on you harder than a black hole on a diet, declaring his love with all the subtlety of a space station explosion. He didn't just flirt—he gushed. Compliments rolled out of him like a malfunctioning praise generator, punctuated by banjo strums and the occasional heart-shaped object he pulled from his hat (which you're still pretty sure obeyed no known laws of physics).

"Oh golly, yer smile could light up a supernova!" he would chirp, wide-eyed and utterly shameless.

At first, you dismissed him, treating his antics with the same nonchalance you reserved for incompetent henchmen and automated customer service lines. But Wander didn't get discouraged. No, he was like a sugar-fueled boomerang—you threw him away, and he came right back, grinning wider and wearing some new ridiculous costume.

But somewhere along the line—perhaps in a moment of weakness, or perhaps because he serenaded you mid-battle and you couldn't stop laughing—you fell for him. Hard.

Fast forward two years, and you were a full-blown couple. To say Lord Hater was "dismayed" was an understatement. The poor guy nearly choked on his energy drink when he found out, muttering something about "betrayal by association." Not that you cared. You and Wander had a good thing going—and, to be fair, a very good thing in bed. Wander, as it turned out, was as enthusiastic and tireless in intimacy as he was in everything else. He learned quickly, too, becoming startlingly dominant when he wanted to be. The fact that reproduction between your species wasn't a possibility meant you both threw caution to the solar wind. And oh, did he make the most of it.

Which brings us to the moment that defied logic, reason, and probably a few intergalactic laws:

Childbirth. Yes.

Your labor was an experience that no amount of villainous bravado could prepare you for. Wander, of course, insisted on helping. "Helping" was his thing, after all. He appeared by your side wearing a surgical mask and rubber gloves he had yanked from his hat, ready to assist with the kind of optimism that made you want to punch him and kiss him at the same time.

"No," you rasped between contractions. "You are not playing doctor right now."

"Aw shucks, sugarplum, I just wanna—"

"No! Sit. Stay. Be cheerful from over there."

Eventually, you delivered a baby boy—a fuzzy, orange bundle of joy who looked exactly like your significant other, right down to the impossibly wide grin. The only thing he got from you was your eye color, which, frankly, you considered a win. The kid didn't even have your species' physiology—Wander's genes apparently steamrolled yours like a hyperactive toddler with a tank. And parenthood turned Wander into something you could only describe as hilariously domestic. He swapped his usual hat for a pink apron that read, Kiss the Fuzzball, and became a one-man safety patrol, constantly swooping in to rescue your son from death rays and tripwires.

"Careful, lil' buddy!" he would chirp, whisking the kid away from certain doom like a cheerful tornado. "Daddy doesn't want ya gettin' vaporized!"

And you? You were still a villainess, still conquering galaxies, but now with an extra dose of chaos in your life. Wander cheered you on (and foiled your plans because that was basically a tradition at this point), your son tagged along with unshakable glee, and together, you were a family—a bizarre, mismatched, impossibly happy family.

Much to Lord Hater's eternal despair.

Which brings us to a very eventful day. 

The Skullship corridors echoed with screams that could curdle milk and scare ghosts into therapy. The most feared villain in the galaxy—or at least the one who yelled about it the loudest—was currently sprinting through the hallways like a cat being chased by a vacuum cleaner. Behind him was his worst nightmare, giggling with toddler glee: your three-year-old son, who had inherited all of Wander's unshakable optimism, chaotic energy, and the inexplicable ability to make people simultaneously adore and fear him.

The little fuzzball thundered after Hater on stubby legs, his tangerine fluff bouncing with each step. "Unca Hay-Hay!" your son squealed, arms outstretched. "HUG!"

"HUG?!" The unfortunate victim screeched, his voice cracking so high it shattered a nearby Watchdog's confidence. He grabbed the hapless minion like he was a makeshift shield and shook him violently. "Do you hear that?! He wants to hug me! IT'S A TRAP! HE'S SMALLER BUT SMARTER!"

The soldier, whose name you vaguely remembered as something like Jerry or Gary or Larry, blinked at his boss in wide-eyed terror. "Uh, s-sir—"

"DON'T 'SIR' ME!" Hater yelled, tossing the poor guy like a frisbee at your son, who immediately caught him in an exuberant hug. 

"IT'S HAPPENING! THE FUZZY PLAGUE IS UPON US! HE MULTIPLIED!"

From your vantage point on the observation deck—where you lounged with a smoothie in one hand and Sylvia cackling at your side on a plush couch—the scene down below, and behind the windows showing the hallways, was like watching a nature documentary where the apex predator realizes it's actually prey. "This is better than the time I rigged his cloak with confetti cannons," you mused, taking a sip.

"Hay-Hay, no run!" your son chirped, waddling faster, his high-pitched giggles echoing like the unholy spawn of joy and chaos. "HUG! HUG, HUG!"

"NOOOO!" Hater screeched, skidding around a corner with the grace of a giraffe on roller skates. He hurled a chair, a potted plant, and, inexplicably, a toaster in your son's direction. None of them hit. Your toddler caught the toaster mid-air, looked at it with delight, and yelled, "TOASTY!"

Sylvia wheezed beside you, clutching her stomach. "This is gold. I'm so glad I came along for this."

Wander jogged along behind the chaos, cheerful as ever, calling out with his arms open. "Aw, Hater, don't be like that! I've got hugs for you too, buddy!"

The skeleton whipped around mid-sprint, nearly tripping over his own feet. "NO, YOU STAY AWAY TOO! THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT! YOU MULTIPLIED!" He grabbed another random Watchdog, this one slightly taller (which was an achievement) and clearly rethinking all his life choices, and shook him so hard his helmet rattled. "TELL HIM TO STOP MULTIPLYING!"

The poor guy, who looked like he would rather face a black hole than this situation, stammered, "S-sir, I don't think that's how multiplication works—"

"YOU'RE FIRED!" Hater bellowed, throwing the man at Wander like a meat shield. The fuzzball caught him, set him gently on the ground, and gave him a pat on the head. 

"There ya go, little buddy. Remember, hugs make everything better!"

From the look on the Watchdog's face, he might have preferred being thrown into a sun.

Meanwhile, your son squealed with delight and started climbing a pile of discarded chairs Hater had used to barricade a hallway. You leaned back in your seat, drink in hand, and grinned at your friend. "I give five minutes before it gets worse."

She snorted. "Nah, I'm betting three. Look at them—this is already horribly good."

Hater had just rounded another corner, sweating enough to fill a small kiddie pool, when the unthinkable happened. Your little bundle of joy stopped chasing him, pausing mid-waddle to tilt his head at something shiny on the floor—a stray blaster that one of the Watchdogs had carelessly dropped in their frantic escape. Your son's wide, sparkly eyes lit up like a supernova on steroids. "Ooooooooh..." he cooed, toddling over to pick up the weapon with both hands, wobbling under its weight. Don't do such things at home folks.

"Oh no, no, no, no, NO!" The skeleton screeched, his voice shooting up an octave like a squeaky door hinge. He slapped his bony hands against his skull, vibrating with panic. "HE'S GOT A WEAPON! A WANDER WITH A WEAPON! THIS IS THE END! THIS IS HOW I DIE AND I'M ALREADY DEAD!"

Wander, who had been jogging merrily along, froze mid-step. His grin faltered, and his pupils shrank into tiny pinpricks of dread. "Oh golly, little buddy," he said, voice trembling as he held his hands out in a gesture of calm. "That's, uh, not a toy, sunshine. Let's just—how about Daddy takes that, huh?"

Your son, completely ignoring him like any good Wander clone would, turned the blaster over in his little fuzzy hands, giggling. "BOOM!" he announced, clearly thrilled by his newfound discovery.

Hater hit the ground in full-on fetal position, rocking back and forth like a malfunctioning chair. "WE'RE ALL DOOMED! THIS IS IT! THE FUZZBALLS ARE TAKING OVER THE UNIVERSE!"

You, still lounging on the observation deck with Sylvia, snorted into your smoothie. "He acts like this is new information. Wander's been slowly dismantling his sanity for years."

She nodded, wiping a tear from her eye. "This just speeds up the process. Look, the kid's aiming now."

Sure enough, your son had hefted the blaster up, pointing it in random directions while making pew-pew noises. The weapon whirred ominously, charged up by the universe's most oblivious toddler. Wander started flapping his arms like a panicked bird. "Sweet pea, no! That's not for playtime! We use our words, remember? Not energy blasts!"

"Pew-pew!" your son cheered, the blaster glowing brighter.

Before the situation could get any more ridiculous, Commander Peepers stormed into the hallway, his clipboard tucked under one arm and a scowl carved so deep into his face (eye) you were surprised it didn't crack his helmet. "WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?!" he barked, glaring at Hater's crumpled form. "Sir, why are you curled up like a damp noodle?!"

Hater peeked up, his eyes wild with terror. "P-Peepers! Save me! HE'S GOT A BLASTER! HE'S GONNA TAKE MY THRONE AND MY SANITY!"

The second-in-command sighed the way a stressed-out parent sighs after discovering someone left glitter in the washing machine. "Sir, no one wants your throne. Or your sanity. And why does a child have a—"

PEW!

Before Peepers could finish, your son turned the blaster toward him with the precision of someone who clearly didn't understand physics. The weapon fired a glowing pulse of energy that zipped across the room like a caffeinated bee and knocked Peepers' helmet clean off his head. The clatter of the object hitting the floor was drowned out by Peepers and Hater letting out identical high-pitched screams. The smaller alien instinctively lunged for his friend, grabbing onto his cloak in a panic, while Hater grabbed him back, their shared terror morphing into what could only be described as a screaming hug.

"HE SHOT MY HELMET OFF!" Peepers wailed, clinging to Hater like a life raft in a stormy sea.

"I TOLD YOU THEY'RE TAKING OVER!" The skeleton yelled, shaking him violently. "IT'S THE FUZZBALL APOCALYPSE!"

Meanwhile, Wander crouched down to your son's level, his smile strained and his voice trembling with a mix of panic and forced cheer. "Okay, buddy, let's put the scary zap-zap thing down now, huh? Maybe Daddy can trade you for... uh..." He fished desperately in his hat, pulling out a stuffed unicorn, a lollipop, and what looked like a live raccoon. "One of these?"

Your son considered the lollipop for a moment before pointing the blaster at the wild animal. "Pew!" he squealed.

Your partner's eyes widened as the raccoon leapt into his face, screeching. "Gah! Okay, plan B! Plan B!"

From your comfy seat, you tipped your smoothie toward your female companion in mock salute. "Three minutes exactly. You called it."

Sylvia wheezed with laughter. "This is better than watching gladiator fights."

"IT'S HAPPENING!" Hater screamed, now fully unhinged, like a man who had just discovered the universe was actually made of cheese. "THE FUZZBALLS HAVE INFILTRATED EVERYTHING! THEY'RE EVOLVING! THEY'RE GONNA TAKE OVER THE GALAXY, ONE HUG AT A TIME!"

Peepers was still clinging to him, his helmet off and his eye darting around like a squirrel caught in a tornado. "Sir, you're not making any sense! We've already been through this!"

"Oh, but you don't get it, Peepers!" He screeched, hopping to his feet and grabbing a piece of chalk with urgency—he ran to a chalkboard that, somehow, had appeared out of nowhere. With frenzied, twitchy hands, he began scribbling on the board, drawing a series of stick figures that looked like they had been designed by a toddler after a sugar binge.

You squinted at the chalkboard from above. "What... is that?"

Sylvia leaned in for a closer look, nearly choking on her own laughter. "That's supposed to be your kid, isn't it? I mean, I can barely tell, but I think that's what Hater's brain thinks the future looks like. Either that, or the apocalypse mixed with a preschool art class."

Indeed, the skeleton overlord had somehow managed to combine stick figures, scribbles of what appeared to be spaceships, and a variety of nonsensical arrows pointing in every direction—complete with random drawings of socks for reasons nobody could fathom. "See!" He shouted, pointing wildly at the absurd doodles. "THIS IS THE GALACTIC BLUEPRINT FOR DOOM!"

Wander, who was standing awkwardly beside your son, who was still blissfully unaware that he had just nearly destroyed two of the most fearsome beings in the galaxy, started to panic in his own way. "Well, hey now, Hater, it's not so bad!" He chirped, his voice a little too high-pitched as he gave his signature grin, though it faltered ever so slightly. "We can always look at this like an opportunity, right? I mean, uh, yeah, the whole 'destroy everything' thing doesn't sound great, but hey, maybe we could, like, offer hugs as an alternative? Or—ooh, or how about a game of, uh, musical chairs? That could totally lighten the mood! What do you think, buddy?"

He tried offering your son an overly cheery smile, but your child was too busy aiming the blaster at the ground, making it pop with tiny bursts of energy that sent a few Watchdogs diving for cover.

The helper turned to Hater with a sheepish grin. "See? A little positivity goes a long way!"

But the victim, now scribbling even harder on the chalkboard, was not convinced. "DOES ANYONE UNDERSTAND THE GRAVITY OF THE SITUATION?!? THIS IS A DOOMSCAPE. A FURRY PANDEMIC! WE'RE ALL DOOMED!" He picked up a piece of chalk and furiously drew a picture of Wander in his signature green hat, with a gigantic smile that was almost the size of his head. Then, he drew your son next to him, only your son had a speech bubble that read, "HUG!"

Wander glanced over and smiled at the picture, his eyes wide. "Aw, now that's the spirit! See, Hater? Hugging is the answer to everything!" He gave Peepers a light pat on the shoulder, his face glowing like he had just unlocked the secret of the universe. "We're just a big happy family, that's all. The universe does need more hugs! And a few more triple pickle cream pies..."

"YES! I KNOW!" Hater shrieked, his hands shaking as he grabbed a Watchdog by the collar and held him up like a human flagpole. "IT'S A CONSPIRACY! A WANDER-FAMILY CLONE ARMY! THEY'RE GOING TO OVERWHELM US WITH POSITIVITY UNTIL WE'RE ALL FORCED TO HUG OUR ENEMIES!" He then started writing "+ HUG" on the chalkboard in big, shaky letters, as if the concept itself was some kind of dangerous weapon.

Sylvia wiped a tear from her eye, still snickering. "I can't take this. This is like watching a madman unravel himself. It's glorious."

You chuckled, taking another sip of your smoothie. "I'd say this is peak entertainment."

As you leaned back, enjoying the view of the absolute madness below, Wander continued to try and calm the situation. But your son? He was having the time of his life, running around, letting the blaster pew-pew all over the place like it was just another toy—completely unaware of the panic he had caused. And through all of this? You just sat back, watching as your baby, your fiancé, and the most fearful villain in the galaxy had a collective meltdown. But soon, the pandemonium had escalated to a level even the Skullship's most battle-hardened Watchdogs hadn't prepared for. Every corner of the ship seemed to reverberate with screams, blaster fire, and the distinct sound of Hater's mind crumbling like a stale cookie.

Your son, still blissfully unaware of the havoc he was causing, was playing his own little game of "pretend I'm a weapon of mass destruction," running after the soldiers like a little fuzzy whirlwind of doom, shouting "HUG!" with every step.

Wander, despite his best efforts to maintain his usual cheery disposition, was starting to crack. His smile was now a strained, twitchy thing, like he was trying to hold back a laugh during a funeral. "Aw, golly, buddy, that's not how we play with—whoa, okay, stop!" Your son aimed the blaster right at a shelf of vases, and they exploded in a shower of ceramic. His dad gasped, hands flying to his face in pure shock. "Oh no! Oh no, no, no, buddy, we can't do—"

Then, just when it seemed like things couldn't get worse, Lord Hater snapped. His eyes were wide with a mix of sheer terror and utter madness. Grabbing a nearby Watchdog by the collar (yes, again), he shook him like a ragdoll, his voice rising to a pitch only dogs could hear. "FOOLS! YOU FOOLS! WHY DIDN'T YOU SEE THIS COMING?!? WHY DID YOU NOT TELL ME THAT A FURRY PLAGUE WAS BREWING RIGHT UNDER MY NOSE?!?"

The poor Watchdog, whose name you didn't bother remembering because he was destined to be scarred for life, stammered, "S-s-sir, we—"

"SIR?!" He bellowed, throwing him aside like a piece of trash. "I AM LORD HATER! THE LORD HATER!" He spun around, hands flying in all directions like an over-caffeinated windmill. "AND THIS IS MY SHIP! MY SHIP, WHICH IS NOW INFESTED WITH CHILDREN WHO DO NOT UNDERSTAND THE SACRED RULE OF NOT DESTROYING EVERYTHING!" He whipped his head around, now zeroing in on you and Wander like you were the masterminds of a worldwide conspiracy to ruin his life. "I blame you two! This is your fault! YOU HAD A KID! YOU MULTIPLIED AND NOW LOOK WHAT WE HAVE! A MINI-WANDER WITH A DEATH RAY!"

Wander, still desperately trying to remain optimistic, grabbed your son by the arms and attempted to drag him away from the wreckage. "Okay, buddy, let's... let's go play with some soft, squishy things, huh? Maybe a pillow fort? Or—OOOH, a game of 'hide-and-seek' in the engine room? How about that?"

Your son, not even listening, turned back to Hater and shot another blast at him. This one grazed his shoulder and he flinched like he had been shot by a cannon.

"GAAAAHHH!" he screamed. "IT BURNS! IT BURNS LIKE A THOUSAND SUNS!"

At this point, Hater was no longer even trying to make sense. He grabbed another Watchdog by the leg and lifted him into the air like he was some kind of new weapon of mass destruction. "YOU FOOLS! YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND! YOU NEVER UNDERSTAND!"

The Watchdog, now dangling like a ragdoll, weakly squeaked, "Sir, I—"

"No! NO MORE EXCUSES!" Hater shrieked. "I WILL NOT BE TAKEN DOWN BY A WANDER CLONE BABY!" He threw the man across the room like he was a beanbag, and then, to everyone's surprise, he stopped. A long, dramatic pause filled the room, as if Hater had suddenly come to a profound realization. He turned toward Peepers, whose eye was wide with terror, and grabbed him by the shoulders, shaking him. "PEEPERS! THIS IS IT! THE END OF THE LINE! THE FUZZBALLS WILL KILL US ALL! IF THESE ARE MY LAST WORDS—" He choked, his eyes wide with the gravity of the moment.

Peepers blinked, confused but oddly compassionate and hopeful. "Sir, I don't—"

"I REGRET... I REGRET NOT FINISHING THAT LEVEL IN THAT VIDEO GAME!" Hater wailed dramatically, clutching his second-in-command like he was the last person on Earth. "I COULD HAVE BEATEN IT! I WAS SO CLOSE! BUT NOW I'M GOING TO DIE, AND I'LL NEVER KNOW THE TRUE POTENTIAL OF THAT GAME! WHY? WHY DID I GET DISTRACTED BY A WANDER CLONE BABY?!"

...

Peepers, who was now essentially stuck in an accidental, death-grip hug with his boss, blinked in bewilderment. "That... that's what you regret?"

Hater nodded gravely. "Yes. That... and not having a better escape plan for when the WANDER CLONE BABY inevitably—"

Suddenly, a blast of energy rang out, hitting the wall right behind the two villains. Your son giggled, holding the blaster at an odd angle, aiming at anything that moved. 

"PEW-PEW!"

"OH MY GOD!" Hater screamed in terror, as if this blaster-wielding toddler was the most terrifying thing in the universe. "WE'RE ALL GOING TO DIE! THIS IS MY LEGACY! I WILL BE REMEMBERED AS THE ONE WHO WAS KILLED BY A WANDER CLONE BABY AND A WANDER!" And just like that, he grabbed his right hand man again, holding him tightly as if he was some kind of bulletproof vest. "IF THESE ARE MY LAST WORDS—"

"WE'VE ALREADY GONE OVER THIS!" Peepers shouted, attempting to wriggle free. "STOP CLINGING TO ME!"

But it was no use. Hater was convinced that the fuzzball plague had officially won. And as the blaster shots continued to explode around them like fireworks, the two of them stood there, locked in a bizarre hug—screaming for their lives, like it was a very messed-up version of the last scene in a disaster movie. Meanwhile, your son was enthusiastically toddling after a fleeing Watchdog, the weapon still clutched in his tiny hands like it was his new favorite toy. "Shiny!" he chirped, zapping a nearby panel, which promptly exploded in a shower of sparks. The Watchdog dove behind a crate, shaking so hard his helmet rattled.

Sylvia, reclining next to you with her boots kicked up on the railing, snorted. "This is the best entertainment I've had in years. The universe finally hit Wander with a taste of his own medicine."

You swirled your drink lazily, the smug grin on your face only widening as the mayhem unfolded. "You know, for someone who preaches peace and love, he sure knows how to inspire pure terror. Look at Hater; he's practically molting."

She wiped a tear from her eye once more. "I didn't think anything could make Peepers scream like that. Guess your kid's got some real talent."

Before you could reply, a frantic voice rang out from below. "Sweetheart! Sweetie pie! Love of my life, HELP!"

You leaned forward just in time to see Wander darting up the stairs on the side of the observation deck, his hat bouncing with every step. His wide, pleading eyes met yours, and you could practically see the desperation radiating off him in waves. It was rich—so rich. This was the same fuzzball who had ruined your schemes more times than you could count, and now he wanted your help?

"Isn't this your thing?" you called, waving a hand. "You're Mr. Helper! Go help!"

"Sugarplum, I can't—he's got a blaster!" He yelped, skidding to a stop below you. "And—and he's just like you! He doesn't listen, he's fearless, and he's got no concept of personal safety!" His voice cracked with pure, unfiltered panic. "I can't keep up! He's too much! Please!"

Before you could fully process what was happening, Wander grabbed you. Correction: lifted you—over his head, like you weighed nothing more than a bag of potatoes. It was comical, absurd, and impressive all at once, considering he barely came up to your chest. His tangerine arms wobbled only slightly as he carried you down the stairs with the determination of a dad who had finally met his match.

"Wander, put me down!" you demanded, though you were laughing too hard to sound serious.

"Not until you help!" Wander insisted, his voice wobbling as he avoided another random zap from the blaster your son was gleefully firing at anything that moved. "This is an emergency! A catastrophe! A—whoa, watch out, lil' buddy!"

Your son had managed to dislodge a section of piping from the wall, which clattered to the floor with a metallic clang. He looked at it with the same wide-eyed wonder he had given the blaster. "BOOM-STICK!" he declared, brandishing it like a sword.

"NO!" His dad wailed, spinning in place with you still above his head. "NO BOOM-STICKS! BOOM-STICKS ARE BAD!"

Sylvia, now doubled over on the observation deck, wheezed, "Oh, this is better than my birthday."

You, meanwhile, decided to enjoy the ride. "Wow, you really are strong," you teased, propping your chin on one hand as Wander darted around. "Guess that explains why I always end up pinned in—"

"Sweetheart, NOT THE TIME!" Your husband-to-be yelped, nearly dropping you in embarrassment. He set you down in the middle of the chaos and grabbed your hands. "Please, darlin', you're the only one who can stop him! He takes after you!"

With that you glanced at your son, who was now trying to balance the blaster on his head like some kind of weaponized hat, and grinned. "You're not wrong. He's got my style."

"Yeah, and your complete disregard for common sense!" He tugged at your sleeve like a kid begging for candy. "Please, honeybun! He'll listen to you!��Probably!"

You crossed your arms, tapping your chin like you were seriously considering his request. "Hmm. I don't know. This is kind of karma, don't you think? You ruined my plans for years. Maybe I should sit back and let this play out..."

"WHAT?!" Wander looked at you like you had suggested eating kittens for breakfast. "Sugarplum, please! It's our little angel!"

Your son giggled, waving his new weapon triumphantly. "BOOM!" He pressed a random button on the blaster, and a nearby wall panel exploded in a dramatic shower of sparks.

Hater's scream could probably be heard in another galaxy.

"Okay, okay," you relented, stifling a laugh as you marched toward your tiny agent of chaos. "Let's see what we can do before he blows up the ship."

"THANK YOU!" Wander called after you, dropping to his knees in exaggerated relief. "Thank you, sweetie pie! You're my hero!"

You rolled your eyes but smirked, ready to wrangle your little mini-me into some semblance of order. And as you approached your giggling little chaos gremlin, a plan began to form in your villainous mind. You had dealt with Wander enough to know his weaknesses—both of them. And if genetics had truly cursed your son with all of your partner's quirks, there was one foolproof method to tame the beast. Sliding a hand into your pocket, you fished out your secret weapon: a laser pointer. It was sleek, compact, and your absolute favorite tool for handling Wander-level chaos. Why? Because the fuzzball was irresistibly drawn to laser dots like a cat hopped up on caffeine.

“Oh no,” Sylvia wheezed from her perch on the observation deck. “You’re not… You wouldn’t—”

“Oh, I would,” you said smugly, holding up the laser pointer with a flourish. “Watch and learn, Sylvia. This is how a true villainess wrangles the fuzzy plague.”

You clicked the button, and a bright red dot appeared on the floor, flickering back and forth like a tiny, dancing star. Your son’s eyes widened instantly, his tiny body freezing mid-waddle as if he had just spotted the Holy Grail. His grip on the blaster slackened, and it dropped to the floor with a metallic clatter. “Dot!” he screeched, dropping the other object entirely and pouncing at the laser like his life depended on it. His little legs scrambled as he chased the dot across the floor, giggling uncontrollably every time it darted out of reach.

Wander, standing nearby, gasped in awe, clutching his chest like he had just witnessed the birth of a galaxy. “Oh my stars… He’s just like me!” His voice cracked with an overwhelming mix of pride, disbelief, and something that sounded suspiciously like he was about to cry. “He even pounces the same way! Look at him go! Oh, sugarplum, this is—this is beautiful! It’s… it’s a family tradition!”

“Yeah,” Sylvia drawled, leaning over the railing with an amused grin, “a family tradition of being ridiculous.”

Wander didn’t even hear her. He was too mesmerized by his son’s laser-fueled antics. That is, until the dot slid a little too close to his own feet. His eyes locked onto it, his pupils dilated, and for a moment, all higher reasoning left his mind.

“Wander, don’t—” you started.

Too late.

With a little yelp, your partner dove for the laser dot like an overexcited kitten, tumbling to the floor and scrambling after it on all fours. “I got it! I got it—wait, no! Come back here, you slippery little rascal!”

The zbornak burst out laughing, nearly falling off the railing. “This is better than every soap opera I’ve ever watched combined.”

“Control is key,” you said with a wicked grin, flicking the dot around in erratic patterns that had both your son and your fiancé scrambling in dizzying circles. The resemblance between the two was uncanny—and downright hilarious.

Hater, still clutching Peepers for dear life, gawked at the scene with wide, horrified eyes. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he muttered, his voice trembling. “They’re both like this?! BOTH OF THEM?!” But you only smirked, aiming the laser pointer upward, and flicked it right onto Hater’s forehead. The red dot landed square between his lightning bolt-shaped horns. “NO!” he screeched, swatting at his face like it was infested with bees. “GET IT OFF! GET IT OFF ME!”

Wander and your son froze mid-pounce, their eyes snapping up to the dot like they were programmed. For a split second, there was silence—a moment of shared understanding between father and son.

And then they both lunged for the skeleton overlord.

“AHHHH!” He screamed, his voice cracking into a terrified wail as he turned tail and bolted, dragging Peepers along with him like a human shield. “YOU’RE ALL INSANE! THIS ISN’T A FAMILY—IT’S A FUZZBALL INVASION!”

Peepers, flailing in his grasp, groaned. “Sir, put me down! This is humiliating!”

“You think I care?!” Hater shrieked, skidding around a corner with Wander and your son hot on his heels. “I’M THE VICTIM HERE! I DIDN’T SIGN UP FOR THIS!”

And so, the chaos continued, with Hater screaming nonsense, Wander and your son fighting for the dot, and you standing triumphantly in the middle of it all. The galaxy’s most feared villainess—and, apparently, the galaxy’s greatest wrangler of fuzzy chaos. But then, you decided to drop the biggest bombshell of the day. Watching the whole charade was entertaining, sure, but you had an ace up your sleeve—one that you just knew would throw the chaos into overdrive.

“Wander!” you called out, your voice carrying the kind of dramatic flair usually reserved for soap operas.

“Y-yeah, sugarplum?” he asked, trying to untangle himself from your son, who was currently using his father’s hat as a chew toy.

“I’m pregnant again.”

Time. Stopped.

Wander froze mid-struggle, his head snapping toward you with the kind of wide-eyed look that could only be described as pure, unfiltered disbelief. Your son took advantage of his distraction to tackle him to the floor, but he didn’t even seem to notice. “WHAT?!” His voice cracked so hard it could have shattered a window. He scrambled to his feet, almost tripping over his own legs in his rush to reach you. “You’re—? Again? Really?!” His face lit up with a mixture of awe and panic, his hat now dangling off. “Oh golly, sugarplum, are you serious?!”

You crossed your arms, the smuggest of grins plastered across your face. “Do I look like I’m joking?”

He practically vibrated with excitement, hugging you tightly as if you were the only thing keeping him from exploding into a shower of glitter. “Oh my stars! We’re gonna have another one?! Oh golly, oh golly, oh golly—” He suddenly froze, his expression shifting from joy to terror.

“Wait, we’re gonna have another one.”

Oh Grop.

Hater, who had been hugging Peepers and screaming nonsense about his legacy, abruptly stopped mid-shriek. His glowing green eyes widened in horror as the realization hit him like a truck. “YOU’RE WHAT?!” he bellowed, his voice echoing through the spaceship. “THERE’S GONNA BE TWO OF THEM?!”

The small Watchdog, who had been doing his best to pry himself free, let out a resigned groan. “Sir, please don’t—”

“THAT'S HORRIBLE NEWS!” The skeleton wailed, releasing Peepers to grab another chalkboard out of nowhere. He began scribbling furiously, this time drawing two stick figures with scribbly orange heads. “TWO! TWO FUZZBALLS! DOUBLE THE HUGGING! DOUBLE THE CHAOS! WE WON’T SURVIVE THIS!”

Wander, meanwhile, had gone full spiral. He dropped to his knees at your feet, clutching your hands like a man possessed. “Oh golly, darlin', I promise I’ll be the best dad! I’ll knit booties for both of ‘em! I’ll make matching hats! I’ll—oh no, what if they both want the same toy? Or what if they team up and we can’t handle it? Or—”

“Honey, breathe,” you interrupted, patting his head like he was a hyperactive puppy.

“I can’t breathe!” He exclaimed, his eyes sparkling with both excitement and existential dread. “We’re having another baby!”

Your son, blissfully unaware of the gravity of the situation, toddled over to Hater and pointed at the stick figures on the chalkboard. “THAT ME!” he declared, jabbing at one of the drawings.

The skeleton shrieked like someone had doused him in ice water. “GET AWAY FROM ME, YOU FUZZY LITTLE TERROR! YOU’RE GONNA HAVE BACKUP SOON, AREN’T YOU?! THIS IS HOW IT ENDS! I KNEW IT!”

Peepers groaned and rubbed his temples. “Why do I even bother?”

Sylvia, still lounging on the observation deck, let out a low whistle. “Well, looks like you two are gonna be really busy.” She grinned at you. “Congrats, though. You’ve officially made Hater’s life a living nightmare.”

You smirked, leaning back with your hands on your hips. “What can I say? It’s a gift.”

And as the tall villain started drawing increasingly nonsensical apocalyptic scenarios on his chalkboard, Wander alternated between crying with joy and hyperventilating, and your son continued zapping random walls (because of course he picked up the blaster again), you couldn’t help but think that life was about to get a whole lot more chaotic—and you were more than ready for it. Hater though? He had now scrawled what could only be described as a doomsday manifesto on the whiteboard. It was an incomprehensible mess of colors, shapes, and terrifying figures, all pointing to a giant, red arrow labeled: 

💀 'THE FUZZBALL REVOLUTION IS COMING.' 💀

He climbed onto a nearby table—knocking over a pile of precariously stacked crates in the process—and raised his arms to the heavens like some kind of deranged prophet. “HEAR ME, GALAXY!” he bellowed, his voice echoing dramatically through the halls of the Skullship. “I WARN YOU ALL: THE FUZZBALL REVOLUTION IS COMING!”

The Watchdogs, peeking out from behind crates, corners, and each other, stared at him with wide, terrified eyes. “The what, sir?” one brave soul dared to ask.

Hater jabbed a bony finger at the nearest chalkboard, which now resembled a preschool art project on steroids. “THE FUZZBALL REVOLUTION! Look at this!” He pointed wildly at a series of stick figures labeled Wander (the worst), Wander Clone Army, Baby #1, Baby #2, and inexplicably, Larry the Rebel Watchdog. “This is the future! Hugs everywhere! Blasting everything that moves! DO YOU WANT TO LIVE IN A GALAXY WHERE EVERY DAY IS JUST... THIS?!” He gestured behind him, where your son had somehow managed to climb onto Wander’s head, using his dad as a jungle gym, while the nomad spun in circles trying to avoid getting zapped by his tiny offspring. “Do you see that?!” Hater screeched, pointing dramatically. “This is the end! The end of evil as we know it! It’s... it’s positive chaos! Nobody’s safe! Not me, not you, NOT EVEN LARRY!” He grabbed a random soldier by the shoulders and shook him violently. “Larry, listen to me! You must prepare yourself! Buy snacks, hoard helmets, stockpile as much anti-hug spray as you can find! IT WON’T BE ENOUGH, BUT DO IT ANYWAY!”

The Watchdog, who may or may not have actually been named Larry, just whimpered. “Uh, yes, sir. Whatever you say, sir.”

“And you!” Hater spun toward the imaginary audience, his skeletal face twisting into a grimace of despair. “I’m talking to YOU out there! Yes, YOU, sitting in your cozy little spaceship or whatever! Laugh now, but when the fuzzball invasion reaches YOUR doorstep, don’t say I didn’t warn you! They’re coming! They’re small, they’re fuzzy, and they have no concept of boundaries!” He threw his arms wide for emphasis. 

“THEY WILL HUG YOU INTO SUBMISSION!”

...

The room fell silent, save for the faint hum of the Skullship’s engines and the occasional “pew-pew” from your son’s blaster. The skeleton stood there, panting, his dramatic ranting having taken every ounce of energy he had left.

Peepers, dusting himself off from where he had been unceremoniously dropped earlier, sighed heavily. “Sir, you need therapy.”

“THERAPY CAN’T SAVE ME!” Hater howled, collapsing into a heap of cloak and despair.

And with that, the self-proclaimed greatest villain in the galaxy curled into a ball on the table, muttering incoherently about laser pointers, hugs, and the impending doom of all evil, while you and Wander exchanged amused glances. Sylvia, still wheezing with laughter, summed it up best:

“Yup. This is why I stick around. You just can’t pay for entertainment like this.”

[muiitoloko]

Hi! I loved your Slope stories, so could we get a follow-up? Perhaps some drama (something to do with jealousy?) and also smut? 😍

Title: The Bewitched Chaplain.

Summary: Consumed by jealousy, Obadiah Slope confronts his feelings for a gypsy woman, leading to a passionate encounter that changes them both.

Pairing: Mr. Obadiah Slope × Fem! Reader

Warning: Smut, Jealousy.

Author's Notes: Thank you for your request. 🫶

First, Second, Third, Fourth and Fifth part here.

Also read on Ao3

Mr. Slope disappeared for a week after that fateful day in your shop. He vanished without a trace, and despite the lingering curiosity and questions, you didn’t worry too much about it. You knew he would return eventually, drawn back by the forbidden allure that had ensnared him. In the meantime, you relished the peace his absence brought, a welcome respite from his incessant attention.

Your shop began to flourish again, free from the shadow of Mr. Slope’s presence. Customers trickled back in, seeking your herbal remedies and tinctures. You focused on your craft, creating potions and balms to cure ailments and soothe troubled minds. Each day was filled with the comforting routine of mixing herbs and bottling elixirs, the familiar scents of lavender, chamomile, and rosemary filling the air.

Today, you decided to venture into the city to restock your supplies. The morning was crisp, the sky a clear, bright blue as you made your way through the bustling streets of Barchester. The market was alive with activity, vendors calling out their wares and townsfolk haggling over prices. You wove through the crowd with practiced ease, your eyes scanning the stalls for the ingredients you needed.

Your first stop was the apothecary, where you purchased dried chamomile flowers and valerian root. The shopkeeper, an elderly man with a kind smile, greeted you warmly. “Ah, Miss, back for more supplies? Business must be good.”

You nodded, smiling in return. “Yes, it’s been quite busy. People always need remedies for their troubles.”

He chuckled, handing you a neatly wrapped parcel. “Indeed. Take care, Miss. Until next time.”

You continued through the market, stopping at various stalls to buy fresh lavender, peppermint leaves, and a bundle of sage. As you moved from vendor to vendor, you noticed a few familiar faces, regular customers who nodded in greeting. You exchanged pleasantries with them, your spirits lifted by the sense of community.

Your final stop was the grocery stall, where you picked up fresh vegetables, fruits, and a loaf of bread. The grocer, a plump woman with rosy cheeks, chatted with you as she weighed your purchases. “I heard Mr. Slope hasn’t been seen in a while. Good riddance, I say. That man gave me the creeps.”

You laughed softly, agreeing inwardly. “Yes, it has been peaceful without him around.”

With a full suitcase and a light heart, you decided to pamper yourself a little. Not resisting the temptation, you bought some trinkets for yourself too. Like a true gypsy, you were vain, enjoying looking pretty. Your next stop was one of the tents belonging to a gypsy friend who loved flirting with you. As a woman and a gypsy, you knew you were breaking traditions by not being married yet, especially at your age, but you didn't care. You enjoyed being unique, and so you flirted back, laughing and teasing with an ease that came naturally to you.

You didn't notice Mr. Slope watching from afar, hidden beneath a broad-brimmed hat that shielded him from the strong sun. Silently seething with jealousy at the sight of you with another man, he felt a bitter taste in his mouth. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw you, moaning and writhing beneath him. He could almost taste you on his tongue. Now, seeing you smile at another man left him distraught.

He decided to get closer, his expression darkening as he approached. "Well, well, if it isn't the wandering temptress and her fellow gypsy miscreants," he mocked, his baritone voice dripping with disdain.

Your gypsy friend straightened up, his easygoing demeanor replaced by a wary look. "Mr. Slope," he greeted with forced politeness. "What brings you here?"

Slope's hooked nose flared slightly as he sneered. "I was just passing by and couldn't help but notice the... spectacle." His eyes shifted to you, their intensity unnerving. "Don't you have more respectable business to attend to, or do you enjoy cavorting with these vagabonds?"

You bristled at his words, feeling the anger rise within you. "I am conducting my business, Mr. Slope," you replied coolly. "And I enjoy the company of my friends."

Slope’s eyes darkened, his jealousy barely concealed. "Friends?" he echoed, his voice a dangerous whisper. "Is that what you call these... men who fawn over you?"

Your gypsy friend stepped forward, his posture protective. "She is free to choose her company, Mr. Slope. And we gypsies take care of our own."

Slope's eyes narrowed, his hands clenching at his sides. "Take care of your own, indeed," he said, his tone mocking. "You gypsies think you can charm your way out of anything with your herbs and trinkets."

You stepped between them, your gaze locked onto Slope's. "My herbal remedies have helped many people in this town, Mr. Slope," you said, your voice steady. "Including those who come to me in desperation when conventional medicine fails them."

Slope's eyes flicked to you, a mix of anger and longing in his gaze. "You have bewitched them all," he muttered, his voice thick with emotion. "Just as you bewitched me."

Your gypsy friend glanced between you and Slope, sensing the tension. "Perhaps it is best if you leave, Mr. Slope," he said, his voice firm. "This is not a place for your accusations and insults."

Slope's jaw tightened, but he took a step back, his eyes never leaving yours. "Beware, temptress," he hissed, his voice low and menacing. "Your charms will not save you forever."

With that, he turned on his heel and stalked away, his coat billowing behind him. You watched him go, a mix of anger and pity in your heart. Slope was a man tormented by his own desires, unable to reconcile his faith with the forbidden passions you had awakened in him.

Your gypsy friend placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. "Are you alright?" he asked softly.

You nodded, forcing a smile. "Yes, I'm fine. Thank you."

But as you resumed your shopping, the encounter with Slope lingered in your mind. His jealousy, his anger, and the longing in his eyes had left a mark on you. You couldn't help but wonder what would happen the next time you crossed paths with Mr. Obadiah Slope.

Having bought everything you needed, you headed back to your store, which also served as your home upstairs. The journey back was filled with thoughts of Mr. Slope and the encounter in the market. His jealousy and anger had left a mark on you, and you couldn't shake the feeling of anticipation mixed with unease.

As soon as you opened the door and set your shopping basket aside, you began to organize your new supplies. You were so absorbed in your task that you didn't notice the door opening behind you. It wasn't until you felt an arm snake around your waist and pull you into a lean, firm chest that you realized someone had entered. You cried out slightly in surprise but relaxed when you heard Mr. Slope's baritone voice whispering in your ear.

"Do you bewitch all men like you do with me?" he murmured, his breath warm against your skin. "Do all men have their dicks sucked by you?"

You laughed lightly, amused and a little surprised by his vulgar vocabulary. It seemed he had learned some dirty lines during his week of absence. "Mr. Slope, you surprise me," you said, turning slightly in his grasp to look up at him. "But no, you are the only one who has had the opportunity to have his dick sucked by me."

Slope's eyes darkened with a mixture of desire and jealousy. "I find that hard to believe," he said, his voice a low growl. "I saw how you flirted with that gypsy today."

You sighed, reaching up to gently touch his face. "He is just a friend," you reassured him. "You have nothing to worry about."

He seemed to relax a little, but the tension in his body remained. You caressed his chest, feeling the fabric of his chaplain's robes. "Are you jealous, Mr. Slope?" you asked softly, a teasing smile playing on your lips.

Slope let go of you, stepping back with a harsh laugh. "Jealous? Why would I be jealous of a gypsy?" he scoffed, his baritone voice laced with disdain. "I am the town's respected chaplain. What could a gypsy offer that I couldn't do better?"

You smiled to yourself, knowing that he was obviously jealous. It was a little cute and funny, to tell you the truth, the dramatic gestures he was making. "If you're so sure, then why are you here?" you asked, raising an eyebrow. "Why did you follow me back to my shop?"

Slope's eyes narrowed, his posture stiffening. "I came to... ensure your safety," he said, though even he didn't sound convinced by his own words.

You stepped closer, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw. "You came because you can't stay away," you whispered, your voice a seductive murmur. "Because you want me as much as I want you."

Slope's breath hitched, his brown eyes darkening with desire. He opened his mouth to argue, but no words came out. Instead, he swallowed hard, his gaze flicking to the stairs that led to the upstairs of your shop, where your living quarters were.

"Would you like to go upstairs?" you asked, your voice gentle but filled with promise. "We would have more privacy there."

Slope stayed quiet, his internal struggle evident in his expression. Being alone with you always ended in sex, which a part of him was looking forward to, while another part was wracked with guilt. Sex before marriage was a sin, and he wasn't married to you. He didn't even know if you would marry him.

You reached out, taking his hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze. "Come with me," you urged softly. "We can talk, or we can do more if you wish. But let's not stand here."

After a moment's hesitation, Slope nodded, allowing you to lead him up the stairs. The familiar surroundings of your home brought a sense of comfort, and as you entered your living space, you released his hand and turned to face him.

"Sit down," you said, gesturing to a comfortable armchair near the window. "I'll make us some tea."

Slope sat down, his body still tense, his eyes following your every move. You busied yourself in the small kitchen area, boiling water and preparing the tea. The silence between you was thick with unspoken words and simmering desire.

When the tea was ready, you brought the cups over and handed one to Slope. He took it with a muttered thank you, his eyes never leaving yours. You sat down opposite him, sipping your tea and watching him over the rim of your cup.

"Tell me," you said after a few moments of silence. "What is it that you truly want, Mr. Slope? Why do you torment yourself so?"

Slope sighed, setting his cup down and running a hand through his dark blond hair. "I don't know," he admitted, his voice filled with frustration. "I am a man of God. I have taken vows, and I am bound by the laws of the church. Yet, when I am with you, all of that seems to fade away. I am torn between my duty and my desire."

You reached out, placing a hand on his knee. "You don't have to choose," you said gently. "You can be both. You can serve your God and still be with me. There is no shame in love and desire, Mr. Slope. They are natural, human emotions."

Slope looked at you, his eyes filled with longing and confusion. "But sex before marriage is a sin," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "And I am not married to you. I don't even know if you would marry me."

You smiled softly, your heart aching for the torment he was going through. "We can take things one step at a time," you said. "Let's just be together, here and now. We can talk about the future later."

Slope nodded, his resolve crumbling as he reached out to take your hand. "I don't know what the future holds," he said, his voice trembling with emotion. "But for now, I want to be with you. I can't deny my feelings any longer."

You squeezed his hand, your heart swelling with a mix of hope and desire. "Then let's be together," you said softly. "Here and now."

With that, you leaned in, your lips meeting his in a tender, passionate kiss. Slope's arms wrapped around you, pulling you close as he surrendered to the desire that had been tormenting him for so long. The guilt and the fear melted away, leaving only the intense connection between you.

As you made your way to the bed, your hands exploring each other with a newfound sense of freedom, you knew that this was only the beginning. There would be challenges ahead, but for now, all that mattered was the love and desire that burned between you, binding you together in a way that no vow or law could ever sever.

Slope looked almost desperate as he fumbled to get out of his robe, kicking off his shoes in a rush. You couldn't help but laugh softly to yourself, amused by his eagerness. With a calm demeanor, you moved closer, gently taking hold of his trembling hands to help him undress. Slope watched you intently, his dark brown eyes filled with a mix of desire and vulnerability.

As you undid his robes, your fingers deftly working the buttons, Slope leaned his forehead against yours, his nose brushing against yours. His breath was hot and heavy, mingling with yours in the intimate space between you.

"Say you'll marry me," he demanded, his baritone voice low and insistent. His eyes bore into yours, searching for the reassurance he desperately needed.

You smiled, a hint of sadness in your eyes as you shook your head. "No," you whispered, your voice gentle but firm.

Slope's expression shifted to one of confusion and hurt. "Why not?" he asked, his voice tinged with desperation. "Would you rather marry another damn gypsy?"

Jealousy flared in his eyes, but you reached up to cup his cheek, your touch soothing. "No, Slope," you said softly. "It's not that. I don't want to marry you because you hate gypsies. You've made that very clear to the entire town. It would be quite contradictory if you appeared married to one."

Slope's brow furrowed, his expression darkening with frustration. "It wouldn't be contradictory," he argued, his voice rising slightly. "People would just think you learned your place."

You sighed, your fingers gently tracing the line of his jaw. "Slope, that's exactly the problem," you said, your voice filled with a mix of sadness and determination. "I don't want to marry someone who sees me as beneath them. I want to be loved for who I am, not for who you think I should be."

Slope's eyes softened, his jealousy and frustration giving way to a deep, aching longing. "I do love you," he whispered, his voice trembling with emotion. "I can't stop thinking about you, dreaming about you. I want you, body and soul."

You leaned in, your lips brushing against his in a tender kiss. "Then show me," you murmured against his mouth. "Show me how much you want me."

With a growl of desire, Slope's hands moved to your clothes, his fingers trembling with eagerness as he undressed you. His touch was rough but filled with a raw, unrestrained passion that sent shivers down your spine.

As he pulled you close, his hands roaming over your body, you could feel the intensity of his need. "You're mine," he growled, his voice thick with desire. "Say it."

You arched your back, pressing yourself against him as you whispered, "I'm yours, Slope. All yours."

Slope's eyes darkened with lust as you whispered your affirmation, but he shook his head, his breath hot against your skin. "No, call me by my name," he demanded, his voice a low growl. "Call me Obadiah."

You could see the intensity in his eyes, the need to hear his name on your lips, and you smiled, savoring the power you held over him. "Obadiah," you purred, tasting his name on your tongue like a forbidden delicacy. The effect it had on him was immediate and profound. His breath hitched, his grip on you tightening as a shiver ran through his body.

Slope didn't understand why hearing his name from your lips did things to him that he couldn't quite comprehend. He tried to recall the books he had read secretly in the days he had avoided you, books that talked about sex in scientific terms, explaining the mechanics and the biological functions, but offering little in the way of guidance on how to please a woman. Why did he have to be so inexperienced in these matters?

You could see the confusion and frustration in his eyes, and you took his hand, guiding it to the swell of your breast. "Don't think so much, Obadiah," you whispered, your voice a sultry murmur. "Just feel."

His hand trembled against your skin, but he obeyed, his touch growing bolder as he explored your body. You arched into him, encouraging him with soft moans and sighs. "Yes, just like that," you murmured, your breath hitching as his fingers brushed against your sensitive nipple. "Touch me, Obadiah. Make me feel good."

He watched you with a mixture of awe and desire, his eyes dark with lust as he continued to explore your body. "You feel so good," he whispered, his voice trembling with emotion. "I want to make you feel as good as you make me feel."

You guided his hand lower, between your thighs, showing him how to touch you, how to tease and please you. "Here," you breathed, your voice a soft moan. "Touch me here, Obadiah. Just like this."

His fingers moved tentatively at first, but he quickly found a rhythm that made you gasp with pleasure. "Yes, just like that," you panted, your hips rocking against his hand. "Don't stop, Obadiah. Please, don't stop."

He watched you intently, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he obeyed your every command. "You're so beautiful," he murmured, his voice filled with wonder. "I want to taste you again."

You nodded, your body trembling with anticipation as he lowered himself between your thighs. His tongue flicked out to taste you, and you cried out, your fingers tangling in his dark blond hair. "Oh, Obadiah," you moaned, your voice filled with need. "Yes, just like that."

He licked and sucked, his movements growing more confident as he learned what made you moan, what made your body shudder with pleasure. "You taste so sweet," he murmured against your skin, his voice thick with desire. "I can't get enough of you."

You guided him with your hands, showing him how to please you, how to drive you wild with desire. "Don't stop," you gasped, your body trembling with need. "I'm so close, Obadiah. Please, don't stop."

But when you were close, Slope pulled away, leaving you on the edge of climax. He worked on his pants, hurriedly undoing the buttons as he stood between your legs, his eyes dark with desire. "No, don't stop now," you gasped, your body trembling with need.

Slope's eyes met yours, his breath hot against your lips as he leaned in, teasing you with his proximity. "I want to be inside you," he murmured, his voice a low, seductive growl. "But first, I need to hear you say it."

You moaned in frustration, your hands gripping his shoulders as you tried to pull him closer. "Say what?" you whispered, your voice trembling with desire.

"Say you'll marry me," he demanded, his lips brushing against yours as he spoke. "Say you'll be mine, forever."

You hesitated, the weight of his words sinking in. But the need in his eyes, the raw hunger in his voice, was impossible to resist. "Obadiah, please," you begged, your voice a desperate plea. "Don't make me wait."

Slope's grip tightened on your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh as he held you in place. "Say it," he insisted, his voice rough with need. "Say yes, please. Tell me you'll marry me."

"Yes," you gasped, your body arching towards him. "I'll marry you, Obadiah. Please, just don't stop."

A triumphant smile curled at the corners of his lips as he positioned himself between your legs, his cock hard and ready. "That's my girl," he murmured, his voice a husky purr. "You're mine now, forever."

With that, he thrust into you, filling you completely. The sensation was overwhelming, a mix of pleasure and relief as he finally gave you what you craved. "Oh, Obadiah," you moaned, your fingers digging into his back as you clung to him. "Yes, just like that."

Slope's movements were rough and desperate, his need driving him to take you with a fervor that left you breathless. "You're mine," he growled, his breath hot against your ear. "Say it."

"I'm yours," you gasped, your body trembling with the intensity of your climax. "All yours, Obadiah. Forever."

Slope's rough thrusts calmed as he breathed into your ear, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine. His voice, a low baritone whisper, was filled with a mix of desire and determination. "I vow to love you, to honor you, and to cherish you," he murmured, his words a heady mixture of wedding vows and lustful declarations. "In sickness and in health, in joy and in sorrow, until death do us part."

Your heart raced, the thrill of his words and the intensity of his movements overwhelming you. You had never experienced anything like this before. It wasn't just sex; it was something deeper, something more profound. It was making love, and it stirred something within you that you had never felt before.

"Yes, Obadiah," you gasped, your fingers digging into his back as you clung to him. "Yes, I am yours."

Slope continued making love to you, each thrust deepening the connection between you. Though he was inexperienced, he sensed that he was pleasing you through your moans and the way your body responded to his touch. He marveled at the way your skin flushed, the way your breath hitched with each movement. Your pleasure was a guiding force for him, encouraging him to explore further, to learn what made you cry out in ecstasy.

His hands roamed your body, tracing the curves and lines that had driven him to the brink of madness. "You're so beautiful," he whispered, his voice a low, reverent murmur. "I can't believe you're mine."

You smiled up at him, your eyes half-lidded with pleasure. "I'm yours, Obadiah," you gasped, your fingers threading through his dark blond hair. "All yours."

The sound of his name on your lips sent a shiver down his spine, fueling his desire. He moved with more confidence now, his hips rocking against yours with a rhythm that made you moan. Each sound you made was a testament to the pleasure he was giving you, a reassurance that he was doing something right.

"Yes, just like that," you breathed, your body arching towards him. "Don't stop, Obadiah. Please, don't stop."

Slope's eyes darkened with lust as he watched you, the sight of you writhing beneath him igniting a primal need within him. He leaned down, capturing your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth with a hunger that matched the intensity of his movements.

He could feel the pressure building, the tightness in his core signaling that he was close. But he wanted to make sure you found your release first, to see you come undone beneath him. "I want to see you come," he murmured against your lips, his voice a husky growl. "I want to feel you tighten around me."

You moaned in response, your body trembling with the intensity of your impending climax. "I'm so close," you gasped, your nails digging into his back. "Please, Obadiah, don't stop."

With a final, powerful thrust, Slope felt you shudder beneath him, your body convulsing as you cried out his name. The sight and sound of your release pushed him over the edge, and he followed you into bliss, his body trembling with the force of his own climax.

For a moment, the world seemed to stand still, the only sounds the ragged breaths and the rapid beating of your hearts. Slope collapsed beside you, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. He looked over at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of awe and gratitude.

"You were amazing," he whispered, his voice still thick with emotion. "I can't believe I was able to make you feel that way."

You smiled, reaching out to stroke his cheek. "You did more than just make me feel good," you said softly. "You made me feel loved, Obadiah."

Slope's eyes softened, a tender smile playing at the corners of his lips. "I do love you," he admitted, his voice a gentle whisper. "More than I ever thought possible."

You leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. "And I love you," you replied, your voice filled with sincerity. "We'll find a way to make this work, Obadiah. Together."

As you lay there, wrapped in each other's arms, the weight of your vows and the challenges ahead seemed to fade away. In that moment, all that mattered was the love and desire that bound you together, a bond that no force on earth could ever sever.

[haee-elia]

spence-tober: day 31 - bookshop owner

pairing: bookshop owner!spencer reid x fem!reader

summary: in which you bring your newborn son to your husband's bookshop as a midday surprise

word count: 1292

warnings: fluff, talks of children, pregnancy, mentions of labor, bedrest, formula, pump for breastfeeding

spence-tober masterlist

The familiar ding alert of the bell above the door as you opened it was like music to your ears. It had been far too long since you had stepped foot into the homey feeling bookshop and you didn’t realise how much you missed it until you took in the sight you’d seen so many times before.

The lines and aisles of bookshelves to the right and left of you are abundant, but not overcrowding the space in the small storefront. There’s a small lending library in the front window next to the children’s reading space and a counter in the middle with curtains hanging on the wall, leading to the back where you know categorizing and inventory goes on.

“Welco-” The voice belonging to your husband starts to say, his voice ringing out in the room for everyone to hear. 

Spencer had his nose in a book, sitting behind the counter on a comfortable stool waiting for customers or anyone else who needed assistance in the store. When he looked up to greet the patron of the store, his eyes instead met yours. His darling wife of six years. 

However, his eyes didn’t stay on your form for very long, straying to the bundle all swaddled up in a travel car seat that hung from your arms. 

Your’s and Spencer’s newborn son, Gideon Reid, sleeping away in a swaddle unknown to his new surroundings. The tiny small baby with a little hat around tucked at his ears to keep him warm and a cute outfit that you had dressed him in just before leaving the house.

“Oh!” Spencer says in an adoring tone. Quickly he puts down his book and moves around the counter to come towards the two of you. 

“What are you doing here?” He whispers as he reaches you at the front of the store. Spencer pulls you in for a sweet kiss and then moves his attention to the car seat, taking it gently in his arms and gazing down at his son. He’s switched to a lower volume to not disturb the sleeping newborn.

In the last stage of your pregnancy, it was getting harder and harder for you to travel to the bookstore which you hated. But when your doctor prescribed bedrest for the last month of your pregnancy, Spencer had put his foot down and practically bound you to the bed, getting everything you need so you wouldn’t wear yourself out or go into early labor.

You smile at your husband who’s looked back to you, a large teethy grin, “I wanted to surprise you.” 

Spencer presses another sweet kiss to your lips before reaching behind you to flip the sign hanging at the front of the door to ‘closed’ before taking your hand and Gideon in his car seat and leading the both of you to the back of the store.

The bedrest had worked. You had a relatively fine labor, for how fine labor could be. Your recovery was okay and Spencer had been a big help with taking care of you and Gideon when you first came home from the hospital. Even though Gideon is your first baby, Spencer’s dad instincts kicked in and he instantly was so good with baby Gideon.

“Thank you for the surprise.” Spencer says genuinely before scooping his large hands into the car seat and gently hoisting the still sleeping Gideon to his chest, coddling him close.

You take your phone out of the large diaper bag you carry with you and snap a quick photo of your husband and your son together. Then, you take in the rest of the familiar sight that is Diana’s Library, the bookshop your husband had bought had renovated over the past four years. His former mentor and your son’s namesake, Jason Gideon, had retired and given his best employee, your husband, first right to buy what was the previous space known as Jason’s Library. Since then, Spencer had dedicated it to his mother and worked to make the bookshop of his dreams. 

You had contributed as well, putting together bookshelves and cabinets on your free weekends and scouring old second hand books online to add to the library. And when you and Spencer discovered you were pregnant, you also did most of the revamping of the old reading nook to a child friendly reading space. All of this is why you were so pouty when you were placed on bedrest and you couldn’t return to the warm and cozy environment you had grown to love so much.

“I thought it would be nice to visit.” You comment as Spencer rocks back and forth with your sleeping son on his chest. You reach your hand and fix your husband’s glasses that have slid down on his nose.

Spencer smiles back at you, his eyes gleaming with delight, “And you’re feeling okay?” he checks in.

You nod, “Yeah, I am. Took a shower, did some chores around the house.” You list.

“Don’t strain yourself.” Spencer warns, concern in his voice.

“I won’t.” You promise to him, “Besides, I just wanted to get out of the house.”

“You mean that you missed your chair here.” Spencer corrects, a joking tone in his voice and a matching visage in his eyes.

You scoff at his remark, though not denying it, “I don’t know why you couldn’t have asked Derek for his truck so we could bring it to the house.”

“Because you ordered one for the house! We’d have to move it back here!” He laughs. The laughter has jostled Gideon and he slowly wakens from his peaceful slumber despite the small pats Spencer gives on his back. 

You purse your lips, “But it’s on backorder and won’t be in for another five months.” You complain and pout. 

Spencer laughs at your not-so-serious expression. You take your hand and reach out again, this time adjusting the knit cap on your son’s head to not cover over his eyes. It let’s your son, for the very first time, take in the surroundings that you know he’ll get to know very well in his childhood to come.

Gideon, now awake and alert, moves his head around and by the look on his face, isn’t very happy. Both Spencer and you clock this.

“I just changed his diaper before leaving the house, so he should be good.” You inform your husband.

“Is he maybe hungry?” Spencer says, rocking him back and forth more quickly now. He looks at his son inquisitively, trying to figure out the solution to his grump face that you both know will turn into a shrill cry very quickly unless handled. The rocking holds his cry at bay for now, but its only a temporary solution.

“Hm, maybe.” You say uncertain.

Spencer’s ready though, he takes the diaper bag from your hand and puts in on a clean countertop behind him. Then he opens the cabinets above and you smile to yourself at the sight you see.

“You have a spare pump and formula here?” You say, your heart warming at the sweet sight in front of you. This just confirms to you that you have the best partner ever.

“Of course!” Your husband responds, bringing both down from the cabinet to the counter for you, “This is like our second home. I have a travel crib too if he gets sleepy.”

You pull him in again for a kiss, a longer one this time, and you make sure that you put all the love and emotion you hold for him. As you pull back, you instantly get a gratifying feeling. Being with your husband and your son in your favorite place in the world.

“You are simply the best, Spencer Reid.”

a/n: and this concludes the end of spence-tober 2023! thanks for coming along for the ride, whether this is the first one you've read (check back at the masterlist for more), if you've joined midway, or if you've been here since the beginning!

i'll admit, writing and posting every single day has been a little stressful and finishing writing challenges like these can be hard and taxing, especially with how unexpected life can get. i'll be posting some behind the scenes sometime later this week or next and then i might announce some new things coming soon too!

[asmutwriter]

My Angel (Part 1 - 12)

DESCRIPTION: You've spent your whole life listening to the devil on your shoulder. You figured it was about time you started listening to the angel instead.

WORD COUNT: 27,427

From beginning / Master List  / One Shots

WARNINGS: Swearing, talk of prostitution, money struggles, small fights (nothing too graphic), theft, non-consensual flirting, derogative/sexist term ('slut' used once), female sanitary items, pregnancy (nothing detailed), talk about food, talk about readers 'good' figure (no details of body type), flirting, mentions of foster care, brief talk of sex trafficking (no details described), talk of death, talk of breaking the law, kissing

DISCLAIMERS

- This is fiction. Please always talk to your partner before doing anything and make sure they are ok with what you are doing beforehand

You let out a soft grumble. The thin sheet covering your body not doing much to keep you warm. The bare windows allowing the early morning sun to come in and tease your eyes open. You rub your face. Burrowing your head into the hard pillow.

"Come on. Get up" you mutter to yourself. Eyes stay shut as you push yourself up from the bed. Twisting your nude body to exit the bed covers. Finding your various clothing items you scatted on the floor from the events of last night. Picking up the small wad of cash your regular customer had set aside for you. Stuffing it into your bra before you bundle yourself with layers.

You walk in the brisk air. A breath leaving your lips in a cloud of fog. Ears turning red from the cold nipping at them. You'd forgotten your hat and now you were paying the price. Your hands were firmly planted into the pockets of your thick coat. Trying to gain the warmth from your palms and transfer it to your head. Plus you could hug your keys in your fist this way.

Sadly it was common for you to get cornered. You soon got used to dealing with it though. Your keys being a good choice. Couldn't be charged with a planned assault with keys. Knives and other weapons could be. But that's not the point. You get to your home. Unlocking the front door.

It wasn't much but its been your home for 4 years now. Nearly 5. Two rooms. One small one to the side for a toilet and shower. The other, bigger room. Containing a bed, fridge and sink. Once you lock the door behind you again you go over to the bed. Emptying your pockets (and bra) onto the brown blanket adorning the bed covers.

Two wallets, a necklace, plus the fifty you made last night. You sit on the bed. Going through the wallets. Giving an annoyed huff. "Great". You throw the leather onto the bed as well as the contents. "I've made an extra seven bucks and a Starbucks voucher". You give out an annoyed sigh. Bringing the item up. Looking at the faded cardboard. "What a shitty day" you mumble. Flopping down onto your bed. Head hitting the creaky mattress below. Fingers fiddling with the flimsy item still in hand. Picking at the rough edge of it. Glancing your eyes to the bedside clock. 7:07am. "Yep. A shitty day".

You give an annoyed groan. Your hands coming up and covering your eyes. "Fuck. Ok" you keep your eyes closed as you process your day out loud. "So bad start. Its ok. We have spare cash from last month that we can use for rent. We can go and get our-" you bring the card back up. Glancing at it through a squinted eye before flopping your hand back onto the bed. "Free coffee or hot beverage and decide what to do from there". You sit up. Bouncing to your feet as you grab a coat and remembering your hat.

Bounding to the door as you unlock it and swing it open. "Shit". You go back over. Grabbing the necklace too. The shiny silver being a harsh contrast to your grime covered fingers. Shoving the jewel into your coat pocket. "I can swing by Liam's before coffee. See how much this bad boys worth". You go out to the street. Locking your door behind you. Turning once again to start your confident stroll your foot meets a rather large and muddy puddle. Splattering up your leg. You stand still. Annoyance coursing through your veins. Giving out a shaky breath as you try to remain calm.

"I can see Liam after coffee" you correct yourself. Shoving your keys into your pocket, but making sure you have a firm grip around them as you stroll down a few blocks. Coming to the coffee shop in question. Going inside and getting your free beverage. They were so busy they ran out of clean mugs. So you settle for a large take out cup.

You find the only space you can in the small and mildly crowded shop. Briefly paying mind to the elderly woman you sit next to. The seat to your left being free still as you sip your drink and do some people watching. Looking out the large window in front of you. Completely in a world off your own it takes you a little while to process that someone is actually talking to you. Turning you meet a pair of blue eyes. A soft smile adorning his defined features. "Hmm?" you say softly. He smiles more.

"Can I sit here?" He repeats. You note his drink and food in hand. Giving a nod as you smile back up at him.

"Of course". He sits beside you. Watching as he sits down. You tilt your head slightly. He attempts to take a sip of his drink. Seeing the regret flash through his eyes as he burns his tongue. You try not to laugh. Giving a small smile as you start speaking. "I know most of the locals yet you I don't recognise. You must be new". He gives a small chuckle. "I'm Mia". He turns to look at you as you outstretch your hand. Taking it in yours.

"Steve"

"So what is a guy like you doing out here then, Steve?" He gives a small chuckle again. Shaking his head slightly.

"I'd rather not get into that at the moment" He faces you again. Eyes scanning your features. "How long have you lived here for?"

"What made you think I live here?"

"You said you recognise the locals. Only people who live in the area recognise locals. Its either that or a poor attempt at a pick up line". Now its your turn to give out a soft laugh. Sipping your coffee.

"Could it be both?" He smiles. Turning his head back to look out the window. "I've lived in the area for five years now. Well, five next week". His brow scrunches slightly. Turning to look at you.

"You are either way older then you look or you moved here when you were very young". You smile. Resting your head on your palm as you continue to look at him.

"I moved here when I was 17 but we don't need to get into all of that". You turn to look out the window. Drinking your drink as fond memories of your past flutter through your mind. Before everything turned dark and gloomy. You mentally shake yourself. Turning back to smile at him.

"So you're 22?" you give a small nod. Smiling as you quickly dart your eyes to his lips.

"Smart man". He smiles at the compliment. His eyes steady on yours. "How old are you then Mr Steve?" He gives a low chuckle.

"Too old for you" you smile. Turning back to your drink as you down the rest of your beverage.

"You're probably right. Besides-" Watching as you plop the now empty drink down onto the table. "You seem way to nice for me" you smile as you look at him. He turns his head. Looking at the table as a small smile and laugh escapes his lips. Your eyes quickly dart over his features. Giving out a small sigh before planting your hands onto the table.

"Right. Work calls" You push yourself up with your arms. He watches as you stand. "Its been lovely chatting with you but I got to go and make some money" he gives a low chuckle. Nodding as he smiles at you.

"Good luck" he says. A genuine kindness in his voice. You smile back. Picking up your empty take out mug you squeeze past him. Going to the bin. And hand going into his pocket. Swiping his wallet and pushing it up your sleeve as you head to the bin. Chucking it in before squeezing back past.

"Hope to see you around Mr Steve" he gives a small nod. Giving a small wave to you as you head out the door. He watches you out the glass window as you start walking to Liam's.

Going a few roads away from the cafe. Coming to a dodgy looking house. You go up. Giving it three hard knocks before stepping back. A few moments pass before the door opens. A scrawny man with a tattoo on his neck opens. White wife beater and grey sweatpants. He smiles as he removes the lit cigarette from his mouth.

"Mia!" he smiles at you. Eyes going so gracefully to your chest. "What do I owe this pleasure?" You smile. Bringing your lip between your teeth as you reach into your pocket. Taking out the necklace from your pocket. His eyes stop staring at your boobs as they go to your hand. Giving out a whistle as he nods.

"How much for this?" He places the smoke back into his mouth. Outstretching a hand. You place them into his palm. His hands also a harsh contrast of dirt to the delicate jewellery.

"20"

"Fuck off"

"Thats the best I can do"

"Its worth atleast 100". He gives a small chuckle. Looking back up at you.

"30"

"80"

"40"

"I ain't going lower then 50. I'm not an expert with jewels but those-" you motion to the item in his grasp. "Those are worth the big bucks. The kinds that kings and queens wear". He gives another soft chuckle. Leaning against the door with his back as he pushes it open. Grabbing out a wad of cash. Counting out the money loudly.

"$50" he hands you the money. You smile. Taking it from his hand. Undoing the zip of your coat slightly and managing to shove the money int your bra. His eyes watch as you zip the coat back up. "I'll give you an extra 30 if you come inside". You give a scoff. Shoving your hands back into your pockets. If you did then you would be able to pay off the next couple of weeks rent. Plus have some left over.

"50". He smiles. Hand still holding the roll of cash. He takes out the money you asked. Handing it to you. You go to take it. He moves the hand away. Smiling at you.

"100 if you let me do it raw".

"No way. I ain't risking that" He gives a chuckle. Nodding as he hands you the money. Moving aside as he motions with his hand for you to enter. This wasn't your first time doing this with Liam. You knew where to go to find his bedroom. Plus you knew what he liked so the ordeal was over and done with after ten minutes. Putting your clothes on as he rests in bed. Throwing your coat back on. 100 dollars firmly wedged between your bra and skin. You wish him farewell as you head out the door.

The smell of his cigarette smoke stuck to you. God you would need a shower when you get back. Thankfully you could afford the bill to have a nice hot shower so you deemed it as a necessity. You start to head back to your home. Walking down the alleyway. The one that was normally empty besides the odd drug deal. Today it was empty though. Your lucky day. You smile as you head to your home. Unlocking and opening the door.

You reach into your pocket. Taking out the wallet from your earlier swipe. Opening it. You think its strange that he didn't have an ID or anything but didn't think to much of it. Your mind was set of the cash. your gleeful smile turns to a frown as you open it up fully. "Fucks sake" you mutter. You take out the single note. Twenty bucks. Feeling the little zip part of the item and opening it. 43 cents. "Great. Handsome man is a broke bitch". You chuck the wallet onto the bed with the cash and coins.

"I really need a shower". You sniff your coat. "Ew" you mutter. Smelling strongly of cigarettes you shrug it off. Going and pulling the curtains shut to your main room. Darkness other then the small light emitting from the bathroom. Reaching into your bra as you take out the wad of cash. Also throwing that onto the bed before starting to strip. Chucking your clothes into the dirty pile on the floor. You'll take them to the washer dryer tomorrow. Right now you needed a quick shower. Hopping in. Letting the hot water stream down your body. Washing the smoke out of your hair before getting out.

Towel drying yourself before heading into the bedroom living area. Grabbing some clean clothes out the drawers. Pants then bra. Socks. Then shirt. You go to put a leg into your jeans when you hear a noise. Your front door. The door handle jiggling. Hearing people talk outside. Two voices you think. You quickly pull your jeans up. A difficult feat but you manage it due to the rushed nature.

You try and be quiet as you go over to the door. Picking up a bat from beside your bed. Going over and standing beside the door. Trying to look intimidating. You go to bring the bat down as soon as it opens. A hooded figure. The person has quick reflexes. Grabbing the bat and pulling it. Disarming you as it gets thrown the into the hallway outside your apartment. You don't hesitate as you bring a foot up. Squaring it into their stomach. Winding them as they fall into the wall by the door. The person behind goes to grab you. Catching your wrist before you can react to anything else.

You twist your hand. Moving it to break from their grasp. Exchanging your wrist for theirs as you take a tight hold of their arm. Other going to their upper arm as you bring them up and over your shoulder. Knocking them onto the floor beneath you. You turn. Going into the hallway. Grabbing the bat from before and holding it up. Shutting the door as you stand by it. Eyes frantic as you look at the two bodies on the floor.

"Who the fuck are you and why are you in my home?"

"I know that voice" a female says. Obviously winded. She was the one you kicked. Your turn your head between the two of them.

"Answer my damn question or I'll start swinging"

"Wait. Wait a second" the other voice - a male voice - says below you.

"Who the hell are you?" There's a small pause. Too long. You bring the bat back. Swinging it against the wall. "Answer me"

"Mia?" The female voice says. You just can't quite out a face to the voice.

"Mia?" the male mimics. Almost disbelief. You recognise that voice too but are again unable to pinpoint who they belong to. You give out a sigh. Still on high alert and adrenaline. You reach behind you. Turning on the light. Turning back. Seeing your good friend Natasha bracing herself against the wall. The man you met earlier lying beneath you. You drop the bat. Making them both flinch as it hits the floor.

"Fuck"

"Glad to see you're still a good fighter" Natasha says. You roll your eyes. Holding your hand out to which she takes. Letting you pull her up before you offer the same hand to Steve.

"I had a good teacher" She gives a small smirk. Pulling the man up as you speak. Steve drops your hand once he's up. You go over to the door. Locking it properly before turning around to speak to them. "Why are you in my house?" Nat's eyebrows raise slightly. Eyes watching you like a hawk.

"Your house?" She chuckles slightly. Shaking her head. "This is not a 'home'. This is a safe house. For people who are trying to not get found"

"Which begs the question as to why you're here?" You query. Folding your arms over your torso. Meeting her steady gaze.

"Don't ask to many questions now Mia. It'll only get you in trouble". You roll your eyes. Meeting hers again. She remains silent. Any sort of humour seems to have disappeared from her being.

"Are you seriously not going to tell me?"

"No".

"Fine" you say. Moving and bending down as you pick up the bat from the floor. Resting it over your shoulders as you stand tall once again. "Then get out of my house. Or I'll call the police"

"Ok. Why don't we just think for a minute" Steve interjects.

"Nothing to think about" you say. Looking at the tall man. "You are intruders. Now get out of my home"

"This isn't your home" Natasha says. Eyes going back to her.

"I have squatters rights. I've been living in these abandoned premises for 4 years now without any trouble. So it is legally my home. Now respectfully-" You unlock the door. Opening it for them. "Get the fuck out". They both look at you for a minute. The three of you staying silent.

"We need your help" Steve breaks the tense silence. You look at him.

"Interesting and none of my business. Goodbye".

"Just shut the door and hear us out". You take in a breath. Slowly placing your palm to the back of the door. Pushing it shut. Resting a hand on your hip as the other lets the bat swing by your leg. Leaning against the now closed door. "Natasha is right. We can't tell you everything for your own sake. Just know that we aren't the bad guys" You give a small scoff. Turning your head to the side. Tilting it towards him once again when he continues speaking.

"We need a place to stay. One off the radar. We believed this place was empty so we came here. I think we can both see that we were wrong in that assumption. We will find a different place"

"No. We can't". Your friend says. Both you and Steve facing her. "We have two places that we could stay."

"Ok so we both go to the somewhere else. Leave Miss Mia here to her life"

"They'd expect us to be together. We're safer if we split up. Its why we left Bucky right?" He takes in a sigh.

"Whose Bucky?" Ignoring your question as she turns to you.

"Does anyone else know about this house?" She questions you. "Your clients or friends?"

"No. I always go to other peoples houses or hotels" she nods.

"Good. The only people who know of its existance are the people in this room"

"Making it a safe house still" Steve finishes her thought. She nods. A small smile taunting her lips.

"Exactly"

"You should stay here. I'll go to the other house" she shakes her head at his request. Her smile quickly fading as she looks away.

"No. I know Mia on a personal level. They could link me back to her". She runs a hand through her hair. "You have no direct ties to her though. You should stay here". Raising your brow as you look between the both of them.

"Do I get any say in the matter?"

"No" Natasha says. "We're running out of time. The longer we stay together the likeliest they'll find the both of us"

"Let me get this straight" you quibble. Putting a hand out to make them both actually listen to you rather then dismiss your thoughts. Their heads turning to face you. "You want to kick me out the place I've been living in for half a decade now just because you feel unsafe anywhere else?"

"I never said you have to leave" she taunts. You roll your eyes. Her taunting gaze changes to a more serious one. "We need this place Mia. I know its a lot to ask and I'm sorry to put you in this position but we need this safe haven". You look at her. Then at Steve. "Would I be in danger?" She takes in a breath.

"I can't guarantee you'll be safe if you help us. But if - once we sort this mess out then I will pay you back. Ten times the amount of this favour".

"And all I have to do is room with Shoulders?"

"Really?" Steve looks at you. The stern expression on his face mixing well with the mild glint of amusement and annoyance flashing through his eyes.

"That's all you have to do". You rub your face with your hands. Looking at the man before you. A sigh leaving your lips as you eye him up and down. Your brow furrowing slightly.

"One condition". Your eyes go to his as you bring up a solitary finger. "I'll buy you a couch but I'm keeping the bed". He chuckles slightly. Lips upturning as he nods.

"I have a condition of my own"

"Shoot"

"I want my wallet back".

"I don't..." you trail off. His hand pointing towards your bed. To the wallet embroidered with the letters S.R. on them. "Fuck". Looking back at him. Taking in a breath and holding your hand out. "Deal". He takes your hand. Giving it a shake before dropping it. Natasha looks between the both of you.

"I can tell you two will become best buds". You roll your eyes at her. "I need to be going". Steve turns to her. You look away slightly. Letting them say goodbye properly. She turns to you. Drawing your attention back to her. Hugging you too. "Thank you so much for this Mia". She speaks in a quiet tone.

"No worries. Anything for the woman who saved my life" she gives a small chuckle. Moving from the hug.

"Right. I'll see you both around". You both watch as she goes to the front door. Her hand resting on the door handle. "Try not to kill each other". You give her a small wave. Opening it and closing it behind her. You go over. Doing the latch back up. Realising you still have the bat in hand. Going and placing it by your bedside once again. Gently patting the handle before turning to him.

"How long have you and Nat been dating?" He looks at you. Shaking his head.

"Oh... Oh no. No. We aren't dating". You raise your brow. Scanning him before giving a small 'mhmm'. "We aren't. We've just been through a lot of stuff together. We're close but not... that close"

"Sure Shoulders. Sure"

"Can you..." he lets out a sigh. Watching as you go to your small fridge. He looks away as you bend over to grab something out. "Can you not call me Shoulders?" Turning back to him as you open a can of coke.

"What do you want me to call you?"

"Steve. It is my name"

"Sure thing Shoulders". You smile at him. Taking a sip of your drink as he glares at you. Moving he grabs his wallet from the bed.

"We are going to fall out if you arent careful". You chuckle. Bringing the can back down. Placing it on top of the fridge.

"What did you bring with you?"

"What do you mean?"

"You're on the run right? You must have like spare toothbrush and shirts?" He shakes his head.

"I didn't have time to pick up anything when I ran". You give a small nod. Motioning with your head.

"There's a shop down the road that sells shirts and things. We could go later tonight and see what we can swipe". Taking a sip of your drink. Turning your head to watch his face. His disappointed face.

"I'm not stealing clothes". You roll your eyes. Going over to your drawers. Opening it. He curiously looks at what you're doing. Very quickly looking away as he sees a lace thong on top of your clothes. A small blush coming over his features. Vanishing before you notice.

You take out a wad of cash. Shutting the drawer with your hip. Turning to him. "Right. So we need new clothes plus a sofa. I have about 200 quid but I don't want to spend it all as its next months rent. However I'd rather be living with a man who owns more then one pair of underwear then be able to pay next rent". You go over to him. Holding it towards him. "Go get yourself something nice". He goes to take it but you snatch it back. "You owe me big time". You look up at his blue eyes. Putting the money back down. He gives a small nod. Taking the cash from you. Looking at you through his lashes.

"Where can I buy clothes and a sofa from?"

You helped Steve find some new clothes. Going out to some thrift shops. Letting him wonder round and pick out some shirts and jeans and such. Using the rest of the money to buy a sofa. You had $135 left. "Where are we looking for exactly?" He questions.

"The furniture shop. The second hand one. It has some good items there. I went when I was first trying to furnish my home". You'd both been walking for a while now. He keeps trying to hide his face from passers by. Unsubtly so. "Can you try and be a bit more obvious please?"

"I'm worried someone will recognise me". His eyes quickly glance to you. "I'm trying to do this for the both of us". You roll your eyes. On your walk your eyes catch the light of a store. A convenience store. You stop in your tracks. Bringing a hand up. The back of it hitting the middle of his chest. His eyes go down to your hand. Then back to your face.

"I need a drink. Want one?" He shakes his head. "Wait here". You shoot him a small smile before going into the store. The cashier tilts his head up from the newspaper he's reading. Giving you a small smile to which you return it. A gentlemen. Noted. You go straight to the sanitary isle. Picking up a box of tampons. Looking up you make it clear what you grab. He gives a small cough. The sanitary item causing a mild discomfort. Enough for him to politely look away.

Walking past a stack of sunglasses. Smiling as you try a pair on. Looking at yourself in the mirror. Using the mirror to see his reflection. Still looking at his paper. Hand going and grabbing a baseball cap and shoving it into your hoodie pocket as you look at your self. Before taking off the glasses. You put them back on the rack. Hand reaching down and grabbing a different pair. Shoving them into your back jean pocket. You go to the drinks. Taking out a coke. Going to the counter as you place the coke and tampons down. He looks. Giving you a small smile.

"Time of the month. Son of a bitch snuck up on me". He gives a small chuckle. Obviously uncomfortable with your openness about your womanhood. Meaning he doesn't look too hard at you as he rings in the two items. Making you able to hide the stolen goods on your body better. He motions at the price. Taking out the amount of cash you have and handing it to him. Thanking him before you walk out. Shoving the items into your pocket.

Steve is leaning against a wall. Head down. Hood up. Peering up when you stand by him. "Lets go".

"How long does it take to buy a drink?"

"I am trying to help your ass". Reaching into your various pockets and taking out the items. "Now put these on". He hesitates slightly before talking.

"Did you steal those?" He speaks in a hushed tone.

"Do you want me to answer truthfully or do you want me to say the answer that'll get you to shut up?" You look at him. His blue eyes meeting yours as he clenches his jaw. You tilt your head as you give him an innocent smile. Letting him take the items from your hand and putting them on. "Good. Start walking" you say. Turning so your sideways to him. Striding as he soon follows. Walking beside you. Both travelling the rest of the way in silence.

Finding a small and old looking furniture shop. "I knew it was here somewhere!" You gleefully speak out. He looks at you. Then at the dingy shop.

"Really?"

"Yes". You look in through the shop window. A young woman - a little older then you. You move out of her line of sight again. You look at your hand. Taking the fanciest ring and moving it from your thumb to your ring finger. Moving your hand back down as you look at him. "Follow my lead". You take his wrist in your hand. Dragging him into the shop. You smile at the keeper. She looks at you. A smile coming over her lips as she meets your gleeful face. "Hello!" you bound over. Dragging Steve with you.

"Hey. What can I help you with?" She speaks. Her tone meeting yours in its happy nature.

"Well..." You rest a hand on Steve's chest. Leaning into him fully. "We recently got engaged-" Her eyes go to your hand splayed on the mans chest. Her eyes suddenly beam with excitement. "And hubby here said we could buy a sofa"

"Oh my goodness! First off congratulations. I love seeing young love". She gives a small and happy sigh. "Secondly, what do you have in mind?"

"Sadly we have a tight budget so anything under 130 dollars would be ideal" you smile. Moving your hand to his arm. One hand around his wrist still as the other moves from his chest to his bicep. She smiles still. Faltering slightly when you tell her your budget cost though.

"Well you've come to the right place" she comes from behind the counter. "What do you have in mind? Certain fabric or anything?"

"Something soft. Nice cotton or something similar would be good. Or silk maybe" she nods. Smiling at you both. Clasping her hands together.

"Let me show you what we have on offer" she starts walking. You follow. Dropping Steve's arm as he comes behind you in pace. Being taken to another room. A couple of sofas dotted about. "The prices are labelled on the side". She reaches down. Showing an example of a label. All the sofas looked... bad. Used. Goodness knows what some of the stains are. You can't see Steve's eyes but you can tell he's disgruntled by the situation. He feels tense as he stands slightly behind you.

"What about that one?" he motions. A flowery print one. Relatively clean.

"Oh thats a nice one. Its new in the shop. It is on the pricier side though"

"How much pricier?"

"Let me have a little look for you" she goes over. Her hands coming up in a t-rex style as she dances over. "$250"

"Oh that is very much out of our price range." You say. Looking around at a few others from the spot. She looks at you two. Then back at the sofa.

"I could see if I could do a discount if you'd li-". You shake your head. Giving her a smile.

"Oh don't be silly. We'll settle for something more our price range" You turn to Steve. Giving him a smile. "Right honey?". He nods. His eyes darting to yours before going back to the other woman's.

"Thank you though ma'am". She gives a small nod. A small smile over her lips.

"I'll let you two shop". She smiles. "I'll be upfront if you need me". She turns. Going back to the front of the store. You turn to the broad man.

"Any others suit your fancy?" He gives out a sigh. Eyeing up a couple of items.

"I like that lamp". You follow his gaze. Giving a small scoff as you see a vintage looking light. Probably 1930's or 40s.

"I struggle to see how you'll sleep on it. But if that's what you want to spend the money on". He gives out a chuckle. Heading to a few different sofa's. Quickly discarding them due to price or other unsanitary reasons. Going over to a different sofa. It looks faded but doesn't have anything ominous looking about it. He picks up the label. "How much?" You question.

"150". You give a small nod.

"Do you still have the twenty on you?" he looks at you. Feeling into his pocket. Nodding when he finds his wallet. "Perfect. We have 130 plus your twenty". He gives a smile. "I'll go and grab her". You saunter past him. Going up to the lady. You lightly place your palms on the desk. She gives you a smile.

"Did you and your fiancé find one you like?" You nod. Smiling at her. She follows you as you lead her to the item. "Oh this is a lovely one. Been in the shop for such a long time but no one seems to have taken it yet. Think its because the fabric is rather... in your face. Having said that it is sturdy and durable. Plus you can always get different fabric and relay it if that bothers you". You chuckle. Going over and standing by your fake husband-to-be. She takes the label. Looking at you two. "Are you aware of the price?" You nod. Giving her another smile.

"Yes. We recounted the money we brought with us and we actually have enough". She nods. Looking back at the sofa.

"How are you taking it home? Are you aware of our dropping off system with furniture?" You nod.

"Yes I am aware. We don't live that far from here so we will just carry it"

"Are you sure?"

"Sadly renting out the drivers system is out of our budget. Its ok though" you place a hand on Steve's arm. "Why else does this guy work out if not to help me move furniture?" You look at him. Giving him a mischievous smile. He is not as amused. Staring you down with a death glare. Not that you can see it. But goodness you could feel the daggers he's giving you. Quickly forcing it away as he looks back at the cashier. She gives a soft chuckle. Taking a small step forward as she lowers her voice slightly.

"You know... I have a van you could borrow. Free of charge"

"Oh goodness I couldn't". She shakes her head. Motioning towards Steve.

"Though I am sure you are very capable of carrying it I would feel a lot happier with you driving my van".

"Thank you miss. Are you sure?"

"Oh please. I'm a sucker for love. And this is true love right here". He chuckles. "Come to the front and I'll ring it through for you then we can get it to your home". You follow her up to the front of shop. Watching as she types in 130 into her machine. You go to question her but she shakes her head. Giving you a playfully dumb look.

"I was born with dyslexia so I really struggle to read numbers correctly - the sofa was $130 right?" She smiles at you. A knowing smile. You smile back. Giving a small nod.

"Yes. Yes that is correct. Thank you". You reach into your bag. Getting out the cash. Handing her the money. She doesn't bother to check it. Trusting you to have paid her the correct amount of the semi devious scheme. You attempt to help Steve move the sofa. Him mainly doing the work though. She gives you her keys. You get into the drivers seat. Him sat next to you as you smile at her.

"I'll be back quicker then the shake of a lambs tail" she chuckles. Giving a small nod as you start to drive away. "She was nice". You say. Watching her in the wing mirror. He nods in agreement. Looking out the window as you drive back to your home in silence.

Pulling up you again try to help him move the furniture item. Failing as he easily brings it up to your apartment. Putting it into the small room. You do help by moving some of the furniture around. Allowing their to be space for him to chuck it. He slumps down onto the new sofa. Leaning his head back. Breathing heavily from the heavy lifitng.

"You rest here. I'll drive the van back". You say. Taking the keys out.

"You sure you're happy to?" You nod.

"Why wouldn't I be?" You give a small smile. "You know you can lose the hat and glasses now". He gives a small chuckle. Nodding as he takes the items off. Letting his short hair and blue eyes be revealed again. "I know I'm not meant to ask any questions but..." He tilts his head to look at you.

"What?"

"Your 'wanted' image - do they describe you as clean shaven and short hair?" He thinks for a moment.

"I guess they would yeah". You nod. Motioning at the items in his hand.

"Maybe ditch these items and go for a more naturally disguising look. Facial hair and such". He gives a small nod. A small smirk coming over his lips as he looks down. "Just a suggestion".

"I'll keep it in mind". He looks back up. A smile still playing his lips. You smile. Throwing the keys into the air before catching them.

"Give me 10 minutes and I'll be home. Maybe 20. There should be a clean sheet and blanket somewhere in that cupboard" you motion to a small cubby hole. He looks at the wall then back at you. You go to the van. Getting into the drivers seat and heading back to the place.

Pulling up and setting it where you found it. Getting out and locking it up. Going to the front of the shop. Seeing a customer ahead of you you patiently wait behind them. Looking around at the other items. She turns. Catching your eye as you go to smile politely at her. Your forced social smile turning into one of actual shock as you see someone you haven't seen in about 6 years.

"Oh my god Mia!" she exclaims

"Riley!" you say. More shock then excitement in your voice as she hugs you close to her. Your hands stick out. Unsure of where to put them before she moves away from the embrace.

"What have you been up to? I didn't realise you lived around here?" You shake your head.

"I've been all over the place. Only been here a few years. I found a nice apartment not too far from here"

"Oh that is lovely". Her brows furrows as she waits for you to carry on the conversation. Eyes nesting onto yours. Bringing your hand out before hitting it onto your upper thigh. Sliding it into your hoodie pocket as you speak.

"What about you?"

"Oh well - me and Finn have recently gotten pregnant! Its why I'm here actually. Looking for a crib for the little rascal". She rests a hand on her stomach

"Holy fuck congrats!" She smiles. Looking down slightly at the pleasantries. "That's amazing news".

"We've been trying for a couple of years now and its finally happened so - yay!"

"Oh I'm so happy for you Riley. That is really lovely news" She nods. Smiling at you. You hear a small ding.

"Speaking off. That is likely the husband". She reaches into her bag. Taking you the phone before she opens the message. "Yep". She quickly scans the text. Smiling slightly at the message before shoving her phone back into her bag. "I should be doing what I need to do then head back" she looks at you. Giving a smile.

"I should probably give these back too". You hold up the keys in your left hand. Her eyes grow wide. "What?" Your face fills with alarm at her sudden change in character.

"Is that a wedding ring?" she beams. Looking between you and the hand. Your eyes dart.

"Umm well..." Your eyes look. Seeing the kind woman who sold you a cheap sofa was in ear shot of your conversation. Fucks sake. "Its an engagement ring". You lie. Her phone pings again. Then again. She takes her phone out. Quickly skimming them once again before she looks at you.

"Ok well I need to meet this man and we need to meet up and catch up over some drinks. Non alcoholic for me obviously but you and your fiance can drink right? Does this tomorrow night work for you?"

"Damn no it doesn't I've got... stuff"

"What about next Friday instead? Would that work around any plans?" You know if you keep postponing she'll only keep hassling. So you give a nod. Shutting your eyes quickly. Opening them to meet her expecting onces.

"That works fine" you speak through gritted teeth.

"Oh well thats just wonderful!" Her cheery tone grates against your ears. "I should go and find a crib. I'll see you next week. Oh sugar". She turns. Picking up a pen from the side. Taking your hand as she writes her address and phone number down onto your forearm. Putting the pen back down. Her phone starts ringing at this point.

"See you then" she speaks. Glee in her body as she turns. Striding away to find a crib for her unborn child. Watching as she disappears into the backrooms of the shop. You go over to the woman behind the counter. Faking a smile as you hand her keys back over.

"An old friend of yours?" you give a small nod. Your smile faltering as she talks. "Oh that's lovely. I enjoy meeting friends randomly". You give another nod. Running a hand through your hair as you force your smile to stay on your face. She goes to speak again but you cut her off.

"I'm sorry I've got to head back for my fiance. Thank you so much for the car again". She nods. Sad but understanding of your tone shift.

"Oh ok... Anytime. I'm glad you found the sofa meant for the both of you". You give a nod. Turning as you walk the few blocks back to your home.

You get to your apartment complex. Looking upwards at the tall building as you take in a breath. Going inside. Travelling up the large building. Going to your door and unlocking the door before heading inside. Steve was lying on the sofa. He'd obviously either not wanted to go through your cupboards or he couldn't find any sheets as his sofa remained bare.

His head resting against the arm as he reads one of your few books from the shelf. Some vegan recipe cook book. He brings the book down. Looking at you as you shut and relock the door.

"You were a while". You give a small nod.

"I bumped into an old friend of mine and we got chatting for a bit". He nods. Bringing the book back up.

"Was it a good reunion?" You give another small nod. Going and sitting on your bed as you take off your shoes. Kicking them too the floor. He looks. A slight annoyance coming over his face but he stays quiet. His eyes going back up to yours. His annoyed expression turns to one of confusion. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing". You look at him. Focusing on his eyes. "Nothing is wrong" you give him a small smile. Unsure if you're trying to convince him or yourself. He gives out a sigh. Swinging his body round. Leaning forward onto his knees.

"I may have only known you for a day but I can tell something is wrong". You lean forward. Matching his pose.

"Nothing. Is. Wrong". His eyes graze yours. His face remaining serious. Both of you as stubborn as one another. You grit your teeth. Breaking eye contact from his tense stare. "Fine". You don't see the slight twinge tickle his lips as he tries not to smile. Your eyes remain looking down the small length of your home. "I saw my friend and she saw the engagement ring and long story short she now wants to meet my fiancé". Any amount of cockiness he had in his body has disappeared.

"You told her that the ring was fake though?"

"How could I? The nice lady who sold us this couch was a metre away from her. I couldn't say 'oh yeah well I actually lied about being engaged in hopes I could get a piece of furniture cheap'"

"This is why you shouldn't lie". You turn your face to him. His tone. A Mr Know-It-All tone. You take in a breath. It wouldn't be good to get off on the wrong foot with him. Not this early on in... whatever you describe this relationship as.

"She wants to meet us for dinner next Friday. At her place"

"What did you say?" You stay silent for a beat.

"Just be glad I managed to change it from tonight". He lets out a very annoyed sigh.

"Great. That's just great". He leans back on the sofa. Running a hand through his hair. "So much for a low profile" he whispers. Your eyes stay on him. His head tilting to look at the wall. Drifting out the window next to your bed. Your eyes go down to the floor. A small amount of guilt filling you. Then it hits you.

"Maybe its a good thing". He turns to face you again. You lift your gaze up. Meeting his blue eyes yet again. "Think about it - You're on the run from a big bad. A big bad whose probably expecting you to be fully under the radar. Using fake names. Fake ID's. All of that shit". You go forward a bit more. Excitedly placing your hands on his knees as your smile widens. His eyes go quickly to the affection before meeting your gaze again.

"They wouldn't expect you to use your real name. To show up in semi public setting like a friends meal. They probably wont even check any bank uses under that name as they wouldn't think you'd be stupid enough to do that". He stays silent. Watching you. Thinking your plan over. Your very stupid. Very brilliant plan.

"What day is it today?" Your brow furrows softly at his obscure question.

"Friday". He nods.

"So we have a little over a week to learn everything about each other. Stuff that a fiancé would know". Your smile grows. Tongue darting over your bottom lip as you stand.

"This should be fun". He gives a low chuckle.

"Fun isn't the word I'd use for it". You smile. Going over to the cupboard and opening it. Taking out a spare pillow and sheet. Even finding a blanket you'd stuffed away ages ago.

"A challenge then". You go over to him. Holding out the items towards him. Watching as he takes the items from your hand. Placing them onto your lap as he listens to you talk. "My name is Mia Collins. I'm 22. My birthday is October 8th 1994. My favourite colour is pink and my favourite animal is a snake". You sit back onto your bed. Eyes soft as they look at him. He pauses slightly.

"Name is Steve. My birthday is the 4th of July. I used to work as a soldier in the army. My favourite animal is probably a dog".

"I think you got one of those facts wrong". He tilts his head to look at you. His brow knitting slightly. "Your name isn't Steve". You can see a slight panic come over his face. Not that you process that's what it is at the time. "Your name is Shoulders".

"You know what..." You smile at him. Wiggling your eyebrows. He takes in a breath. Shaking his head slightly yet giving you a small smile.

"When is our wedding set for?" He thinks. Standing as he puts the pillowcase on his new pillow.

"5th of August 2017. Exactly one year from the day I proposed to you"

"We met each other mid 2014 but made it official later that year". He nods. Placing the pillow down. You reach into the top drawer of your night stand. Taking out a small wad of paper. He turns. Noting you writing down the various questions and answers. Nodding in approval at your idea. It means you can revise this like a test.

"How do you want to tell them we met?"

"We'll stick to the truth with that one" you glance at him. "Met through a mutual friend". He gives a small chuckle as you go to write it down.

"That would be a lie though". You move your head up. Pen hovering over the pad as you look at him. "We met when you stole my wallet". You smile.

"You can tell them I stole your wallet if you'd rather".

"Makes it a more unique story doesn't it?" You give a small chuckle.

"And only slightly makes me look like a thief".

"But you are a thief"

"That doesn't mean I want them to know that". He smiles. Slowly fading as he watches you scribble down the answers. "We met through a mutual friend. Natasha".

"How did you learn to fight?"

"Hmm?" You look up at him.

"You don't strike me as someone who does fighting in their spare time yet considering you managed to take me and Natasha out with relative ease I'd say you were taught professionally". You take in a breath. Breaking eye contact quickly.

"Natasha actually taught me. When I was younger. But that is a story for a different day". Your eyes go back to his. A small smirk teasing your lips. "I doubt we'll be asked to start Fight Club with my friend and her husband". He smiles. A slight chuckle coming out. Actually happy he understood that reference more then what you actually said.

"What do you do for a job?"

"I er..." am a con artist, steal things, and sometimes sleep with people. "Work in finances. You? You said you were an ex soldier from the army?". He nods.

"We could say I'm on a health leave at the moment"

"We'll say mental health. No one will believe that a man with your... build is struggling physically". He laughs softly. Tilting his head down at the subject. You bring your legs up. Crossing them under you as you scribble the notes down onto the paper. Your stomach rumbles loudly. It was 4:30 in the afternoon and you'd had a coffee today and... that was it. You give a small sigh. Standing up as you go over to your fridge.

"Isn't it a bit early for dinner?"

"Technically" you turn to face him "this is breakfast" you say. Turning back to the fridge. Taking out a ready meal.

"You've not eaten today?" You shake your head. Turning to look at him.

"Food is expensive. I need it to pay rent and-" you motion at the new make-shift bed in your apartment. "Sofas apparently". He glances down at the item he's sat on before looking back up at you. "Besides, by the time that this cooks and I can eat it it'll be after 5 o'clock and that is an acceptable time to have a meal". His brow crosses slightly. You peal back the film. Opening the oven and chucking the item inside. "Feel free to grab any food you want". Slamming the oven door shut. Turning the device on as you continue talking. "I've got a few ready meals and tins of stuff". You nod with your head at the fridge and small box filled with various food items. His eyes follow your gesture. Giving a small nod before turning back to you.

SATURDAY

You hear the sound of the shower running. Furrowing your brow slightly at the confusion. You lived alone. Why was your shower on? Opening your eyes as your body remains under the thick blanket on your bed. Sitting up you look around your small room. The memories from yesterday coming back to you as your eyes fall onto the very neatly made sofa.

Steve. You sigh. Flicking the blanket from you. Stretching your arms above your head before standing. Going over to the set of drawers. Taking out some clean clothes. Hearing the shower turn off. Your eyes dart to the bathroom door before looking back at the sofa bed. Bed sofa. Whatever you want to describe it as. You get brought out of the daydream when you hear the door open.

He walks out. White muscle shirt on. Grey jogging bottoms. "You're awake". He sounds surprised. You give a nod. Standing as he walks past you. Taking your clothes into the bathroom and pushing the door shut.

"Not been awake long". You call through the wooden door. Starting to strip yourself from the fabric of your pyjamas.

"Did I wake you?"

"No" you call back through the door. Technically yes but you weren't going to tell him that. Quickly stripping your clothes off and replacing them with day clothes. Opening the door once you were changed. He looks at you. You chuck your clothes onto the floor. Watching as he distastefully watches you make a mess in your home. His eyes going back up to yours as you run a hand through your hair. Scratching the back of your head as you look around the small room.

"Don't let me stop you from doing what you would normally do on a Saturday" You shrug.

"I don't normally do anything. I live day by day. Surprised I've made it into another day of living to be honest". He nods slightly. Watching you. "I should probably go and try and earn some cash. Would you be happy staying here?" He looks around the small apartment. Giving a small nod before looking back at you. "I have a couple of books you can read". You motion to the pile of books by your nightstand. "They aren't exactly the most intriguing but they might tickle your fancy". He nods. Looking at the small pile of books you have on your nightstand.

"They might be better then the vegan recipe book you were reading yesterday". He gives a small chuckle at your remark. Turning back to face you. "I can try and bring back some more if you'd like?" He stands up. Going over and picking up one of the books.

"These will do for now. Thank you" He glances to you. Turning the book as he reads the blurb. You nod.

"I'll try and be quick" you smile. Going and grabbing your coat. He watches as you shut and lock the door behind you.

You go to a couple of places. Managing to swipe 3 wallets, a necklace and a watch today. You do what you usually do. Go to Liam's and see what he can offer you for them. Smiling as he holds the two items up. Eyeballing each one.

"Where did you swipe these?" He asks. Holding them up.

"I don't ask you questions. Don't ask me them". He laughs.

"I can give you 200"

"200?" you choke. You thought he'd say 150 or less knowing how much of a cheapskate he is. HE holds up the necklace.

"This is worth 200 on its own usually. Due to the questionable nature of you getting it I will sell it to you for cheaper". You hold your hand out. Letting him put the item into your palm. "Its a pretty item. Very pretty in fact". His eyes go to the item in your hand before looking back at you. "You should keep it. Wear it out on a girls night". You scoff.

"Where am I going to wear something like this?" He smiles at you. Watching as your eyes turn slightly sad. You wanted to keep it. Feel like a true lady. But the thick layer of grit on your nails contrasted the kind beauty of the item. Mentally shaking yourself before holding the item back to him. Letting him take it.

"You deserve nice things Mia". You scoff. Folding your arms over your torso.

"Give me my money Liam". He chuckles. Going inside his home. You look around. Two seconds later he opens the door again. Counting out a few notes making the 200 he promised. Handing it to you. You smile. Chucking them into your pocket.

"Do you want to come in for a bit?" You look at him. Then glance to the inside of his home. Remembering the man sat bored at your house you shake you head slightly.

"I can't today. I've got guests I'm hosting for. Sorry". You look back at him. A small smile coming over your lips. He nods. "I'll see you around though". You smile. Shoving your hands into your pocket as you make your way back home.

Unlocking the front door when you get there. Opening it. You frown slightly. Quiet. Empty. Locking the door again before turning around fully. "Steve?" You call out. Nothing. Your body going tense as you try to search for him in the small room. He was a tall man. He couldn't hide that easily.

"One second". You hear him call from the bathroom. Your shoulders drooping as the small amount of anxiety you had leaves your body. You give a small nod. Not that he could see it of course. You go over to your chest of drawers. Hiding the wallets and money under your clothes. You had yet to determine what kind of man Steve was. Although he knew you were a crook you didn't want to rub it in his face. Worried he'd either call the cops or steal the money for himself. Shutting the drawer quickly when you hear the toilet flush and the tap run before the door opens. "Didn't think you'd be back this early". You give a small chuckle.

"Work was good today. Easy. Managed to get off early". He nods. You look at the pile of books. One missing. Neatly placed on top of his makeshift bed. Small piece of scrap tissue sticking out the top. "How are you enjoying the book?" Walking past him. Shaking off your coat before hanging it over the back of your armchair.

"Its good". He moves. Going and sitting down onto his bed. Picking the book up. "I take it you enjoy romance novels?"

"That obvious huh?"

"It makes up about 90% of the pile". You scrunch your eyes shut.

"Sorry". He gives a small chuckle. Shaking his head slightly. "I've got a few crime thrillers too". He nods. Eyes on yours as you bring your hands down.

"I noticed them in the pile. This one caught my eye though". He picks up the book he was reading. You sit opposite him on your own bed. Holding a hand out. He passes it to you.

"Oh I love this one!" You smile. Even though you could probably quote this book at this point you still reread the blurb of the book. Handing it back to him as you smile. "If you like that one then..." you trail off. Standing up as you go over to a shelf in your room. Scanning the books before grabbing a handful of them down. Going over and placing them next to him. He half smiles. Looking at the sweet gesture. Starting to pick each one off the pile.

His stops in his motion. Eyes falling to a book. The front cover having a female soldier on the front. You motion with your hand. Sitting cross legged on your bed as he picks it up. "Oh that one might be my favourite". He looks at the cover. A look you can't figure out sitting in his eyes. But you continue talking.

"Its about the second world war. A female soldier falls in love with one of her fellow soldiers. Its typical romance but the twists in it are wonderful. Obviously it deals with the idea of grief and the gender inequality during the time period. If you can put up with the lovey side of it then it's worth the read". His eyes go over the cover. His finger coming up and gently stroking over the soldier picture on the front.

Your eyes go from his to his hands. Gentle fingers stroking over the image. "Did you have to leave behind a girlfriend when you left the army?" He looks up at you. Eyes going back down to the item. Being snapped out of the trance he was in. Looking up at you. "You said you were a soldier in the army. I assume you have or had a girlfriend that you had to leave behind when you came to the safe house". He remains unreading. A flash of something in his eyes. In a moment its gone.

"You sure do like asking a lot of questions don't you?"

"I just like being observant. That's all". He gives a small scoff. Shaking his head as he puts the book down. Leaning forward as his eyes meet yours.

"Stop asking questions". You tilt your head. Watching his eyes. Sad. Regret. You give a small nod. Taking in a breath as his eyes turn stern. Keeping on yours. You break eye contact with him. Looking downward.

"Sorry. You're completely right. Its none of my business". You whisper. He gives out a sigh. Looking downward.

"No. I'm sorry. You welcome a stranger into your home and I snap at you". You look back at him. His eyes go back to their usual soft self. Meeting yours once again. A small smile coming over his lips. "Have you eaten anything today?" You shake your head. He gives out a sigh. Going over to the small box with cans of food in. Kneeling down and taking out a couple of them.

"I'm not hungry"

"You need to eat something. I need to eat something". He reads the labels of your items. "You are aware that most of these cans are out of date?"

"Those are just precaution labels". He turns his body to face you. Reading the label before his gaze falls back to you.

"Best before 2nd November. 2009"

"Its tinned though! It can't go off. Tinned food doesn't go off".

"Its seven years after its best before date. I couple of months, even a year I could justify but seven?" He shakes his head. "Stand"

"Why?"

"We need to go and get you some food that was made this decade". You roll your eyes.

"You know I did manage to live before you got here and started bossing me around"

"And you'll live a lot longer if you eat actually decent food". He stands up. Taking your coat from where you'd dumped it on the chair. Holding it out to you. You fold your arms. Grumpily looking up at him. "Come on". You remain sat. He takes in a deep sigh. "I'll only get lost round here if you don't join me".

"Fine". Standing before him. "But we're using you money to buy it". He lets out a sigh. Resting his hands on hips after you take the coat from him and shrug it onto your shoulders. Flicking your hair from your clothes grasp as you do the buckle up. Going to your door and unlocking it. He grabs his cap and glasses. Placing them on as he follows you. Also chucking on a leather jacket.

You both start walking. Going for about 10 minutes before coming to a small corner store. Hopping inside you smile at the person behind the counter. A small woman. The stereotypical woman who owns a corner store. You give her a smile before going down the isles. Steve picks up a basket. Taking and looking at a variety of items. Spending a long time with them all before deciding whether to by it or not.

You watch him as he shops. Eyes focused on him as he carefully looks at each individual can and ready meal. You look at him. Then at the woman behind the counter. Hand going behind you as you grab a Wispa bar from the side. Pushing it up your hoodie sleeve. Turning back to face him. He doesn't seem to notice.

Instead he continues his shopping. Spending a little while in th shop before you follow him up to the counter. The silence staying strong as he gives a small smile to the woman. She smiles back. Scanning all the items before looking at you. "Chocolate bar" she taps the top of the counter. "Now".

"I don't understand" you fiend innocence.

"Girl. Now!" she says. "Or I will use gun". Steve's eyes widen slightly at the threat. Looking at you. You simply roll yours and pull out the two chocolate bars from your sleeve. Placing them onto the table.

"Really?" He says. Disbelief in his voice.

"Sorry. I can't help myself". He judges you. Hard. Although you cant see his eyes due to the dark shades. You can feel them. He turns his head back to the cashier.

"I apologise for her mistake". She shakes her head in disbelief.

"You are naughty girl". She says. Scanning the items. No. Scanning one of the items. You cock your head. Looking as she places them both into the bag.

"Wh-"

"You have handsome friend. Free chocolate for him. Not you". Your draw slacks. Steve tries his hardest to not laugh or anything. But you can see the grin starting to form on his lips. Giving the woman the money. Taking the bag as she gives him his change.

"You cheeky bitch!" You say to her. A smile on both your lips as he takes your wrist. Leading you out the building. She simply winks at you. Admiring your new roommate as you leave. You look at him. He drops your wrist once you exit. "I've gone to that shop for 3 years now! She has never once given me free shit"

"Maybe you should try not stealing from her. Then she'll give you free stuff"

"Or I should just get you to go in there more often". You mock. Nudging his arm as you keep up with his quick pace. He lets out a small chuckle. "Fancy banging a 50 year old woman for me so I can keep getting free crap?"

"If people give me free stuff then that's fine. I'm not going to try and swoon anyone so they give me it though"

"You can say fuck rather then swoon"

"I'd rather not". You laugh softly. His eyes focusing on everything as you walk. The drug dealer you pass. The prostitute who tries to make a move on him. The debatable 'hug' happening down the alleyway. You get home. Unlocking the door and letting him in. Shutting it again.

"You have a lot of crime around here". You nod. Placing the bag onto the counter side. Taking the items out and laying them before you.

"People stopped trying to be heroes here a long time ago". You take out your chocolate bar. Opening it and turning to him. Taking a bite from the sweet treat. "Not like the rich parts of the world with their Metal Boy or whatever he's called"

"Iron Man?"

"That's what I said". You take another bite. Speaking through a mouthful. Hand coming up to semi cover your mouth. Trying to get some form of decency as you speak. "We don't get the luxury of having superheroes on our doorsteps". He gives a small nod. You reach behind you. Taking his chocolate and handing it to him. He takes it from you. Resting it into his palm as he looks at it. You tilt your head to look out the window. Silence falling between you both.

SUNDAY

You come out of the shower. Towel drying your hair. Although Steve was awake when you had gotten up to shower neither of you had spoken apart from the nicety of saying 'good morning'. It was 10 in the morning. And you had gotten up about 5 minutes ago. Steve had been up since... god knows when. He leans against the wall. Looking out the window. "Looking for anything specific?" He shakes his head.

"Do you have a church here?" You nod. Sitting on your bed cross legged.

"Not far from here. About a mile and a half". You go into your bedside cabinet. Taking out a hairbrush and starting to bruch through your thick curls. "You a religious man?"

"I have faith. Though many events in my life have made me question it". He turns to you. "Are you religious?"

"No". You purse your lips together. "I tried to be. But I realised at a very young age that the only being or thing I needed faith in was myself". You break his gaze. Placing your brush on the side cabinet. "What do you fancy doing today?"

"What do you usually do?"

"Sundays I usually have as me days. Where I don't do chores or go to work or anything. I just chill out and relax. Having said that-" you reach over for the small bundle of notes you've been keeping. Flipping through the pieces of paper. "I've not had to study before". He gives out a small chuckle.

"Why don't you call her on Friday morning and tell her you're ill rather then this whole façade?"

"For starters I don't have a phone. Secondly if I post pone it she'll only hassle me". He nods. You lose eye contact with him. Muttering under your breath.

"What was that?" He asks. Eyes focused on yours. You refuse to meet his gaze. But speaking louder.

"Plus I want to show off the fact I have a fiance"

"A fake fiance"

"But she doesn't know that"

"Why do you want to brag about having a fake fiance to a friend?"

"Well... friend is a strong word. Frenemy is probably closer to what we are"

"What's a frenemy?"

"How old are you dude?" He smiles softly. Sitting on the edge of his bed as he looks at you. Waiting your answer. "A frenemy is a friend-enemy. Someone you want to like you but you also kind of detest". He tilts his head slightly. An amused confusion in his eyes at the definition.

"How did you meet this girl then?"

"We met in the foster care system. Kept bumping into each other because of it"

"You were in foster care?" You look at him. Giving a small nod. "How long were you in the system for?"

"Eleven years. Seven to sixteen. I ran away and I was too old at that point for them to care about coming t find me"

"I'm sorry Mia"

"Why? Its not your fault. Besides, I now have a fiancé and I can rub it in everyone's faces". He laughs.

"A fiance you've known for 3 days"

"I've slept with people I've known for less time". He gives a small laugh. Looking down at your statement. "But lets not bring these details up when we meet her. Right?"

"Of course not. Want to give your- frenemy -a good impression of you". He pauses slightly around the word. Obviously checking he was saying it correctly. You smile. Nodding in agreement.

"But you do need to know my favourite colour"

"Pink?"

"Ayy!" You smile at him. Continuing to quiz each other for a couple of hours. Basic facts. Birthdays. Favourite colour and animal. So on and so forth.

You lie on your bed. On your stomach. Open bag of off-brand Doritos next to you as he sits on his bed. Leaning forward. Legs apart as he rests his arms on his knees. He has a plate of crumbs left next to him from his small dinner of beans and toast. "Where is my birthmark?" You say. Looking at him.

"Is this really going to come up?"

"It might do. Come on. Take a guess". He looks at you.

"Its either going to be somewhere crude or..." His eyes dart to your chest. Then your ass. Going back to your eyes. Taking in a breath. "Its a trick question. You don't have one".

"Is that your final answer?" He looks at you. Giving a small nod.

"Ding ding ding! We have a winner!" He laughs at your overdramatisation. You take out a crisp from the packet next to you. Holding it out to him. "Your prize good sir". He chuckles. Taking it from you and chucking it into his mouth. "What's your last name?" You ask. Putting the pen onto your bottom lip as you look at him.

"I'm not telling you my last name"

"Why not?" You move the pen and hand away. Hitting them onto your bed. A look of disbelief coming over your eyes. "That will definitely come up when I get asked what my new last name will be when we get married"

"Its too much information to give you". You roll your eyes. Knowing what he's saying is true but still allowing yourself to be mildly inconvenienced by it.

"Fine" you draw out the word. "What name should I say if it comes up?" Your eyes meet his. A kind patience in them. He thinks for a minute.

"Carter". You blink at him. Slowly.

"To clarify, you're actual name is more of a giveaway then 'Carter'?"

"Yes"

"Jesus. How on the run are you?" He looks at you. The same look he gives you when you know you've asked to many questions. You roll your eyes. A look he has gotten used to you doing. "Why don't you settle for Smith? That's a very common name and no one will question it"

"Sure" he agrees. A small irritance in his voice but he silently agrees with your statament.

"Mrs Mia Smith". You give a small half laugh. "Sounds quite nice actually"

"Don't get soppy on me now Collins".

"Fuck off" you mutter. Moving to stand from your bed. "I got to piss. Back in a second". You go to the bathroom. Shutting and locking the door behind you. Doing your business before washing your hands. You open the door. Seeing the man looking towards the window once again.

"We can go out for a bit if you'd like?" He shakes his head.

"I went out yesterday for a necessity. I need to wait a little longer before I can go out just for pleasure". You go to your bed. Sitting cross legged on top of it.

"I don't think yesterday was a necessity"

"For my sanity and your dietary health it was". You give a small chuckle. Taking a pillow and hugging it. Resting the item onto your lap as you look at him. "When do you next have to work?"

"I should probably go tomorrow. But I can post pone it until Tuesday". He nods. Looking around the small apartment room.

"I might go a bit stir crazy if I have to stay in here". You give a small chuckle. "No offense to your home"

"None taken. I had to stay here for a week before without leaving. It was the longest 7 days of my life. Didn't dare turn the lights on or anything". He furrows his brow at you. "Oh that's a long story".

"I have time". You let out a pfft of air. Turning your head from him.

"I dated a guy. Very toxic". You look down. Picking at your finger nails. "When I told him I wanted to break up with him for a variety of reasons that I wont get into he threatened to kill me and... I didn't doubt he wouldn't. So I came here. Natasha had told me about this safe house. Said I could use it if I ever needed a place to hide away so I did. I then never left as I was too scared. I was very young at the time. Soon realised that the people who live in this building are dodgy but not killers. So I started venturing out after a week or so".

You shake your head slightly. Looking back at him. "But that is enough about me today. I want to learn more about you". He half smiles. Looking downward. Taking his silence as a way for you to stop asking questions. "Sorry. I know - not meant to ask questions. I'll stop prying". You move the pillow from your grip. "Do you want a hot drink? Coffee? I..." You look around the apartment. "-can only offer coffee?" His eyes glance to the book still on top of the pile. Now placed on the floor. But the same woman in the soldier uniform sat on top. You look at him. Waiting his answer in regards to a hot drink. Not paying mind to his thoughts.

"I did have a girlfriend in the war. Kind of". He looks up at you. Your eyes meet his. Sad blue soft on yours. "We had a mutual attraction for each other. I imagine-" He takes in a breath. "I hope that if I had stayed then it would've developed into something more". You look at him. Taking a few steps towards him and sitting next to him on the bed. You hesitate for a moment. Taking his hand in yours as a means of comfort. His eyes fall to the affection. Coming back up to meet your gaze.

You assume this is a recent event. That he had to leave her when he went into hiding. You are unaware that she was his love 70 years ago.

"I'm sorry Steve". He looks at you. Eyes gracing your face. Catching himself doing so. He moves his hand away. Looking at the bed in front of him as he gives a small cough.

"What do you have that I can do whilst you go to work tomorrow?"

"Ummm" you turn your head. Kneeling down beside your bed. You pull out a plastic box. Sitting next to it as he looks too. A couple of boardgames. Sadly all needing more then one player. Taking out a pack of cards and placing them onto his bed. You stand. Pulling the plastic tub up and onto your bed for easier access to its contents. Plus being able to find any more items under your bed. Bedning down and reaching under. Feeling something you don't recognise.

"The fuck" you mumble. Grabbing a hold of the item and pulling it out. A guitar. An acoustic guitar. You let out a soft laugh. Looking at the light wood of the item. "I forgot I had this".

"Do you play?" You shake your head. Sitting on the edge of the bed as you start to instinctively tune it.

"I tried to teach myself some songs. It was here when I moved in and I didn't have the heart to throw it out. So I hid it under my bed when I became a permanent resident". You play a few notes. Smiling as you do so. "I wanted to be the best musician ever when I was a kid. I admired Elton John and Elvis Presley for their musical talents. I wanted to be like that when I was an adult".

"Why did you stop?"

"Hard to carry musical instruments around when your going in and out of care. One family did have a piano though. The dad taught me a couple of songs on it. I was with them for 4 months so learnt some things". He looks at you. You smile as you correct all the notes. Looking at him as your smile remains soft. Meeting his eyes. "Want me to play you a song?" You wiggle your eyebrows. He smiles slightly. Giving a small nod. "Shit wasn't expecting you to say yes". You tilt your head. Trying to think of one.

Your eyes go to the book that his had gone to previously. Looking to the guitar as you align your fingers to the notes before looking at him. "I'm not good. And my voice sounds like shit".

"I'll be the judge of that". You roll your eyes. Looking back to the guitar as you start to play the song. Zombie by the Cranberries. Steve didn't know this song. So intrigue was playing through his mind. You start singing after a minute of playing the intro. Not looking at him as you focus on the right notes in the right order. Stopping after you sing the first chorus. Lifting your head up to look at him. He gives a small clap.

"Thank you. Thank you. I'm here all night". You smile. Placing the item down onto the bed.

"If your job doesn't cut it then you could become a musician". You scoff slightly.

"I don't think so. I struggle enough paying the bills as it is. Don't need another form of income letting me down". He half smiles.

"You should do it. I've seen a lot of people getting famous on the internet from singing and song writing. I think you have potential"

"Even if I wanted to - I don't have the internet"

"I thought everyone your age did"

"Everyone my age doesn't normally have to prioritise food over wifi". He gives a small nod.

"I don't know. I saw how old your food stash was. I wouldn't even say you were god at prioritising food". You grab your pillow. Hitting his legs with it. Smiling as he gives out a laugh.

"You can go fuck yourself Shoulders". He laughs at your insult. Giving you a small smile. You detach your eyes from his. Looking at the clock on the wall. "Come on. It's late. We should get our beauty sleep". You say. Turning back to give him a smile matching his.

MONDAY

You wake up early. Very early. You know it must be as Steve is still sleeping and he's normally up at the crack of dawn. Sometimes earlier. You knew public transport would be busy. Perfect opportunity to try and grab as many items as you could.

Going to your dresser. Kneeling down as you quietly open the bottom drawer. Filled with your fancy outfits. You fumble in the dark. Finding the pant suit. The one that makes you look like a business woman. No one suspects a business woman to be a pick pocket. Giving a smile to yourself as you go into the bathroom and get dressed. Coming out you see Steve still sleeping. Writing onto a piece of paper and leaving it on your pillow.

'Gone to work. Back later'

Heading out the local buses. Trains. Sidewalks. Anywhere there was a lot of people and not much time to worry if they had everything as they bustled about. You spend about an hour and a half out. Making use of the busy Monday morning. You head back home once the hustle and bustle had died down. Going inside your home once again. Steve was reading on his bed. Over halfway through the book you'd lent him. His eyes glance to you before going back to the pages. You lock the door behind you. Giving him a smile as you take off your coat. You'd sort the stolen items out later. When Steve wasn't in the room.

"Very short day working"

"I told you my days are often short"

"You're a thief right?" You pause. His words sounding cold. You hang your coat up. Looking at him. Giving a small nod to his correct accusation. "Why do you steal from people?"

"Do I really strike you as someone who would have a 9 to 5?"

"I'm asking seriously Mia".

"And I'm answering seriously". He raises his brow at you. You take in a breath. Letting it out with a deep sigh.

"I realised from a young age that people will only see what they want to see. When people look at me they see a criminal. So I became the criminal they feared". He sits up properly. Eyes scanning over you.

"I don't see a criminal when I look at you". You clench your fists slightly as you look at him.

"You'd be the first in 22 years to think that". You turn. Hesitating before grabbing out your finds from today. From your pockets and sleeves. Not caring at this point what he thought of you. Not wanting him to know you care about his thoughts.

"Don't you worry you're taking from someone who might need the money? Pay rent? Hospital bills? Childcare?" Your jaw tightens. Eyes flicking down to the variety of wallets now sprawled on the bed. A pang of guilt going through you. One you've virtually never felt before despite doing this for most of your life.

"I don't have any other choice. I have my own life to pay for". You can feel his eyes on you. Judging you hard. You refuse to look at him. Instead settling for going through the wallets. You hear him let out an annoyed breath. Going into the bathroom and shutting the door. Your eyes dart up. Looking at the closed frame. Eyes going back down to the wallet. Taking out a rather large wad of cash. And a picture.

A man, a woman, and 4 children. Plus a cat. Your eyes scan the picture. Going to the rather large sum of money in your hand. A very large sum. Must be five hundred quid currently in your palm. That could be very beneficial to you. But his words ring through your ears. You take in an annoyed sigh. Shutting your eyes as you go over to a drawer. Taking out the other wallets you'd stashed away yet not been able to sort through yet. Plus a tote bag. Shoving them all in before heading out the door.

You go through each wallet. Checking for any ID. Business cards. Anything to give you a name and address for the owner of the wallet. Muttering to yourself at how frustratingly righteous Steve was. You had twelve to go through. Seven of which were withing a four mile radius of your home. Walking to the residencies of them. You'd borrowed Steve's sunglasses and wore your hood up so if they had any security cameras they would hopefully not recognise you.

Three of the items were places you couldn't get too. Abroad or across the country. So you went to a local police station. You don't talk to anyone. Instead dropping them in various places where someone would find them. Quite literally dropping them. Not spending time to make sure they fell neatly or looked good. You just hoped it would be an officer and not some random stranger who would find the items.

Once you'd done this you start to head back home. You have two wallets in your bag. Neither of which had an address or name or phone number in. So you decided you would keep them. It seemed fair enough to you. You'd tried but they didn't even have so much as an initial on them. Getting to your apartment. Unlocking the door as you go inside. Locking it behind you. Steve once again lying on his bed. Reading a book. Different book to yesterday. He must've finished it.

Neither of your speak to each other for a few minutes. Both to stubborn after your previous interaction. You chuck the bag into your set of drawers. Feeling his eyes watch you. You turn to face him but his eyes go back to the book before him. You take in a breath. Sitting on the edge of your bed as you take your shoes off.

"I'm going to have a quick shower" you speak softly. Standing up.

"Theres no hot water"

"What?" you go into the bathroom. Hearing him stand and follow shortly behind. You run the shower. Placing your hand under it. Cold. Very cold. "You've got to be fucking with me". You turn the shower off. Going over to the sink and running the water. Also cold. "For fucks sake". He watches you. Leaning against the doorframe to the bathroom. You bring your hands up. Palms going to your eyes as you mentally compose yourself. "We need to call a plumber or something".

"No". You move your hands down. Hitting them against your thighs. Looking at him in disbelief. His arms folded over himself. Eyes steady as they watch yours. "We can't do that. The people who are after me might have shut the water off with intention of then us calling someone to come and fix it".

"Ok. Ok". A slight panic going through you. Looking towards the sink again. "What to do..." You mumble. Eyes darting over the sink as you think. You hit your hands together once you think of it. "Water tanks are on the roof. I wonder if there is something to do with that whihc is making our water cold". You turn to him. "I have no idea how they work but maybe they have a switch or something that needs pulling. I can go up and check that everything seems to be working".

"I've got no better plan". You run a hand through your hair. Looking back at the sink before giving a nod.

"Ok. Cool. Lets do this". You walk out the bathroom. He turns slightly to let you out. Watching as you pick up your forgotten shoes. Sitting onto the edge of your bed as you push them onto your feet.

"Do you want me to join you?" You shake your head. Zipping the side of your shoe up.

"If they did shut off the power so you would come out of hiding then they would be waiting for you. As much as I appreciate the offer I think it'd be for the best if I go alone. Might as well call a plumber if you wanted to join me". He nods. Watching as you adjust the back of your shoe.

"Be careful". You nod. Picking up your keys from the side and unlocking the door. You pause. Shit. What if there were assassins or something waiting there for you? You look up the staircase. A sudden fear coming over your body. Quickly mentally shaking yourself you turn. Shutting and locking the door behind you. Placing your keys firmly between your knuckles as you make your way up the stairs.

Going up there you are wary. Feeling like some sort of crap spy as you peer around corners. Seeing a singular person up there. A man in his 60s you'd guess. You look around as he tries to fix the boiler. Pulling your hoodie over yourself more. It was colder then you expected. Going over you give a small smile. "Everything ok?"

He jumps slightly. Turning to face you. Giving you a little nod before turning back to the boiler in question. "Somethings dislodged with the system. Whole complex has bugged out. Just trying to fix it now". You give a small nod.

"Anything I can do to help?"

"No. Thank you though miss". He stands up. Wiping his hands on a cloth. Eyes going to you. Then your boobs. "What room are you in?" They go back to your eyes. "I'll make sure you get your heating back first". You give a small chuckle.

"Surely you could just turn the water on for everyone?" He nods.

"I can. But it has to be in an order. Right side of the building. Lower floors. All that stuff". His eyes go back to your boobs. "I could have your hot water up and running straight away. If not you could come back to mine and you could borrow my shower". He reaches a hand out. Gently stroking it down your arm. You flinch away from him. Eyes giving him a disgusted look.

"I should be getting back to my fiance". You semi lie. Eyes staying on his. His face falters at the word. Giving a nod as he looks back to the plumbing.

"Good luck with that". You turn. Going to head back to your apartment. But he says one word. One small word. That makes you start to see red. "Slut". You turn around. Not wasting time as your fist comes up and connects with his jaw. Your hands come to your mouth as you look at him in shock of what you did. His hand coming up. Holding the side of his face as he looks at you. "You fucking bitch!" He yells. Going to grab your wrist as he stands. You bring a foot up. Kicking him square in the stomach before you turn and start running.

Running back to your apartment. Hands fumbling as you try and open the door. Dropping your keys as you hear him make his way down the stairs. The door opens before you can fumble with the item. Steve opening the door for you. You bend down quickly. Reaching for the keys. Hand going to his chest as you push him into your home. Slamming the door behind your as your shaking hands lock it. Even putting the latch across.

"Shit. Are you ok?". Your fisted hands come up to your head. Hiding your face between them. Leaning against the door as you nod. Your whole body shakes from adrenaline.

"I'm ok" you whisper. Refusing to look at him. Shutting your eyes as you try and calm yourself. Focusing on your breathing. You feel a hand touch your shoulder. Flinching slightly as you turn your head to Steve. Your eyes scan his face.

"Mia?" You shake your head. Hiding your face into his chest. Bringing your hands up to rest by your head again. His hands come up. Gently rested on your back. One goes to your hair. Holding you close to him. You grip the fabric of his shirt. Willing yourself to not cry. He shushes you. Feeling him move his head down. Resting his cheek by your temple. His voice sweet as he speaks into your ear. Calming you.

Once you regain some sort of composure you pull away. Refusing to look at him. Bringing your hands up to wipe under your eyes. And your nose. His eyes go to your quickly bruising fist. He takes you by your shoulders. Moving you the short distance to your bed. Sitting you down before he goes to the freezer. Taking out some sort of frozen vegetation. Wrapping it into a tea towel before coming and sitting next to you. Gently taking your hand in his. Palms resting against each others as he places the cool item onto your burning hand. You take in a sharp gasp of air. The pain soon soothing from the numbness going through your hand. You watch as he cares for you. The fear you'd previously felt slowly fading from you.

"Do you want to tell me what happened?"

"A punched the guy who was fixing our water". You move your eyes to his. His blue orbs coming to yours.

"What did he do that made you punch him?"

"He called me a slut because I refused to have sex with him"

"Sounds like he deserved it". You smile slightly. Looking back down at your hand.

"We may not have hot water for a little while". He gives a small scoff. Also looking at your hand. Your brow furrows slightly. "Did you swear earlier?" You bring your head up to look a him. He stays silent. Your mouth widens into a smile. "You totally did!"

"Its not that big a deal". He says. A playful yet stern tone in his voice. "You swear all the time"

"Yeah but me swearing is second nature. You swearing is like seeing a dog walk on its hindlegs". He shakes his head slightly. A smile plaguing his lips. Your eyes stay watching him as his stay down on your hand. Even at this angle you are still able to see the blue of his eyes. He moves the makeshift ice pack away. Placing it onto your bed as he takes your hand in both of his. Bringing it slightly closer to look at the injury. "What's it like Doctor?" He looks up at you.

"You'll be fine. I reckon it'll heal in a day or two"

"So we dont have to amputate". He gives a small scoff. Shaking his head.

"No amputation needed"

"That's good to hear". You smile. Eyes scanning his eyes. Soft. Kind. You take in a breath. Moving your hand from his grasp as you feel a blush come over your cheeks. Adverting your eyes from his. Picking up the pack of frozen carrots. Standing as you go back to the part of the apartment you label the kitchen. Putting the tea towel to hang over the oven handle. Shoving the vegetable back into the freezer. Shutting it as you stand tall. Scrunching your hand as you watch the dying bruise. You turn back to him. A smile slightly on your lips as you look at him. He sits on your bed still. Watching you.

"I vote that we both stay inside for the rest of the day". You gives a small nod at the idea. "Do you need help with anything?"

"Oh no. I'm just going to... I don't know what to do". He gives a small chuckle. "We could play one of the games I have? If you'd like?" He gives a nod.

"What games do you have?" You go over to your bed. Kneeling beside it. He watches. Scooting along as you pull out one of the plastic boxes once again. Placing it next to him. Chucking the dusty lid onto the floor. He turns his body. Looking at the different games you present him.

"The classics. Monopoly. Cluedo. Scrabble". You place them onto the bed next to him as you say the names. He looks at them. Looking into the box. Eyes drawn to a red box. He reaches down. Picking it out. Giving a concerned chuckle as he looks at the writing.

"Exploding Kittens?" You look at his hands.

"I've never played it before. My friend got it for me for my birthday last year and I just didn't have the right occasion". He nods. Reading the caption of it.

"A card game for people who are into kittens and explosions and laser beams and sometimes goats". He gives a small chuckle. Turning it to read the back. "Can we play this?" You nod. Picking up the games you'd brought out from the box. Putting them into the box again before shoving it under your bed. You get up onto your bed. Sitting cross legged opposite him as he starts to take out the cards. You take the instructions. Reading through them. Helping him set it up before you both play for a few hours.

TUESDAY

You stretch awake in the morning. Seeing Steve already up and dressed. Reading his book with the dull light from the sun beaming into the room. "You can open the curtain more you realise?"

"I didn't want to disturb you". You give a small scoff that turns into a yawn and stretch. Sitting up as the covers fall from your torso. "Still no hot water?" He shakes his head. "Great. That's just great". You rub your eyes. "Its fucking freezing"

"You're currently wearing virtually nothing. No wonder you're cold".

"Shut up" you say. Reaching down next to your bed as you pick up a hoodie. Placing it onto your body before standing. Stretching your arms above your head once again. Going into the bathroom you do your teeth. He continues reading. Calling out to you as you apply some deodorant. Brush still lodged between your teeth.

"How is the hand?" You put the spray bottle down. You spit the paste out into the sink. Rinsing it down and washing your face before towelling it dry. You go into your room. Looking around as you answer him. Holding it up before him. Scrunching it to show the lack of bruise and pain. His eyes go to your hand. Smiling as it has only a small bruise present onto it.

"A little sore but nothing that wont heal". You smile. Bringing it back down. "I was going to go out for the morning. Go for a bit of a walk round town".

"Mind if I joined you?" You look at him. "I need to get out. I'm not used to staying cooped up for this long". You give a small laugh. Nodding.

"If you deem it to be safe then I have no complaints about it". He smiles. "Let me get dressed properly. Put a bra on and all that good shit. Then we can go". His tongue quickly darts out. Going back to his book.

"I'm ready whenever you are". You nod. Going around the apartment and picking up a bra. Going to your drawers and taking out some clean underwear and shirt. You get dressed in the bathroom. Coming out in jeans and a shirt. After you've done the sniff test on the three hoodies you'd thrown onto the floor. Deeming the last one acceptable to wear.

"You've not been to this part of America before have you?"

"I went out with you a couple of days ago. But other then that. No". You smile. Pulling the hoodie over your head.

"Oh you'll love it". You pull your hair out from the hoodie. "Its filled with crime and near death experiences around every corner". He lets out a slight laugh. Moving the book from his gaze.

"Sounds no different to my ordinary life". You shoot him a quizzical look. Watching as he puts the piece of scrap paper he's taken for a bookmark. "Shall we go?"

"Absolutely not with that being your last statement". He half smiles. Sitting up as he tilts his head towards you. "Let me guess - drug dealer"

"No"

"Mob boss"

"No"

"Gang leader"

"Aren't they the same thing?"

"Pimp"

"Ok". He stands up.

"Yes?"

"No". You take in a breath. Going to speak. He covers your mouth with his hand. Causing you to frown at him. Your eyebrows scrunch as you meet his eyes. "I'm going to move my hand. Stay quiet". He says. You roll yours eyes. His hand coming down. You remain silent. Steadily keeping his gaze. "I used to be a soldier in the army. You know this. I told you".

"Oh yeah. Cause you fought in a war and met your girlfriend". He nods. "Still think you being a pimp would be funnier though".

"You're insufferable".

"I'm wonderful". You smile. Turning on the spot as you go and grab your coat from the chairdrobe. "Come on Shoulders. Lets go for a walk. Might warm me up too"

"Going out into the cold might warm you up?"

"Walking might". He chuckles. Watching as you grab a pair of shoes. Slipping them on. He comes over. Grabbing his glasses and hat and putting them on. Then a coat and his own shoes. You go over to the door. Unlocking it and pulling it open. Motioning with your hand for him to leave first. He does. Waiting for you as he scours the building. You shut the door. Locking it behind you. Shoving your keys into pocket. You start walking. Him following a few steps behind as you go down the grand staircase to the foyer.

You get to the front door for your building complex. Turning to push it open with your butt. Hands wedged firmly into your pockets. The chill air hitting you. Keeping it open for Steve to walk past. "Fuck me its cold". He gives out a small laugh. Dropping the door when he exits. You fold your arms over your torso. Hoping this position will keep the heat in more. Motioning with your head. "Lets go". He follows as you start a quick paced walk. His hands in his hoodie pocket.

"You really don't do well with the cold do you?"

"No. I like heat. Warmth. This is not that. Fuck me its fucking cold". He smiles at your discomfort. Letting out a small laugh as you notice his head remains up. You can't see his eyes but you notice his head making small movements. Checking to see if you're being followed. You unattached your arms from yourself. Linking it through his. Hands gently gripping his upper arm.

"What are you doing?"

"Helping you be more undercover". You whisper. "Plus you're warm". Nestling closer to him. He smiles. Moving his arm to wrap around your shoulders. Holding you close to him.

"Where are we walking too?"

"There's a cute little thrift shop up the road. They have some cute knick knacks that I like to indulge in when I can afford it. Plus I like going there and seeing what I can find for cheap. Making it look a bit fancier then selling for 3 times the price I bought it".

"Isn't that some sort of fraud?" You shrug.

"Probably. But it gets me money. Its only a crime if I get caught"

"That's..." He takes in a sigh. You speak before he can.

"Everyone knows that you become a criminal once you go to prison. Before that you are just an eccentric business man or woman". You swear you can audibly hear his disappointment.

"That's still not how crime works. You know that right?"

"Until I'm proven wrong I struggle to see how im not right"

"You frustrate me"

"What doesn't kill you makes you stronger. And putting up with me will certainly do one of those". You hear him let out a small laugh.

"I'm definitely starting to see that". You spend the rest of your walk in silence. Before making your way to the small shop. Pushing down your hood as you go inside. Detaching from his arm. Going over to the different items on sale. He follows. Standing behind you. Looking out the window as you browse.

"Stop looking suspicious"

"I'm not" He whispers.

"Yes". You turn to face him. "Yes you are". Going past as you pick up an ornament. Seeing them around for 50-60 quid. You check the label. $3. Someone didn't do their research into this item when they cashed it in. You place it in a hand whilst you continue browsing.

"Can I ask you something?" You nod. Feeling his breath fan past your cheek and shoulder as he stands beside you. Slightly behind your shoulder. "How are you so comfortable stealing and conning from everyday humans? Yet you make no attempt to steal these cheap items when we both know you easily could?"

"This thrift shop gives 90% of its earnings to people who have come out of sex trafficking. Men. Woman. Children. It seems wrong to steal from them"

"Its nice to know that you do have a heart somewhere inside of you". You scoff slightly. Shaking your head. Picking up an item on the other shelf. Checking the price. Quickly putting it back down at the overpriced statue. Going over to the clothes section.

"I don't have a heart". You pull out a dress. Eyeing it before putting it back. "Its just a black void that's in the cassum of where my heart should be"

"Then why did you return those wallets you stole?" You furrow your brow. How did he know that? You turn to look at him. A light tone to his eyes. Your eyes dart to his lips. Seeing the hint of a smirk. Cocky bastard. Eyes going back to his.

"Think the real question is why were you going through my underwear drawer?" You see his cheeks start to flush a pretty pink at your notion. Making you smile. Going back to your clothes. "Perv" you tease him.

"No. No that's not what... I was trying to clean some off your clothes away for you and... I stumbled across the bag of wallets and noticed you had less so-"

"I'm teasing Shoulders. I've had far worse happen to me then someone go through my panty draw". He shuts his eyes. You didn't think he could go a deeper shade of red.

"Why- Can you not call them... panties?" He whispers the last word.

"I can call them thongs and braziers if you'd rather?" You speak loudly. Drawing the attention briefly from some of the other customers around. He takes in a breath. Refusing to look at anyone in the shop.

"I'd rather we drop the conversation completely". You smile. Knowing you've won. Throwing a few items over you arm before going to the jewellery. Picking out a few items before going to the till. Spending fifteen dollars on the whole lot. Thanking the man behind the counter before you head out the shop. Heading back home. Steve insists that you both walk around the block a handful of times. Convinced you're being followed and not wanting to give where you live away.

Eventually he allows you to both go back to your apartment. Going inside. You go over to the tap. Running the water to see if the heating had been fixed yet. Nothing. You give an annoyed sigh. Kicking your shoes off and leaving them in the middle of the floor as you go to your bed. Dropping the items onto the bed before going over to the oven. Turning it on and opening the front. He tilts his head slightly.

"It warms the house up. I'll only do it for a minute or so. Otherwise we'll get over heated or start a fire"

"Actual fire would certainly keep you warm". You chuckle lightly.

"I'd probably still be cold". He laughs. Sitting onto his bed. Nicely taking his boots off before picking yours up too. Going and placing them neatly by the front door. Tidying out the other shoes that are there. He comes back in. Leaning against the wall as you warm your hands and backside against the oven fire.

"What do you do with the items now?"

"I'll clean them up tonight then tomorrow I'll go to my friends house and see how much he'll buy them for. I think I've managed to get about three hundred worth of cash so he'll probably give me two hundred for it. Then he gets some profit from the items he sells onto other clients". You shake slightly. Turning the oven off and shutting the door. Double checking everything is off before walking away. Grabbing a mug and old toothbrush. Filling the mug with sadly cold water rather then then luke warm you'd rather have for this job. You go over. Sitting cross legged on your bed. Putting the cleaning items onto the nightstand before you empty out your bag of findings.

Steve comes and sits opposite you on his bed. Watching as you take out the items. Starting to scrub up each of the items. Paying close attention to each one. Most are what you deem ugly ornaments that you know are collectable. Placing them down on the kitchen counter at the end of your bed. Knowing they'll dry their over night.

You pick up a piece of jewellery. A necklace. Smiling as you look at it. "My dad used to do this. Find items from junk shops and make them nice to sell for a profit". He looks at your hand. Watching as you start to spruce up the pretty silver. "We would go away on these tours across the country and we would find items in shops and do what I'm doing now. However he would always say I could pick out one piece of jewellery from each state we went to".

"Is that why you wear so many rings?" You nod.

"The one that is our pretend engagement ring is from California. He thought he could make it big as an actor. It lasted about 2 months before he gave up"

"Why'd he quit?"

"The fellow actors weren't very nice. My dad was a very scrawny man and they'd pick on him. So he stole all their valuables and left". He laughs. His laugh warming you slightly. "I'm serious. We bought a campervan with that money. Oh I fucking loved that van". He smiles. Holding his hand out towards the items you just cleaned. You pass it to him. His strong frame being a contrast to the delicate item. Yet he holds it softly. So very softly. Admiring the beauty of it. Holding it back to you. Watching you as you place it on the side with the others. Picking up the next piece as you continue cleaning.

"Do you ever get tempted to keep the items rather then sell them?"

"I've tried. I've kept some things but rent day is a thing and my form of income isn't always the most reliable. So I often get rid of the items. I do have spare items kept around the house that I find pretty but could get me a months rent if I needed it too". You pick up the last item. Cleaning it. Well - the last non clothing item. The three dresses and shirt stare at you. You rub your forehead with your palm.

"Now its washing day on Thursday. So I will scrub these up as best as I can. Fix any imperfections if needed before washing them. I can then sell them on Friday before out date with Riley". You move from the bed. Grabbing the mug of dirty water. Standing as you awkwardly balance. Trying not to get yourself or Steve with the liquid. His hands come out. Going to your hips as he steadies you.

"Thank you".

"Thank you for not getting me wet". He removes his hands. Watching as you pour the water down the sink. Refilling the glass as you get out a sponge. Going back over to the bed you make quick work of the clothing items.

WEDNESDAY

"What do you have planned for today?" Steve says. Watching as you chuck some shoes on.

"Not a lot. We've run out of coffee so I'm going to head to the shops and see if I can pick any up". His eyes go to the kettle you have before going back to you.

"Mind if I join?"

"If you desire to". You grab a coat. Throwing it on over the top of your already 3 layered torso. "Don't quite know what you expect from it though. It'll be very boring". He gives a small scoff. Coming and grabbing his coat.

"I don't do well staying in the same spot. I need to get out"

"Fine. But we're going to the shop with your girlfriend in". He tilts his head. An amused question on his brow. "The woman who gave you free chocolate. Because she finds you hot". He nods. Smiling as he lets out a small 'ah'. "You're girlfriend. I mean I'd have thought she's a little old for you but.... whatever floats your boat". He chuckles. Grabbing his cap and glasses. Placing them on and putting his hood up. You can't tell if the last one is to help disguise him or if its to keep him safe from the cold.

You both head to the little corner shop. The cashier eye fucking Steve as you go to the coffee isle. Picking out the cheapest brand and going over to the till. She smiles at him. Picking up the item and scanning it. Only looking down when she fails to scan the code the first time. You take out a fiver. Handing it to her. Steve scratches the side of his face. Looking away as your patience thins as she holds the money. You cough. Causing her to come back to reality.

"Sorry". She says. Dialling in the money and taking out your appropriate change. Handing it to you. You smile. Taking it from her and shoving it into your hoodie pocket.

"Thank you". A light sarcasm in your voice that you really try to hide but massively fail. You walk out. Steve following behind you. He walks by your side. Staying close to you. "Have you always had the power to turn woman's brains to mush or is that a recent phenomenon?" He chuckles softly.

"Its a recent thing. I'm still not fully used to it"

"I can imagine its super hard for you to adjust too" you tease him. Giving him a small smirk as you glance to him. He smiles. Shaking his head.

"When I was younger I didn't even get woman look at me. So it certainly is... strange to adjust too". You raise your brow at him. Eyes going to his very defined torso and tall frame. Not believing him in the slightest. You go to say something else witty when you're cut off by a frantic female voice.

"Stop him! He's got my purse!" A man runs past. Hood up. Hand clutching a bag. One that doesn't seem to match his attire. You both look at the scene before you.

Steve doesn't hesitate. Turning and running after the man. You watch in awe as he speeds off at an inhumane pace. Not sure if you should stay out or run after them. Normally you were the person getting away. Not the hero.

Despite his fast nature the offender was slightly faster. Having the slight advantage. Taking the coffee jar out of your pocket. "Fucks sake". Bringing your arm back as you throw the item. As fast and hard as you can. Losing your balance slightly as you watch the item come down onto the runners head. Watching as he collapses to the ground. You stay put as you see Steve grab the man. Pulling him up. Dragging him by the scruff of his collar over to where you stand. The woman coming and joining you. Steve pries the bag from the attackers hands. Passing her bag back to her.

"Thank you. Both of you". She glares at the robber. "You deserve to be locked up for your sins young man" she spits out at him. Annoyingly he's too concussed from your throw off coffee that he doesn't have any comeback. "I've already called the cops. They will be here any minute now". Not the best option for you - a pick pocket. And Steve - a man hiding from authorities. The same thoughts seem to go through Steve's mind as you can see the panic suddenly come over his face. What you can see of his face anyway.

You once again do some quick thinking. Linking an arm with Steve. "I'm sorry ma'am but we really need to rush off. We've got a midwife appointment that I just can't miss today. This is our first scan you see". You place a hand onto your belly. Just to add some extra emphasis. "Will you be ok to handle this?" She looks at you. Then your stomach. Then the man you've clung onto. She smiles.

"Oh my goodness congratulations! Of course I'll be fine! You go and help create a wonderful foundation for the next generation. Goodness knows we need it". Her smiling features turn sour as she glances to the boy whose painfully holding his head. "Thank you so much again for the help. Good luck with your appointment". You smile. Turning and forcing Steve with you.

"A midwife appointment?" He whispers to you.

"People are normally very happy and relaxed when you bring children into the equation. Its a good way to get out of social events. Or in our case a run in with the cops". He chuckles. The both of you walking back to your apartment. You unlock the door. Shutting it behind you once again. You kick your shoes off. Reaching into your pocket. You'd had adrenaline running through your veins that you forgot the main event that had happened.

You'd gone out for coffee. Then threw the coffee at someone. And forgot to pick it up afterwards or purchase a different pot. "Oh for fucks sake!" You tilt your head back. An annoyed grunt leaving your lips as he looks at you. Raising an eyebrow as he sits on his bed. Starting to take his shoes off.

"Everything alright?"

"No. No it's not alright". You rub your face with your hands. Tilting you head back down as you push your palms into your eyes. "I forgot the fucking coffee as I threw it at the fucking twat. Fuck!" You hear him make slight movement.

"You mean this coffee?" You open your eyes. Beaming as you see the plastic container filled with coffee grains.

"I think I love you". He laughs. Picking his shoes up. Placing the coffee onto the side. Neatly putting his shoes down in the shoe pile. Going and grabbing the kettle. Filling it up with cold water before going and putting it back on. "Do we have hot water yet?" He flicks the switch for the kettle. Going over to the sink once again. Turning it on and sticking his pinkie under the running water. Standing there for a minute.

"No".

"Fucks sake".

"I can go and talk to the man if you'd like?" You shake your head.

"It'll get turned back on soon I'm sure. I just cant guarantee when". You slump yourself down onto the bed. Outstretching your arms as you let your legs dangle over the edge. Dramatically falling down onto the mattress. The slight spring making your body jump lightly. "I'm just hoping it'll get sorted before Friday. So we can have a decent shower before meeting Riley"

"That would be a good excuse to get out of it though"

"Not having hot water?" He nods. Leaning against the kitchen counter.

"Hmm. I suppose so. She'd be way too nice about it though. Say that we can use her fancy shower and bath with thousands of servants coming and giving us chocolate strawberries and hand feeding us grapes". He gives a small laugh.

"Is she even rich enough to have servants?"

"She's pompous enough". His laugh grows. Shaking his head softly. The kettle clicking off. He turns around. Making two coffees. One for each of you. Coming and sitting onto his bed as he sits opposite you. Holding out the mug for you to take.

"I'm fascinated in meeting her".

"Oh you'll love her. Everyone does". You say. Bringing the hot mug to your lips. Gently blowing on the liquid. Steam coming up and around your eyes. He half smiles. Watching you as you bring the item to your lips. Taking a sip of the scorching drink. Placing it down onto the bedside. He looks away from you. Eyes falling onto the guitar that's now discarded onto the singular armchair you have in the room.

"Will you play something again?" You look at him. Confusion over your features as you watch him stand. Going and grabbing the musical item with the hand not holding his drink. Coming back over and sitting down the his bed. The musical instrument being held in his less dominant hand.

"Goodness. You really want to subject your ears to that torture again?"

"I enjoy your voice"

"You're a madman". He smiles. You sigh. Placing the mug down and taking the item from him as he holds it towards you. Sitting cross legged as you put the instrument onto your lap. "What do you want to hear then Shoulders?"

"Surprise me". You move your eyes upwards. Trying to think of a good song to sing him. Starting to play a few notes. Starting to sing Stitches by Shawn Mendes. Getting more into it as the song progresses. The end of it comes about. He claps. A smile on his face.

"I have to ask. Do you know any happy songs?" You let out a soft chuckle.

"I'm sure I can think of one". You pause. Bringing your bottom lip between your teeth. "Or not. Jesus can I really not think of a single happy song?" You tilt you head downward. Your brain wracking through every song you've ever heard. That you can also play on guitar. "Ooh! This one". You look at him. Then the guitar.

"Fuck". You move your hand. Playing a note. "Nope. That's not it". You bite your bottom lip. "I can play it on piano". You mumble. You shut your eyes. Trying to visualise the notes in your head that are needed. Opening them again as you place your fingers. Correctly this time. Starting to play. Daydream Believer by The Monkees

Once you finish he claps. A smile on his face. "Happy enough song for you that time?"

"Definitely happier then the other two you've sung me". You give a small chuckle. Placing the guitar next to you on the bed. Picking up your mug of hot coffee. Blowing onto the top of it before taking a sip.

THURSDAY

Stuffing your dirty clothes into a wash bag. Scurrying around the room as you sniff various items scattered around. Steve's gaze falls from the window to you. A small amount of amusement in his eyes as he watches you hurriedly go around the room. "I have to go and do my washing today. You are welcome to join but it will probably be as fun as doing the laundry so..." He gives a small chuckle. Standing up from his bed.

"I have nothing better to do". You give a small nod. Watching as he picks up a hoodie from the floor and passes it to you. One you'd already done the sniff test too. Which it passed.

"This doesn't need washing. I've worn it once"

"I saw you drop ten tonnes of pasta onto it last night. Yes it does". You roll your eyes. Taking the item from him. The both of you going around the small of the apartment. Collecting your joint clothes before you head out the door. Locking it behind you as you make your way to the laundromat.

Going inside you put your load in. Sitting down next to him on a bench as you watch the washing swirling inside the machine. You turn your head to him. His cap and sunglasses being his disguise once again. His face now having a form of light stubble present on it. He turns to face you. Feeling your eyes on him.

"Is this what you do every Thursday?"

"Its the least busy day I've discovered. Some people do it earlier in the week so they can have clothes over the weekend. Some do it Friday or the weekend as that's the days they have off. A lot of people do it Wednesday because they think that's the day no one will go and do their washing. But everyone forgets about Thursday". He gives a slight chuckle.

"You've spent a lot of time here". You give out a small 'hmm'. Feeling his eyes on you.

"I would spend a lot of time in places like this when I was a child. They're a good place to go to escape reality". You look at him. "Get to people watch too". He gives a low chuckle. "Learn a lot of fun life stories too. Or at least get to make them up for people here".

"What stories would you give to the people in here then?" You look around. Leaning towards him as you speak in a hushed tone.

"Lady over there". He turns. You grab his hand. The action making his eyes fall back to look at you. "Be subtle dude". He smiles. Stretching his arms up. Wrapping one around you as he turns his head. "I said subtle. Not cliché".

"What's her story then?"

"Secret spy"

"Probably not that secret if you now about it". You playfully hit his knee.

"The guy whose currently been trying to use the machine for 20 minutes". You cant see his eyes but you know they scan behind you. Giving a small nod. "Genius". He half smiles. Watching as he struggles to put in some quarters. You turn too. Cringing as you watch him struggle.

You look back at Steve. Giving a small smile. "One second". You stand up. Resting a hand on your knees as you push yourself up. Smiling at the man struggling as you approach him.

"Do you need help sir?" He looks at you. A small smile coming over his face.

"Please". You smile kindly. Noticing his shaky hands. Taking his money and placing it into the machine for him. Smiling as you turn away from him. Going and sitting back down next to your fake fiancé.

"That was kind of you" the broad man says. His hands now placed by his sides. Eyes on your as you speak.

"Yeah well... I've done a lot of sin. Got to make up for it in some way, right?" You turn to look back at him. His shaded eyes watching yours. Your eyes scan his features. The ones you can see anyway. Darting to his lips quickly. "You were a soldier right?" He gives a nod. "What made you stop being a hero?" He falters slightly. Turning his gaze to look at the washing.

"I didn't stop". You watch him. Unable to see his eyes through the dark glasses. "Sometimes I just help people that end up getting me in trouble". He removes his hat. Running a hand through his hair before placing it back onto his head. You move your head away. Looking back at your washing. A few beats of quiet go past. You take in a breath.

"I'm sorry"

"What for?"

"For prying" He gives a small scoff.

"We're engaged. You need to know my secrets right?" You give out a small laugh. Rolling your eyes. "Besides... I will only tell you information I want to tell you or that I deem necessary for you to know. I'm not going to tell you everything"

"Will you tell me your last name?"

"You're pushing it" he says. Turning to you. A smile on his face.

"A girl can try". He laughs softly. Turning back to the washing. Taking in a breath you reach around to the wash bag you have. A little pocket on the side you pull out a deck of cards.

"Want to play?" You look at him. Meeting his eyes through those dark glasses. He nods. Eyes on your hands as you take the cards out the packet. Starting to shuffle them.

You both play a few games. Only getting up to move the washing to the dryer and put in another load. Soon everything being clean you chuck it all back into the wash basket. Wrapping your arms around the bag as you begin to walk home.

You struggle to take out the house keys when you arrive. Fumbling with them as you try not to lose your grip on them or the washing. You see Steve bring his hand out. His fingers gentle as he takes the set of keys into his hand. Singling out the house key. Unlocking and opening the door. Pushing it open he holds it with his hand. Letting you enter first before he comes behind you.

You go to your bed. Emptying your now clean clothes onto the bed. Chucking the now empty bag onto the floor as you start to fold up your various items. You see Steve come over. Picking the bag up and placing it neatly onto the armchair in the room. Behind your guitar you own.

You spend the next few hours chatting with him. Talking about the plans for tomorrow. Going over what you had rehearsed. How you met. How long you've been together. Things that will likely be asked at a dinner. You both stay up until late talking. Heading to bed shortly after eating something semi nutritious.

You lie in bed. Shivering. Freezing. Trying to get some warmth from the duvet you have on top of your frame. Your whole body shakes. It must be about midnight. Maybe 1 or 2 in the morning. And the lack of hot water means a lack of heating for your home. You could do the oven trick but you were so sleep deprived you were worried you might fall asleep and start a fire. So you just lie there. Freezing your ass off.

You try your best to not make noise as you shiver. Clenching your jaw together to stop it chattering. Squeezing your eyes shut as you try and will yourself to sleep. But knowing it would be in vain due to your current state. The same state you've been in for a few hours now. You hear movement. Too tired and cold to come out from your cocoon. Instead you stay bunched.

Feeling a gently hand rest onto your arm. You squidge your eyes open. Brining the covers down slightly enough for your eyes to be on show. Seeing the distinct torso of Steve. You try to smile at him in the darkness but just do some more shaking. He gives a small sigh. Concluding what the problem is quickly. He moves away from you. Going over to a drawer and taking out a hoodie. Coming back over.

"You aren't going to like me for a minute". He moves the covers. Your hands come out. Fisting the fabric as a means to keep it. "Mia". He speaks. A stern tone in his soft voice. You grumble as you let him move the fabric away. A shiver going over your body. He gently moves your body. Bringing the hoodie over your head as you lie there. His hands warm against your skin. Even after he pulls the covers back up your cold frame. His heat is warmer then any warmth clothes could give you. You grab his wrist.

"Join me" you whisper. He looks at you. You can't see it. But you can feel his eyes. You keep a hold of his wrist. Nails digging into the flesh slightly as he turns. Grabbing the blanket from his bed. Throwing it over the top of the one on you already. Moving the duvet to crawl in beside you. You don't hesitate as you wrap your arms around his torso. Fists clenched onto his back. Face hiding into his chest as you absorb his heat. Your legs wrap around his waist. The hand under his body comes up. Resting onto the space between your shoulder blades. The other rests oh so kindly onto your thigh. The one sprawled over his waist.

You can feel the warmth starting to spread through you. Giving a satisfied hum as you nuzzle your face into his chest. His hand moves slightly from your back. Bringing the covers up to hide more of your body from the harsh night air before it resumes its position. "Thank you". You whisper into him. Feeling him rest his head onto yours as you both let sleep overcome your minds.

FRIDAY

You hear the sound of the shower running. Furrowing your brow slightly at the noise. Opening your eyes as your body remains under the two blankets on your bed. Sitting up you look around your small room. Holding the blankets close to your frame as you try and remember the events from yesterday. More importantly the ones from last night.

Steve. He had spent the night in your bed. You feel your cheeks start to flush slightly. You'd shared a bed before. But not like that. That was far more intimate then anything you've experienced before. Because it was purely platonic. He had to other motive to trying to keep you warm. Your face goes even redder as you think about it. So much in your own head that you don't process the shower turning off. He walks out. White muscle shirt on. Grey jogging bottoms. "You're awake". You nod. Eyes falling to his large arms and defined torso. Were you really going to start crushing on a man you know nothing about?

"I fixed the shower this morning whilst you were sleeping". He motions to the bathroom behind him. "Works like a charm now". He walks past you. His neatly folded pyjama bottoms being placed equally as neatly onto his pillow. Your cheeks redden at the sudden closeness. Though you are well aware that you are already a bright shade of crimson. Yes was the answer to your previous question. You turn your head. Quickly getting up as you go over to your drawers. "I didn't wake you did I?"

"No". You shake your head. Technically yes but you weren't going to tell him that. For a multitude of reasons. Taking your clothes into the bathroom. Shutting the door behind you. You splash some cold water onto you face. You barely know the man. Pull yourself together. Drying your hands on your pyjama bottoms as you push your thoughts and feelings down into your mind. Starting to undress.

Opening the door once you were changed. "We have about 7 hours before we need to get to Riley's. I still need a shower and to do my makeup but I'll do that closer to the time we go. I don't know what to do before then though".

"I've not been to a dinner in a long while... What are you planning on wearing? I don't want to over or under dress". You give a small scoff.

"I was going to wear a dress. Nothing too fancy but dinners don't usually have graphic tees or hoodies". You go over to the set of drawers. Opening the bottom drawer. Your fancy clothes. Looking quickly before you take out a dress. Holding it up as you kneel on the floor. "This is the one I was thinking of wearing". He nods. Looking at the dark purple material.

"Pretty". You half smile. Turning the item to face you.

"Do you have a fancy shirt in the bunch of clothes you bought?"

"No". You nod. Gently chucking the dress onto the bed before you riffle through your clothes again. Taking out a button up shirt. You hold it out towards him.

"I'd suggest wearing a pair of jeans with it. Try it on and see if it fits though. We have time to make a quick trip to the shops if needed". He nods. Taking it from your palm. Standing up he makes his way to the bathroom. Shutting the door. You push your clothes back down into the drawer. Pushing it too. Standing as you admire the pretty dress laid on the bed before you. The deep v cut means you'll likely need a necklace with it. You open a jewellery box on the side. A silver chain sitting inside. Your hand goes to necklace. The purple jewel at the bottom of the chain matching perfectly with the shade of your dress. Pulling it out and putting it onto the side.

You hear the bathroom door open. Turning you see Steve. Wearing a very tight shirt. Your eyes widen slightly. The blush you'd managed to hide a few moments ago comes creeping very quickly back up your face. "It feels a little tight. Does it look alright though?" He asks. You give a very small nod.

"Mhmm. You look good". Your voice a whisper. He looks at you. Aware of how your eyes haven't left his torso. He pushes his lips together. Trying to hold back a smile.

"I'll take it off for now. I'll put it on before we leave". He turns back to the bathroom. Once again shutting the door. You start breathing again. Not that you were aware you'd stopped. Eyes going to the purple dress you have. Lying on the bed.

Once he gets out the bathroom you shake yourself mentally. Bringing yourself back to the reality at hand. You still know nothing about this man. And in a few hours you were meant to act like he was the love of your life. In those short hours you have you spend it questioning each other on interests and other specific details you would need to know.

You get ready in the bathroom. Yelling questions and answers to each other through the door. Towel wrapped around your body as you attempt to straighten your hair. You'd just showered and your curls were getting the better of you.

"What is my favourite colour?" He calls to you.

"Oh for fucks sake". There's a small pause on his end.

"No. That's incorrect". You open the door. Uncaring of your nearly nude state. His eyes widen as he quickly looks up at the ceiling. Focusing really hard on your light.

"My fucking straightener isn't fucking doing its fucking job"

"Maybe adding more profanity will help"

"Fuck you"

"Did it help?"

"You can go fuck yourself". He gives a small chuckle. Eyes glancing to meet yours before looking away again. "Oh grow up Shoulders. I'm wearing a towel for fucks sake"

"Really wish you would stop calling me shoulders"

"Please can you just come help me" there's a small whine in your voice. One he cant help but laugh at. Turning his head to look at you fully. Though his eyes keep glancing away. You pout at him. Holding the straighteners towards him. He comes over. Inspecting the item. Holding his hand near it. The part that should be warm. You move. Hitching yourself up onto the sink basin. A playful frown on your lips as he crosses his brow.

"Its not on"

"What?" He follows the lead with his eyes. Going to the switch and turning the item on. The small numbers lighting up on the item. "You absolute fucker". He tilts his head slightly. A small smile coming over his lips. Handing back the item. "Thank you". You beam at him. Resting a kind hand on his arm as a show of appreciation. Moving it and waiting patiently as the item gets hot. Starting to straighten out your hair. Once you both deem it in good working order he goes to walk out the room but hesitates. Turning back towards you.

"Do you want me to shut the door?"

"Can do. Don't think you'd appreciate being scarred for life". He gives a laugh. Pulling the door behind him. You do the rest of your hair. Putting on your flattering if not quite revealing dress. Opening the door as you step out. He was sitting on his bed. Eyes coming up as he hears the door open. Eyes gliding down your figure before coming back up to yours.

"You look beautiful". You smile. A light tint of pink coming across your cheeks. Walking into the room and going to the shoe pile. Taking out your only pair of heels. Sitting on the bed as you do them up. feeling his eyes on you as you continue getting ready. You look up. Smiling at him. Eyes going to his lips as you speak in a semi seductive tone.

"You know I am your fiancé tonight. You are allowed to do more then look at me". He gives out a small pfft of air. Looking away from you. You laugh. Hand going to your other shoe and doing it up. Small giggles still falling from your lip. He goes into the bathroom. Hearing the shower running for a short period as you do your makeup. About 10 minutes pass and he opens the door. His hair damp from the shower. He's rolling down the sleeves of his button up shirt. Smart jeans on as he comes out. He'd not shaved for around a week now and he had a shadow of hair appearing.

It was your time to goggle him. He puts his hands onto his hips. "Do I look ok?" You nod. Giving him a smile.

"In a different life we would make a hot couple". He laughs.

"One where you're my actual fiancé and not just my fake one?" You nod. Smiling at him. "You know I've never been in a proper relationship before"

"You're fucking with me?" You look at him. A smile over your lips in disbelief. He shakes his head. "What about your soldier girlfriend?"

"We had a... thing. Mutual attraction lets call it. But we got separated before either of us could make anything official. I've not actually courted with someone though. Ever".

"Jesus" you give a soft laugh. "You've kissed people though right?" He nods. No. He hesitates then nods. Only a small hesitation but you notice it. "Holy shit! Are you still a virgin?"

"No I'm not a virgin".

"I don't believe you"

"Don't have to believe me". He grabs his shoes. Sitting on his bed as he does them up. "Doesn't make it any less true"

"I cant believe youve never had sex..."

"Ok" he looks at you. An annoyance in his eyes and voice. The one that you've grown used to (and kind of fond off) over the past week of living together. "Not that its any of your business but I've kissed a handful of people and I've had relations with a few of those same people"

"A few huh?" He nods. "Is Natasha one of those people?" He pauses.

"I've kissed her. We've not... had intercourse though"

"Why didn't you two bang?"

"Can we not have this conversation? Please?" You roll your eyes.

"Such a prude". He goes back down and does up his laces. Watching his hands as he does them up. He stands up. Going over to his coat as he chucks it on.

"Shall we go?"

-

You get to the front door of your friends home. Giving it a gentle knock. Looping your arm through Steve's as you both put on your best 'we are a couple' face. Your friend opens the door. Her face grins as she looks at you. Her arms going up "Oh my god Mia!" she speaks. Arms wrapping around you as you disconnect from Steve. Lightly hugging her back. She moves away. Looking at your fake fiancé.

"You must be the husband-to-be". He smiles. Giving a small nod as she drags him in for a hug too. His hands going to her back. Gently patting it before she moves away. "Please come in. Dinner is nearly ready" she motions with her hands. You follow her inside. Taking off your coat and hanging it up on the coat rack beside the front door. She looks at you in the dress you're wearing. Giving a whistle.

"Oh hush you" you roll your eyes at her.

"I'm allowed to admire you. I would kill for your figure" you laugh. Looking down at your dress. "Where did you get the dress from?"

"Found it at a thrift store"

"It does wonders for your boobs". You laugh again. Shaking your head as Steve looks quite uncomfortable at your discussion. A man runs in. The man you assume to be Finn - Riley's husband. He smiles at the both of you.

"I thought I heard voices". Shaking your hand then Steve's. "Please to meet you both. Riley here has told me a lot about you".

"All bad things I hope" you smile. Causing him to laugh.

"Please come through" she says. Motioning for you to follow. Going to her dining room. Four seats set out. Smiling as she and her husband sit on one side of the table. You and Steve the other. Steve seems tense next to you. You put it down to his nerves. Fine. You get that this is a strange situation however he needed to play the role of fiancé. You gently place a hand on his thigh. Not so high as to cause concern or make him think of any ulterior intentions. But high enough that its an intimate hold and not a strictly friendly hand.

Dinner goes about surprisingly normal. You eat the delicious food that is provided. It was a nice change from the instant meals and tinned items you're used to. Though you wouldn't admit that to your host. The four of you talk and laugh. Even have a small bit to drink. You'd made your way to the living room by this point. You and Steve were sat next to each other. Shoulders touching. Laughing at a funny story Riley was talking about from their past.

Finn's phone vibrates. Giving a small scoff. Shaking his head. Muttering something under his breath. Riley looks at him. Noticing the mood shift to a more serious one.

"What is it dear?"

"There was word this morning that they thought they had found Bucky Barnes and where he was hiding". You feel Steve jump slightly next to you. Though it was invisible to the eye you can feel his body tense. Finn shakes his head. Shoving the device back into his pocket. "Turns out it was just some homeless guy living in a cave".

"I'm sorry they were unable to catch your criminal. But I'm sure our guests don't care to hear about the worlds most wanted men"

"Its ok love". He looks at her. Giving a smile. "I'll stop. I just got excited". You tilt your head to look at them both. Bucky. That name sounds familiar. You hadn't read it. No. Natasha had said that name a week ago. Despite your better judgement you press the conversation.

"Whose Bucky Barnes?"

"Who-" He shakes his head. "You're joking right?"

"No. I don't keep track of the news through media outlets"

"Oh my dear sweet child!" He speaks. Amused by your innocence of the events of the world.

"I hope you're prepared for this" Riley says. Leaning back as Finn stands. Adjusting his shirt. You watch him. Paying mind to Steve having his head lowered as the man before you starts to monologue.

"The story starts with the Avengers. Earths mightiest heroes. The government wanted to put them under their control. Use them as a weapon when and if they are needed rather then them being independent as when they run independently people die and property damage is caused. Iron Man said that's fine. Captain America said fuck that. A bunch of shit happened and America - Captain America - broke the law by trying to get involved in a fight that the Avengers weren't giving permission to get involved in. Because of this a lot of public damage was done and lots of casualties and death occurred that has put Captain America and a couple of his friends who helped him onto a massive wanted list. Bucky Barnes being one of them. Better known as the Winter Soldier. Who has murdered hundreds if not thousands of people. And Mr Rogers just let him go without any sort of punishment".

You furrow your brow. Taking the information in as he says it too you. But confusion sticking in your mind at the last name. "Mr Rogers?"

"Steve Rogers aka Captain America". The man sat beside you tilts his head slightly. Watching your reaction. You stiffen slightly.

"Oh... ok. Steve Rogers is Captain America who is responsible for the death of lots of people...". He goes to talk again but Riley becomes aware of your sudden timid nature.

"Ok sweetheart. I think that is enough of the doom and gloom right. How about a game?" She says. A small gleeful smile on her face as she tries to lighten the situation. You give a slight nod. Your brain racing with thought.

"I umm- Will you excuse me please? I need to use the facilities". You stand up. Vaguely taking in the directions she gives you to the bathroom. Getting there you open the door. Shutting it and leaning yourself against it.

He can't be the same person. The Steve you've been living with for a week wouldn't be capable of murder. Or any crime. He just couldn't do that. Right? You lean against the bathroom door. Palms going to your eyes as you think. A guy called Steve turns up at your safe house. On the run from goodness knows who. Refused to tell you his last name as it could give away his identity. Its a coincidence. You take in a few deep breaths. Hearing a gentle knock on the bathroom door.

"Mia?" The voice was quiet. A whisper. But you knew it. It was him. Steve. Your hands shake slightly. Opening the door. You look at him. Eyes filled with fear and anger. You whisper at him.

"What is your last name? Your real last name?". He lets out a breath.

"Can we talk about this when we get back to your home?"

"No. I want to talk about it now". He rubs his palm over his forehead. Looking down the hallway. turning back to you as he grabs your shoulders. Pushing you into the bathroom. Shutting and locking the door behind him. Your breath hitches. You're trapped. You move a few steps away from him. Wanting as much distance as you could get.

"I- shit" He mutters. Looking downwards as he tries to think straight. Looking back up at you. His eyes filled with the same emotions yours are. Anger and fear. "I am who they say I am. But I am not a murderer".

"Then why did they say you were?"

"Mia. You are going to have to trust me. I don't feel comfortable talking about this here. Any questions you have I will answer. Just not here". Your eyes scan his.

"Are you going to kill me?" You whisper.

"No. Like I said - I'm not a murderer. Please trust me". You take in a breath.

"I want to go home now". He nods. Seeing your eyes frantic on his. He opens the door. Stepping out. He gently takes your arm. Though you don't lean into him through spite you are grateful of the support. You don't process the excuse he gives to the couple. Knowing he must've told them something to let you both travel home but unsure of what. You just know you're grateful when he walks you home.

Due to the nature of your dress you don't have any pockets. He takes the house key out of his trousers. Unlocking your door. He lets you inside first. Shutting and locking the door behind him. You go and sit on the bed. Your legs feel like jelly. He comes over. Sitting on his bed opposite you. He holds his palm out. Key placed on top. You bring your hand up. Taking the item from him. Clenching it between your knuckle.

"Who are you?" Your voice no more then a whisper. Your eyes watching his. His gaze remains steady on yours. "Do not fucking lie to me". He takes in a breath.

"My name is Steve Rogers. I am Captain America. I am a wanted man but not for the reasons your friend said". Your eyes still remain on his. Watching his every move. "I'm not the bad guy Mia"

"You've killed people?" He shakes his head.

"My friend - Bucky - he was brain washed. Made to do some terrible things for people. Those acts have come to light and I helped him get away. I don't kill people. I do stick up for my friends though". You take in a breath. Eyeing him up. "I don't expect you to believe me. But that is the truth". You turn your head down. Running your hands through your hair. Resting them on the back of your head.

"Why are you wanted? Just because you defended a friend?"

"I went against the government and tried to prevent a disaster when I wasn't instructed too. Causing a lot of public property damage and the potential of serious injuries to civilians". You look at him. Eyes scattered with emotions. "I get that you are scared. But I don't want to cause you harm Mia. You have done me a huge favour by keeping me safe here at your home. I do not want to change that".

"Fuck..." you mutter. Standing up as you go to the kitchen part of your apartment. Resting your palms onto the counter top. Leaning against it as you sway the weight on your feet. "How do I know you aren't lying?"

"You just have to trust me". You turn to look at him. Taking in a breath as you meet his cool blue eyes.

"I want to" you let out in a whisper. He gives a small nod. Moving his gaze downwards. "I need time". He nods. Eyes still on the floor.

"Understandable". He stands up. Your body stiffens as he walks towards you. You turn. Facing towards him. Hands still resting on the counter top. Going to his shoes and coat. "I'm going to go for a walk. Clear my head. Give you some time to clear yours too". You give a small nod. Watching as he puts on a coat.

"Are you going to come back?" He turns to face you.

"Do you want me to come back?" You hesitate. Giving a small nod as you look at him. "Then yes. I will come back". He comes over. Holding his palm outward. You bring your fist up. Hand still shaking as you drop the key into his hand. He goes to the front door. "I'll be back soon". He unlocks it. Watching as he exits and hearing him lock it behind him. You stand for a while. What the hell just happened? You go and take a quick shower. To ease your mind and body before getting into some leggings and oversized hoodie. Thinking everything through as you get into bed. Trying to will yourself to stay awake as you await Steve's return.

SATURDAY

You jump awake. Hearing your front door shutting. You sit up. Eyes springing open. Shit you didn't mean to fall asleep. Your gaze falls onto Steve who appears to have just walked into the room. He notices your upright nature. "Didn't mean to wake you". He mutters. Walking in a quick paced nature towards his bed. Your gaze follows his frame. Taking notice that there is no sun coming through the crack of your curtains.

"What time is it?"

"About 3 or 4 in the morning". You notice he has a duffle bag. Starting to shove his clothes into the bag.

"What are you doing?"

"I need to leave"

"Why?" He continues packing. "Steve?" Still no response. You sit upright. On your knees as you perch on the bed. A hand going to his upper arm. "Steve". You try and speak in a stern tone. But your voice betrays you. Coming out a lot more timid then you wanted it to. He turns to face you. His eyes filled with concern. "Why do you need to leave?" He takes in a breath.

"They know where I am. They know where this place is. Its only a matter of time before they arrive here to arrest me. And I don't have that time to spare". You furrow your brow slightly. Eyes darting down before going back to his gaze.

"You were just going to leave me in the middle of the night without saying so much as a goodbye?" He turns back around. Continuing to shove his personal belongings into his bag.

"This isn't your fight Mia".

"It became my fight the moment you walked through that door". He continues packing. "Stop packing for a minute. Steve please". You grab his arm again. Forcing him to turn around and look at you. Hoping you in his vision will give him some sense of what he's doing.

"You will stay here. Go back to sleep. When they come in the morning you can pretend that you didn't know who I was. That you knew I was on the run but you didn't think it was serious. Even if you did think it was a big crime then you don't have any technology to be able to contact the authorities. They might put you in a holding cell for a night or two but they have no solid evidence again-"

You grab the scruff of his shirt. Pulling him into you. Cutting him off shortly as your lips meet his. His hands go up in surrender for a small moment. He doesn't reciprocate so you pull away. A small blush coming over your features as you look at him. Going to move your hands from his shirt. "Sorry. That was-" His hand goes to your cheek. The other to your waist as he pulls you in for a kiss. Your hands unclench from his shirt. Instead resting your palms against his firm chest. Melting into him as he holds you. Pulling away slowly. Your faces only a few inches from each others. A silence falling between you. You take in a small sigh of breath. Keeping a steady gaze with him as you start to speak.

"I've been running my whole life. You didn't change that by walking into it. You coming through my front door was the wake up call that I needed. To realise I can be doing so much more then just running away and hiding. I can actually do something with my life. I should be doing something with my life. Not just sitting on my ass all day. Waiting for something to happen". You bring your hands up from his chest. Resting them onto his cheeks. "I've been listening to the devil on my shoulder for far too long. You are my angel that's brought me back to this world".

He looks at you. Gently pushing your hair behind your ear. Your hands now falling to the tops of his shoulders. "If you come with me then you will be wanted by the police and every superhero in town. Plus any villains who may want me dead". His hands come up. Gently cupping your cheeks between his. "I am giving you an out. If you come with me then you cant go back to this life. Do you understand?" You bring your hands up. Gently holding his wrists in your palms. Eyes on his. Such kind eyes.

"I know how to hot wire a car. We can use it to get away". He smiles. Leaning in for another kiss to your lips. Capturing yours with his. Your fingers gripping his wrists as he envelopes you. Pulling away. Dropping his hands from yours.

"You should pack. Anything you need. Don't bring anything that's not a necessity". You give a small nod. He turns back round. You jump up from the bed. Grabbing out a bag and starting to shove a few shirts. Underwear. And a pair of jeans and jogging bottoms inside. A few expensive items. In case you need the bribing material later down the line. You scavenge all the money you have dotted around your apartment. You don't have time to currently count it but you know it should come to around $1000.

Shoving it all into your bag before grabbing a coat and your most practical shoes. Not that you owned many shoes - especially impractical ones. You meet him by the door. He unlocks and opens it. Stepping out into the hallway. You hesitate. Looking back at your home. The one you've lived in for five years. Five years exactly today. You turn your head back to Steve. He notices your hesitation. He doesn't say anything. Instead he outstretches his hand. Palm upwards.

You could go back into your home. Your safe haven. But why would you do that when your new home is standing in front of you with his arms outstretched. Placing your hand into his. Shutting and locking the front door for the last time. You quietly yet quickly go down the few stairs. Getting to the front mail box. Pushing your old house key through your letter box.

Finding a car. Picking the lock open and getting inside. Sitting in the drivers seat as he sits next to you. You lean down. Finding the engine wires and managing to spark them up. Putting the car into gear as you start to drive into your new life.

TAGS @wonderlanddreamer @strepsils123 @julesandgems