#germs nice guy bit always sends me sorry

[ilynpilled]

every time I read germ interviews I get the feeling that he has it out for theon 😅

lmao i know what you are referring to:

look i personally think it is a bit. the tone to me was always cheeky. with how much heart and effort he puts into theon chapters in adwd, and how sympathetically he talks about him in serious answers, always urging some kind of an understanding from the audience of theon’s specific circumstances and the why of it all, i do not believe he dislikes him lol. germ loves all his pov babies (even ones “worse” than theon). and with the jon answer i think its more about how visceral and pathetically human theon is, which is why he singles him out as someone he would fear becoming. theon’s specific brand of L taking and cycles of cruelty feels especially terrifyingly human, at least thats how i read it. which makes him an interesting character, and george clearly loves great characters

[mysticalrambling]

Coming Home (C.E)

Chris Evans Fanfiction (Fanfiction Masterlist)

Summary: dad!Chris Evans. Chris comes home to his twins fighting and he scolds them. But he also takes care of their wounds with you and then you all go out to eat ice cream and have a family day.

Warnings: None. Minimum angst but fluff all the way.

._._._._.

"Where are the kids?" Your husband came and sat right next to you on the couch. It was a shock to him when he didn't see his two little munchkins clinging to his legs the moment he entered the house. It has been kind of their routine from the moment they could walk on their little two legs.

“They are busy playing in their play room. Why are you not happy about it?” You knew that after a full day of shooting, coming home to two energetic kids was tiring and stressful. So you were shocked when he wasn’t glad to have a moment of peace by himself.

“Well, they are a part of my routine now. It feels weird not having them jumping around me.” The three year olds have always been more attached to Chris than you. Initially, you were a little jealous that the twins focused all their attention on your husband but now you were glad. Having a piece of quiet while he handled the children was pretty awesome.

You both had pretty successful careers and when the twins came into your lives, you both decided that you would handle it all together. In the start, each one of your married girlfriend told you that you had to quit your job as the marketing head because being a mom was a full time job. You were scared and when you shared your concerns with Chris, he consoled you and told you that you would both do it all. Having successful careers while being good parents.

“Just spend sometime with me while Emma and Jason are distracted.” Pouring him a glass of wine, you leaned in to him with your head on his shoulder.

“That is a good way to spend my evening. How was your day, sweetheart?”

“It was hell. My boss gave me a project to complete with a bizarre timeline and when I couldn’t complete it on time. He just took it all out on me in front of my colleague.” Today was humiliating for you and you couldn’t wait to get home, drink a nice glass of wine and relax. “Hated it, babe. How about you?

“Well, my co star couldn’t get her part right so we had to do the same scene five times. We are behind on shooting now and I have to get up early tomorrow morning so that we can catch up to the schedule.” Sighing, he took a long sip of the red liquid and felt his muscles relaxing.

There was a moment of silence that enveloped the room and you just basked in it. “A crappy day for us both.”

“Indeed. Let’s do something exciting then.” He kissed you and just when things were about to get heated, a piercing scream interrupted the moment.

“What-What is happening?” He was still in a haze and couldn’t properly interpret anything.

“It looks like your kids are fighting again.”

“Are you going to handle them?”

“Oh no!” Laughing at his incredulous request, you picked up your glass again. “You wanted to spend time with them so go on.”

Chris got up from the couch and went upstairs. Emma and Jason love each other to death but they have been fighting from the womb. Emma is the stubborn one and while, Jason backs out most of the time. Sometimes, he retaliates and it turns real bad, real fast. They were pretty hot headed, just like you.

“What is happening here?” The dad mode was fully in place when he saw his little girl sitting on the floor with hands pressed to a bloody forehead and his little boy trying to console her.

“She pushed me and then I pushed her. Not my fault. But she hurt, daddy.” The panic in Jason’s eyes was evident.

“(Y/N)! Come here, right now!” You scrambled to your feet as soon as Chris’s voice boomed across the living room. “You never hurt your sister, Jason. This is not alright.” The stern voice was new for Chris but the situation required it.

“But, daddy-”

“No excuses, Mister. Now, apologise to your sister and no toys for you for the whole week.” He got in to action with the first aid kit that he took out of their walk in closet. Emma was still crying her lungs out even when Chris tried to console her. She was not letting him touch the wound and was squirming uncontrollably in his lap.

“Daddy, why you always bla- blame me? Hate you.” Hiccuping, he stuttered on the big words and then stomped out of the room. You tried to stop your son but he just ran past you.

“What is- Oh my god!” The blood was now soaking up your little girl’s shirt and she still wouldn’t let Chris touch the wound.

The one thing that your kids inherited from your husband was the fear of blood and stitches. The small three year old knew that a boo boo that hurts really bad will lead to stitches. You knew how to handle all three of your babies in situation like these. Taking Emma from your husband, you hugged her lightly.

“Bubba, I need to look at your boo boo and then you can have the Elsa bandage.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.” When she removed her chubby, little hand, you were relieved that the cut was not big or deep. A bandage would just do the trick. You softly hummed a tune in her ears while you applied an antiseptic to the wound and then the band aid. She had tears streaming down her face and she was sniffling quietly. Chris took her from you when you were done and gently rocked her in his arms. He always loved it when both your children seeked comfort in you. It reminded him of how lucky he was to have you. “Where did Jason go?”

“I scolded his regarding this and he threw a tantrum.” When Emma heard Jason’s name, she further curled herself into his chest.

“Give her to me.” Raising her face by holding her chin, you sternly asked her. “Tell me what happened, young lady?”

With a guilty tone, she told you both that she was the one who pushed Jason first. They were both playing with the doll house that Chris bought Emma as her third birthday present. Jason wanted to add his toy cars to the doll house but she won’t allow it. She pushed him first and he hit his wrist on the small coffee table but then he pushed her back. When she fell back, she hit her head on the side of the wooden house.

“You are going to apologise to him, Emma. I told you that this much anger is not alright, bubba.” Chris took her to the twin’s room that had two different themes running through it. Emma was never a fan of the color pink so she went with purple and Jason really loved yellow, so he got that. The room looked like a clown’s den but Chris was never the one to deny his children’s requests. They had his whole heart well, except you.

“Jace, Emma would like to say something to you.” Setting her on her feet, she went towards his elder brother by barely three minutes.

“I am sorry, Jacey. Never should have pushed you. Kiss your boo boo to make up?” He nodded gently when his sister climbed in to the body. Extending the bruised wrist, Emma held it in her hands and lightly pecked on it. Meanwhile, you got a numbing cream for Jason and you stopped in the doorway with Chris and watched their interaction. They were your and Chris’s two little bundle of joys and you both couldn’t get enough.

“I am sorry that I yelled at you, baby. You two will not have your toys for a week. But who wants ice cream right now?” They both jumped at the mention of their favorite treat.

Chris had a way with the children. He completed all their wishes from eating ice cream as dinner or buying the most expensive toys for them. Making them happy was his primary job and he fulfilled it with great joy. However, he knew when to step up. He knew when to tell them no because he didn’t want his children to be some spoiled brats. He knew how to mediate and that was one of the many thing that you loved about him.

“I will get your jackets while daddy will help you with your shoes.” Going downstairs, you placed Dodger’s food in his bowl because you were going to be out for sometime. Chris always turns a simple outing to a full blown family day. A walk in the park, dinner at a high end restaurant and then shopping at the mall.

“Let’s go.” He buckled both the kids in their respective booster seats and made sure that they both had their preferred stuff toys. God knows, if they didn’t have them on their car ride.

The ice cream place on the fifth avenue was your favorite because it was where Chris took you on your first date. Both the children went for chocolate ice creams and Chris cleaned them up after they were done anything. It was so wholesome to watch him perform his dad duties.

“Then Oliver tried to eat dirt and the teacher gave him a time out.” You never understood why your son was friends with that boy because all he ever cared about was dirt.

“That’s why I hate boys. They are dirty.”

“That’s right, bubba. They are all dirty and disgusting. You stay away from all of them.” Gently nudging him with your shoulders, you playfully scoffed at him. He was sometimes very protective of his children.

“Ollie said girls also have icky germs.”

“Yes. You also stay away from them.” Chris was full on laughing at the situation right now because both the kids were in some serious thoughts.

“Okay dadda.” They both started skipping on the side walk and already started bickering about who was their dad’s favorite. He took you in his arms and kissed you on the forehead.

“Thank you for all this, babe. I love you.” He was truly thankful for you and for everything that you brought in his life.

“I love you too. Now let’s buckle them in before they start pushing each other again.”

Hope you guys enjoyed it!!

._._._._.

A/N: Dad Chris Evans is a dream so I wanted to write a little blurb related to this idea. Hope you guys enjoyed it. You guys can send in requests but I will get to them a little bit later because I am focusing on my drafts right now. Tell me if you guys want to be added to the tag list.

Taglist: @justile

Like, comment and reblog.

[thrndlngs]

hey rose! (can i call you that?? sorry if that's not your preference) i may or may not have caught a case of crazy phat mad feelings for a boy and i was wondering if you had any cute headcanons about some of the MHA boys pining for a pretty fem reader?? i can't imagine this guy liking me back but i figure hey, if nobody got me ik pretty superhero boys got me AMEN lmbo no pressure on this request. hope you're doing well and things are okay in your world!! thanks love you!! first anon OUT 😌✌️✨💖

omg ya that’s totally cool!! i actually like that!!!! but omg, pls! i’m sure it’ll work out if not... hopefully these headcanons will help u out!!! LOVE U FIRST ANON!!!!!!!!

IZUKU MIDORIYA, 

will definitely stare at the back of your head during class and imagine 700 different scenarios that could ‘possibly’ happen if the two of you ever have a conversation that doesn’t involve school.

keeps note of your quirks and tries to give you pointers on how to use ur quirk via crumpled paper airplanes in the courtyard or slipped into ur locker.

will always, always, always keep an eye out for you to make sure you’re okay - if he sees you crying he’s gonna embarrass himself and be like, “you think that’s bad? kachan almost blew me to bits.” and now the both of you are crying.

daydreams about u.

whenever the class is training at the USJ or anywhere really, he’s bouncing. like. literally bouncing on his heels in case something goes wrong, he wants to be able to intervene. not because he thinks you’re not capable of fending for urself but it’s because he literally can not bare the thought of u getting hurt.

he definitely draws ur names with a heart and arrow through it!!!!!!!

really admires u and tries to be really nonchalant about how fond he’s become of u so when the two of you do have a conversation it’s just like... gibberish. you know when he goes on those little rants and the words cloud around him and everyone is like??? midoriya wtf. yeah like that.

BAKUGOU KATSUKI,

explosive boy definitely doesn’t know he likes you until he goes to recovery girl and recovery girl has to explain him the ‘weird’ feeling in his stomach, the rise of temperature in his face and the quickening of his pulse is literally because he has a crush. on you.

and boy does this raging blonde flip his shit. him?? have a crush??? when he’s trying to be number one hero??? a distraction??? not in this lobby.

easier said than done.

tries to avoid you at all costs. like even moves his seat permanently so he doesn’t have to breathe the same air as you.

no because during a training the two of you are teamed up and this man literally holds his breath like he’s five because he doesn’t want to inhale your ‘germs’. but he grows up a bit and realizes that you’re actually pretty strong and can handle your own. heavy emphasis on the pretty. 

so not only is he pinning for you but now he sees you as competition. so the initial plan to avoid you goes out of the window because he wants to one up you.

bakugou’s face is tomato red everytime the two of you spar and you think it’s because he’s mad but jokes on u.

takes a HOT minute but he’ll suffer in silence and just y’know open the door and wait five minutes for you to walk through it and then complain after. 

sees you in the hallway and flicks you in the forehead and reminds you that he’s going to be number one. but later beats himself up because wtf? why didn’t he say something else.

will go out of his way to fix your fighting stances and then have a coughing fit. so he’s going to push through his feelings but it’s really obvious to everyone else that he isn’t being lowkey, yknow?

IIDA TENYA,

my favorite class rep. he’s going to be so obvious about it. like. he’s an open book.

will offer to help you study. makes sure your chair is pulled out every morning so you don’t have to do it.

will also let you board the bus first.

will also tense up whenever you look at him. holds an emergency class meeting (excluding you) to figure out how to handle this ‘situation’ and everyone is like... dude

he takes kirishima’s ‘show her you’re a manly man’ to serious and tries to show off. with his grades, quirk and his class rep status which you know isn’t working so he’s back to square one. 

as bad as it sounds he makes a copy of all of his notes and color codes them based off of his you know ‘coding’ system and has it handy in case you don’t come to class one day or fall behind.

everyone knows but you. everyone also thinks that you would’ve found out by now since iida holds you on your own pedestal but! LOLKDSAJ

DENKI KAMINARI,

okay so.... this man... is so drama. he’s a clutz and obvious but he isn’t going to be direct. whether it’s because he’s scared of being rejected or because he’s not confident enough like bakugou and todoroki is unknown but anywayz

leans on the locker and tries to woo you with some words and falls. literally falls over. it’s okay though (in his eyes) because you immediately get eye level with him and try to check on him. it’s a win in his eyes.

is totally okay with the nickname ‘calamari’ but only likes it when you call him that. he tries to tell everyone that it’s a ‘you and him’ thing and gets teased abt it.

tries to include you in every conversation possible. he wants you to feel included in everything.

thinks ur like a walking goddess and that u should be treated as such.

he gets a little to excited around you so whenever the two of you touch he gives off some electricity and immediately goes on a thirty minute rant on how sorry he is.

makes you... a fucking... mixtape... with scribbled out hearts on the cover.

also... sends you songs to listen to but it’ll be like some random edm song and ur like”oh wow... love that...” and he’s like “ok cross that out she doesn’t like EDM.” and is DETERMINED to find out your favorite genre so the two of you have something to bond over.

changes your ringtone on his phone to the pokemon theme song because and i quote, “she’s the ash to my pikachu.”

isn’t so lowkey about his crush but??? everyone thinks he’s like?? just being himself?? so??? 

EIJIRO KIRISHIMA,

 bro. this man... THIS LOVELY SHARK BOY. 

is literally textbook definition of GENTLEMAN.

will not act on his feelings until YOU act on them because he’s scared he’ll overstep so he’s going to be like..... suffering in silence. but he doesn’t mind!!!!!!

holds the door 4 u. :)

checks on u 24/7.

stares at you in class and drools. 

walks with you like everywhere. literally. like to class, to the dorms, back to ur parents, to the mall. everywhere.

this is totally a best friend to lovers trope.

whenever he’s got doubt he will turn to u immediately because he trusts u and ur guidance. 

will even ask if u could spar with him (so you can a, spend time with him but b, because he wants u to be able to be the best version of urself u can be). 

whenever something goes south he will put his hand out in front of u. always. and you’ll wrap your fingers around his bicep and he will melt.

i think he knows he’s like... fucked because you explain to him that although his ‘hardening’ quirk makes his skin... rough, he’s still pretty soft. and smells nice.

man... that gets him THROUGH THE DAYS.

TODOROKI SHOTO,

another clueless boy. 

is very confused at first but after some hours of research he’s like oh. 

and then shit hits the fan.

like kirishima, really values your input and actually goes to you for advice for two reasons: one because you’re sensible and honest but it’s more for the simple reason that he’s trying to see what you like and don’t like.

you start to notice some changes in his behavior. not drastic ones but enough to raise an eyebrow.

is more vocal in his conversations with you.

tries his best to improve his body language (ie: will face you with undivided attention and arms unfolded to look more receptive) 

just stares at you in general to see what your reactions to things are.

like, in the hallway when ur talking to mina and the lowerclassmen says something stupid and the two of you scowl? well, guess what? now he doesn’t like that guy either and will give him a piece of his mind.

has your coffee order memorized so when ur staying up all night studying u have the energy to do so.

will sneak a protein bar and a water bottle in ur locker the day after those binge studying sessions to ensure that you’re you know okay.

[princehairsupremacy]

15, 59, 62, 134 with jealous dom harry, please!!

15. “But I don’t have anything to wear.”

59. “You’re mine.”

62. “The fuck are you wearing.”

134. “Don’t move or you’re not coming tonight.”

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Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: car sex, oral (f receiving)

“Love? Are you ready?” Oh you were totally ready, you had on a little skimpy red dress with some black heels and nice smoky eye and red lip to go with your dress.

“Yeah!” He walked into the bedroom and stopped dead in his tracks when he saw you, gaping at your outfit.

“The fuck are you wearing.” He walked up to you and moved his hands to your waist, you smiled at him but he shook his head. “I think you should wear something else.”

“But I don’t have anything to wear except from this.”

“That’s not true, I’ve bought you a bunch of clothes, wear the other clothes.” He walked over to your shared wardrobe and pulled it open, pointing at your clothes. “See how many other clothes you have, can you wear them?”

“Harry, can you just let me wear what I want. You’re being a dick.” He slumped his shoulders and shut the wardrobe, nodding his head. “Thank you, can we go now?”

“Yes, I’m sorry.” Harry grabbed his coat and you both walked to the front door, getting into Harry’s car and heading to the club where you planned to meet some friends.

You walked in and spotted your group of friends straight away, they were in a corner on a couple of couches together and they may be smoking weed. Typical.

You started to walk over and Harry placed his arm around your waist, moving you into his side almost possessively. You looked up at him, he was looking elsewhere and he looked really annoyed. You decided to look where he was staring and you spotted a group of young boys who were staring at you, when they spotted Harry and the look on his face they turned away immediately and decided to just talk amongst themselves.

He walked over to your friends with you and one of your friends, Matt, whistled when you walked up. Harry’s nostrils flared and he tightened his arm around your waist, you placed your hand on his shoulder and he looked down at you, relaxing himself almost immediately. “Sorry.”

“Just calm down.” He kissed your forehead and you both walked to the end of the couch, there was only one space left so you sat on Harry’s lap, not like you minded doing that anyway.

You were sitting sideways in his lap and you eventually tuned out of the conversation happening with everyone, laying your head on Harry’s chest and just thinking.

You heard somebody call your name and you lifted your head up, seeing that it was Shaun that’d called your name. “Nice dress. You should definitely wear that more often.”

You felt Harry tense up and you gulped. “Thanks.” You looked at Harry and he had a very pissed off look, he looked at you when you turned your head and juoi knew you would need to calm him down again. “Harry, it’s fine. Just a compliment, calm down please.”

“I can’t calm down, I don’t know if you noticed the amount of people that keep looking at you but it’s a lot. They keep looking at you and it pisses me off because you’re mine.” Harry spotted another man looking at you and rolled his eyes, placing his hand on your cheek and pulling you in for a kiss.

His kiss was rough unlike his usual ones, he normally would let you settle into it, gentle at first and taking his time with you. You felt his tongue poke at your lips and you pulled back. “Are you alright, Harry?”

“Just had to show these idiots what’s mine. Shouldn’t be looking at what’s fucking taken.” You felt his hand on your thigh and it started to move up slowly so you pushed his hand away.

“Not in front of our friends, Harry.” He pulled his hand away and grinned, bringing his hand instead to the strap of your dress and playing with it.

“Bathroom then?” He looked up at you and smiled but you scrunched your face in disgust and shook your head.

“We’re not fucking in a disgusting public club bathroom.” He pouted but you still shook your head, you could only imagine the amount of germs and filth in the bathroom of a club. Not happening.

“Car then?” You rolled your eyes, no one probably has ever been more desperate for a fuck.

“If you’re this desperate for it then we might as well do it.” He smirked and kissed your cheek, turning towards your friends.

“Sorry guys, she’s not feeling too well, gonna have to get her home and into bed. She’s practically begging for a cuddle.” You rolled your eyes again, more like he’s practically begging for a shag.

Your friends all let out an ‘aw’ and told you to feel better. You were fine, this was Harry’s fault that you had to leave. “Bye guys.”

You stood up and Harry moved his arm around your shoulder, smiling proudly as he walked out of the door with you and to the car. He opened the back door and looked at you. “You first, love.”

You shook your head and ducked down, getting into the car and shuffling to the middle seat. Harry got in and closed the door behind him, turning to you and shuffling over until he was right next to you. “Thanks for doing this, darling.”

He leaned down and kissed you again, a little more gentle this time as he had calmed down. He pulled back and pushed your shoulders down until you were lying back on the seats. He turned his body towards you and you lifted your legs up, moving them to either side of his body and bending your legs at the knees.

“It’s hard to fuck in a car, too bad though, we’re gonna do it anyway.” He laid on you slightly and kissed you, moving his elbows so that they were beside your head and holding his body up slightly so he wasn’t leaning all his weight down onto you.

He moved his kisses down to your neck and you pulled at his hair. “Mind if we just get to it?”

“You don’t want my tongue or fingers? They always get you screaming my name-“

“That’s exactly why we can’t do it, Harry. Do I need to remind you that the car we are currently in is still parked outside the club we were just in.”

“Fine, we can do that when we get home then.” He moved your dress up your thighs and kept going until it was halfway up your stomach, he huffed and looked up at you. “Are you sure you don’t want at least my fingers?”

“Not now, Harry.” He pouted and moved your underwear to the side.

“Just a little, love? Can’t you keep quiet?”

“Fine, Harry. A little.” He grinned and pressed his thumb against your clit, leaning down and sticking his tongue into you. He moved his tongue in and out of you, you bit your lip and placed your hand over your mouth, doing your best to keep your loud noises to yourself and only letting out small noises every so often. “Okay, Harry. That’s a little.”

He moved his thumb away from your clit, dragging his tongue up to your clit and continuing what he was doing with his thumb. “Oh shit!” You threw your head back and grabbed onto his long hair, tugging it.

He pulled away and you caught your breath, giving him a stern look. “What? Did you not enjoy it?” You knew he wasn’t asking a serious question, you could tell by his tone and mischievous smile.

“You agreed to a little.” He moved his thumb back to your clit and rubbed in gentle circles, tilting his head at you.

“Anytime I don’t make you cum is a little, so I did what I agreed to, can’t tell me I didn’t.” He moved his thumb away from your clit and you grabbed his wrist so he didn’t do it again, even though you knew he could overpower you anyway.

“Just fuck me, it’s what I asked for and what I’m asking for again.”

“You willing to beg for it?” You gave him a disappointed look. “Well sorry for suggesting it, can you let go of my wrist so I can fuck you then?” You let go of his wrist and he held himself up with his left arm, using his right hand to unzip his trousers and try to pull them and his boxers down at the same time just enough for him to get his cock out.

He wrapped his hand around his cock and positioned it so he was ready to push into you. “Ready?” You nodded and he moved his hips forward, letting go of his cock and leaning his head down to rest his forehead against yours.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and he started to move his hips faster suddenly. “Gonna make you forget those guys even looked in your direction tonight.”

He grabbed onto your hips and started to move his hips faster against yours, he moved one hand over your mouth when he thought you were going to get loud. “Gotta be quiet, remember?”

You moved your hips up and he pressed them back down. “Don’t move or you’re not coming tonight.”

Your eyes rolled into the back of your head and you moaned against his hand, grabbing onto his shoulders and squeezing tightly. “Feel good, huh? Do you remember who you belong to? You belong to me don’t you? Me only.”

He moved his thumb back to your clit again and you used all of your self control to keep your hips from moving, you knew Harry was serious when he said you wouldn’t cum tonight if you moved.

He rubbed your clit fast and you couldn’t help yourself, you came almost immediately and he smirked. “That was fast, love. Must be a record. You really like this that much?” He kept moving his thumb on your clit and you couldn’t help your hips from bucking up. “What’d I say? Was gonna make you cum again but now you can’t. So don’t.”

You expected him to stop touching your clit but he didn’t, he wanted to make it hard for you. “Please cum, Harry.” You had tears in the corners of your eyes from trying to keep yourself from coming and Harry bit his lip.

“Wait, love. Don’t rush me.” He kissed your forehead and you grabbed onto his hand on your mouth.

“Please stop touching my clit, Harry. It’s a bit too much.” He moved his thumb away and kissed your cheek, moving his head to your neck and slowing down his hips a little.

“Sorry. You’re not crying are you?”

“No, I was just a little overwhelmed. Keep going.” He pressed his hips against yours and moaned lowly, trying to keep quiet.

“I’m gonna cum now...”

“Pull out, Harry.” He pulled out of you and grabbed his cock, moving his hand until he came onto your stomach. “Shit, have you got something to clean that with?”

“I keep tissues in the car.” He leaned over and grabbed a pack of tissues from the front and opened them, using a few tissues to clean you both up. “That was fun, we should do that again.”

“Shut up, Harry.”

[superwho-am-i-kidding]

Raise the Stakes (PART 1)

Illogical husbands! There's never enough content for this ship, I swear. This is going to be a 3 part story, so keep an eye out in the coming days for the next parts! When they're posted, they will be linked here: (PART 2) (PART 3)

This part has minimal trigger warnings, though the next one will have more. This part only mentions "off-screen" death and anxiety.

Remember, my ask box is always open!!! Send in your own prompts and requests!

Read below the cut. I don't want to take up too much of your lovely dash space!

Bill wearily dragged his luggage behind him as he heavily got into a taxi. The rain outside was near deafening, and he had to shout for the driver to hear where he was going. “Broadchurch!”

“Aye,” the man replied, starting out on the journey that was sure to take far longer than he would have liked. Bill sat back in the seat and closed his eyes, letting out a long sigh. He was finally on his way home. He opened his eyes a while later and pulled out his phone, glancing at the time. He had already been asleep for over an hour. Alec had to be on his way to work by now. Bill shook his head, knowing the detective; he was probably already there. His thumb automatically selected the speed dial, and the phone sprang to life.

“Angel,” a fond voice came through the speaker after two rings, the Scottish accent pouring thickly through the line. Bill didn’t realize how much he had missed it. “How was your flight?”

“Long,” Bill complained. “I don’t understand why I have to keep going back to Saint Louis. You know I’d rather just stay home with you.”

“You have to present your findings,” Alec said. “Get your name in all the American papers and magazines.”

Bill sighed, a small smile on his lips as he leaned his head back. “I only need my name on one thing.”

“Mm, and what is that?” Bill could hear the mischievous tone in Alec’s voice.

“Our wedding license.”

Alec chuckled warmly. “Still can’t convince you to take my name, can I?”

“I’ve got the doctorate. The name stays,” Bill said firmly.

“So I’ve heard. Stubborn bastard.”

Bill snorted, “Would you like to be the pot or the kettle?”

“Kettle,” Alec decided. Bill let out a bark of laughter. “What? What did I say?”

“Nothing, dear. Just the way you say ‘kettle’ is funny.”

“I’m glad I could amuse you,” Alec grumbled.

Bill sighed into the comfortable silence that fell between them. “I miss you,” he said quietly.

“You’ll be home soon, angel,” Alec comforted him. “I’ll wait for you here.”

“Don’t you need to be at work?”

Alec sighed. “I am. I’m working on a case from home. I’ll explain it when you get here.” He sighed again, quieter this time. “I love you, angel. Even when I’m gone, I’ll always love you.”

Bill snorted tiredly. “Don’t even think about it, mister. You’re not tapping out until I say you can. And that won’t be for a while. I don’t care what cases your boss puts you on.”

“Right,” Alec took a breath. “I’ll see you soon, okay?”

“Okay.”

“I love you.”

Bill smiled. “I know. I’ll be at the house in less than twenty minutes, and I expect a grand welcome.”

“Anything,” Alec replied. “Anything for you. I love you,” he insisted.

Bill smiled once more. “I love you, too, my dearest. I’ll be home in a jiffy.” He closed his eyes once more, only to open them again when the driver spoke.

“How long have you been gone?”

“Three terrible weeks,” Bill replied. “I had meetings every day. I can’t wait to be back in my own bed.”

“I’d keep my guard up in bed,” the driver scoffed. “D’you know what’s been going on in Broadchurch lately?”

A pit settled into Bill’s stomach. “I haven’t heard of anything since that killer a few years back. What happened?”

The driver shrugged. “The killer you mentioned, the Butcher. He escaped from prison a week ago. So far, I’ve heard five people turned up dead, and they’re not any closer to finding him.”

“What?” Bill shook his head. “That’s impossible! The Butcher was put in the most secure prison in the area.”

“Not secure enough, I guess,” he said. “I heard he’s gonna disappear soon. Get rid of the pigs on his trail and vanish. I’d wait until he does.”

“How far away are we?”

The driver glanced at the map on his phone. “Got another five minutes, I think.”

Bill’s knee began bouncing restlessly as he stared at the gray scenery outside of his window. The taxi finally stopped outside of Bill’s home and he stumbled to get out as quickly as possible. “Thank you,” he handed the driver a handful of crumpled dollars. “Keep the change.” He bustled up the driveway and pounded on the door. “Alec? I’m home.” His heart sped up when there was no answer. “Alec! Alec!” His fist kept beating the wood of the door.

The door swung open and Bill caught sight of Alec pulling up the zipper to his pants. “Angel! I was in the bathroom. Are you alright?” His brown eyes were wide with worry.

Bill flung himself into Alec’s arms and whimpered. “I missed you.”

Alec let out his breath. “I missed you, too.”

Bill pulled back after a moment. “Did you wash your hands?”

“You were screaming your bloody lungs out at the front door! Wasn’t exactly my first priority.”

“That’s how germs are spread. Go wash,” Bill pushed lightly on Alec’s chest.

“You go put on something dry. You’re dripping water all over the floor.”

“I think I need a hot shower.”

“What about a bath, hm? I’ll join you,” he winked.

Bill laughed. “That sounds lovely, my dear. Thank you.”

Alec made his way to the bathroom and began running the tap. It warmed quickly, though the filling process was slow. Bill came into the room a moment later and dropped his heavy clothes into a soggy puddle on the floor. He stepped into the tub and sighed, leaning back onto the lean chest behind him. Alec wrapped his arms around the doctor, planting a kiss on the back of his head. “Would you like me to wash your hair?”

Bill hummed an affirmation, closing his eyes and leaning his head back. “You’re too good to me.”

“I know,” Alec craned forward and kissed the extended neck of the man in front of him. “My shampoo or yours?”

“Yours, obviously.”

“Obviously,” Alec parroted fondly. He took some shampoo in his hand and began massaging it into Bill’s scalp. The doctor practically purred beneath his strong fingers. “That good, huh?”

“I’ve had to do it myself for a month,” Bill whined. “It’s impossible to massage your own head.”

“You poor thing.”

“I know,” Bill sank down a bit more into the water. “Maybe I will take your name…” he mumbled.

Alec sputtered in surprise, his hands freezing. “What?”

Bill shrugged, fidgeting for Alec to continue massaging his head. “I’ve been married twice before. Neither marriage lasted. But, I’ve been told that the third time’s the charm. And maybe the charm is you,” Bill felt his cheeks warm slightly.

“Bill…” Alec brushed his fingers across the doctor’s head, washing away some of the shampoo. “My name isn’t going to make the marriage last. We are.” He rinsed the rest of the doctor’s hair, kissing the clean strands. “But William Hardy does have a nice ring to it.”

Bill let out a small laugh. “It also has a piece of you.”

“Angel,” Alec lifted Bill’s chin, “you have all of me. I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Bill stood and helped Alec out of the bath, both of them wrapping themselves in their bathrobes. They kissed once more before shuffling into the bedroom to change into some comfortable day clothes. “Alec?”

“Yeah?”

Bill sat on the edge of the bed as he pulled up his socks. “The case you’re working on… it doesn’t have anything to do with the Butcher escaping, does it?”

The detective stopped buttoning his shirt, “How do you know about that?”

“Cabbie told me,” Bill muttered. “Said he’s planning to go after all the cops that put him away two years ago. And after the ones trying to put him back,” he lifted his head and met the weary gaze.

“Bill…”

“Why wouldn’t you tell me you were working a case like this? I would have come home sooner!”

“Exactly why I didn’t tell you!” Alec moved to stand in front of the doctor. “I didn’t want you being put in unnecessary danger. I hoped we would get him back before you came home.”

“What about you? Don’t you think I want you to avoid unnecessary danger, too?”

“I’m careful,” Alec said. “We’re closing in. He should be back in custody within a couple of days, just you watch. In the meantime, I want you to be careful. I can’t lose you, angel.”

“You won’t,” Bill promised. He yawned and turned onto the bed. “Smells like you,” he commented, eyes closed as he lay on his pillow.

“It smelled like you. I missed you,” Alec sighed, perching on the edge of the bed to pull the blankets over Bill. “Holding your pillow helped me sleep.”

Bill opened one eye and smiled. “You like how I smell?”

“Of course I do,” Alec shook his head. “You’d know if I didn’t.” Bill hummed, closing his eyes again. “Didn’t realize you were so tired. I’ll let you sleep.”

“Jetlag,” Bill mumbled. “Just need a couple hours to shake it off.” He whined when Alec’s phone rang.

“It’s Miller,” Alec said. “I have to take this. Get some rest, okay?”

Bill nodded, slipping into sleep almost immediately. When he woke up, the sun was low in the sky. He sat up and stretched, letting out a groan. “Alec?” He shambled downstairs, not finding the detective in the living room. Bill entered the kitchen, a worried frown on his face. “Alec?”

The detective spun around, his face pale and eyes bright with anxiety. “Bill!”

Bill frowned deeper when he took in the alcohol in Alec’s hand. “What’s the matter?” He gasped in surprise when Alec pulled him into a vicelike embrace. “You’re scaring me,” his voice trembled.

“M’ sorry…” Alec sniffed. “Went to the station after Miller called. The Butcher is still killing. We’re at six victims now. I have to stop him, but I don’t know if I have the strength.”

“Alec,” Bill sighed. “You’re the strongest man I’ve ever met. If anyone is going to catch this guy, it’s going to be you.”

“You think?”

Bill smiled, cradling the detective’s face with one hand. “I know it.” He leaned forward and kissed the man’s nose. “You’re smart, too. You’ll figure this out soon.”

“I love you,” Alec whimpered quietly.

Bill shushed him with a gentle kiss. “Let’s sit down, hm?” He led them to the living room and sat down on the couch. Bill sat back on the couch and pulled Alec to his chest. “Do you want to talk about who it was?”

Alec shook his head. “M’ not supposed to tell you…”

“That’s alright, dear, I understand.”

“But I have to tell you,” Alec looked up, his eyes bearing windows to the torment within. “It was Thomas Brooks.”

“The doctor?” Bill gasped. “But who will take care of his patients?”

“That’s why I had to tell you,” Alec sighed. “I know they’ll ask you to take over.”

Bill softened his expression. “And you knew I wouldn’t be able to say no.” He looked over towards his phone as it began to ring. “I have to say yes,” he picked up the device and met Alec’s eyes.

“I know,” he sighed.

“This is Dr. Masters,” Bill answered the call. “I heard he had gotten free, yes… Dear lord, that’s dreadful. I couldn’t imagine… It would be my pleasure to help you during this hour of need… Yes, I will see you soon. Goodbye.”

Alec clung tighter to Bill’s chest. “Promise me you’ll be careful. Don’t ever be alone in a room with a patient, even if they seem harmless. Please, just promise me that.”

Bill rested his cheek on top of Alec’s head. “I promise you, dear, that I will do everything in my power to keep myself safe until that madman is caught.”

“Thank you,” Alec whispered. “I’ll do everything I can to keep you safe, as well. Do you trust me?” He looked up, locking gazes with the stormy eyes in front of him.

“With my life.” They sat together on the sofa for a while before Bill glanced at his watch and sighed. “I should get to the hospital. They need me.”

“I need you,” Alec muttered.

“You have me, dearest,” Bill sighed softly. “You always will.” He gently pulled Alec from him. “It’s just overnight,” he assured. “I’ll be home tomorrow morning before you even get the chance to miss me.”

“I already do.”

Bill forced himself to stand and open the suitcase that sat at the foot of the stairs. He pulled out a button down shirt and a bowtie, quickly putting them on. “Get some sleep, love. And please remember to eat something for dinner.”

Alec nodded, following Bill to the front door. He kissed the doctor slowly. “I love you so much, Bill.”

“I love you more,” he replied. Bill closed the door behind him and unlocked his car. He quickly got in and locked the doors behind him. He took a deep breath and started the car, making short time of the distance to the hospital. He parked and entered the building hastily, looking over his shoulder. The receptionist at the front greeted him warmly and directed him to the floors he would be attending. He grabbed a black coffee from the lounge and downed it, gathering his first clipboard of the evening.

[thatsbucknasty]

she used to be mine (iii) waitress au

summary: Inspired by the broadway musical. Y/N Beck is a pie baking force to be reckoned with. She’s pregnant with her lazy ass husband, Quentin Beck’s baby. As everything around her turns upside down, Doctor James Buchanan Barnes charms his way into her life.

pairing: Y/N x Bucky

tags are open c:

chapter 3: when he sees me

“I read on the internet that if you boil the cutlery every night, you get rid of the germs that the soap alone couldn’t kill, plus it makes them extra shiny”. I enter the diner and meet Wanda’s voice, while she explains her late night research to Sam, he completely ignores her, but that’s good. Keeps him distracted from the fact that I’m-

“You’re late. You’re never late. What happened? Did Quentin pull an all nighter? I saw him at Phil’s Bar, you know? If you need me to talk to that piece of sh-” Sam has always been a little over protective of us girls.

“I’m fine, Sam. Sorry I’m late, the bus driver was falling asleep, and don’t worry, Quentin didn’t come home too late. There’s no need for you to talk to him cause he won’t listen anyway”.

“That’s right, he can’t hear a word I say cause his head has been stuck in his ass ever since that one hit wonder he wrote ten years ago played in the local radio station”. Sam says bitterly before he sips an equally bitter cup of black coffee.

“Hey! For your information, I helped write that song”. I smirk.

“Good morning to my ladies, and my ladies only”. Nat walks through the door, thirty minutes late. She must wanna get Sam angry on purpose at this point. She hugs Wanda and then me.

“No love for me?” Okay, I wasn’t expecting that. Yelling and cursing maybe, but not this.

“What is going on?” I ask Wanda but she shrugs, clueless.

Nat stops whatever truce she has with Sam, rolls her eyes at him and says something I can’t quite catch and asks.

“Sooo, Wands, did you do it?” 

“Do what?” I say.

“Call that mystery Jon Snow she met at the comic con last weekend! Come on! You said he was cute”.

“Oh I don’t know, maybe he’s not into me and he was just being polite giving me his number. He was cute indeed, but his costume was really bad, I think maybe I should call him and ask who made it for him, since I made my own and he liked it so much, maybe I could help him out next year”.

“Already planning your one year anniversary? Ambitious. But sure! That’s a great excuse to start a conversation. What’s his name again?” I beg for information, since I’ve been left out of the weekend catch up, apparently.

“No, no. I don’t know girls. He might not like me. His name is Steve, by the way. But enough about me. How did it go with doctor Perkins?”

“It didn’t. She’s retired”.

“God bless her, we went to see her last year. Remember when Clint had the flu and he wouldn’t even eat? Doctor Perkins was there to see him cry when he got a shot on his bum. Poor woman”. Now that I see it, Nat never talks about her husband anymore. 

“And how’s Clint? I feel like I haven’t seen him in forever. Remind me to send some of my Couch Potato Pie to him, he always devoured it”.

“He’s busy all the time. I feel like I don’t see him that much either and we sleep in the same bed every night, isn’t that funny? But if Doctor Perkins is retired, then who saw you?” Nice deflect from the subject. Nat’s good at that.

“It’s a man, he’s new in town. A bit weird and awkward but he was nice”.

“Ooh a man, is he single? Might be good for Wanda”.

“Hehehe, no, no. I’m good, thanks”. The giggling mess of a girl leaves to get some more bottles of ketchup to clean.

“I think he mentioned a wife”.

“That’s too bad. Is he handsome though?”

“Nat, I just told you he has a wife”.

“Is he though? I’m just asking cause nothing happens in this town. If there’s a pretty new face out there I wanna look… respectfully”.

“Okay then”.

“Well? Is he pretty?”

“He is. Very. It’s distracting, I think I should look for another doctor”.

“Oh my god, Y/N don’t be dramatic, besides? What other doctor in town is gonna see you? Doctor Roberts? We all know he’s a perv. Take it easy, you’ve only been to one appointment. And you know, a little distraction is nice once in a while. If a nice looking doctor would want to do me a check-up I certainly wouldn’t mind!”

Well, she has a point.

-

I’m leaving late again tonight. It’s just that, ever since I got the official news of my pregnancy, I can’t seem to tolerate Quentin’s cologne mixed with his usual beer and peanuts scent. Just thinking about it makes me sick, and I can’t risk it. If he suspects something’s up I’ll have to tell him the truth, he always calls me out on my bullshit when I try to lie.

I like having this for myself for now. I’m starting to like the idea of having this baby. I know I wasn’t the most thrilled mother at the beginning but, a piece of myself is growing inside of me. I really hope they like to bake when they grow up, I could teach them all I know. It could be our thing.

-

“Guys!!! Guys, guys guys, guys. I texted Steve!” Wanda comes into the diner yelling and almost trips over the counter.

“Jesus, woman, breathe. Who is Steve?” Sam’s intrigued, but also annoyed.

“Oh I think you actually know him Sammy, it’s Steve!!! The blonde cutie with gorgeous eyes who owns the video store”.

“Oh yeah! We used to play videogames at his house back in High School cause he had all the good ones”.

“So? Did he respond? Do tell!!” I’m excited for Wanda, she’s only a couple years younger than me and Nat but she’s like our little sister. She started working at the diner four years ago and I’ve never seen her date anyone.

“Yes, yes! He said he wants to take me out. Oh my god, I think I might have a panic attack. I don’t think I should go, should I? What if he doesn’t like me? What if he gets to know me and he’s disappointed? I know I looked amazing at the Con last weekend but that’s because I was wearing that wig, you know, the pretty one with the celtic braids? But without my gorgeous Ygritte costume I’m just- me. What if when he sees me, he runs the other way?” She deflates on the booth she was cleaning and Nat and I silently decide it’s time to talk some sense into her. My turn first.

“Listen, sweetie. You’re a gorgeous woman, with and without those beautiful outfits you create and wigs, or even with this dirty apron, he would be stunned by your beauty. Plus, once he gets to know you, he won’t be disappointed!” 

“How do you know?! I don’t even know what I would say to him, you guys, should I make some flashcards?” She lives for the drama, but this time she really needs some reassurance. Nat goes now.

“You have an extensive knowledge of Game of Thrones, you can share that with him. He owns a video store and you love movies and videogames, you’ll never run out of things to say, and you are so funny and charming he’ll fall for you instantly!”

“Hear me out, Wanda. I’ll bake you a pie to bring him on your date. Nat will help you get all dolled up and you and Steve are gonna have a great time together, alright?” I say to her, getting up and already planning a recipe in my head.

“Oh Y/N, that’s very sweet of you, thank you! Whatchu gonna put in that pie, can I help?” 

“I’ll make it extra special with some spices that will enchant his belly and his heart! I’ll call it Falling in love chocolate mousse pie!”

If I can’t have my fairytale romance with the happy family and the white picket fence, I might as well make damn sure that Wanda gets hers.

And while I try to sort out whether I’m staying in my messy marriage and how I’m gonna cope with this unexpected pregnancy, I’ll just bake, bake, bake. It’s all I can do to keep myself and this little nugget inside of me afloat. In the meantime, staring at my cute obgyn won’t hurt anybody, will it?

-

chapter 4: it only takes a taste

-

pls reblog if you liked it c:

[jamielea81]

Just a Simple Lie

Chapter 6

Description: Having worked on small independent films for the better part of a decade, your friend tells you about an opening for a script supervisor with a large studio. Wanting to advance your career, you apply and get an interview. The only downside, they prefer to hire crew who are married. It’s just a simple lie, right?

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

Warnings: Cursing and some fluff

A/N: This fic is simply for fun. I know nothing about the personal lives of the two actors in this series and mean no harm. I am also totally guessing regarding the studio talk. Comments, reblogs, and likes are always welcome.

Word Count: 4,625

Catch up with Chapter 5

**

Laying in the guestroom of Chris Evans’ rental is one of the few places you’d never pictured yourself being. The décor was very hotel chic which made sense since it was rented out by a private owner with lots of turnaround. Best to keep things neutral rather than themed. The bed was soft and the linens were plush so you could not complain.

It was such a weird feeling to be in his space but not be with him. He was essentially somewhere in the condo and you were here. In a room. Doing your own thing. Or resting, or whatever. He had insisted. Who were you to complain about more sleep? Wasn’t like you could work. Chris confiscated your well used script and laptop once he gave you a brief tour of the place.

“If you’re in such a hurry to get back to work, you have to get better. No sense in tiring yourself out and being sick longer. That’s just more missed days.”

Damn him and his common sense.

You put your phone on the dresser that was located across the room from you before snuggling back on the bed. Out of sight out of mind.

Apparently, you did manage to sleep as your eyes slowly opened to a dark room. It felt colder although you aren’t sure if the temperature in the condo has dropped due to the setting sun or this mystery virus sending a chill to your bones. Either way you’re cold and you realized your error of not packing a sweatshirt. The sweater you had on was warm, but it was thin and not as cozy as you would have liked.

Getting out of bed, you ran your hands through your hair to tame it as best as you could. You shrugged on your coat that you left on the bench in front of the bed and made your way out of the room.

The TV was on ESPN or the like in the distance as you heard a list of scores for some sport or another. If you were being honest, your brain wasn’t all the way there, so you really didn’t care.

“Oh, hey,” Chris said, sitting up from is half laid down position on the couch. His eyebrows and forehead scrunched low in confusion. “You going somewhere?”

“I’m just kind of cold. Should have packed a sweatshirt or two,” you said, taking a seat at the end of the couch, your hands going into your pockets.

Chris gets up from his spot on the couch, walking to the hallway to check the temperature. “It’s seventy-two in here. Want me to bump it up?” he calls out.

“Seventy-two? Would have guessed it’s sixty.” You shake your head even though he can’t actually see you. “No. No, it’s fine.”

He comes back in the room stopping in front of you. Chris’ hand reaches down, hesitant at first, until his palm touches your cheek. Damnit if your breath doesn’t catch in your throat. He removes it quickly, touching your forehead with the back side of the same hand.

“You’re a…,” he licked his lips, taking a deep breath in. “You’re a little warm,” he said withdrawing his hand. “You need a sweatshirt! I’ll grab you one,” he shouted, practically running away.

Chris Evans was going to be the death of you. The two of you are friends but you can’t help but let your mind wander to that space that says maybe there’s something more. But this is your whole life. This is your career. You’re finally making enough money that you can actually put some away. You no longer have to sling beers to make ends meet. It’s a real adult job and now that you’re in your early thirties, it feels like what you need to do. So, what you need to do is stay focused. Besides, this whole feeling could be the fever talking.

Chris is suddenly in front of you again, apparently you had zoned out and didn’t hear him come back in the room.

“Red or blue?” he asked, holding a sweatshirt of each color in his hands.

“Can I see something in green. Perhaps a hooded number.”

“I see you haven’t lost your sense of humor,” he chuckled, throwing the blue one at you.

Tugging off your coat, you slip the sweatshirt over your head while you assume Chris is returning the red one to his room. It’s warm and cozy and smells a little like him. Not that you’ve smelt him. You’ve just picked up on his cologne when he’s near you. Yeah, not weird at all.

Tucking your hands inside the sleeves to keep warm, you lift your feet onto the couch in a half laying half sitting position. Chris stops in front of you and gives you a small smile.

“What?” you asked.

“Looks nice on you,” he replied innocently enough.

Think about your fake fiancé, Y/N.

“Well then, I may just keep it,” you shrugged.

He plopped himself down one cushion away from you on the couch, his body bouncing a bit when he landed. “Well, duh. You got your germs all over it.”

**

Clanging noises from the kitchen woke you. Apparently, you had fallen asleep again, you just weren’t sure how long you were asleep. You eased your body off the couch and padded your way into the kitchen.

“Hello sleepy head,” Chris greeted you before turning back to the stove. “I made you some soup. Had to call my ma to get the recipe.”

How is this guy single?

“You called your mother for a soup recipe?” you asked, reaching into the refrigerator for a bottle of water.

“Course! You’re sick. Soup always makes me feel bettah.”

“What did you tell your ma?” you asked in the best accent you could muster.

“I told my ma that my friend was sick and I wanted to make her soup,” he said, shrugging his shoulders.

“Do you tell your mother everything?”

“I do. So, watch yourself Y/L/N,” he replied with eyebrows raised, giving the pot another stir. “Go relax. I’ll bring you a bowl in a few minutes.”  

“Thanks,” you mumbled, walking back into the living room and taking a seat on the couch.

**

Dinner actually ended up being quite good. Chris knew what he was doing in the kitchen, much to your surprise. You ended up eating two bowls of soup. Skipping lunch and sleeping all day apparently amped up your appetite. The warm broth helped warm your body, even if it was only temporary.

You tried your best to stay awake to visit with Chris. He was telling you stories about his family and from what you could remember, they sounded like a close-knit group. But this darn virus was keeping your energy level at zero. When you had dozed off on him twice, Chris ordered you to bed and you willingly went without complaint. You kept the sweatshirt on. Strictly for the warmth of course.

**

Knocking on the bedroom door woke you the next morning.

“Come in,” your groggy voice called. You were honestly too tired to get out of bed despite all the sleep you managed to get yesterday and overnight.

Chris walked in, sticking close to the door. “How are you feelin’?”

“I’ll live.”

He chuckled at your response.

“What?” you asked, voice coming out a little whiny.

“Just sound so cute,” he shrugged his shoulders. Your mouth dropped open. In shock? In protest? You weren’t sure. “You’re so stuffed up.”

He wasn’t wrong, but still. Cute? Pfft.

“Well, yeah. I’m sick.”

Damn. I really am stuffed up.

“Which is why I called you out for the day,” he said, walking over to the window and opening the blinds.

“Chris…”

“Y/N…”

“I can’t miss again. They’re going to fire me.” You were full on whining now.

“They’re not gonna fire you,” he said crossing his arms over his chest. “They don’t want sick people there especially since you interact with a lot of key people. I already called Monica and she’s fine. Just rest today. I’m sure you’ll feel better tomorrow if you do.”

“Fine,” you conceded. “But I want my script back. At least let me take pictures of my notes to send to Monica. You need all the help you can get,” you sassed.

“Smaht-ass. I do just fine on my own.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” you sighed. “Will you please get me my script? I promise to stay in bed while you’re gone.”

“Tuck that bottom lip away missy. I’ll get your damn script. You want breakfast too?”

You gave him a small smile. “I could eat.”

**

Chris came home in a grumpy mood and you had no idea how to cheer him up. If he was one of your friends back home, you’d be out for drinks, but you were sick. Not to mention, with the amount of cold medicine you were taking, mixing alcohol probably wasn’t a good idea.

After the initial door slam, you came out of your temporary room to see Chris sprawled out on the couch, leaving zero room for you. It was his house, what were you going to say? You took a seat on an upholstered chair across from him, crisscrossing your legs.

When he didn’t say anything after a few minutes, you started. “Bad day of filming?”

He let out a loud breath and ran his open palm down his face. “You could say that.”

“What happened?” you couldn’t help but ask. “Unless you don’t want to talk about it.”

“Can we just watch some TV for a bit?”

“Of course,” you replied. You got up from the chair, grabbing a throw pillow from the couch and dropping it on the ground. You eased yourself on it, grinding your butt into it to get comfortable.

“What are you doing?” Chris sighed out.

“We’re watching TV. I’m just getting comfy.”

“Get up here!” he said, sitting up straighter with one bent leg still on the cushion.

You pulled yourself up and settled into the couch, your legs curling up sideways. Your foot touched his and he pulled back.

“Sorry!” you squeaked.

Chris muted the TV and faced you. “No, I’m sorry. Keanu said something to me today and it’s botherin’ me.”

“What did he say?” you asked softly.

“He doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” Chris licked his lips. “He thinks we’re too close. Said I’m too close to you and it’s not right.”

“What does that even mean?” you asked.

You honestly were dumb founded. What a weird thing to say to someone. What did too close mean anyway? You and Chris were friends and co-workers. You were the script supervisor so you worked closely with him daily.

Chris groaned. “I don’t know.” He shook his head. “It’s cause you’re engaged.”

“That’s ridiculous.” The fingers of your right hand automatically finding the engagement ring. “I’m allowed to have friends. You’re allowed to be friends with non-single women.”

“Damn right I am,” he said more confidently.

“We’re adults. We’d know if we were crossing lines. Clearly we aren’t.” Chris nodded in agreement. “What brought that on?”

“Monica asked where you were staying. I told her my place and since Keanu was right there, he heard and brought it up to me as we were wrapping for the day.”

“I’m sorry,” you sighed out. “If I thought this would have caused problems, I would have made Monica deal with my sick ass.”

“Are you kidding? I’m not worried about his opinion. It just bothers me that he thinks he has a right to interject.”

“Still…I don’t want to cause problems. Maybe I should just head back to the hotel.” You stood up and started to walk to your room. Chris jumped to his feet and was quickly right behind you.

“No. No. No. We aren’t doing that. There’s nothing wrong with you staying here,” he said to the back of your head.

You picked up your bag and put it on the bed. “Chris, it’s probably for the best. I was going back to my room tomorrow anyway.”

You grabbed the change of clothes you stored in the dresser bringing them over to the bed. Chris placed his hand over yours, stopping you from folding up the shirt.

“Just stay. Going is only going to prove his point.”

He was right. Leaving is pretty much admitting you staying there is wrong.

You grabbed on to his hand that was pressing down on yours and turned to face him. “Okay.”

He gave you a gentle smile. “Let’s go watch a movie.”

You nodded your head and followed him back out into the living room.

**

Back on set the next few days, Monica avoided you as much as she could. She’d text you from ten feet away to ask a question, despite sharing a room with her at night. It was insane, but if it made her feel better, you’d put up with it. You were feeling 80% better. It was just that stuffy nose that didn’t want to leave your body.

Being around Keanu felt odd all of a sudden. You tried to act as you normally would, sharing a small joke or an anecdote about something you read, but it was hard to feel at ease. Now that you knew he was watching you, you didn’t know how to act around Chris. So, you did what you probably shouldn’t do. You avoided him. Of course, you couldn’t avoid him completely since you were working with him, but when he would find you on set, you brushed him off.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, catching you while on break.

“Better,” you answered simply enough.

“Good,” he nodded. “Good. I’m glad.”

“Yep.”

This wasn’t going to work. The last thing you needed was the studio catching wind that something funny was going on. But Chris was your friend. Becoming one of your good friends over the last month. There needed to be a middle ground.

A week later you were feeling pretty damn guilty for keeping any conversations with Chris on the professional side. If he found you to chat, you made sure someone else was with you. Often pulling Monica or David into the conversation whether they liked it or not.

Y/N: Can we talk?

Chris: Now you want to talk? Should we text Monica to see if she wants to join us?

Yeah, you deserved that.

Y/N: I’ll bring cookies.

Chris: Where? And only because you’re bringing cookies. None of that sugar cookie crap either.

You decided on the coffee shop you been frequenting since coming to town, making a quick stop at a bakery along the way to pick up a couple of chocolate chip cookies for Chris. You picked out a two-seater table away from a group of college students that seemed to be studying.

Winter made it easier for Chris to blend in, but it was never hard for you to spot him. Not with that smile that always seemed to be on display when he saw you. Dark gray wool coat with the collar popped up, red scarf wrapped around his neck twice, and black shades on his face, he thought he was in disguise. You waved him over as soon as he walked through the door. He quirked his mouth at you, knowing he was easily spied. He held up his finger indicating he was going to grab a drink. You placed the package of cookies in front of the open seat so that they were the first thing he would see.

Chris walked over a few minutes later, removing the coat but keeping the scarf in place.

“Your cookies, sir.”

“I accept your bribery. For now.”

“Thank you. It’s my, “I’m sorry I’ve been an ass” apology,” you replied.

Chris gave you a frown, bringing his to go cup to his lips and taking a hesitant sip.

“I wouldn’t say ass, but…” You took a sip of your own beverage, waiting for him to continue. “Why have you been avoiding me? Did I do something wrong because if I’m being honest, I miss my friend.”

Now you really did feel like an ass. The last thing you wanted to do was make him feel like he did anything wrong.

“You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s just…Keanu’s comment really got to me. This is my first film with Stone Lite and if this goes well, my contract gets extended. If Keanu thinks we’re being unprofessional, who knows who else thinks that,” you replied, running your hand through your hair.

Chris nodded his head, a sullen look on his face. “I honestly don’t think they’re going to drop your contract because you and I are close friends.”

You debated about telling him your secret. He probably didn’t know about the studio’s unofficial hiring practices. But would he keep it to himself or would you find yourself without a job? You weren’t sure if this lie was something that was easily forgivable. It was starting to feel like not just a simple lie anymore. You shook your head out of your thoughts and attempted a smile.

“You probably right. I’m just being paranoid,” you said, deciding to keep your secret to yourself. “But maybe we keep our hangouts a little more private?”

Chris chuckled. “That sounds worse!”

You gasped but then chuckled, nodding your head in agreement. “Okay. Okay,” you said between laughs. “Not private, but maybe we dial down our friendship when we’re working. I mean obviously Keanu has a problem with it.”

“I don’t think we are doing anything wrong, but for your sake, I’ll keep our hangouts to myself. Does that work?” he asked, picking up his cup and taking a sip.

You gave him a genuine smile and nodded your head. “Thanks, Chris.

**

Chris and you did dial back a bit on the joking and hanging out on set. Most of your interactions were with other people around. It seemed to do the trick as Keanu and Chris seemed to ease back into their friendly banter and not another word was spoken over the next two weeks.

The small touches that the two of you generally exchanged were now absent and a part of you was missing it. Chris would laugh at something you would say and rest his hand on your forearm or shoulder. Now he’d shove his hand in his pocket or behind his back. When you’d discuss the script with him between takes, his hand rested on the small of your back. Now he’d cross his arms over his chest and leaned in. It was different, but respectful.

Chris no longer came to your cubical unless it were to discuss a scene that would be shot the next day. You missed your impromptu lunches spent at your desk. When the two of you did hangout, it was spent at coffee shops further away from the studio and your hotel. Uber and Lyft became your go to mode of transportation. Since Keanu and Chris lived in the same building for this film, you didn’t go back to Chris’ place much to your disappointment. Sometimes just watching a movie on a comfy couch was a lot better than doing so on your cheap hotel bed alone.

**

Filming was breaking for three nights and most of the crew were going home for the weekend. You were a tad bit excited to have the room all to yourself. You planned to do some sight seeing with your free time. Gastown, Chinatown, and Capilano Suspension Bridge Park despite it being winter were on your list.

Filming wrapped early in the afternoon and those not leaving until the next morning decided going out for dinner was something that should be done as a large group. You reluctantly let Monica drag you with her and two others in a Lyft headed across town to a restaurant that also served as a video game arcade. Your mind instantly went to an arcade with kids running around the space with sticky fingers, but you were pleasantly surprised to see it was an adult’s only atmosphere. Rather than ticket dispensing nonsense games, there were classic arcade machines such as Pac-Man, Ms. Pac-Man, Mortal Combat, and Super Mario Bros.

You weren’t drinking and no amount of peer pressure was going to make you budge. David bought you a drink and you quickly offered it to Lydia, one of the stylists. You grabbed a non-alcoholic drink called raspberry fizz from the bar. It looked like a fancy drink without the regret. The last thing you needed to do was drunkenly talk about your sex life again.

Chris mentioned he was coming tonight as his flight wasn’t until seven the next morning, but you hadn’t spotted him yet. Keanu was staying in town over the short break; his girlfriend Alexandra had already arrived in town for a visit. He had mentioned they wouldn’t be joining the group for dinner, but they would be by for a drink later.

Everyone sat down to order, deciding that game playing could wait until after dinner. Twenty minutes in to appetizers and conversation, Chris walked in with Maggie. They sat together at the far end of the table from you, where the only available seats were located. They looked cozy sitting close together, sharing whispers, and laughs. A small pang of jealous hit your heart. It was unexpected and for a moment you regretted not having an actual drink. He hadn’t mentioned anything between the two of them to you, but you knew of her crush on him. Besides, the two of you never really discussed your love lives besides the initial questions about Travis when you and Chris first started to get to know each other. Chris saw you starring in his direction and gave you a wave. You gave him a small smile and nodded your head before turning away. Next to you, Lydia’s in a conversation with Tim, one of the other actors, and you do your best to join in.

Your co-workers are drunk and with Chris wrapped up conversation with others, not to mention Maggie by his side most of the night, you’re ready to go back to the hotel. You bring up the Uber app on your phone and request a car. You look for David and find him in an intense game of air hockey. After he scores a point, you pull him into a side hug to say goodnight.

“You taking off already? I owe you another drink.”

“Give it to Monica. I’m good for the night. Say hi to the wife for me,” you replied as you backed away.

“Will do! See you next week,” David called a little too loudly. You were sure it was because the large number of beers he had already consumed.  

You found your coat still hanging from the back of your chair at the table. You slipped it on and waved goodbye to Monica who only lifted her glass to you. You’re half way through the door when someone grasped your mitten covered wrist. Turning around, you were met with the blue eyes of Chris.

“Where are you goin’? Don’t talk to me all night and now you’re sneaking off?”

You allow him to pull you back into the warmth of the restaurant, checking your phone for the car with your free hand. Surprisingly Maggie isn’t next to him. You’re pretty sure it’s the first time she hasn’t been all night.

“I’m not sneakin’ off. You were busy,” you shrug a shoulder.

Chris stops pulling you once you reach your groups table, sitting down and starring up at you as you stand.

“Take a seat. Please.” You sigh but do as he asked. “I wasn’t busy. Always have time for you. Besides, I wanted to say goodbye since I won’t see you for a few days.”

“You looked pretty busy with Maggie tonight. Didn’t realize you guys were so close.” You couldn’t help yourself. You sounded pretty damn jealous and you would be over analyzing your words all night.

Chris scrunches up his whole face and blinks slowly once and then again. “With Maggie? She’s just a friend. Barely a friend. She needed a ride.”

“Well, Maggie thinks you’re hot. So…” You weren’t even drinking tonight so you had no excuse for your loose lips.

“That’s nice. But she’s a kid,” he said, shrugging his shoulders. “Not interested.”

“Okay then!” you replied a little too loudly. You take a peek at your phone and see that your car is here. You stand up quickly and hug him while he’s still seated. “My car is here. Gotta go!” Before he can even hug you back, your feet are moving. “Have a good few days back home!”

Chris texted as soon as you got into the car.

Chris: Well, goodbye to you too.

Chris: 😢😡

Y/N: I’m sorry! My Uber was here.

Chris: Trust me, there’s nothing going on with Maggie.

Y/N: It’s not my business. I’m sorry I brought it up.

Y/N: Safe travels!

Chris: Quit being a weirdo

Y/N: It’s all I know

Chris: That’s true. I don’t know what I was thinking.

Chris: Text me when you get back to your room.

Y/N: I will

**

The three days you had off were over far too quickly, although you did manage to hit the three tourist spots on your list. You also found a great Chinese restaurant that you wanted to eat at again a couple of more times before you wrapped in three weeks.

This week you were on night shoots again. The studio had rented out a book store and restaurant in a smaller town outside of Vancouver. Even though these were mainly interior scenes, both businesses needed to be closed in order to film.

Chris had wanted to grab coffee earlier in the day, but you and Monica had to be at the studio to meet with Hugh and his assistant to go over the two scenes filming tonight. Chris had been pretty quiet during his time off; you were pretty sure he was feeling guilty for his lack contact.

Monica and you had arrived early at the location to get situated and to match up the script with the interior of the restaurant. You were helping with wrangling the ten or so extras when Chris arrived already dressed for his scene.

“Welcome back to Canada,” you said walking up to him, Chris giving you a big grin. “Did you have a nice trip back home?”

“Always a good time when I’m home sweetheart. How about you?”

“Yep. Checked out Gastown and a couple of other places. It was nice to explore.”

“How’d Travis like it? First time here for him, right?” Chris asked.

You gave him a questioning look. “Travis wasn’t here.”

His eyebrows raised high on his head. “He wasn’t here? I thought that’s why you weren’t going home because he was comin’ here.”

“No, ah, he was working,” you quickly said.

Fuck! Why hadn’t I thought of that. Oh yeah, because you don’t actually have a freaking fiancé!

“He never visited you on set in LA, hasn’t visited here, you didn’t go home. Don’t you miss him?”

“Of course, I do, Chris,” you sighed. “It’s just hard when we’re both working. But, uh, he’s coming to visit for a couple of days next week.”

Why did I say that?!

Chris slapped a hand down on your shoulder. “That’s great! Look forward to meeting him.”

You gave him a smile and pointed back to the group of extras with your thumb before turning away from him. Grabbing your phone out of your back pocket, you quickly typed out a text to Travis as you walked away.

Y/N: I need a favor.

Chapter 7

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[crackedoutgiraffe]

The Stars in Your Eyes

THIS IS PART 2 OF TO THE MOON AND BACK

Part 2: Chapter 1 Part 2: Chapter 2 Part 2: Chapter 3

A/N: I’m thinking of starting a one-shot “series” based off of songs, send me a message with any songs you want to see! Also, Entropy...

Warnings: Fluff and Angst

Word Count: 4,703

1/13/2016

“Spencer?” A woman approached the table Reid was sitting at.

The way Spencer’s face changed when he saw made you uneasy, “Cat? 

“Hi!” for a hitwoman she seemed weirdly approachable.

“Hi,” the monitor set-up in the kitchen for you showed your husband standing across from a beautiful young woman.

“Hi,” she gave him a warm smile.

“Hello. Hi. Hi. Nice to finally,” you saw her go in to give him a hug and he pulled away. “Oh--sorry, I have a-- a germ thing. Oh. I'm kind of weird with hu-hugs.” 

“Sorry,” she didn’t mean it. “Can I sit down?”

“Yes, please,” he gestured to the seat across from him. “Oh, yeah. Of course. Sit down.” 

“First time doing this?” she smiled. 

“Yeah,” he muttered. “I mean, yeah.” 

“Yeah, I--I still get nervous, too,” she was trying her best to be friendly. “Really, it wasn't until an hour ago that I was like, wait, we've been trading emails back and forth, but I still have no idea what this guy looks like.”

“Hence the,” he pointed at the red rose in front of her. You were tapping your foot and biting your nails at the sight of your husband on a ‘date’ with another woman.

“I know,” she giggled. “And then I was like, wait, he's going to bring a red rose, so we need to go to a nicer place, which is why I switched the restaurant last-minute.”

“Not a problem at all,” he had his beautiful smile on his face.

“And now I need to change and put something nice on for this place, 'cause I was totally underdressed, and my whole wardrobe makes me look like a Kardashian,” Reid had a confused look on his face. “You know who that is, do you?”

“No, oh, yeah, Robert Kardashian, He got O.J. Simpson off. You--you don't look like his daughters,” he shook his head.

“Yeah, no, I was making a joke about them,” she seemed to be annoyed. 

“No, it was good,” he smiled. “It was a good joke.” 

“No, it wasn't,” she giggled.

“It was funny.” 

“Can we start over?” she asked. “Hi, I'm Cat.”

“Hi,” he stumbled over his words. “I'm Spencer.”

“It really is nice to meet you, in person, finally,” she shrugged. “It's nice to meet you. Tell me a little bit about yourself. Do you really have 3 Ph.D.s?” 

“Yes. Um, I--yeah, I do, I have 3 Ph.D.s.”

“What was your favorite book that you read last year?” she asked.

“Um, honestly, I've never read a book I didn't love,” Reid sheepishly responded.

“Tell me about your wife,” she leaned forward.

“If you don't mind, I'd, uh, I'd rather not talk about her,” he cleared his throat.

“Might as well get it out in the open, right?” she seemed to let out a small laugh. “That's why we're here. How long have you been married?”

“4 years,” in reality you and Reid had only been married for 7 months.

Cat paused,“when is she due to give birth?” 

“Uh…” Reid’s voice got quiet. “A couple of-- a couple of months. Should we talk about price now, or…”

“Slow down, tiger,” she cut him off. “What exactly are we negotiating here?”

“You know,” he looked around. 

“I want to hear you say it.” 

“To have her killed,” the look on his face told you everything you needed to know. Reid would never say such a thing about you.

“Let me see your ring,” her voice sounded much more chipper. Reid did as she asked and gave her his hand. He insisted on buying a new ring, insisting he didn't want her anywhere near you. “You know what that is? A noose. Only it doesn't kill you all at once. It kills you slowly, day by day. You ever feel that way?”

He nodded, “I feel that way all the time.” It was unsettling seeing him talk so poorly of you.

“Take it off,” she commanded. 

“Why?” he smiled.

“As a sign of your commitment,” she seemed so proud of herself. “To me.” You watched as he took off his ring and placed it in her hand.

“If she sticks to the pattern, she'll take him to a secondary location and kill him,” you heard JJ’s voice over your com. 

“We're not gonna let it get that far,” Rossi was sitting at a table and JJ was at the bar. “Hotch, do you have a visual?”

Just hacked in,” Garcia’s voice made you a lot calmer than before. 

“All right,” Hotch said, “we have you over her left shoulder. Do you copy?” you saw Reid look at the camera. “All right, all agents stand by. Dr. Reid will give the green light. Don't move until we have it. Y/N are you there?” 

“Yes, sir,” the hustle and bustle of the kitsch made it harder for you to hear but you managed.

“Remember you do not engage unless absolutely necessary,” he reminded you of the deal you made the week prior.

“I know,” you smirked.

“24-karat?” She asked. Reid nodded. “24k times... 4 years means this ring should be dinged and nicked. But the sucker is brand-new. You're not married.” You could hear the sound of a gun cocking. Reid was tapping his finger on his hand. You realized he was trying to say something in morse code. You got a pen and napkin from a waitress to write it down, ‘she doesn’t know about you.’

“What was that? Was that what I think it was?” you could hear how flustered Garcia was.

“Everybody hold,” Hotch commanded. 

“Why are we here, Spencer?” Cat asked.

“We're here because you belong to a network of 4 hitmen who've been operating in the shadows of the Internet,” Reid calmly explained. “You're known as Miss .45. My team and I have been hunting for months, and I knew that if I boxed you in, I could arrest you with as little resistance as possible.”

“Your team being the behavioral analysis unit of the FBI?” she paused. “You guys are good. You're the only ones that got close to us. But we got kind of close to you, too, didn't we? Hi, Penelope. Do you know why I'm so good at my job?”

“Because you kill without compunction or remorse.” 

“That only gets a girl so far in life,” she leaned closer to him. “No, it's because I think through every potential outcome and then I plan accordingly. You see, I didn't walk into your trap. You walked into mine. Where's your head, Spencer? What are you thinking about?” You watched as she moved closer to him.

“I was thinking about entropy,” she was feeling him up. “It's the thermodynamic measure of the degradation of matter and energy in the universe. To put it another way--”

She pulled his gun from his belt, “there's your gun.”

“Good evening,” the waiter approached the table. 

“Hi, uh, you know what?” she smiled. “We've been having so much fun getting to know one another, we'll let you know when we're ready, ok? Thank you.” The waiter left and she returned to torturing your husband. “Now that we got that out of the way, will you do me a favor and tell Blondie McBlonderson over there at the bar to disappear.”

“JJ, stand down,” Hotch commanded.

JJ stodd from her seat at the bar and headed for the kitchen. “Thanks for playing, sweetie,” Cat shouted as JJ walked past.

“If she learns how many agents we have outside, she'll start shooting,” Hotch said. “Dave, get ready to take her out. Reid, do not let her get up from the table.”

“All right, you're in charge,” given his current position Reid was abnormally calm. “Tell me what you want and I'll see if I can get it here for you.”

“Anything I want?” she smirked.

“Anything you want.” 

“Like a million dollars in unmarked bills, maybe a plane to Aruba?”

“Is that what you want?” Reid kept a straight face never letting his emotions get the better of him. 

“And you'll say you'll bring it here, but the real plan is to distract me from what is, I'm sure, an impressive law enforcement response just outside that door. Is that the plan?”

“That's the plan,” he smiled.

You watched as JJ came over to your place in the kitchen, “Did you have fun?” you giggled.

“It was entertaining to say the least,” she smiled.

“Because I know what I want now. I want to play a game with you,” Cat smiled. “You like games?” 

“I do.”

“Do you win?” 

“I always win,” the way he said that made you uneasy, it was very aggressive.

“Give it to me,” she demanded. Reid followed and handed his phone to her. “Ok, here's my game. You have 30 minutes to answer every question I ask. And if you lie, I'll know. Because I've spent the past 10 years of my life studying men and their lies before I kill them. Do you believe me?”

“I do.”

“That was true,” Cat smiled. “You're getting this. Now, here's how we'll know who wins at the end of 30 minutes. If you win, you'll drag me out of here in handcuffs. But if I win, you will escort me out like a gentleman, to make sure I exit safely. What do you say, Spencer? Think you can win this one?”

He leaned closer to her and lowered his voice, “considering everything you've put Garcia and so many people through, you're going to have to shoot me in the face before you walk out of here.”

“Game on,” you watched as she smiled at the thought of shooting him point-blank in the face.

“What do you want to ask me?”

“How you found me, of course,” she pressed start on the timer. “A professional learns from her mistakes.”

“We got our big break in the case at the end of last year,” Reid started. “I didn't learn how big until I came back from some time off.”

“Why'd you take time off?” she smirked.

He hadn’t told you much about why he didn’t go to work for three months. All you really knew was that he was visiting his mom in Vegas a lot. He would go to Vegas for two months and then come home for a few days. Every night he would call you and tell you he loved you. 

“Stop,” Cat interrupted Reid’s story.

“What?” Reid seemed confused.

“You didn't tell me why you took time off.” 

“It's not relevant,” he deflected. 

“That's not the game,” she frowned. “The game is you answer every question I ask. Is it a secret?”

“No,” he smiled.

“Is it dirty?” she seemed happy at the thought of it being something dirty.

Reid furrowed his brow, “no.” 

“Then tell me,” she whined.

“It's not important to your story.” 

“Out of curiosity, is it me you don't want to tell or the people listening in?” she asked

Reid looked down at his phone, “Is this really how you want to spend your 30 minutes?” 

“Yes,” she smiled. “No. Ok, so you were saying you showed up for work that morning and…” 

“We learned that someone unexpected decided to talk,” he continued.

“And who would that be?”

“Brian Cochran from the NSA,” Reid explained. “He had used one of your colleagues to target a DEA agent. The prison put him in solitary confinement where he ended up having a breakdown. He didn’t know names, only areas of expertise. We learned about the bomber, the sniper, the chemist, and the most dangerous of all…”

“Me,” she interrupted. 

He nodded, “yes.” 

“Wow, that was really impressive,” she was mocking him. “Yeah, the way you just made all those brilliant deductions with all that information that was just handed to you on a silver platter. Quick question--are you guys really profilers or are you just lucky? Because this, what I'm about to say-- is profiling. The reason you took time off from work was to deal with the same girl who broke your heart.”

“No,” you really hoped he wasn’t trying to get away from you.

“The death of a parent, then,” she guessed. 

“No,” Reid shook his head. 

“Ah, hello, I'm getting close. It's mom or dad in the billiard room with the candlestick. Oh, you're mad at me, aren't you?” she seemed to be frowning. 

“Not even a little bit,” he smiled.

“Yes, you are, I can tell.”

He leaned closer to her, “no offense, but you're not really worth getting angry at.” 

“So you figured out what the 4 of us did, and then what?” she sighed.

“We profiled that you operated as spokes on a wheel. Somehow it had to be centralized, how you got jobs, who paid you. Somebody did all that for you.”

“You found the Snowman, didn't you?”

Reid smiled, “we did. We also learned that one of you had kidnapped him and were holding him against his will. Hotch had received something very important that helped us find him.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, I'm confused. What just happened there?” she interrupted, again.

“When we arrested Cochran, we found a flash drive, one that gave us access to a specific shadow of the Darknet, one we didn't even know existed,” he explained. “Garcia used it to find the website that Snowman set up for all of you. Once we had the website, we had geography, specifically, the safe house you were keeping him in. So we waited until the shift change when we knew we could take two of you down at once. When we raided the house both of them killed themselves.”

“Well, well, well, you took the chemist and the sniper out of commission, huh?” she smirked.

“Did you know?” Reid asked

“I knew something was off,” she leaned back. “They didn't bid on some contracts. And this isn't the kind of job where you get to take time off to be with your... Mother? Is it your mom? It's gotta be your mom. Why'd you take time off from the FBI?”

“I'm not gonna tell you.”

“Spencer,” she was much more serious this time, “why did you take time off from the FBI?” 

“You can ask me as many times as you want, and you can continue to waste your time, but I'm still not gonna tell you.”

“Then you're cheating, and I don't like cheaters.”

“Just tell her,” you muttered to yourself. If she was this angry about something so simple you didn’t want to see what she was going to do.

“You don't get everything you want just because you're pointing a gun at me under a table. You're not the first killer to point a gun at me. You're not even the first woman to point a gun at me. Sorry.”

“You're really gonna take this all the way, aren't you?” 

“Yeah,” he smirked.

“So am I.” 

“Dave, go,” Hotch ordered. You and JJ watched on the monitor as Rossi stood from his seat and start walking toward their table. Cat made her way closer to Spencer. 

“Look at my face. Does it look like I'm bluffing?” Reid didn’t even have a smile on his face.

“I know you're not bluffing,” Cat reached out to grab his tie and started to twist it. “I'm gonna ask you one more time. Before you say no, I want you to consider something.” All you could hear was static.

“She muffled the mic,” Garcia said. “We lost audio.” You all waited in silence for Spencer’s mic to come back on. The only thing keeping you sane was the live video.

“Rossi, stand down,” you let out a long sigh at the sound of his voice. “Please.” Rossi did as he asked and started for the kitchen.

“Welcome to the locker room,” you giggled. 

He looked at you with no expression, “I hate the locker room.” 

“My mom has schizophrenia, and the doctor has changed her medication, which seemed to agitate her, and so I went to the treatment center to help her,” Reid explained.

“That's it?” Was she actually disappointed with his answer? 

“That's it.”

“You just risked your life over mommy's pills?” Cat asked. 

“It's the truth,” he smiled. 

“It's part of the truth,” she moved back to her original position across from Spencer. “You're holding something back. Here's what I'm gonna do. I'm gonna penalize you by adding 10 minutes. And keep in mind that the only reason you're not dead right now is because I did learn something important.”

“Oh, really?” he mocked. “What's that?” 

“Your back up,” she looked around the restaurant. “I flushed them out. It's just you and me now.”

“Guess again, bitch,” Tara said. 

“So when we left off, the score was you had two of our guys and the Snowman. You must have thought you were home free.”

“No, Reid shook his head. “If anything, the case was harder. We needed to find a way to get to either you or the bomber, we chose you. But first, we had to get the data that we needed from the Snowman. From that, we could start to build a profile that would lead us to you. When we knew what we were looking for, the pattern was obvious. You only killed men who were looking to have their pregnant wives killed. You took their money and then killed the men who hired you. This led me to volunteer to be your next victim. If I could get you here to meet me and things went awry, you would be more likely to reason with someone who was closer to your age. My wife and boss both shot down my idea but eventually, we all decided this was best…”

“Hold on a second,” she leaned forward in her seat. “I thought you weren’t married.”

“8 months tomorrow,” he was lying. You two got married 7 months ago to the day.

Cat’s face lit up, “is she listening in?”

“She doesn’t work for the bureau,” another lie that you weren’t opposed to. 

“If she were pregnant would you actually want her dead?” she whispered.

Reid leaned forward to meet her, “never in my wildest dreams.” You let out a long sigh of relief which led JJ to give you a hug. 

You watched as Cat rolled her eyes, “back to the story.”

He shrugged, “it was a pretty good plan too.”

“You have zero control here. None. I outflanked you from the beginning.”

“Some of your moves were pretty obvious.”

“Such as?” 

“Such as showing up armed. Such as changing the venue at the last moment. Can I tell you a little secret?” he smirked. “Everything eventually falls apart. The trick is accepting when it's over.”

“Except it ain't over, is it?” 

“Do you really think I'm just gonna let you walk out of here?”

“You profiled so much about me, except you forgot to ask the most important question. Why would I make you sit here for 30 minutes?” she asked.

“Because you're stalling.” 

“Then you don't know me at all. Did you guys show up here without an escape plan? Or is that what just another girl with daddy issues do? Maybe if you hadn't fallen victim to your own gender bias, and, yes, all men have a gender bias, even you, Dr. Reid, you would have recognized that your entire strategy was based on one faulty detail. Can you see it?”

“You're not here alone,” Reid’s face turned from a smirk to a panic.

“And my partner?” 

“Planted a bomb in the building.” 

“We're on the move,” you said as you and JJ headed for the basement. You had some of the staff lead you underneath the building. “Hotch, we've got interconnected c-4 charges down here.” 

“How many?” 

“There are 6 charges,” JJ sighed. “They're connected to the city's gas line. She could take out the whole block. If we alert anyone, then the panic could set her and the bomb off. SWAT's on the radio with the bomb squad. They say our only chance is to get our hands on that cell phone. If we shut down the trigger, we can remove the charges.”

“Morgan,” Hotch called.

“Go ahead, Hotch,” Morgan was still up in the restaurant.

“Does she have a cell phone with her?” Hotch asked.

“I don't think so. I didn't see her pull one out,” you could barely hear Morgan. “The bomber was setting this up while we were all up here. I think he's holding the stick. We're combing the block. He could be anywhere, though.”

“Where's Lewis?” Hotch asked.

“Are you good if I go back upstairs?” you whispered to JJ who responded with a nod.

“Reid, perimeter agents are pulling back. You have to let her go.” Hotch sighed.

“Well?” you could see Cat becoming increasingly annoyed. “Spencer…” 

“You can leave,” he sighed. “But you won't.” 

“I'm sorry?”

“Double or nothing,” Reid straightened his back. “You need to sit back down.” 

“Reid, what are you doing?” Hotch seemed angry with him.

“Wow, now you're stalling,” Cat smirked.

“You played your trump card, but I have one, too.”

“Thanks for dinner. I had fun.”

“I found your father,” Cat stopped in her tracks at Reid’s statement.

“No, you didn't.” 

“Look at my face. Am I bluffing? I'll tell you where he is. But you need to sit back down and listen to the rest of my story.”

“No. Tell me now. Or I'll-- detonate the bomb?”

“You're not gonna do that, Cat because then you won't learn anything. You said you were good at your job because you think through every outcome. Well, guess what-- so do I.”

“All right. Finish the story.”

“To prepare for this dinner, I had to learn everything about you, starting with your real name,” he started. “We searched through foster care records and found you were the daughter of Daniel Adams, who did in fact leave the country in 1987 but returned in 2012. Based on confidential records in rehabs and sober living houses, which in turn pointed us to flophouses and soup kitchens. He couldn't put 24 hours together sober. And you can probably imagine my surprise when I discovered that he actually lives right here in D.C.”

“Where?”

“It's not that simple. He was in bad shape when I found him.”

“He didn't remember me?” 

“The alcoholism shredded his brain. I'm sorry.”

“You're not sorry. Sorry is what people say when they don't understand. Wait. Your mother--tell me.”

“Is--is this part of the game? 

“No. The game's over.” 

“When I looked at her medical chart, it--it didn't make any sense. The medication that they gave her should have been helping, but I couldn't figure out what was making her so angry. So, I, uh, I went to see her. The moment I walked in her room, I saw it. For 3 seconds... She didn't know who I was. I, um, I had her tested that morning, and I found out that night... That she had early onset of dementia. Most likely Alzheimer's,” you could feel your heart break. Why didn’t he tell you?

“Did you test yourself? No, you didn't. You were too scared.”

“I thought I dodged a bullet when I turned 30 and didn't have a schizophrenic break like her, but, uh, this is somehow bigger and scarier because I can actually see it happening. All the memories that we used to share are just dying. I can't stop it. I can't help her. All I can do is find people that I can help.”

“Is that really why you showed up tonight?” you saw just how annoyed Cat was becoming. “To help me? Do you know how many men have told me that they wanted to help me? How do you think that worked out for them?”

“Hotch, she just armed the bomb,” JJ’s panicked voice came through your earpiece. “Hotch, we need to pull back.”

“Hotch, we might have a lead here,” Morgan said calmly. “She hasn't touched anything to arm the bomb.”

“That means the bomber's here, somewhere in the restaurant,” Lewis added.

“All right, if you can take him, do so, but the priority is evacuation,” Hotch reminded.

“I'm not even sure if it is a him,” Lewis continued. “Cat mentioned something about gender bias, so that could apply to the bomber as well.”

“All right, she'd have to be in a position to maintain line of sight on Reid all night,” Morgan asked. “Who do you see?”

“Look for anyone with their phone out,” Hotch added. “That's the detonator. Our woman will give herself away by looking over.”

“I've got her,” Morgan whispered. “Blue dress. By the bar. Y/N can you get her?”

“On it,” you grabbed your blazer and left the kitchen. Hotch had you dress similarly to the manager just in case you needed to be undercover. You walked over to the woman by the bar, “Hello ma’am, how was your dinner tonight?”

“It was good,” spoke quickly and returned her gaze to Cat and Reid.

“Let me know if there is anything else you need,” you reached into your pocket and grabbed your handcuffs. “Time to go,” you grabbed her wrist and twisted it behind her back. Lewis came over to help you. 

“Hotch, we're clear,” Lewis said. 

“Reid's not,” you did your best to not focus on Reid but that was hard given Hotch’s words. 

“Don't! FBI,” Morgan shouted as he pulled out his gun.

“Everybody stay calm, please,” you focused your attention on the civilians.

“We're gonna be smart about this and talk it out. Aren't we, Cat?” Morgan asked. 

“That's up to you,” she quipped. 

“Get everyone out of here,” Reid demanded. 

“Move,” Lewis said. The two of you followed the restaurant patrons out along with the bomber. You shoved her in a police car and went back to the entrance of the building. Taking out your earpiece, you leaned against the wall and let out a loud sigh.

Lewis started to walk toward you, “are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “Will you let me know if Hotch says anything?”

“Of course,” she put a hand on your shoulder and leaned against the wall. Rossi and JJ cae around from the back of the building and waited for the paddywagon to arrive, this was still part of Reid’s plan. “They’re coming out,” Lewis turned to you.

You went to the door and eagerly awaited their arrival. You saw the door open and out came Reid, Morgan, and Cat in handcuffs.

“Wait,” she stopped walking. She looked up and Reid, “ok I’m ready.” The three of them approached an empty paddy wagon. When Morgan and Reid opened the doors, Cat’s face dropped. Reid helped her climb into the van and handcuff her to the seat. You went and stood next to Morgan who put his hand on your shoulder. Reid and Cat were talking but it was inaudible. When they were done Reid climbed out and walked away, you instinctively followed him. 

“Reid,” you shouted after him. 

He stopped walking and waited for you to catch up with him. You eventually did catch up, and he wrapped you in a hug immediately after, “I love you so much,” you could hear him whisper between his sobs. You held him the entire time crying and walked him back to the restaurant.

“Kid,” Morgan greeted him, “can you drive me home?” 

Reid nodded and started to walk toward his car. Morgan took shotgun and you got the back. The drive to Morgan’s house was quiet enough for you to fall asleep. You didn’t wake up until about 30 minutes later. The car had stopped and you heard Reid get out. You watched as he walked down to a swing set and sit on one of the swings. There must have been something about his mother that made him want to come here. You climbed into the passenger seat and fell back asleep. Reid came back and drove back to the apartment. He carried you inside, laid you on the bad, and kissed your forehead before he too laid down and fell asleep.

[songfell-ut]

Chapter 8, sponsored by ADHD

Not being flippant, I absolutely have ADHD and can’t take any medications without getting heart palpitations. Hyperfocus, whoo!

Yeah, I enjoyed writing this one way too much. Chapter is here. I remain extremely grateful to @lostmypotatoes for not only the concept, but letting me jerk the characters around on her behalf. Enjoy!

The streetlights were starting to flicker on as the sun drifted below the horizon. Despite the chill wind, the crowds were shoulder-to-shoulder at the booths lining the street, and the glow from open doors illuminated a continuous flow of people moving in and out of shops and taverns.

One of the busiest establishments was a large inn not far from the castle. Standing patiently outside it was a lone, black-haired young woman; several passers-by waiting to join the line paused for a second look at her. She was dressed simply enough in a dark gown and white shawl, but her skin shone pale and flawless in the streetlamp, eyes lined in black and lips a dark crimson—very striking, even among the other women and a few young men wearing high-contrast makeup for the holiday. She'd done her best to achieve that effect, and found she rather enjoyed the attention; it was a relief that no one had—

"Heyyy, young lady," slurred a voice in her ear. "You lost?"

—hit on her yet. Frisk sighed and shifted her weight away from the beery stranger. "My husband will be out in a moment, thank you. Goodbye."

The man scoffed and leaned in closer, trapping her against the people standing in line. "Aw, darlin', don't try to pull that on me. Where's your weddin' ring?"

Frisk blinked. She hadn't accounted for anyone being drunk and observant. "Really, sir, I'm asking you nicely. Go away, or my husband will probably break your arm."

"Pffft! Right, right." The man made a grab at her shoulder. "C'mon, let's—"

Something large, swift, and angry loomed behind him. The bones of the stranger's hand went grch as a bigger hand grabbed it. Before the man could react, a glass mug smashed into the back of his head, bouncing him off the brick wall and sending him sprawling. "'Scuse you, asswipe," the newcomer said conversationally.

"Sa—honey," Frisk reproved him, accepting a mug. "You promised not to make a mess."

"'m not makin' a mess, kitten. I'm cleanin' it up." Even in his disguise, Sans towered over most of the people in the street, especially the one moaning on the cobblestones. The human-shaped boss monster draped a long arm around Frisk's shoulders, glaring down. "Ya wanna fill me in on yer conversation, pal? Sounded pretty interestin'."

The man scrambled to his feet and hobbled off into the crowd. Sans watched him go, as if debating whether to follow, then checked the people around them. No one seemed fazed; the few paying attention were pleased to see justice served, and at least one man indicated Frisk and made congratulatory gestures at him.

Sans was more than content to stay like that, but Frisk elbowed his side, wiggling her shoulder. "Sorry," he muttered, removing his arm. "Just tryin' ta stay in character."

"It's fine. You were just pulling on me a little." The High Priestess discreetly adjusted her long black wig, one of many from her predecessor's collection. She took a sip of spiced cider, impressed that he hadn't spilled any. "This is fantastic! Thank you for standing in line. This isn't too much for you, is it?" She gestured at the crowds. "Do you want to go somewhere quiet for a bit?"

"'m doin' okay," he said, but he hadn't figured out how to lie yet with a human face: he kept twitching and wrinkling his nose at strange smells or touches, and every time he scratched his neck or ear, he visibly startled himself. "'s not like I couldn' feel anythin' at all before. This is just...more." The wind picked up, and his eye twitched again.

It would have been funny if she hadn't felt so guilty. "Here." Frisk took his free hand to guide him toward a side street, marveling at how different a human hand felt than a ten-foot skeleton's—smaller, of course, but rougher, and somehow a little colder. She felt his fingers tighten and just as quickly relax, trying not to squash her. She squeezed back, and had another pang of guilt as he twitched yet again. The poor thing must have felt so overwhelmed!

The alley was cold and dimly lit, but almost silent. She released him and wrapped both hands around her mug, examining the little spices floating in the amber liquid. "Have you ever tried cider before?" she asked over the rim of the glass.

"Nope." Sans took too deep a sniff and recoiled, then brought it up more cautiously. "I had some dried apple slices once, but nothin' like this." He took the tiniest sip, smacking his lips the way she'd specifically told him not to. "Huh. Not bad." Another, bigger sip. "This's pretty good. Ya sure I can't try one of the drink-drinks they had?"

"No alcohol, Sans. We don't need you getting drunk and taking us the wrong place by accident at the end of the night."

He made an eloquently disgruntled sound, and gulped down more cider.

Frisk leaned against the wall, shivering in the breeze. Sans moved to block the wind for her, and she murmured thanks as he hunched his shoulders. The collar of his overcoat was trimmed with white fur, his shirt a bright red; his borrowed face wasn't handsome, Frisk thought, but the rough features, light hair, and blue-gray eyes made an intense and interesting picture. She liked it.

"Man, that's good stuff," the boss monster remarked, tipping the last few drops out of the mug. He glanced at hers, still half full. "Ya gonna finish that? I don't wanna wait in line again."

This was a far cry from when he'd complained about her germs on that stupid fork, but he was being good – better than good – so Frisk handed him her mug, taking his empty one to the receptacle standing on the nearest street corner for that very purpose.

As she deposited the glass, a sound at the other end of the alley brought her up short. "What's up?" Sans asked at her shoulder.

"Uh..." Frisk listened, and felt her cheeks grow hot. "We should go. We should go back right now." She pointed to the brightly lit street behind them.

Sans wasn't paying attention. "What're they doin'?" To her mortification, he downed the rest of the cider, handed the glass to her, and started ambling toward the source of the noise.

"Sans!" The priestess grabbed his arm. "I said—"

They both froze as a small, motion-activated floodlight clicked on and fully answered his question. "Huh," he said distantly.

"Sorry!" Frisk half shouted at the couple, who...why were they still going?! She dropped the mug and yanked back to the street, wondering how anyone could be that drunk already!

When she risked a glance at Sans, he looked thoughtful. "So...what was that? How were they not freezin' their butts off? You'd think they'd at least find someplace they could sit down and keep their clo—"

"Yes, you'd think!" For the first time, she wished the wind was colder on her face. The priestess stepped over to the first booth she saw. "Excuse me, ma'am. Where is the ferryman?" she asked hurriedly.

"The ferryman?" The woman behind the counter looked up and frowned in thought. "I don't know that he's here yet, dear. If he is, you'll find him near the old well on the far side of the square."

"Thank you very much." Frisk retrieved a two-dinar piece from the pockets of the dress she'd been sure to wear because it had pockets, and set it on the counter. "This way, S—honey."

"The hell are you guys talkin' about?" Sans asked as they waded back into the street, Frisk hanging on to his arm and ducking against him as crowd physics required.

"Remember, I wanted my fortune told? On All Souls Night, you're supposed to bob for apples and use the peels to tell the future, so actual fortune-tellers like to set up here. For years, I've been hearing about a man who uses some sort of card deck and is never, ever wrong. He always shows up near the river, so everyone calls him the ferryman. The problem is that he's never here at consistent times. He also charges anywhere from two hundred to a few thousand per fortune."

Sans was gaining sufficient knowledge of human society to say, "Holy shit, that's a lot. Are ya seriously gonna waste that much cash on some random guy playin' with picture cards?"

"No, I've spent all my money," Frisk said loudly, glancing around in case someone was listening, and he got the hint. The festival was fairly safe, but anything could happen in a large crowd; she was more glad than ever to have Sans with her.

They battled their way forward, the boss monster going first to carve out a path and the priestess steering him with a hand on his arm or back. "Let's stop for a minute," she said, on tiptoe, as they paused to let someone to cross the street the wrong way. "See over there?" Down a nearby side street was an avenue full of tables set with white cloths, portraits, and tiny candles. "Those are all the altars for departed rulers and other public figures. Can we take a look?"

Sans waded them across and, when they were clear of the worst foot traffic, said to her, "Never seen one before. When we have a funeral, yer loved ones spread yer dust on somethin' that meant a lot t'you, 'n that's it. They don't need ta be reminded what ya looked like every single year after that."

Frisk shrugged as they turned a corner. "There's nothing wrong with rememberi—"

The words died as they faced the other side of the street. "Oh, damn," Sans said, surprised. "Look who it is, Fr—honeypie."

The priestess numbly followed him to join several other people around a large, opulent table, boasting golden candles, a lacy cloth, fresh flowers, and a huge portrait in a gilt frame. It showed a lovely woman standing on what looked like an opera stage and waving to the audience. Her white gown almost glowed in the stagelights, as did her crown of golden flowers; more flowers lay at her feet, as if thrown by the audience, matching the bouquet cradled in her arm. She was looking up, probably smiling at someone in the balcony.

A cold hand seemed to have closed around Frisk's throat. Why hadn't she realized this would be here? "Yes?" she croaked.

"Dunno if you heard about her when you were a kid, but her name's gotta be in yer history books." Sans was tapping on the brass plate under the portrait. "I'll be damned. They actually spelled it right." He traced the engraved letters by candlelight: CHARA DREEMURR. "You know the story?" Frisk shook her head blindly. "Seriously? Welp, she fell into the Underground as a kid, and the royals adopted her. She was basically our princess till she grew up an' went back t'the humans...I wanna say it was a little over twenty years ago. Then she came back with that last delegation as a goodwill ambassador, just in time ta get blown up. Poor Tori didn't stop cryin' fer weeks."

Frisk made a politely sympathetic noise and turned away. Sans leaned in to squint at the picture, poking the canvas the way people were not supposed to. "That's messed up. Ya know what this is? This's the way her last performance shoulda ended. That's the stage they set up for her, and that's what she was wearin' that day. It was right in the middle of her last song when the thing that was supposed t'do the lights expl—"

"Are you all right, miss?" someone asked nearby. To his horror, when Sans turned around, Frisk was sitting on the curb with her head between her knees. An older man and his wife were standing over her; the woman looked up as Sans zipped over. "Is she with you?" the latter inquired.

"Yeah. Hey, sweetheart. What's wrong? Ya feelin' sick?" Sans crouched to look into her face, but she didn't move.

The older woman clucked at him like a misbehaving horse. "Look at her shaking! Get her inside and warmed up, young man!"

"Okay, okay." At a loss, Sans stood up, and crouched again. "C'mon, hon, let's go. D'you need a piggyback ride?"

Frisk was quiet, but after a moment, he received a faint nod. The boss monster turned and knelt, and the older couple helped settle Frisk on his back. "Thanks," he said as they moved away, and set off in the direction they'd been heading before their detour. At least there were some nice humans, he mused. It was a better thought than wondering what was wrong with Frisk, or how weirdly easy it was to pet-name her.

He held on tight, but not too tight, as he rejoined the crowd. Frisk was too short to hold onto his neck without throttling him, so they'd tucked her arms under his for warmth and security. She was shivering, and he could feel her heart thundering like she'd just run a mile. Everything about her was as impossibly soft as he remembered from...was it really just this morning that she'd hugged him? It felt like a year ago.

Someone jostled them, pushing her leg into him. Sans instinctively turned and snarled, "Watch where yer goin'!"

The erstwhile skeleton hadn't meant to raise his voice so much, but he didn't regret it: the crowd hastily gave way as he stomped towards the nearest building. He'd kept such a tight rein on himself since they left the castle that as long as she was acting as though this was all normal, he found that he could, too; it was actually kind of fun. But now he found himself glaring around them, almost hoping someone else would bother her. He didn't know whether it was a normal body-guarding mindset or if he'd simply gone too long without killing something.

They entered a candy shop with displays of sugar skulls, candied apples, and bottled cider. Sans found a chair against the wall and set her down, making sure she could sit up. "Heya. You okay?" he asked as she raised her head.

"I'm...I'm fine." It was as lying a lie as he'd ever heard, but Frisk did look better. She rubbed her arms and glanced around. "I'm sorry about that. ...Can I please have a caramel apple?"

Sans would have given her the entire display case – the entire store – if she wanted. He still had some "allowance," as he called the portion of his salary she'd given him before they left, and procured two apples and a bottle of cheap cider for them. She tried a sip of the latter, didn't quite make a face, and tore a huge bite out of her apple instead. "Better?" he asked.

Frisk nodded blissfully. "I didn't think I was that hungry," she said around her mouthful. "We should get a turkey leg on our way through the square."

He had no objection to that, especially when he tried a nibble of caramel apple and got his teeth stuck. Frisk held in her laughter fairly well, and nobly volunteered to eat the rest for him.

She did seem better, so he allowed her to walk, ignoring the little whine in his SOUL that wanted her closer. The festival was in even fuller swing now, but he plowed his way through to a turkey leg stand and got one for them to pass back and forth as they walked. It tasted as good as it smelled, which was amazing.

Sans was on the verge of stopping to ask if she knew where they were going when she tugged at his sleeve. "There's the old well. See the river? Let's start there."

As it happened, they didn't need to start there. No sooner had they looked at the wharf than a streetlight switched on to reveal a heap of black robes smack in the middle of the street, seated behind an oddly carved table. Both the robes and the table turned in their direction as Frisk jumped and Sans held out a protective arm. "Tra la la," said the robes.

People behind them had noticed and were starting to surge forward, fumbling in their pockets. "The lady first," the fortune-teller ordered, stopping them in their tracks.

Feeling unusually self-conscious, Frisk stepped around Sans and stood in front of the table. She had a feeling that she didn't want to look too hard under that hood; its whole figure was disquieting. "I have two questions," she said. A glance behind them confirmed a growing, impatient press of people standing a few feet away, kept at bay by Sans' glare. "Er...can I ask you privately?"

"You can't." The otherworldly voice was very matter-of-fact. "More detail, more money." There was an impressive pause. "Tra la la," it added helpfully.

"I...see." Frisk dug into her pocket and flipped the lining inside out. "I saved all year for this," she said, in case someone saw that she had placed a thousand-dinar piece on a shadowed part of the table.

"Tra la no, you didn't. Ask."

The priestess cleared her throat. Fortune-telling was all in the phrasing, so she had to be very careful. "Why did the thing from my nightmares want me to hurt him?"

A tiny flash of blue under the hood. She expected to see cards or some other divination tool, but it merely said, "He does not belong here. The child has unfinished business with him, and you are its strongest connection." The figure seemed to look at the coin for a moment. "If you want to know more, don't ask me. Beware the man who speaks in hands—he won't charge you. Tra la la."

The people waiting behind them were unimpressed, and Frisk was lost, but Sans made an incoherent sound. She looked at him, but no explanation was forthcoming, just a strange expression.

Well, if there was a chance Sans could tell her something, she wasn't going to try to get more on that subject out of the strange fortune-teller. "Second question," she said, trying not to let her voice wobble. This was the big one, so she fished another coin out and slid it next to the first.

The robed head tilted, probably because she'd just put down another five thousand. "Ask."

She swallowed. "What will be the principal differences in my life should I choose to open it, versus leaving it alone?"

There was a hissing sound, as if the figure was breathing out, or in. "An excellent question, Your Eminence." Frisk winced as the crowd whispered among itself, but the voice from under the robes went on, "You're very lucky. Most changes in life result from a thousand tiny decisions snowballing into major events, and there is no telling which of them nudged you in what direction. But you, my lady, are at a crossroads. You have two distinct futures, depending on a single choice."

The people behind them were quiet now, listening in keen interest. Frisk was half-consciously holding her breath.

"If you throw the box away, your life will be much as you expect. You will have a kind, wealthy husband who will take an interest in your happiness and be a loving father to your four children." Frisk's eyes widened, but she didn't dare interrupt him. "Your current efforts will not bear fruit, but they will be baby steps towards your mutual goal, to be possibly realized by your descendants. Your life will be like that of many others, full of little triumphs and large regrets. You will have much, and you will die of old age, surrounded by caring in-laws and adoring grandchildren, able to look back on a life that was...adequate."

"Holy fuck," Sans muttered, and Frisk felt light-headed.

"Should you open the box..." The robes were silent for a long moment. "Tra la la."

Frisk could have killed him, or her, or it. But then:

"Should you open the box, my lady, your worst fears will be confirmed. You will regain more than you ever suspected you've lost. The pain of that sorrow and regret will be unbearable for a time, and they will not be yours alone. But...neither will the joy, or the love, or the power."

Another pause. Was that it?

"Tra la la. You will lose and gain one father, discard and gain one mother, and be richer for it. Your family will be innumerable, though you will bear only one child...who you will attempt to bring to see me at this very festival next year. I will not be here, and you will in fact never see me again, but your child's father will be unable to stop you from coming to check."

Frisk's mouth fell open as the crowd tittered behind them. "Next—"

"You will change the entire world, largely for the better, though you will have to work tirelessly to achieve your goal and maintain peace. You will not die an old woman, but you will have lived five times as much. Your triumphs will be great and your regrets...manageable." The figure sat back. "You may choose only one future. To attempt otherwise will grant you neither."

There was a deeply impressed silence. The crowd would probably have applauded if Sans hadn't slammed his hands on the table and demanded, "Who's the father gonna be?"

More silence. Then the crowd started snickering, then laughing, and then nearly rolling on the ground after the look Frisk gave him. It took Sans a moment to remember that they were posing as a couple, and that casting doubt on her potentially-soon-to-be child's parentage might not reflect well on either of them, and his expression made the people laugh even harder.

The robed figure didn't move, except to look at the coins sitting on the table, then at him. Sans had just enough presence of mind to fumble in his overcoat and randomly toss out two hundred. "There! Also, what happened to Kris? How's my brother doing? Was that lord guy telling the truth?!"

The robes rose and fell in a great sigh. "Don't kill anyone."

They waited, breathless. Sans gestured impatiently. "Yeah? And?"

"And..." The fortune-teller turned to the crowd. "Next, please."

[sick-raven]

Aftermath - Jill/Female OC

Inspired by RE3 Demo and Jill’s note.

After Spencer mansion incident, Jill has trouble sleeping and she has nightmares about being infected. She just wants to rest for one night and get away from the all Umbrella problems.

Situated between the incident and Raccon city outbreak.

Warnings: It’s porn, as always.

You can also read on AO3

Aftermath

The streets of Raccoon city smelled of decay, smoke and gasoline. Jill Valentine ran through, dodging zombies and other monsters, looking for her way out of this hellhole. She was on another fetch quest to progress in breaking out of this concrete prison. Escape routes were blocked by barricades or monsters, changing once living city into undead one.

Streets she walked every day became unrecognizable. Places she shopped at now looked eerie with blinking lights, mannequins in the windows, glass broken as monsters broke in to eat whoever was hiding among the shelves. What she once knew has become just a ghost.

So did people.

God so did people.

Brad dying in front of her brought back memories of Spencer mansion. She could take those. But others – civilians, friends, people she met once – those hurt her more. Officers went into their jobs knowing the dangers, but these people? She hated Umbrella for what they’ve done. She needs to survive only to make them pay.

But seeing them rotting, decaying…

She entered some building. Just few days ago it was bakery, today it was smelling mess of blood and moaning. Normally she wouldn’t risk getting into tight spaces with zombies waiting behind doors and in dark corners, but she could cut most of the way going through. Plus, she still had that giant stalking her, it’s better to get out of plain sight.

The smell in the backroom was terrible. Just few months ago she would joked: “Something died here or what?” She knew better since the mansion incident. She knew better since the virus spread through the city. Her heart was racing, but her movements were precise and calm. She was glad – she didn’t want to get used to this. She felt like she would lose part of her humanity if she did. She can be professional and still hate this and be sick to the bones.

Shuffling. Jill turned her light to see in the darkness. Back there, behind table with moulding bread, dead lady was walking. Jill aimed. She learned to not hesitate – there was no help for these people. Only thing she could do was either avoid them or shoot them. If she had the means, she would kill this whole city just so the people stopped suffering, their bodies stopped doing this!

But this time, she hesitated.

It hurt her when she saw friends walking dead.

“I’m sorry, Rachel.”

***

Being in Raccoon city after the incident was hell. Not only did nobody listen to the surviving S.T.A.R.S. members, they did everything to shut them up. And to all what was happening, Jill still had trouble sleeping, waking up several times every night drained in sweat, heart beating and the fear that this is it. She is turning. She will look in the mirror and see her face, decaying. Her skin always itched like crazy and she regretted the minute she read the diary of one of the mansion workers. The itching was just her brain playing tricks on her.

Unless it wasn’t. And she will scratch her meat off and go wandering to the city in search for snack.

She needed break. Leaving her apartment now when they suspended her felt like playing with fire. They never approached her, but she saw them – people watching her closely, checking whether she is causing trouble for Umbrella again. She and Brad investigated what they could, but since the start of the August she was never alone for a minute. If her flat was wired, she would just shrug and say: “Oh, I thought so. They are following me all the time and they think they are being subtle.”

No investigation today. No care for people on her back. She was on the case daily, worked hard to the point of regretting being so thorough. No, she needed to ease up, get few drinks, meet new people. Free evening. She just wanted to forget everything for at least few moments. And if the jerks Umbrella set on her want to stop her, she will get mean.

She got to the bar without interruption, however, she saw two men watching her suspiciously. Normally she would think they were checking her out, but at this moment, the world had zero perverts just many stalkers. She sat at the bar and ordered beer. Getting out of her apartment felt good, even though her brain kept going back in loops to the incident.

She didn’t know how long she was sitting there contemplating, but it took her one and half beer when a woman sat next to her. “You know, hon, if you plan to drink for sadness you need something better than beer.”

“It’s that visible?” she asked.

“If your face was any longer, it would touch the floor.”

Jill laughed shortly. The woman dressed in short dress was nice, with long hair slightly darker than her face. She had a cute smile. “And to think I came here to have fun. I’m doing terrible job.”

“The pool table is empty right now.”

“Is that invitation?”

“Sure thing. I’m Rachel.”

“Jill.”

When was the last time she just went out to play pool? She realized it was too long. Since July she was on her feet dealing with Umbrella’s shit, she didn’t even consider just having fun. So now, playing with Rachel, finally made her stop thinking about all of that and she just relaxed.

“See, that’s better, now you are smiling,” Rachel noted after few rounds.

“Yeah, I had few rough weeks,” Jill smiled.

“Drinking your problems away here?”

“Never,” Jill scoffed. “That’s what men do when they can’t deal with their shit.”

“And what do we do?” asked Rachel curiously, while focusing on her next strike.

“We deal with the problems; we think them through and then we need to just turn off for one night. Like a weekend, except it’s one day in very long time. Drink, fuck, wake up with regrets.”

“Amen to that. Aaaand that’s three for me. You suck at this game.”

“I’m rusty.” That was a lie. She was the worst pool player from S.T.A.R.S. Even Rebecca kicked her ass. When they went out to play, she played one round to make everyone happy and then just drank at the bar or danced. Jukeboxes all over the Raccoon city knew her name.

“Well, Rusty, you are buying the drinks. Again.”

“Are you going to bars kicking peoples’ asses just to get free drinks?”

“All the time.”

Rachel drank gin so Jill joined her. It wasn’t her favourite, but currently, she didn’t care. She forgot all about her trouble for a minute, was already a bit tipsy. When the bartender gave them the glasses he winked at Rachel. “You behave, young lady.”

“You come here often?” asked Jill.

“My parents used to bring me here for lunches when I was a kid. We have a bakery just two streets away. This old geezer works here whole life and loves to make fun of me,” Rachel explained looking into the glass. “And his gin still sucks!” she added louder, and bartender answered with laughter while attending to other customers. “What about you?” Rachel asked.

“I don’t. I am a bar traveller; I just enter whatever building strikes my interests while on a walk. But I think I came here before.” Jill looked around. Most of the bars looked the same in the long run. Tables, menus, pin-up girls on the walls. “Maybe, I really don’t know.”

“Sad and mysterious,” Rachel joked.

“No, I am not. I just don’t have favourite bar,” Jill smiled. “I just go where my co-workers go, and when alone, I avoid those places like plague. I don’t need them to know what I am doing when drunk.”

“Oooh? What do you do?” Rachel leaned bit closer.

“You really want to know?” teased Jill.

“I am all ears.”

Jill leaned to her. “I cry a lot,” she whispered.

Rachel burst out laughing and Jill joined her. It felt good to just joke around, no care in the world. When the laugh stopped, she opened her eyes. Rachel was still there, leaning so close, and closer, Jill’s heart almost stopped.

“No, wait,” she drew back away just a second before a kiss. Rachel straightened up now looking surprised and maybe a bit hurt.

“Ah, sorry, I thought… I don’t know what I thought.”

“No, no, it’s, uh…”

“I get it, there is someone waiting for you at home, that’s fine.”

“No, no,” Jill breathed in and waved her hand. “It’s just that… I think I am sick.”

Rachel raised her eyebrows. “So, you have germs down there or what?” she asked silently.

“No,” Jill smirked partially amused. Germs from what? The last guy she fucked tried to kill her by sending goddamn monster on her. Oh, she hoped Wesker is roasting in hell. “No, I think… I think I have a cold; I don’t want to spread it, you know.”

Rachel drank her gin looking suspiciously at her. “You don’t look ill. Maybe except those bags under your eyes.”

“I don’t sleep well.”

“I can tell when someone has a cold, you are lying,” Rachel smirked and asked for another glass. “I am a doctor you know.”

“I thought you worked in bakery.”

“I am a bread doctor.”

Jill laughed again, running hand through her hair desperate. “I think I am sick; I don’t know. It’s uncommon cold.” She couldn’t say anything. Rachel would call her crazy and then, as she would leave this bar, Umbrella employees would catch her and take her away because she knows too much.

“So what? Your head hurts?”

“Yeah. May be the lack of sleep though.”

“Do you cough or have fever?”

“No.”

“Runny nose? Sore throat?”

“Neither.”

“So how can you tell you are sick?”

Jill shrugged. She couldn’t. She just had that feeling, the fear that soon, very soon, she will wake up destroyed. She will shuffle around, meat barely holding on her bones, muscles so shortened she won’t be able to walk stairs without falling. And for the worst of it, she will be aware – aware of everything, her behaviour, her helplessness, taste of the blood in her mouth as she kills.

“When did you catch this uncommon cold?”

“Like a month ago.”

“A month!” Rachel said louder than necessary. “You are a hypochondriac.”

“I just…” Just what, Jill? “I am cautious.”

Rachel had to notice the tone of her voice, or maybe her face again showed how horrible she feels about everything that happened. Her friends died. The survivors left. She was alone in this, sure, she had Brad, but let’s face it. He was worried too much, afraid of everything. In Raccoon city she was the one with target on her back, she was the one fighting, and the constant fear on her shoulders didn’t help anything. How many times has she woken up in the middle of the night from the dream where she ate Kenneth alive? Where she tore the meat from Forest’s bones? How many times was the blood actually Chris’?

“Hey, you know what helps against germs?” Rachel asked.

“No?”

“Vodka. Hey, Timothy, can you give us two?” she finished the new glass of gin in one swing and then slid vodka in front of Jill. “This shit kills everything. Trust me.”

“Trust you as a bread doctor?”

“Trust me as a germ killer, once you drink this, you are healthy. Not even those herbs people chew here are so potent.”

Jill smiled a little. “Sorry if I made this weird. It’s all getting to me.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

“Yeah. But I can’t. Let’s just say I had rough month at work and with friends and all. It’s all horribly shitty, I hate my life and if I continue, I will actually cry, and we don’t want that.”

“I’ll drink to that. I hate seeing beautiful ladies cry.”

Jill emptied the glass and gasped. “God, I hate this, that’s strong. How many of these do I have to drink to take back control of my life?”

“For germs? One. For control? At least three,” Rachel grinned.

The simple joked made her realize a lot. Yeah, she felt her life spun out of control. She could deal with stress, tons of cases, paperwork… but this time around, things got destroyed, world turned against her and she felt she is losing the firm ground under her feet. She was not in control. And that stressed her more than anything.

“Three would kill me,” Jill shook her head. “I know better ways to take back control.”

Rachel rested her head on her hand looking curious. “Care to tell me?”

Jill knew she shouldn’t do this. She is supposed to be the responsible one. The cautions one. But maybe she really is just stressed. There was no evidence of her being infected, just the horrible dreams and fear. She was fine! That’s why she is here, right? To fight that fear for one day and then regret. She is not sick! She will think different tomorrow, but right now, she is good old Jill Valentine, ass-kicker, officer and good-looking at that!

She leaned right next to Rachel’s ear. She didn’t even have time to become nervous, she was too drunk and too self-loathing for that. “You will now go to a toilet; you will take down your panties and you will come back here, and we will just continue our talk.”

Rachel was taken aback by this request. She didn’t say anything, just tapped the glass slightly. “Excuse me,” she mumbled and got up. Now there were only two choices and Jill watched her. Either she will go out of the bar and they will never see each other again and Jill will become weird story for Rachel’s friends, or…

Rachel went to the bathrooms.

Jill smiled shortly and ordered new drinks. She also moved her stool closer to Rachel’s. Now she just waited, smiling to herself, because this felt good. This is what she was looking for when she left her apartment today.

Rachel came back after a while. She sat at the stool, uncomfortably tucking her short dress. She shuffled a bit and looked around in fear someone watches her. Jill loved to watch her suffer like this. It was adorable.

“This is…” Rachel said and grabbed her glass. “Weird.”

“This is hot,” Jill said still looking at Rachel. The dress hid everything just fine, but the knowledge, the little secret between them, made it that much more fun.

Rachel gave her sheepish look. “You do this to all people you’ve just met?”

“To be honest, it’s very hard to pull this on guys,” Jill grinned. Then she lay hand on Rachel’s tight. The skin was soft and warm. “You often go around just kissing strangers?”

Rachel shuffled again but leaned closer. Jill felt the hem of the dress and fought the urge to slide her fingers under. “They call me the best kisser around here.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“You lost your chance,” Rachel grinned teasingly.

“Is that so?” Jill moved her hand to caress the inner thigh. Rachel shivered a bit and looked at the bar quickly. Nobody was watching them. Timothy was dealing with drunk guy talking about his divorce. Everyone else cared about their own conversations. Jill used this hesitation and moved her hand deeper under the skirt.

Rachel caught her wrist with both hands, looking around nervously. “Stop,” she whispered. Her voice sounded serious. Jill backed off, back to her drink, still amused by all this. Rachel next to her tucked her dress again and straightened her back.

Jill felt Rachel’s hand as she took her chin and pulled her in. Then they kissed. Jill felt the little fear inside her, but it was too late anyways. She shunned it and enjoyed the moment. Rachel was hungry, she tasted of alcohol. She didn’t hesitate to use her tongue and Jill appreciated the force. She ran her fingers through Rachel’s hair, so soft and nice smelling.

Rachel pulled away, but stayed close, Jill felt her breathe on her face. “You know, I have keys to the bakery, it’s just five-minute-walk.”

“I don’t know I can wait five minutes,” Jill grinned.

“Hey, I want to come back to this bar,” Rachel stood up, carefully, so her dress doesn’t roll up. Jill loved every careful movement she made. “You coming?”

Jill paid Timothy extra and walked after Rachel. She was standing out, enjoying August warm weather. Once Jill got out, Rachel welcomed her with another kiss, this time deeper and more passionate than before.

“You will make that walk much harder,” Jill said.

“We better hurry then.” Rachel took her hand and lead the way. Just by corner of her eye, Jill saw a shadow watching her. Well, have a good show, assholes, she thought.

They got to the bakery in less than five minutes. Rachel opened the glass door and locked firmly behind them. She didn’t even turn on the light, in the dark she walked to another door behind the counter. “This way.” Backroom was the real bakery, with ovens and big tables and fridges. Rachel turned the light here and looked at Jill. “Welcome to my humble kingdom.”

“Is this hygienic?”

“I will clean here tomorrow, don’t worry,” Rachel grinned happily. “So…”

Jill was faster, this time she grabbed Rachel by the chin. “So now, let me see.” She ran her fingers on Rachel’s thigh while keeping eye contact. Up, under the dress, to the sweet spot. Rachel gasped, but this time, she didn’t protest. Jill teased her a bit, caressing her legs and her crotch. “I see, you didn’t want to ruin the stool in the bar, did you?” Jill commented feeling the wetness.

“M-maybe.” Rachel bit her lip, she tried to avoid the eye contact being a bit embarrassed and Jill enjoyed that small hesitation. The purity was always fun to watch. And even more fun to break.

“No, Rachel, look at me,” she said while sliding her finger on Rachel’s clit. “Come on. That’s a good girl.”

Rachel had beautiful brown-green eyes and her gaze said everything. How she loved to be touched, little flickers of eyelashes showed when Jill hit the sweet spot. She moaned only a little, but her expression revealed everything. Her skin was hot and wet. Jill stopped and took a step away from Rachel. Her hand was wet, and she licked the sweet juice, making Rachel more flustered.

“Mmm, you taste great,” she concluded. “I bet you look even better.”

“You think I’m pretty?” Rachel asked and she sounded innocent, but her face showed anticipation.

“You are very pretty,” Jill answered. She found a chair and she sit on it comfortably, watching Rachel.

“How pretty?” Rachel asked running fingers on her cleavage.

“You have beautiful eyes and soft lips. I could kiss you whole night and never have enough. Your skin is flawless and so nice to touch. But…”

Rachel stopped. “But?” she repeated.

“I still can’t praise the body I can’t see.”

“Clever,” Rachel concluded and walked to Jill. “But you have to help me, nice stranger.” She turned around. Jill unzipped her dress slowly as if opening a present. She ran finger on Rachel’s spine, and she shivered.

As the dress was on the floor Jill enjoyed Rachel slowly turning at her. She was beautiful. Small breast, nice hips and wet thighs. “Wow,” Jill commented. “You didn’t tell me you are a queen.”

Rachel chuckled. Jill reached for her and pulled her closer. She kissed the naked skin on her stomach, traced every inch with her tongue. Rachel gasped and this close Jill could hear her heart beat faster. She ran fingers on her back, touching her butt. Then she moved to the front and squeezed Rachel’s breasts.

There is something fascinating about women’s bodies. Jill loved to play with them. With men, the only thing she wanted was to get fucked fast and hard and she enjoyed that too. But with women, it was different. She wanted to touch them, play with them, tease them until they go crazy and beg her for releasing them of their tension.

She rubbed Rachel’s nipples and Rachel sighed silently. Looking up at her, Jill saw her eyes looking down, still biting her lip. Yes, just keep watching. See what I can do.

Jill pulled Rachel down to sit on her lap. Like this he had those beautiful pointy breast right in her face. She traced her tongue between them to Rachel’s collar bone. Then she teasingly licked around her nipple. When shivering of Rachel’s body got stronger, Jill finally took the nipple into her mouth and sucked. Rachel covered her mouth as she moaned. Jill sucked and licked the breast and played with the other, squeezing and rubbing. Rachel moaned some more. “Jill,” she pleaded.

Jill looked at her with smile. “Yes, Rachel?”

Rachel had begging expression on her face, hand still over her mouth. She just whimpered like a puppy.

“What do you want me to do? Tell me,” Jill said running her fingers around the hardened nipple.

“Come on,” Rachel shuffled the wetness on her thighs flowing stronger.

“I don’t understand,” Jill kept smiling and pinched Rachel’s nipple.

“Ah- finish me.”

“I see. What’s the magical word?”

“Y-you…”

“Hm?”

“Please,” Rachel said her voice shivering with embarrassment and need.

“Why didn’t you say so?” Jill said innocently and slid her fingers to the wet pussy without any hesitation. Rachel moaned loudly, biting her fingers. Jill ran her fingers on the inner walls, feeling the warmth, slipping deep, while teasing her clit with her other hand. Rachel was shaking, she bended down for a kiss. Jill obliged, but she felt how hard it is for Rachel to stay still. The need for moans stopped the kiss.

Rachel hugged Jill tight, kissed her neck and rubbed herself on her hand. Jill fastened the tempo as Rachel hungrily moved her hips. With every stroke her hold became firmer, as she was reaching the climax.

“Y-yes, more, please,” Rachel begged moving faster and faster. Jill moved her fingers just slightly adjusting the spot and Rachel screamed and shivered all over her body, clenching her fingers to Jill’s shoulder, biting her neck to silence pleased screams.

Jill froze, teeth clenched. She fought every inch of her body not to shake the woman off. Rachel’s wetness spilled all over her hand, but the bite, ever so small and gentle, awakened the memories, the fear, everything. Jill swallowed, carefully removed her hand and ran her fingers on that perfect skin. Rachel, breathing heavily, let go and slowly straightened up.

“That was amazing,” she gasped and caressed Jill’s face. Then she frowned. “Are you okay?”

Jill forced a smile. “Yeah, of course. I was taken aback about how wild you are.”

Rachel smirked; she obviously didn’t believe a word. But what could Jill say? “It’s fine, I was just worried you will eat me.” Try again, Valentine.

“It’s the same expression you had in the evening. I know how to get that off,” Rachel smiled.

“More alcohol?”

“This is bakery, not liquor store.” Rachel grabbed Jill’s boobs. “See, better.”

Jill sighed, comforting herself again, but it felt hard. Rachel kissed her shortly again, moved to her neck and cleavage, giving her kissed everywhere. Jill started to relax, but then stopped Rachel by touching her face.

“Just no teeth, okay?” she said.

“As you wish, princess.” Rachel focused on her cleavage. She slowly took down her shirt and bra. Jill enjoyed the touches and teasing, she let the soft kisses bring her excitement back slowly.

“That’s better, you know how stiff you were?” Rachel said massaging the boobs. Jill smiled and nodded, she had nothing more to say, she just wished to get away, be washed by pleasure.

Rachel stood up and Jill took the time to get out of her jeans and panties. Rachel got on her knees and slowly, carefully and nicely she licked Jill’s thighs. She caressed her body and skin with soft touches. Jill watched Rachel tasting her skin and wetness off her legs and she smiled. This is what she wanted. Just relax and enjoy pretty lady.

Rachel moved to her crotch and sucked her clit, looking up to see Jill’s reaction. Jill closed her eyes to enjoy most of the sensation. The tongue on her sensitive places, licking, moving up and down teasing every nerve on her body. She sighed pleased, played with her own breasts as Rachel slid inside her vagina and rubbed the walls with her fingers, while still sucking. Rachel was pleasing her slowly, with long strikes and care she hasn’t felt for a long time.

Jill relaxed completely and let the waves of pleasure ran through her, purring, enjoying what was going on. Rachel took that as a sign, she licked the clit harder, started moving faster and sucked like a goddess. Jill moaned ever so slightly as the waves got faster and stronger.

“You are so beautiful and so good,” Jill whispered. “I could look at you whole day.”

Rachel flustered and that was the last drop. Jill moaned loudly as the pleasure caught with her. She felt her crotch get wetter, making Rachel’s face even more beautiful with all her juices. Jill grabbed her breast harder as the tremble went through her body. And then she sighed, released.

Rachel caught her breath and tried to clean her face with just as wet hand. She grinned. “So, what do you say, am I good?” she winked.

Jill laughed. “You are great.”

Rachel stood up, no shame in her naked body, and she leaned in for the last deep kiss. When she straightened up, she looked Jill in the eyes. “Hey, Jill. You will be okay.”

“Thank you, Rachel.”

***

Jill Valentine wasn’t okay.

But Rachel was dead.

What in all hells brought her this way, Jill could only guess. She was too tired to look where she is going. She never forgot their meeting, but it was long in the past by this point. Almost a month and the stress grew only worse.

But she remembered the good lady. She said Jill will be okay.

Jill pulled the trigger. With loud bang body of Rachel fell on the ground, not moving anymore. She released the poor woman from the prison of her own body. Jill felt her hand tremble.

It’s good she will never get used to this.

But once she survives, Umbrella is going down.

And she will be fucking okay.

[sapphicsaro]

pepper + anya, three years

requested by anonymous: “Pepper + 3 years”

listen this is more fluff and i honestly don’t know how i’ve stayed away from angsty stuff this long lol 

---

“Nat, I can take her, it’s okay.”

“You really don’t have to, I’m-” 

“You’re not fine. You and Clint both have a terrible flu and you really don’t want to get Anya sick. I can take her out for a girl’s day while you guys get some sleep, and if you still feel like shit tonight, she can have a sleepover with me.”

Pepper was right. Natasha had gotten sick from her most recent mission with Steve. While she could handle the flu, her husband was a different story. They both had fevers, were throwing up, and felt weakened. Medical had given them their medicine, told them to get some rest and said it would pass.

The Russian still wasn’t convinced. Yes, Anya should get out of the house, but there were so many people that could babysit. Don’t get her wrong, she loved Pepper, but Pepper was a very public person and having her daughter trot around the city with her wouldn’t be her first choice. “I don’t know…”

“Tasha, take the offer, I feel like death.” Clint interrupted as he laid on the couch, his pale face covered in sweat.

Natasha rolled her eyes, “Fine. Thank you, Pepper. She’s in her room.”

Pepper smiled and walked in the apartment, heading straight to the little girl’s bedroom. She knocked on the door, “Anya?”

“Go away! You’re sick!”

Pepper chuckled, “Anya, it’s Aunt Pepper. Can I come in?”

Silence.

Then, “Are you like mama and papa?”

“No, I’m not sick. I’m here to rescue you.”

The door flew open, and Pepper saw Anya had already gotten dressed and had her backpack on.

“Okay, I’m ready.”

Pepper smiled, “How long have you been ready?”

Anya huffed, “A while. C’mon.”

The small redhead walked out of the bedroom, shutting the door behind her. She grabbed Pepper’s hand and tugged her towards the front door. “Bye mama, bye papa! Feel better!”

Clint groaned, “Bye little red.”

“Be careful Anya,” Natasha replied.

The two women walked out the front door, and Pepper immediately took hand sanitizer out of her large purse, putting some on her hands. “Here, give me your hands.”

Anya held them out and Pepper rubbed the pungent gel all over her tiny hands. “What is it?”

“Hand sanitizer. It kills germs, like the ones your mom and dad have.”

“Oh! We should give them some too!!”

Pepper chuckled, “Maybe later. But for now, let’s go shopping.”

“Shopping?”

She nodded, “Mhmm. Every little girl deserves a closet full of pretty dresses.”

Anya shrugged, “But I like my t-shirts...”

“Oh. That’s fine too! I didn’t mean you had to wear dresses, if you don’t want to. I just meant we could get you a bunch of new clothes you like! And if that means t-shirts, then we’ll get you the best ones.”

Anya thought for a second, “Hmm. Okay. But maybe we can get a few dresses, too.”

Pepper smiled, “Of course.”

They walked towards the elevator, heading down to the lobby where Happy was waiting.

“Hello ladies.”

“Hi Happy,” Anya said, waving her free hand to the old man.

He knelt down to her level, “I got a surprise for you.”

Anya’s curled up into her body, clearly uncomfortable. Pepper placed a hand gently on her shoulder, trying to ease her, “She doesn’t like surprises.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I was just going to give you this,” he pulls out a little bag with a big decorated cookie in it. “It’s a sugar cookie. I heard from your mom that it’s your favorite.”

Anya eyed up the bag, still hesitant, “I can have it? Before dinner?”

Happy laughed, “Yeah, kiddo, it’s all yours.”

Anya grabbed the bag and smiled, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Now, where are we off to today?”

“Downtown. Same place where I got Ann’s baby shower gifts from?”

“Perfect.” He held out his arm, gesturing towards the car, “After you.”

The three got into the car, Anya strapped in a car seat, and Happy headed downtown. Anya was quiet the whole drive, having never really been to the downtown area in New York. She was much more used to the quiet rural area of Missouri, not the buzzing city life where the streets were crowded beyond capacity. Her eyes were locked to the windows, examining all the large buildings that they passed by. She gripped tightly onto her bear, some anxiety creeping up on her. Pepper noticed, and reached her arm out, rubbing her thumb on the child’s skin.

“Are you okay, Anya?”

The girl bit her bottom lip, “I don’t know. It’s just a lot of people...”

“It’ll be okay, sweetie. I’ll be with you the whole time, okay?”

Anya nodded, eyes back on the window for the rest of the drive. Pepper felt bad; Natasha had warned her that she had inherited some of Clint’s anxiety. But Pepper hadn’t considered that the city would scare her, as Pepper had become so used to it. But for a three year old who spent the majority of her time on a farm, it must be overwhelming. Anya had stopped eating her cookie, her eyes big, and her hand holding onto her bear tightly.

Pepper pulled out her phone, texting Natasha:

Hey Nat! Hope you’re doing okay! Just had a question about Anya.

whats wrong? is she okay?

Yes! She’s fine. She’s just having some...anxiety? I didn’t know if you had any advice to help calm her down?

does she have her bear?

Yes. But it’s not really helping.

okay. can i talk to her?

Pepper immediately clicked over, ringing up Natasha. She answered instantly.

“Hey.”

“Hey, Natasha. I’m sorry about this.”

“Don’t be. It happens, it’s not anyone’s fault. Can you put me on with her?”

“Of course. Anya, it’s your mommy. Wanna talk to her?”

Anya nodded and took the large phone from the woman. “Mama?”

“Hey маленький (little one), Pepper said you were nervous?”

“There’s a lot of people here...”

“I know sweetie, but they won’t bother you. Stay with Auntie and Happy, and nothing will happen.”

“Okay...”

“вдохни, дитя мое. сосчитайте до десяти и дышите медленно. помните стихотворение? (Take a breath, my child. Count to ten, and breathe slowly. Remember the poem?)”

“да, мама (Yes, mama).”

“хорошо, давай сделаем это вместе. готовы? (Okay, let’s do it together. Ready?”

The two were in sync, Anya slightly behind her mother as her Russian was not as refined.

“Самолёт построим сами (We build an airplane), Понесёмся над лесами (We'll soar above the forests), Понесёмся над лесами (We'll soar above the forests). А потом вернёмся к маме (And then we'll come back to mama).”

“Good job. Do you feel better?”

“A little.”

“Try to have fun. If you are too anxious, tell Pepper and she will bring you back home. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“We love you.”

“I love you too.”

“See you later. I’ll have papa make you his pasta tonight, just for you.”

“Okay. Bye, mama.”

She clicked the phone off and handed it back to Pepper.

“You feeling better?”

“Yeah, are we almost there?”

“Actually, yes. We are here, right now,” Pepper answered as the car pulled up to a small boutique. “You ready?”

“Yes.”

They got out of the car, Anya gripping onto her bear with one hand and then Pepper’s hand with the other. They entered the shop; there were only a few other women there besides the workers.

“Ms. Potts! A pleasure as always.”

“Jared, it’s nice to see you.”

“And who is this little one?” He gestured to the little redhead who was hiding behind Pepper’s leg.

“This is my niece, Anya. We are looking to get her some new clothes. Can you help?”

“Of course.”

They had spent hours in the boutique, Anya trying on countless items of clothes. After a little bit of time, Anya loosened up, and began picking out things she liked before doing a mini “fashion show” for Pepper. Pepper snapped photos and videos, sending them in a group text to Natasha and Clint.

Pepper bought every single thing the little girl decided she liked. She deserved to be spoiled, even though Anya didn’t really care for things. Clint and Natasha raised such a sweet, quiet child who found happiness in everything. She didn’t need expensive dresses or designer shoes; she was content with her flannel shirts and boots, running around in the dirt with her father. But, Pepper thought everyone deserved a little extra sometimes.

By the time they left, Anya was exhausted. The sky was getting dark and the little girl struggled to keep her eyes open. Pepper handed Happy the bags full of clothing, and she carried the little girl back to the car, strapping her in. She fell asleep almost instantly, and Pepper tucked her bear into her hands, smiling.

Her phone buzzed; it was Natasha.

hey pepper, how is anya? she any better?

She’s knocked out from all the shopping but I think she had a good time! On our way home!

good! see u soon!

Pepper looked back at the little girl knocked out besides her; she was so precious. Pepper smiled, maybe she could get used to this...

[rainbowsntears]

boys like you   [ finale. ]

summary

↳ flirty violets just happened to make you and gilbert blythe collide, and must i say you had been tripping, freaking falling over boys like him.

warnings

↳ none. just a hell of a lotta fluff.

words

↳ 1872

note

↳ it’s literally 12am rn and i’ve been writing this for a solid hour so y’all better enjoy my tired ass writing sksks. also try to ignore anne in the gif and just focus on gilbert xx

"Ow, it stings!" You squeaked, hissing slightly as you had scrunched your face up with your eyes tightly shut when feeling the stinging pain ache on your right knee from the wet and clean cloth that Gilbert had been softly putting pressure on. Your hands clenched into fists, scrunching some of your clothing material into your hands that had curled up each time you felt pain irritate your knee.

The brunette boy glanced up at you with apologetic hazel eyes, "That's a good thing, it simply just means the germs are coming out," He assured as he looked back at your finally clean knee, obliging to do the same thing as he did with your other knee and covered it up softly with a bandage. Thankful that the painful bit was over, you opened your eyes slowly when feeling fingers ever so delicately working magic, and it was the first thing you looked at.

You were grateful that it was Friday, hopefully, you didn't have to wear the bandages to school.

Biting your lip, you gazed at Gilbert's concentrated face; squinting his eyes just the tiniest bit with his tongue poking out. You only were just the slightest bit taller than him, but that was only because you were sitting on a small stool while Gilbert was in front of you kneeling down. Though you didn't feel so intimidated by his sudden height change and thought it was the perfect height to admire him without the said boy catching you quick enough for you to look away.

You really liked Gilbert Blythe, and you knew that you would be off with your own head if Ruby Gillis, or any girl, found out!

"All done," Gilbert whispered before he exhaled sharply out of relief and leant back a bit as he moved his hands away from your leg, catching your eyes from when he tilted his head up only just the slightest bit. And just like what happened before when you were walking in the woods after Gilbert wiped the tears from your eyes, you two were connected in a daydream of the other person. You couldn't believe how much you were missing out on hanging out with Gilbert, even with these cute stares of admiration from one another, you really could've been doing this earlier and you regret how you obeyed to Josie's demands of not being able to go near Gilbert. Because now, you really did see how much you needed to catch up on. And you felt so much more comfortable and happy with him, more than you had ever felt with a boy...Well, you did like Gilbert Blythe. But you didn't know that your emotions could be strong compared from staring at him on the other side of the class to right here and right now.

Gilbert felt it too. Yeah, okay, he always took glimpses of you throughout school because he actually thought you were a genuinely nice and lovely girl and wonderfully beautiful as well and thought that he could have the chance to befriend you after he introduced himself to you on your first day of Avonlea school. He liked you as well, though he could never admit it.

But then you ignored him in class, always sending death glares to him and hardcore eye rolls. You basically shrugged off everything that Gilbert wanted from you; a friend, a companion, someone he could trust and be with for as long as the moon and sun held you two together.

Now with the thought trapped underneath his mop of brown hair with patches of small curls, Gilbert's face softened, "You seem so different...compared to in school and now," He began, slowly standing up as he moved only just a couple of steps to where the sink was and he washed his hands, and you blinked your eyes rapidly although your eyes followed after his movements.

"By what on Earth do you mean?" You questioned, cocking your head to the side as you tried to understand what he had been going on about, especially what he was thinking about before even speaking aloud.

Gilbert looked up at the bathroom mirror, catching your figure through the mirror and he chewed the inside of his. "What I mean is, you usually ignore me in school, looking at me like I've done something incredibly wrong...but now you seem so calm and, correct me if I'm wrong but, happy."

His statement shocked you more than you could ever imagine, such surprising letters muffled into quite taken aback-like words and you parted your lips once straightening your tilted head.

But obviously, it had to be because of one thing.

The promise.

Josie Pye was always under your skin whenever you got too close to Gilbert Blythe, giving you dirty looks that screamed for you to do the same as her as a reaction for Gilbert to get the notification you didn't like him in any way.

"I apologise for my nasty behaviour," You finally spoke up after a few seconds of pure silence, maybe forgetting about the fact that Gilbert turned the faucet off. But yet again he looked at you through the mirror, only this time he knitted his eyebrows at your body language of shock and he fully turned his body around so he was directly looking at you.

Your hands fiddled with one another nervously, and you weren't staring at Gilbert anymore but more on your own hands with your head hung low. Though you tried to look as etiquette as possible with your posture, your shoes just touching the floor on one side with your knees diagonal to them. "I can promise you this, I never did it out of not liking you."

Gilbert dried his hands with a dry cloth softly presented on the rack next to the sink, though his gorgeous eyes never once left your body, "Then what was it out of?" He asked.

Your breath hitched, smacking your lips together as you stopped fiddling your fingers, "Friendship," You simply answered, looking up at him who seemed to be wearing a curious yet confused expression on his face, so you continued. "Look, it's not my place to speak about this but Ruby Gillis has a cru-"

"-sh on me, yes I kind of figured that out," He cut you off, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck as he leant again the bathroom door, you nervously chuckling as you nodded your head.

"And because she has had a crush on you for three years, she's clearly called dibs on you. Meaning that all of her friends can't like you, hell, we can't even go near you otherwise she'll cry a waterfall!" You exclaimed, throwing your hands in the air as you huffed out your frustration. "I guess that's why because we're not at school, or anywhere near our friends, I've taken this opportunity to really appreciate you, Gilbert. Because I knew I can't in school for the sake of keeping my friendship with Ruby."

Gilbert went to open his mouth to speak but obviously stopped once he heard you ranting again.

"Oh Gilbert, don't even get me started when Josie Pye catches one of us girls even sending you a nice smile. Please don't tell her I said this but she's hell. And it just happens that she's extremely harsh with me more than any other girl. Anything that I do around you, Josie hates. I can't even walk by you! That's why she always makes me ignore you and act all arrogant around you, and I hate that she has that power to control me like that." You finally finished, breathing out all the negativity you once had.

You felt kind of bad for Gilbert, he had only just been given this source of information. But he looked so calm if you cut out the fact that he had been clenching his jaw and his eyes looked stern. He felt bad that he thought you didn't like him when instead it was all swapped around in which you were forced to be like this. "How come Josie is much harsher with you than anyone else?"

And now you felt nervous again.

This was something you couldn't explain, hell, you couldn't even speak about it.

Telling your beloved crush you like him was something more nerve-wracking than anything else. You knew that Josie knew about you liking Gilbert as well, she didn't even have to go up to you to assure about it. All the hidden stares and smiles you gave Gilbert when you thought no one was looking, you knew Josie had to be watching you as well.

"Apart of me thinks it's because I'm the new girl but it's because she knows that..." You stopped yourself, wrapping your arms around your stomach as you felt a nervous illness in the pit of your stomach, and you watched as Gilbert knelt back down in front of you, his curiosity showing clearly.

So you sucked in a deep breath.

And breathed it back out.

Inhale.

Exhale.

"That I like you,"

And everything definitely stopped. Everything around the two of you. Time slowed down exceptionally much and you gulped what you think would be in denial remarks though you knew it was time that you had to say something. Because truly you were physically hurting yourself because of this guy, and that needed to be stopped.

If out of anything, Gilbert was the most shocked he had ever been. His crush liked him back? God, what were the odds for that?!

"Y-You do?"

"...Yeah,"

"Oh,"

Then it grew quiet, with Gilbert trying to shout out his feelings to you as well though he hadn't succeeded in being so confident with his emotions while you sat there regretting everything you had ever done.

And so once you realised that Gilbert wasn't going to say anything, you murmured, "I'm sorry, I'll get going," Before racing out of his bathroom, through the warm wooden hall and seeing your basket resting on the dining table that you grasped before quickly walking to the front door. Ignoring Gilbert's shouts as he followed after you and the big pain in your knees as you opened the door after having to unlock it.

Though before you even made it outside, you felt hands hold your waist and swiftly spin you around. Which made you gasp out of obvious shock, even if you weren't surprised to see yet the same familiar face of a brunette called Gilbert Blythe.

He sighed in relief that he had caught you before you could leave his house, "D-Don't be sorry. Y/N, I like you too." He murmured.

He didn't even give you a chance to part your lips as he captured them with his and kissed them instead. He didn't mean to kiss you so harshly but his wave of confidence finally growing onto him couldn't help but do it almost immediately as he looked at you.

And you were so insanely shocked from his small five-second kiss that you couldn't even process what he had done. With your eyes immediately opening and his just fluttering wide, you knew you couldn't just leave him like that.

So you moved your hands to his cheeks - cupping them as he did with you before - so you could kiss him this time. He had made you feel like you were dreaming.

And boy, had you made him feel it when you gave him that kiss.

[mybukz]

Work-in-progress: When Plan's Stolen by Fate by Deborah Wong

Image by Markus Spiske on Unsplash

When Plan’s Stolen by Fate (Novel excerpt from “One Maple Summer’) By Deborah Wong

It’s July 2010. I’m praying the germ-infused Boeing 777 will land in one piece at Vancouver International Airport, and my Nokia 1202 from back home will function. The Pacific Coast forces may have stolen a bit of my luck as I now have no signal—the battery was well-fed and ready to kick ass.

“If you need any assistance, please don’t hesitate to call me,” Sandy, the UBC accommodation officer says. Her smile shines sunnier than the Kellogg’s TV happy family commercial.

I thank her and she hugs me.

“Is there a public phone I can use around this area?”

“There’s one at the concierge but it’s under repair. You can try the one at the Student Centre, about ten minutes walking distance.”

“Alright, thanks for the info.”

“No worry. Take care.”

My heart sinks faster than the Titanic; my headache from the jet lag keeps me up like synchronised car hydraulics coupled with Eminem’s rap. To make matters worse, I’m unable to call my parents about my safe arrival—thanks to my dead phone. Sitting here alone, I want to throw myself off the bouncy comfortable bed, snooze off, and let the tantalising air joyride into a lullaby. No one would yell at me for falling asleep; I smell like an overripe durian.

The digital clock in black and white on the wall states 4:44pm.

With a foggy light brain, I try to balance and change into a fleece hooded sweater and denim shorts. I have no choice but to head to the Student Centre. I hope to stumble—miraculously—onto a phone booth. I roll my Holy Rosary in my pocket.

I step out of the dorm and lock the door like an infant experiencing the glaring evening sun at the foreign land. The cold breeze sweeps onto my face and penetrates my head and whole body. I solemnly declare my brain frozen without the help of immense scoops of Haagen Daaz.

I hear thumping footsteps. I brace for the worst. My hand grips the tree, and I prep myself to fly kick à la Bruce Lee’s Enter the Dragon.

As the footsteps get closer, I punch out my left fist and yell.

When I open my eyes, a man in glasses frowns. “Are you okay?”

I clear my throat and adjust my hooded jacket, embarrassed. “Of course, I…was practising my Kung-Fu.”

He smirks. “You picked the wrong place. What if I carried a knife and I stabbed you as self-defence? You’re lucky I’m not a pervert. You never know what a motherfucker will do. Next time don’t hide behind the tree.”

“Okay, thanks for your advice.” I choke as I feel my face heat up like a red lobster.

“Have a pleasant day and a great summer.”

“I know this sounds crazy but if you don’t mind, could you please lend me your phone? I need to send a text home.”

He turns and studies me.

“I know this sounds weird but I just got here and my phone isn’t working. I really, really need to send a text to my dad back in Kuala Lumpur, to let him know I’ve reached here. Why don’t I pay you a dollar?”

He thinks for a while. “Alright, I won’t charge a cent.” He takes out his Blackberry. “You want to type it yourself?”

“It’s better if you type it for me. It’s your phone anyway.”

“Okay.“ He types like a world champion, listening to me. “You may want to take a look before I send the text.”

I quickly read it. “Okay, you can send it now. Thank you.”

“That’ll be fifty cents service charge.”

“WHAT.”

“Hey, I was joking. I may charge if you’re texting your boyfriend. Anyway, welcome to Vancouver and UBC. I stay in Pacific Crescent.”

“Where is that?”

“Go straight from here, right behind the Asian Studies building, near the Nitobe Memorial Garden.”

“That place looks posh. I’m sure it cost you quite a bit.”

“I have friends coming over very often; hence staying in a dorm isn’t a smart choice. An apartment feels more like a home to me.” He glances at his gunmetal watch. “I need to rush to the convenient store. It’s a great pleasure knowing you.”

“Do they sell any sandwiches or pastries?”

“They only have selection of sandwiches, instant salad and packed sushi.”

“Great, maybe you can show me the way?”

“Sure, no problem…”

“I didn’t get your name.” I walk beside him.

“I’m Jun Nakamura.”

I have not been in this foreign land for twelve hours and I’ve been invited to this house party. Jun tells me Mansfield Heights is the most eventful student housing area in UBC, coming alive only in summer.

There’re blue poles along the cemented walkway and red lightings at each corner. If anyone looks suspicious, ready for misdemeanour or voyeurism, one presses the emergency intercom, a safety object for students, a deterrent. On the other hand, if I were in such situation, I’d run for my life and be sure to look out for this emergency button.

“There’s surveillance camera installed in each lamppost for supervision that links directly to the Vancouver Police Department,” Jun says. His hair is ruffled into pointy soft spikes. He is wearing peasant’s crinkled cut washed jeans and a white t-shirt that reveals his fine avid gym-goer chest.

“So, what kind of party your friend’s having?”

“Booze drinking, cigarettes smoking, chatting and whole loads of eating; take a look around you, it is Friday night but we have to clear the coast by midnight.“ He stops and studies me. “Have you been to any house party before?”

“I did but it was long time ago.”

“How long is long time?”

“I think about fourteen years ago.”

“Whoa, that’s like immeasurable yards away. Anyway we’re here.”

Jun ambles to this NHL nightclub bouncer lookalike, except he has a crimson face and dirty blondish hair. Their greeting is front and back palms slapping and then fists punching like the ghetto Harlem boys.

“Oh c’mon, we don’t welcome underage here.” He stares at me.

“I’m already twenty-eight.”

He laughs. “Sorry, my bad…But you don’t look like your age.”

“So, am I invited?” I raise my brows.

“Of course, you PYT, I’m Montgomery Peterson. Everyone calls me Monty.”

“I’m Maxine Cheong, nice to meet you, Monty.”

Out of nowhere, a girl hops into Jun’s arms, giving him a bear hug, and a quick peck on his cheek. She has porcelain skin and raven shoulder-length hair. “You’re late!”

“Kendra, I want to introduce you to Maxine from Malaysia.“ Jun lets go of her.

“Oh, how un-fucking-believable…” She covers her mouth and smacks his arm. “So, you decided to change your taste for the better, huh?”

“Well, I’m not Jun’s girlfriend,” I smile, curtly.

“Don’t be so serious and spoil the party, or else I’ll throw you out.”

I turn to Jun. Everyone seems to have gone quiet.

“I was just joking. I’m Kendra Choi.” Her tone becomes friendlier.

“Maxine Cheong.”

“You have the coolest name here in Vancouver so far lucky-lucky you.”

Jun returns to the crowd after answering a phone call. “It’s Makoto and he’s stranded at the guardhouse with Yosuke and Paul. The security guard refused to let them in, despite their party invitation pass.”

“Speaking of that guard, he kept calling me a Mongolian and asked whether my family slaughtered horses for a living,” Kendra says.

After Monty and Jun leave to rescue their friends, Kendra and I bump past party-goers before reaching the house living room. She speaks into my ear. “Sorry to disappoint you but it’s still too early to spot a drunkard.”

“I guess they’ll become Intoxicated Cinderella by midnight.”

All the seats are occupied. I have to sit on the carpeted floor, among vinyls of Ozzy Osborne, Green day, Dave Matthews Bands, Cypress Hills, Queen, David Bowie, Rage Against The Machine, just to name a few. Kendra has returned from the washroom.

“Monty once formed an indie rock band during his teens. The band was quite a success from Port Coquitlam to White Rock. But then a fight broke out a day before they were supposed to sign a million-dollar record deal. You wanna know why? The bassist caught the lead guitarist fucking his girlfriend in their trailer. Hell broke lose. All the instruments were damaged by the bassist who ran amok. Worse still, the boys have to pay off the loan and the damaged instruments to the music shop.”

“What instrument Monty played?” I refuse to accept an opened cap bottled drink from a random guy.

“Drums and percussion. He was also a turntablist,” she says with a shrug and a snort, “but one lesson that no other guys will ever learn: do not let your girlfriend join the band practise. Girls fall head over heels with men who play guitars or drums.”

I grab a can of Dr. Pepper from the refreshment bar, while Kendra fills up a plate with finger food. A guy by the banister eyes us before taking up with a girl. Both head upstairs after the guy winks at me.

We spot a three-seater sofa.

“These seats are meant for both of you, my exotic princesses,” says a Hispanic-looking man. He has been feeding another man with bacon stripes.

The Nirvana’s MTV Unplugged record is spinning in the vintage oak wood player. I’ve always been mesmerised by Kurt Cobain’s baritone voice.

“I don’t like his grinding dick voice.” Kendra walks to the player and lifts the needle with the cue lever. “Thanks to Janis Joplin, Joan Jett and Amy Lee, rock music is in my blood now.” She puts on a vinyl of The Runaways, that Cherry Bomb song filled with chattering noises and perfumed muskiness.

“I love X-Japan. Do you like them?”

“Me too!” We do a high-five. “But if you want me to wear a hanbok and play the gayageum in front of Korean men. No way José! Over my dead body! It looks damn submissive. I’ve been referred as a ‘leftover woman’ for not yet being married.”

“You’re not alone. I hear that very often. It happens to me as well. And what a cruel term is that? Nowadays in the Asian community, single and unmarried women are hiring men online to be their boyfriend to please their folks during festive seasons, or to attend their friend’s wedding.”

“Women have the earning power and are financially independent too. Some will have to succumb to the social pressure of not wanting to be called ‘leftover’, hence they get married and start a family, work their peachy-butts out, struggle to get promotion at work, earning more monies for the sake of their children. In the end of the day, it’s always easy to say. But to preserve such feminist though is difficult.”

“I’m in my thirties and not looking forward into getting married,” she says.

“Let’s make a toast to both of us, the most attractive leftovers.”

I raise my paper cup.

She pokes her nose. “Damn, how come I don’t even know you’ve been drinking orange juice? Let’s get you a beer.”

“I’m still recovering from jet lag. Sorry.”

“You should come over to my place one day and we’ll cook up a storm.” She stretches to grab two bottles of beer. “I invite Jun along too. He’s good at ramen, sushi, butter-poached seafood and miso soup.”

“Isn’t that…a big task for him?” I take a bottle but put it aside.

“Give me a break. That guy’s a chef.”

“Jun…is a chef?”

“That smoochy-bear, he is freakingly dedicated and talented. He has worked in Washington DC’s Marriott for couple of years, and then quit after he was promoted to an assistant chef. As to why he quit, well, Jun doesn’t talk about it.”

“…must be those shitty management politics.”

“I still think teaching is the best work so far. Less office politics.”

“You’re a teacher?”

“I teach English to adults and young adults in Tokyo.“ She wipes bread crumbs from her mouth. “And I know this is something uncommon. Even my grandparents are strongly opposed to anyone of us working there due to the Japan-Korea Disputes. So what’d you do for a living?”

“I’ve worked in an insurance company’s claims department for three years. It’s a huge department but most employees quit after the three-month probation. I handle mostly personal accident, employees’ medical bills reimbursement and at times on workers’ provident fund dispute.”

“Any weird cases you’ve dealt with?”

I lean my head on the sofa. “I was reading a decomposed body autopsy report in the food court and a waiter cringed when he saw those bloodied photos of torn phalanges on the claim file. He asked whether the man’s still alive. I said he should be lucky that his fingers didn’t fly into his colleagues’ mouth. His reaction was like this…” I imitate the painting from The Scream.

“Your work is very CSI-ish, so to speak. By the way, I’m curious as to how Jun and you get to know each other.”

“I bumped onto him when my cellphone isn’t working and he helped me to send a text message home.”

“I think you’ve missed the most crucial part.” Jun is walking toward us with a bottle.

Kendra sniffs Jun’s neck. “You smell like fresh from the crispy oven.” She puts her arm over his waist. “He is always so helpful, but inviting you to his friend’s party is his first time. Lot of girls are trying to get their hands on him too.”

Jun whispers to me. “She’s out.”

She clutches her beer bottle, a smile forming on her face. “But you serve a good impression on me, but my experiences taught me not to trust an acquainted human girl too much.”

Later that night, Kendra follows me like a puppy afraid to lose direction. Her eyes stay on Jun whenever we’re engaged in an ear-to-ear conversation because of the loud music at the DJ stands. She puts three Budweiser in front of me. “You have to bottoms up. I don’t care.”

I still have those butterflies in my stomach and don’t have much appetite. But towards the second bottle, Jun pulls Kendra to the kitchen area, and asks Makoto to bring her more food.

Approaching midnight, Makoto offers to drive me back to the dorm, even though it’s only ten minutes walking distance. I’m unable to find Monty to bid goodbye. Jun tells me he’s already passed out near the toilet bowl, and he carries grumpy Kendra into the back of Makoto’s car. I wind down the window, inhale the gentle ocean breeze as the car moves along Marina Drive, but the tranquillity ends with Kendra counting chicken and sheep in a slur.

*

Deborah Wong: "My works have been published on numerous online journals and paperback magazine, including Crack the Spine, Rat’s Ass Review, Eksentrika, Thought Catalog, Liquid Imagination, Strange Horizons. Some are forthcoming from Frozen Wavelets and Seagery Zine. I have performed at local reading groups and open mic poetry sessions. I am currently working on a fictionalised travel memoir and some speculative poetry and fiction. I have an ongoing artwork-poetry crossover project with an emerging Australian artist on Instagram. You can follow me on Twitter @PetiteDeborah ‘When Plan’s Stolen by Fate’ is the first chapter of my work-in-progress semi-autobiographical novel ‘One Maple Summer’. The novel is about my intensive creative writing workshop at the University of British Columbia in the summer of 2010. At 28 I traveled for the first time 12 thousand kilometers to the other side of the continent. My debit card and cellphone failed, and the one-month stay at a pen pal’s place turned out not as imagined. However, things navigated otherwise when I received accolades from my creative writing course instructors. Discovering the melting pot of diverse cultural background of acquaintances made traveling worth a lifetime.”

[lalainajanes]

80+98?

80 Green Eyed Epiphany + 98 Curses

On day four of Caroline’s visit to New Orleans  (she’d never been, despite numerous invitations), Klaus had been cursed.

That first morning he’d been supposed to meet her at a cafe. She’d predictably fallen in love with beignets, is working her way through all the top rated spots. Kind of driving Klaus crazy - he’s not short of opinions (on anything, ever) and doesn’t trust the taste levels of internet strangers - but Caroline wants to make up her own mind.

He’d complained but at least it had made her laugh.

She’d gotten a text just as she’d been leaving her hotel, a short message from Klaus saying a small problem had cropped up overnight and could she possibly swing by the compound?

She’d changed direction, picked up two coffees on her way, had reread Klaus’ text looking for a clue. Caroline had figured the lack of urgency meant the problem was relatively minor, no chances of death or large scale destruction.

She’d been kinda wrong about that.

Freya had answered her knock looking a little tired and a lot aggravated. Caroline had regretted not calling ahead and offering to pick up an extra coffee. She’s barely offered a greeting when Frey’s had sighed, appearing relieved, “Come on in, I’m glad you’re here. Klaus is being… well, Klaus.”

“Murdery and a pain in the ass?” Caroline had asked.

Freya had laughed and agreed and they’d both been on the receiving end of Klaus’ very best unimpressed glare when they’d joined him in Freya’s study. He hadn’t said anything even though Klaus did snippy excellently he always managed a flawless amount of bite, his accent and ridiculous confidence smoothing any hint of whininess.

Klaus staying silent, not even bothering with a greeting or a thank you when she’d set his coffee down, had been weird.

“What’s up?” Caroline had asked cautiously, taking in the mountain of opened spell books.

Freya had done the explaining.

A witch (they didn’t know which one) had placed a curse (the specifics of which were also unknown) on Klaus and his voice had been taken.

Caroline might have made a joke about The Little Mermaid. And had been horrified that neither Klaus nor Freya had seen the Disney movie. And they pretended to be so cultured and fancy, sheesh.

Klaus had grabbed her attention, handing her a sketchbook with a few scribbled (if one could call Klaus’ pretty handwriting such a thing) lines. He thought it best to get out of New Orleans for a bit, he was sorry to have to cut her tour short but would be happy to continue it at a later date. The final bit was a question asking her to leave with him.

Saying no hadn’t even crossed Caroline’s mind. Showing up in Klaus’ home base hadn’t been a casual move. In the decades since she’d reestablished contact. Fifty-three years ago she’d sent him an invitation to her college graduation. Klaus had shown up with a present this time, an airline voucher, and Caroline had accepted it, driven to Atlanta and taken the first available international flight out.

A decision she’s never regretted for a second.

At some point she’d taken to sending him postcards, quick little reviews of whatever city she’d just finished devouring jotted on the back. Caroline had taken to throwing herself kick ass birthday parties and Klaus had strolled in to her big four-oh.

She hadn’t minded and they’d split the bottle of champagne he’d brought. After that Klaus had popped up in person every couple of years. They’d stopped bothering to pretend they wouldn’t end up in bed together after their third not so coincidental meet up. They’d graduated from postcards to regular emails and occasional phone calls.

Caroline thinks she might be ready for something more but she hasn’t quite figured out how to say so.

She’d set the sketchbook down once she’d finished reading, Klaus had been watching her expectantly, just the slightest bit wary.  Very aware of their audience Caroline had kept it simple, “I’m in. Where are we going?”

Less than twenty-four hours later and they’re in New York. Since the goal was to lay low their staying at one of her homes. It’s only a one bedroom but the views are amazing. She watches Klaus closely as they walk in but he seems happy enough, making a close study of the art on the walls. She explains where she’d gotten them as he moves from piece to piece. For once her chatterbox tendencies are going to come in handy. They end up next to the windows, Klaus had shed his jacket, the sleeves of his t-shirt are pushed up. Caroline bumps her shoulder into his, “This is why I bought the place.”

The sun’s just beginning to set and she figures Klaus will appreciate the sight. When she hears his appreciative hum she forgets all about the changing sky. He’s turned to face her, face just as surprised. His mouth opens and no sound comes out. Klaus tries again, his jaw tensing in frustration. She reaches out instinctively, and when her hand touches his forearm words ring out, “...meddlesome bloody witches!”

Caroline assumes the words she’d missed had been creative death threats but she can’t bring herself to care. “Okay. Experiment time. Say something.”

“This place suits you, love. I can see why you chose it.”

Caroline beams. It was always nice to have her good taste appreciated. “Why thank you.” She takes two steps away from him, “How about now?”

Nothing.

He sighs, inaudibly, and Caroline reaches for his hand. His fingers thread through hers, squeezing. “While I see some perks to this loophole I imagine it’ll come with plenty of irritations.”

“Can everybody hear you if they touch you? Is it maybe just vampires? Maybe it’s just me?” Kind of a conceited thought but they’d been spending an awful lot of time together over the last few days. Maybe whatever he’d been whammied with had noticed. Magic could be tricky.

“We’ll have to test it. Irritating, like I said.”

He’s distinctly grumbly and Caroline finds herself smiling. “First step, call Freya. Maybe this news will help her out. Then we’ll go out and play scientists.”

“And the second step?”

Caroline grins, “Well, I want to shower off the plane germs. Wanna help?”

With that much skin on skin contact they should be able to hash out their plan of attack with minimal interruptions.

It doesn’t take long for Caroline to begin contemplating death and destruction. More death, if she’s being honest. Other people’s. They’d quickly found that Klaus could talk to anyone as long as he touched them. Plenty of people take the opportunity to touch him back.

And that’s where Caroline’s issues had begun.

She can’t really blame them. He’s an appealing package and the random humans they meet in restaurants and clubs don’t know the dimples and charm hide something dangerous.

Still, it’s driving her freaking nuts. She wants to slap away the hands that rest on his arm, shove in between Klaus and every person who pushes into his space. Had indulged in a brief but satisfying fantasy of ripping out the hair of the woman last night who’d feigned drunkenness and pressed her barely contained boobs all over him.

She’d all bit ripped his pants off when they’d gotten back to her place. Klaus hadn’t minded, had shoved her skirt up, had used his teeth to shred the front of her dress, and taken her against the door.

Tonight they’re going to see a play, are having drinks first. Her martini splashes over the rim, Caroline’s too vigorous stirring creating a tiny whirlpool. She groans, fumbling for a napkin, her eyes glued on Klaus across the room.

The bartender’s cute in a nerdy hipster kind of way, had blushed a little when Klaus had leaned in, grabbed his wrist and said something about his watch. The guy’s still a little flushed, leaning against the bar, mirroring Klaus’ pose. Their forearms are pressed together and he’s ignored the last two customers who tried to get service.

She’s tempted to go over there (maybe it would be a good deed? CuteNerd would regret getting fired because Klaus is distractingly hot) but she stays planted in her seat.

Caroline needs to claw back a little control because if she goes over there she might end up doing something that’ll get them kicked out.

It’s all adults in here but the things Caroline want to do probably violate health codes. Also, there’s always the risk someone would film it and having a sex tape on the internet is so not something Caroline’s into.

One just for her and Klaus? Sure, she’d be down.

Ugh. That train of thought so isn’t helping her control issue.

He glances over at her, brows furrowing and whatever he’d been saying trailing off. Caroline smiles but she knows it’s obviously fake because Klaus straightens, heading her way.

CuteNerd looks like someone’s kicked his puppy, poor thing.

Klaus is sliding into the booth before she can figure out what to say. He grabs the hand she’s spilled her drink on, lifting it to his mouth. His lips wrap around her index finger, teeth scraping the pad.

So. Not. Fair.

“Are you…”

His question is lost when she surges into him. She balances herself with a hand on his chest, letting it slide up and curve around the back of his neck. His mouth is open, waiting for her, . His hands urge her closer. Caroline doesn’t kiss him like she’s asking permission.

She kisses him like he’s already hers.

[sneezingpotatoes]

A Helping Hand [Part 2]

“Here.” Muttered the man after he dug through his front pocket. “You’ve got something…” He made an uncomfortable gesture with his finger circling around his nasal region to the rugged man, cringing as if doing so were going to make himself sick too.

Draco willingly accepted the handkerchief from the man and forcefully blew his nose. He didn’t care if he sounded like a deflating balloon as he blew into the soft handkerchief. He was too tired to care. He was just silently thanking God that he had something soft to blow out all of the buildup into. Those bandages really were shredding up his nose.

“Do you mind???” The man asked firmly and rhetorically, being disgusted by the fowl sound. “I understand that you’re feeling under the weather, but you could at least, try, to be considerate of those around you!” Just hearing the awful sound forced the gentleman to aggravatedly reach into his pocket and reveal a small bottle of hand sanitizer that he viciously applied, grumbling curses to the gods as to why he had to be stuck with this guy of all people.

Draco remained silent, not particularly caring about what he had just said. His head was already clouded to the brim and there wasn’t enough room for him to squeeze in there too. It took all of his willpower just to walk straight without any assistance. 

“Urgh, what’s the use? It’s like talking to a brick wall regardless…”

“Thanks…” The rugged man barely managed to croak.

“I beg your pardon?”

“For the rag… Thanks.” The gentleman released an agitated sigh at the man, feeling slightly insulted.

“It’s not a ‘rag’, it’s a handkerchief… What are you, a baboon?”

“Are you always s-so… god-damnedhh—”

He caught himself mid-gasp and instantly hid his face into the handkerchief, trying to desperately rid himself of the need to sneeze, which caught a confused glare from the gentleman. Draco hesitantly pawed at his nose with the damp handkerchief, uncertain if he should even touch the darn thing, seeing how it was already very sensitive from the tickle resting in his nose. He felt like just the slightest touch would send him dipping forward with a messy explosion. It didn’t seem like he had much of a choice anymore, since the clear liquid from his nose slowly trickled down the floor of his nose, causing the rugged man to squirm with unease before his chest quickly expanded and he jerked forwards into the used handkerchief.

“HH’TIZSSCH…! ‘TISSHH!! Annoyi’g, ughh.” He breathily finished.

The rugged man sighed in defeat as he gurgled into the wet handkerchief, feeling his balance waver for a moment. He leaned over a little, bumping up against the gentleman before shuffling his feet so that he could continue walking properly. Despite his fear of germs, the gentleman held out his arms, instinctively, ready to catch the man if he should fall.

“My blessings. Are you well enough to continue walking?” He questioned with a concerned eyebrow raised. “My car is just around the corner. We can take a break if you’d so please.”

Draco grunted in response, not well adjusted to the constant kindness he was receiving from a complete stranger. Even though the gentleman came across as impatient and arrogant, Draco could still pick up on a hint of concern coating his question. Now that you think of it… Why IS he being so nice? He was a complete stranger! He could have a blade on him and stab him once his back was turned for all he knew.

“Was that grunt a ‘yes’, or a ‘no’? Sorry, I don’t speak Caveman.” The gentleman retorted, concerned tone shifting back into impatient and sarcastic.

“Let me—” Brash coughs were heard from the rugged man, sounding rough and wet, as if his lungs were filled with rainwater. He sluggishly cupped his bandaged hand around his mouth as he felt clear phlegm sputter out with a few of the coughs. “Let me… rest for a minute.”

The gentleman nodded, furrowing his eyebrows once he saw Draco pullout a gray flask from the inside of his soaked trench-coat and place the opening against his dry lips.

“What the devil are you doing?!” The gentleman erupted, nearly jumping from the shock of him consuming alcohol with an illness.

“The hell does it look like?!” He fired back after taking a painful sip of the liquor inside of the flask, coughing over his shoulder from his agitated throat.

“Do you honestly think that alcohol will cure your cold?!”

“Hell no! But it’ll take the edge off.” He absently muttered, taking another sip from the flask.

An irritated ‘tch’ is heard from the gentleman as he folds his arms and impatiently taps the end of his shoe against the moist concrete. Why did this guy have to be such a pain? He glared over at the rugged man, watching him take two more sips.

“What’s your name, anyway?” Muttered the gentleman underneath his breath. Draco ignored the man and remained silent as he closed his flask and shoved it back into his trench-coat pocket. “If you want to make the situation more awkward than it has to be, then be my guest, but I don’t have the means of wasting my time on such childish matters. My name is Reuben.”

Reuben gave a slight bow to the rugged man as a brief greeting and folded his arms again, awaiting the returned greeting from the rugged man. After a few more silent moments, Draco brought up a bandaged hand to rub at his nose before finally speaking.

“… Draco…” He mumbled, just barely audible for the gentleman to hear. He pushed himself off of the wall and began to sluggishly walk in the direction of Reuben’s car, having Reuben following behind him with a cheeky smirk.

“Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“Shut up. You’re giving me a headache.” Draco grunted as he massaged his temples. He wasn’t sure if Reuben was actually the cause of his oncoming headache or not, but regardless, he was starting to develop a headache and the noise from the gentleman wasn’t helping.

  The car ride over to Reuben’s house was silent. The two men didn’t say a word the entire time. Probably because Draco had fallen asleep—err, ‘resting his eyes’, as Draco would put it— in the backseat as soon as he sat down. The soft car seat cushions were the closest thing to a bed Draco had laid on in the past month, and it felt like heaven compared to the cold, wet concrete. Reuben didn’t mind too much though, seeing how the man truly did seem to have caught something and it was taking all the energy out of him. Sleeping outside in the rain for sure didn’t help the situation, so the man really needed someone to care for him... Or at least provide him with the tools that he needed to get better… He could do the rest himself.

Once Reuben opened the front door for the rugged man, the nice warmth from the heater gripped him ever so tightly, slowly loosening up his clogged sinuses and causing him to swoon a little bit from the drainage. The soft click of the door closing from behind him brought his awareness back to him and allowed him to regain his bearings. Reuben swiftly removed his coat and scarf, delicately placing it on the coat rack beside the rugged man and he held out his hand after, expectantly, waiting for Draco to hand him his damp coat and hat.

“Well…?” Reuben asked in question, patience wearing very thin from how much time he was wasting. Draco followed Reuben’s glare straight down to his damp coat and shrugged the guy off, dismissively, wondering over to the large mirror in front of them.

“I’ll be keepi’g this on, thagks…” He snuffled thickly, bringing up a bandaged knuckle to briefly wipe underneath his glistening nose out of habit, grunting at the discomfort the rough material created.

“Oh, but I strongly insist.” A grave tone arose from Reuben as he swiftly removed the damp fedora off of Draco’s head and grabbed the collar of his cold, moisture-laden trench coat. Blue eyes widen from the sudden action and Draco instinctively swivels around with the kick of his heel and grabs the tender hand resting against his shoulder. “I refuse to tolerate such putrid practices in my own home. If you aren’t willing to abide by my rules, then you can freely walk right out that door.”

“What rules?! Ged you hand off of be, thad’s by goddamn rule!” He aggressively shoved the man’s hand off of his coat collar, coughing lightly over his shoulder from the sudden raising of his voice. Reuben released a long, impatient sigh, debating on whether or not he should just kick him out or give him one last chance.

“Cleanliness is my top priority, if you hadn’t noticed, and that trench-coat you’re wearing looks like it’s been through hell and back. It reeks of alcohol and mildew, so if you don’t mind…” He held out his hand once again, this time with his expression saying: Hand over the trench-coat or get the hell out. If he had a flamethrower on hand, he would’ve torched the damned thing hours ago.

With a defeated grunt, Draco sluggishly removed the heavy trench-coat and roughly threw it over the man’s head out of spite. He hadn’t been in the house for 2 minutes and he already felt like he was being bossed around by a lousy housewife. Reuben twitched from underneath the trench-coat in shock, not expecting for it to be draped over his face. Almost instantly, he threw down the filthy trench-coat and dashed for the bathroom, sniveling at Draco about how careless he was being.

“Oh, my bad… I didn’t thigk you were bei’g serious!” He yelled, or at least he thought he did, to Reuben over the sound of the running faucet and splashing water.

After not receiving a response from the man, Draco approached the mirror more closely examining himself. He hadn’t looked at himself in the mirror in a good minute. He scratched the top of his head where the fedora would’ve been and grimaced at how disheveled his ponytail was. Most of his black hair was still inside of the ponytail, but a handful of strands seemed like they had been pulled or tugged out of place and were sticking up in awkward directions. He bit his tongue from the sudden sticking pain in his head as he felt the spot where the chair had hit him the night before. A violent shiver swipes over his slim, yet muscular body and he snuffles openly, watching himself in the mirror. He wished that he had his coat, seeing how after his coat was removed, the warm air felt like cold shards against his damp shirt that had been trapping moisture ever since he was out in the rain. A bandaged hand is raised to swipe upward against the underside of his nose, then side to side. He pauses, jaw absently slacking, then he aggressively wriggles and scrunches his nose around as he is aware of what’s trying to happen. A wet sounding sniffle is heard as he shreds his nose like sandpaper with the bandage, gliding the bandaged palm of his right hand upward from underneath his raw nostrils, all the way up to the bridge, desperately trying to end the relentless flow of fluids from leaking out of his nose. He peaks at himself through a cracked eyelid, noting the chapping forming on the rims and tip of his nose from the cursed bandages. Draco notices another blurred figure approaching beside him in the mirror that isn’t him and blinks away the agitated tears glossing his blue orbs.

“Stop that.” Scolded Reuben, like an instructor whipping the hand of a student with a ruler, as he threw down Draco’s bandaged hand to stop him from tearing up his nose anymore than he already had. “You truly are hopeless, aren’t you? I have tissue boxes everywhere, yet you resort to your bandages. Why?” He asked, trying to hold back his aggravation from the previous incident, but still forced himself to offer the man the box of tissues. “I don’t understand you.”

“Dunno…” Draco grunted, selfishly grabbing a cluster of tissues, instantly pressing them all against the lower half of his face. He flinched from the light burn the dry tissues had against his shredded nose but honked into them regardless, feeling relieved that he could eject a little of the bothersome gunk out. His relief was short lived as the prickling in his sinuses had been rekindled with a stronger kick to it since a fraction of the gunk had been cleared out. The rugged man took a short step back from the force of the tickle, chest already inflating from a shaky inhale.

“Hhh…!”

Reuben took a step back as well, but to his left so that he could be further away from the struggling man, but still within viewing distance. He watched Draco’s brows furrow from the agitating itch as he leaned back with each inhale. He knew one thing was for sure: He would be damned if he caught this man’s cold. A sharp inhale jolts Reuben out of his inner thoughts before Draco jerks forward into the wet tissues.

“HIH’TSSH…! Hhuh… Hh’EGJISHH’nngh!! Hhhh—huh…?”

Reuben involuntarily flinched with each forceful, but still fairly soft sneeze; The sight of watching the man sneeze so close to him made him cringe. Even though he had covered them into the tissues, the thought of it was just unnerving. Reuben mentally scolded himself, seeing as he were a clinician and had seen way worse before. A curious brow raised from Reuben as he distantly watched the sick man struggling with what seemed to be the start of another sneeze. It was an odd thing to watch, especially seeing how Draco appeared to be literally wrestling with his nose in denial, not accepting a third sneeze to make itself present when his usual pattern was in pairs. The rugged man used his bandaged knuckle out of habit to rub underneath his raw nostrils with annoyance. If this is how his nose would betray him, then he would’ve declined the offer and stayed outside at the pub. He barely released a think grunt before losing the struggle and being overtaken with the third forceful sneeze.

“hhH’IITDJSHH’IUGHH…!!”

Reuben nearly jumped at that sneeze, being caught off guard by the loudness of it. It was the loudest sneeze he had ever heard come out of the man, and he didn’t think he were capable of producing such a monstrous sneeze. Well he knew that he was capable, he just didn’t know if Draco would allow himself to sneeze like that in front of someone. Draco leaned up against the wooden table, feeling winded and slightly lightheaded from the rough sneeze and coughed openly onto the table and mirror. An irritable sigh is heard through gritted teeth from Reuben as he hands the man a few more tissues.

“Please do cover your mouth when you cough or sneeze. You aren’t five years old.” The second part of his sentence escaped from him before he could bite it back and he sighed with a slight pang of guilt. “This way. You seem like you need to sit down.”

Draco defeatedly allowed himself to be guided by the gentleman into the living room. He had a nice house, Draco could give him that at least. Without hesitation, the man slumped down into the cotton couch, instantly noticing a small black figure approaching him from the corner of his eye.

“Meowr.” The cat cautiously approached the unknown man before jumping onto the couch and releasing soft purrs as it rubbed against his torso. The black cat gently forced her furry head underneath the unknown man’s free hand and guided his hand to rub exactly where she wanted.

“You have a cat?” Questioned the man before he blew his nose into the tissues and continued to rub against the friendly animal with his free hand.

“Absinthe, down. Now.” Reuben commanded, eyeing the black cat and watching her pounce onto the floor before slowly walking over towards her owner. He rubbed underneath her ear and gave an innocent smile to the creature, causing Draco to lift an eyebrow in question through his handful of tissues. “Yes, I have a cat. Is that a problem? Are you allergic?”  

“N-no, I was just… I didn’t know that someone like you would… You know, have the time to take care of a pet.” He stammered. Reuben raised his own brow to the sudden stammering from the man. It seemed out of character for him. Before he could focus or press Draco on the matter, his attention shifted back over to his cat as he watched Absinthe back away from his master and absently glare him in the eye, head slowly raising before instantly ducking downward into six quick twitches and rapid ‘Fssh’ sounds with each of them.

“God bless you, Absinthe!” Reuben exclaimed as he gently rubbed the cats head in sympathy. Absinthe restlessly pawed at her nose, rolling on the ground for a moment before twitching into the carpet a few more times. “It must be the mildew from your clothing.” The gentleman sighed as he picked up the struggling cat and placed her into a different room. “You do need a good shower.” Draco couldn’t object to that statement. A nice hot shower sounded exactly like what he needed. “The bathroom is straight down the hall. I’ll grab you a fresh pair of clothing while you prepare for your shower.”

After Reuben had said those words, he vanished into another room, leaving Draco alone in the maze of a house. Even though Reuben had a small house, there were a lot of rooms and it seemed fairly easy to get lost if you hadn’t lived there for a while. The rugged man slowly walked down the hall, examining his surroundings and trying to get to know the owner of this house. Draco noticed a lot of fake plastic plants decorating the hallway, along with a few pictures of him and the woman hanging along the walls. He shook his head at the picture, seeing the bartender’s quirky smile in each of the photos.

Draco finally pushed open the door to the bathroom and flicked on the light, absorbing the beauty of having an actual bathroom instead of bushes or fast food restaurants. Everywhere he stepped in the house looked tidy and clean, and the bathroom appeared to be customized to the specific liking of Reuben. The rugged man raised a brow in curiosity from the sight of skin care products that lined the sink and the plush body towels that were hanging on the towel rack. He wasn’t certain if this bathroom belonged to Reuben based off of the items that were seen inside of the bathroom.

Shoving his suspicions aside, Draco eagerly removed his clothes and turned on the shower just warm enough so that the steam would fog up the mirror. He stood there, frozen for a moment. Feeling hesitant about removing the bandage from his right hand. He aggravatedly punches his hand against the wall before slowly removing the bandage, feeling weak and defeated. Why was he still thinking about what happened? It was in the past. He knew that it wasn’t his fault, so why did he still feel responsible??? Draco sighed and tossed the bandage into the small trash can beside the toilet and stepped into the shower, instantly relaxing as the warm water massaged his muscles and skin.

The steam danced around his raw nostrils, taunting him and his sinuses every time he took a breath in. He snuffled thickly, feeling his sinuses start to loosen up. He felt a little relieved as the pressure in his sinuses started to fade, but at a familiar tickle was beginning to replace it as he continuously sniffled wetly into his right hand. He sluggishly grabbed onto the bolted railing, feeling his eyelids already fluttering shut and his chest spastically rising and falling. Before he could fully process the tickle, the rugged man snapped forward, deep into his hand, barely maintaining his balance in the shower.

“HhUh…! Hh’EGJSSHH!! IHh’JIDZSSHH’ughh!!”

He coughed, harshly into his hand, feeling both winded and exhausted. He abruptly stopped himself from coughing any more than he had, seeing how he felt like if he did cough again, his lungs would shatter from inside of his body. The rugged man used his thumb and index finger to blow his nose into the palm of his wet hand, as he shivered from the discomfort of the sick leaking out of his nose. He allowed the shower water to rinse and clean off his hand, and pulled back the wet strands of hair that flung forward from his sneezes.

[fluffyllamas-23]

The Blind Date (1/2)

I FINALLY finished this.  I’d like to introduce you all to my new OCs: Sawyer, Chloe and Hannah.  I love them, and I hope you do, too.

Part 2 can be found here

“So, I have this coworker.”

“Congrats. That’s so great, I’m so proud of you,” Chloe deadpans, not looking up from her laptop as she continues working on her paper.

“Shut up.  He’s really cute, and he’s really sweet and he’s single, and you’re single.”

“What’s your point, Hannah?”

Hannah groans, “oh my god, nobody is this dense.”

“I know what you want.  I’m not dumb, you moron,” Chloe chuckles, “you’ve tried to set me up a hundred times.”

“I really think you two will work out.”

“That’s what you said about the last guy, and the guy before that, and the guy before that, and the-”

“-Chloe, pleeeeeease?” She whines, “just give him a shot, I’m not asking you to marry the guy...and...I sort of already gave him your number.”

“Hannah!” Chloe yelps, “why would you do that?!”

“Because!”

“That’s not a reason!”

“I panicked, I’m sorry!”

“What do you mean you ‘panicked’?”

“I just...I’m sorry.”

Chloe sighs, “what’s his name?”

“Sawyer! He’s so cute, you’ll love him. He’s really tall, too.”

“Okay, but you’re like, three feet tall. Everyone is ‘really tall’ compared to you.”

“First of all, rude. Second of all, rude, third of all, he’s like six two, so suck it, you giant.”

Chloe bursts out laughing, “sorry.”

“Yeah, you’d better be.”

*

“Has he texted you?” Hannah asks, walking into Chloe’s room the next afternoon.  

Chloe twists around to look at her and then turns her attention back to her books, “hi, nice to see you too, thanks for knocking.”

“I’ve known you for fifteen years, why would I knock?”

“I mean...fair point.”

“You know, you shouldn’t leave your front door unlocked.  That’s how serial killers and weirdos wander in,” Hannah says, climbing under Chloe’s blankets.

“Well you’re here, so you’re half right.”

“Okay, smartass,” Hannah says, hugging one of Chloe’s pillows, “you didn’t answer my question.  Did he text you?”

“No.”

“No?”

“He called me instead.”

“OHMIGOD!” She squeals, “that’s so CUTE!”

“Why didn’t you tell me he had an accent?” Chloe demands.

Hannah blinks, “hey, Sawyer has an accent.”

“Wow.  Thanks.”

She grins, “sorry…I’ve been working with him for years, and he moved here from Tennessee when he was fifteen, so it’s really not that thick. I don’t even think about it, honestly.  Anyways,  what do you think of him?”

“As much as it pains me to say it...you were right.”

“YES!”

“Shut it.”

“I told you.  Have you talked much?”

“Most of the night....and we’ve been texting all day.”

“I told you!”

“Yeah, yeah. I know, just...don’t get ahead of yourself...our date is this Friday, we’ll see if we even hit it off in person.”

“When have I ever gotten ahead of myself?”

“Every time ever.”

“You two are definitely going to hit it off. He’s seriously like...the nicest guy I’ve ever met...I think it’s because he’s like...the perfect southern gentleman. He’s so funny, too.  You’ll love him, and he’ll love you, and then I’ll definitely take credit for introducing you two at your guys’ wedding.”

“I think that counts as getting ahead of yourself.”  

“It...okay, it does, but I don’t care.  What are you guys doing?”

“Did you know he’s in a band?”

“Yeah.”

“And you didn’t think to, I don’t know, include that information? You know I love musicians.”

She grins, “sorry…but yeah.  He plays like...almost every instrument...and he sings.”

“He said he plays six different ones, or something insane like that.”

“Dude is talented.  I went to one of their shows once, and he’s so good.  Is that what you’re doing?”

“Yeah, and then we’re going out for dinner and drinks after.”

“That’s so cuuuuuute,” Hannah grins.

“Shut up,” Chloe mutters, cheeks flushing.

“I’m happy for you. Keep me updated…or else.”

“Is that a threat?” Chloe grins.

“Absolutely.”

*

Thursday night, she’s reading through her pharmacology textbook, eyes glazing over as she tries to focus, because she has a test on Monday.  

Her phone rings, and she sighs in relief and scoops it up when she sees Sawyer’s name flash across her screen.  

“Hey, Sawyer.”

“Hey! I was gonna text you, but I wanted an excuse to talk to you.”

She frowns. His voice, which usually sounds buttery smooth, now sounds raspy, like he’s just woken up, despite the fact that it’s seven in the evening.  She wants to ask if he’s alright, but she’s only known him for a handful of days, so she just leaves it.  

She grins, leaning back in her chair, “I’m glad you called, it gives me an excuse to stop studying.”

He clears his throat, “I’m always happy to help you slack off.  Anyways, are we still on for tomorrow?”

“Yeah, of course! I’m looking forward to it.”

He clears his throat again, “me too...so, do you want me to pick you up, or do you want to just meet at the venue?”

“I have class until six...I’m assuming you have soundcheck and all that.”

“Oh, yeah...okay, so we’ll just meet there.”

“And then dinner?”

“Absolutely!” He chirps, “I can’t wait.”

“Me neither,” she grins, and then sighs when her eyes fall back on her textbook, “this was a nice break, but I really need to get back to studying.”

“Okay, have...fun? I’m not sure what you’re studying, but that’s definitely not the right word,” he chuckles, “anyways, I’ll see you tomorrow…did I send you the address?”

“Yeah, yesterday.”

“Oh...right, right...sorry,” he says, sounding a little distant and out of it.

She chews on her bottom lip, “hey, Sawyer?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you...uh...are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine! Why?”

“Just...you sound…off.”

“Oh! That.  Yeah, we just finished rehearsal, I’m okay.”

“Oh, good,” she breathes.

“I’ll let you go, good luck with studying, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

*

Chloe had showed up a little bit before their show started, which gave them enough time to introduce themselves, and for him to buy her a drink from the bar in the back of the room.  That’s where she stays once people start coming in, because the room is nearly packed, and she’s slightly overwhelmed.

She can’t take her eyes off of Sawyer, and she knows she’s probably staring with her jaw on the floor, but she can’t help it.  He’s met her gaze a few times, and each time they make eye contact, he gives her a cute little dimpled smile that makes butterflies appear in the pit of her stomach as her heart races.

Despite how...enamored she is with him, she can’t help but notice how pale and run-down he looks under the lights.  Sweat dots his forehead, and dark smudges are beneath his eyes, making him look even more exhausted and pale than she would like.  His voice, although beautiful and enough to make her swoon, is much, much raspier than it was last night, and he coughs into his elbow more and more between songs.

When the current song ends, a grimace crosses Sawyer’s face. He covers the mic and leans over to the bassist next to him and whispers something in his ear before he steps back from the mic stand.

The concern she’s felt for him the entire night increases tenfold when she realizes he’s not singing the final song. She isn’t too familiar with their music, so for all she knows, the backup vocalist usually sings this song. She suspects, judging by how he’s looking and sounding that that isn’t the case.

He makes eye contact with her again and shoots her a weak smile before he drops his eyes to the ground and strums the guitar.  

As soon as the band announces that they’re done, Chloe is on her feet and grabbing her purse from the floor.  She has an overwhelming urge to take him home and give him soup and tea and medicine, because he looks miserable.

“Hey,” she greets him with a soft smile, “you were really great.”

He grins widely down at her, “thank you.”

His voice cracks on the last word, and he turns away from her to muffle a coughing fit into the crook of his elbow.  He gives a little shiver, and then turns back and shoots her a weak smile.

“Are you okay?”

He drops his head down and pinches the bridge of his nose, “um...I’m not feeling very well, would it be alright with you if we rescheduled?”

She fiddles with the ring on her right index finger, “I have an idea.  Feel free to tell me no, and to leave you alone, but how about we go back to your place and I can make you tea and soup, or something...and we can watch movies, and you can fall asleep.”

“I’d love to take you up on that,” he rasps, voice all but gone,  “but I don’t want to get you sick.”

She waves him off, “I’m a nursing student, do you honestly think I care about germs?”

“...Fair point...but...I’ll feel bad.”

“Half of the students in my cohort are sick, and they’re not nearly as polite about it as you,” she smiles, “seriously. It’ll happen sooner or later, and I’m not about to make you be alone when you feel this bad.”

He grimaces, tugging on the collar of his shirt, “is it that noticeable?”

“I mean...you didn’t sing the last song...and you were sounding pretty rough before that.”

“Ah...yeah,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck, “I was about to lose my voice.”

“Thought so,” she frowns, “ready to go?”

Chloe offers to drive, and he gives her directions to his apartment from the passenger’s seat, curled up and shivering against the window, coughing every few minutes.  When she pulls into his apartment complex, he leads her up the stairs to the second floor, and then lets them inside.

“You know, this isn’t exactly how I had thought tonight would go,” he says quietly.

“Me neither...but it’s okay.”

“I really appreciate it, Chloe.”

“It’s nothing,” she says, shaking her head.

“I don’t know of anyone else who would willingly hang out with someone they’ve never met who’s sick,” he rasps, punctuating the statement with a rough couple of coughs.

She grins, “I just know I don’t like being alone when I’m sick, and you said your roommate was gone tonight, so I thought I’d offer. And…I dunno, I just really like talking to you. ”

He grins tiredly at her, reaching out to grab her hand, “I’m glad you did...I didn’t really want to be by myself.”

“I didn’t think so,” she smiles, “now I think it’s time for you to go lie down.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Sawyer clenches his jaw as he walks to the couch.  Moving is an effort, and the couch seems too far away, even though it’s only a five foot walk at most. His entire body hurts; moving hurts, breathing hurts, existing hurts. The walk winds him, and he alternates between coughing, and gulping in air, because his lungs suck right now and he can hardly breathe without coughing.

He stretches out on his couch, trying to block out the harsh glare of the overhead light with his arm draped over his eyes as he coughs into a fist.  His throat is killing him, each swallow feels like he’s been gargling nails for days. The coughing doesn’t help with that, and it certainly doesn’t help with the throbbing in his head.

“Alright, I need you to tell me where your medicine and thermometer is,” she says, crouching down next to him.  “You need something to suppress that cough, or you’ll never be able to sleep.”

“Uh...the thermometer is in the bathroom, just down the hall, in the cabinet.  Medicine is in the kitchen cabinet, over there,” he whispers, gesturing behind him.  He winces, because every word he speaks sends a stab of pain through the back of his throat.

“Be right back,” she says softly, putting a hand on his shoulder.  

“Could you...light?”

She nods, and as soon as she shuts them off, he rolls over and presses his face into the cushions. Another coughing fit tears through his lungs and throat, leaving him breathless and dizzy.

“That...sounds really bad, Sawyer.”

“It’s fine,” he wheezes, “everything always goes to my chest…and then eventually my head…but mostly my chest.”

“Do you have a humidifier anywhere?”

“Bathroom,” he chokes out through another cough.  

Once she has the humidifier all set up, and has tracked down medicine and supplies, she sticks the thermometer in his mouth, and presses a hand to his forehead.

He coughs around it, eyelids drooping as they wait for it to beep.  When it does, she takes it out of his mouth and squints at the numbers, “one hundred and two. Man, you really go all out, don’t you? Did you feel sick at all before the set?”

“A little...but it wasn’t bad.”

*

They watch movies for the next couple of hours, Sawyer nodding off and curled up under the blanket with his head in her lap.  As soon as the meds kicked in, they suppressed the coughing, which left him tired and fuzzy-headed, and unable to stay awake for more than twenty minutes at a time.

Around midnight, she yawns for the fifth time in twenty minutes, and he looks at her through sleepy eyes, “you should go home and sleep.”

“You sure?”

He nods, “I’m okay...I want to go to bed anyways, and you should sleep somewhere more comfortable than sitting up on a couch.”

“Mmkay,” she yawns.

He follows her to the door, and halfway there, she turns around to look at him, “what are you doing?”

“Walking you to the door,” he says, clearing his throat with a grimace.

She smiles softly at him, “I appreciate it, but the only place you should be going is bed.”

“I will, I promise,” he says, opening the door for her, “thank you for tonight...I’ll make it up to you. We’ll have a redo.”

“There’s nothing to make up.  Text me if you need anything, yeah?”

He leans down to kiss her cheek, “thank you.”

She stands on her tip toes, and pecks his lips before wrapping her arms around his neck, “of course.  Feel better.”

He groans, “you’re definitely catching this now.”

“You’ve been breathing on me all night,” she teases, “I’ve already been exposed.”

“I’m sorry,” he moans, dropping his head down to rest his forehead on her shoulder, “if you end up getting sick, feel free to punch me in the face.”

She bursts out laughing, “I told you it’s fine.  I’m serious, if I was really worried, I would have stayed home.  Besides, I have a great immune system, I’ll be okay.”

“Yeah, you say that now,” he grumbles.

She cups his cheek, “hey, relax.  Seriously, it’s okay.  Stop worrying about that, just focus on feeling better.”

“Okay,” he mumbles, “I’m going to bed...drive safe…I’ll text you in the morning.”

The minute that she gets into her car, she dials Hannah’s number.

“I’ve been waiting for you to call!” Hannah cries, picking up on the first ring.  “How did it go? Did you bang him?”

“GOD, Hannah.  No, I didn’t bang him, what’s wrong with you? I just met the guy.”

“How did it go? Where’d you go to eat?”

“Ah...actually, we had a change of plans.”

“Oh?”

“He’s sick-”

“-so you waited until half past midnight to call me and tell me you rescheduled? You’re the worst.”

“You suck at listening.  I said we had a change of plans, I didn’t say we rescheduled, now will you let me talk?”

“Sorry, yes, proceed.”

“So, after his show, we went back to his place and watched movies and I took care of him.”

“Okay...that’s really cute.”

“I like him a lot.”

“I TOLD you. Any plans for a second date?”

“He wants a redo of this one...when he’s not, you know, dying.”

“I knew you’d hit it off.  Isn’t he sweet?”

“Yes. He walked me to the door, even though he has a one hundred and two degree fever and looks like he’s about to fall over.”

“Yeah, that sounds like him.  He always walks me to my car when we close together.”

“He’s so cute,” Chloe groans, pressing her forehead to the steering wheel.

“I told you. I’d date him if I was, you know, into guys,” she chuckles, “so I’m taking it he’s probably not going to be at work tomorrow?”

“I would assume not...I hope not. He’s miserable.”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah.”

“But hey, it gives you an excuse to go see him, make sure he doesn’t die.”

“Yeah, that’s true,” she grins, “okay, I’m going to go...I’m exhausted.”

“Okay, I’ll see you...I don’t know when, but soon.”

*

Her phone ringing breaks her out of her sleep, and once she blinks away the haziness and rubs her eyes, she fumbles with the phone.

“Hello?”

“Chloe?” Sawyer croaks, voice heavy with congestion.

“Hey...you okay?”

“Could you combe back?” He whispers, “please?”

Her stomach drops, “are you okay?”

He sniffles, “I really dond’t feel well.”

She winces, “yeah, I’ll be there in a few minutes.  Do you need anything?”

“Ndo.”

She doesn’t bother changing out of her leggings and t-shirt before she grabs a jacket, keys, phone and purse and leaves for his place.

She’s there in just under ten minutes, and when he opens the door, her chest clenches.  

He’s standing there, blanket draped over his head like a hood, and pulled tightly around his shoulders as he leans against the doorframe. His dark brown curls are poking out from beneath the blanket and stuck to his forehead from the heat of his fever.  He sniffles pitifully, looking at her bleary-eyed as he rubs his too-pink nose on the blanket.  

“Oh...Sawyer, you look awful.”

“I’mb sorry for waki’gg you.”

“Don’t be sorry,” she says softly, putting a hand on his lower back, “did the congestion just hit?”

He sniffles, scrubbing at his nose, “hih...Hh'itschGNX! SnffSNFF! I w-woke up…ihtschGNX! Snff!...hhh...and I couldnd’t b-breathe...hhhih! Snff! Guh...snff!”

She grimaces and presses her hand to his cheek, “go lie down.  Your feel warmer...I think your fever spiked.”

He hunches over, coughing into the crook of his elbow.  He straightens up, clearing his throat, and she pushes him gently in the direction of the couch, “I have to call out of work.”

“Yeah, that’s probably wise. What time do you work?”

“Two.”

“At least you’re not opening.”  

He sniffles, collapsing down on the couch, “oh, god...yeah.”

She yawns tiredly, rubbing her eyes, “okay...what do you need? Medicine?”

He stifles another volley of sneezes, pain exploding in his sinuses and head.  He lets out a low groan of pain, massaging his temples, “ow.”

“That’s why you don’t stifle.  You’re going to blow out your eardrums.”

“Yeah...well..hihhihhh...ugh...Huh-tshh! Huhh'tsch! Huh-tshiew! Snff...” he scrubs at his nose, breathing a sigh of relief when the itch subsides for now.

“You definitely need some medicine.  Do you have any decongestants?”

He shrugs, rolling on his side, “I’mb ndot sure...mbaybe.”

“I’ll go check.”

“Chloe?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

She smiles softly, cupping his cheek, “of course.”

“I’ll mbake this up to you.”

She sighs, “you’re really intent on repaying me, aren’t you?”

“You cambe over at four ind the mborndi’gg…I definditely owe you onde…or tend.”

“Fine, you can take me out to dinner, then.”

“Andythi’gg you wandt.”

She grins, “okay, then.  It’s a date.”

“It’s a date,” he slurs, eyelids sliding shut as he falls asleep.