#i took two ibuprofen before i left work an hour ago and either it's not doing anything or hasnt kicked in yet because i also have a fucking

[mildmayfoxe]

when are they gonna invent something that makes periods stop altogether this birth control aint doing shit

[artist-kili]

I had a migraine episode yesterday so I feel like telling you what I feel and what I do. Perhaps someone experiences the same. Perhaps you know someone who does and want to help. (under the read more)

Anyway:

How my migraines feel:

They are about a 7 on a pain scala according to a description I found online. That means that I cannot continue daily activities and am restricted during the day. My migraines usually only stay for 24 hours but I had some rarely stay for 48 hours.

Symptoms include dizziness, severe nausea (including throwing up from anywhere from once to several times every 30 minutes) and a throbbing headache on the left or right side of my head right beside my eyes that gets worse when I move my eyes. Its also accompanied by a very stuff neck that hurts as well. I also am light sensitive (very bad pairing with my autism), noise sensitive and my cognitive functions are impaired. I struggle to process noises, to think, to form sentences (even worse than usual) and to balance. Sometimes I also feel extremely tired before the migraine hits like a meteor.

TLDR: I literally do not function in a migraine attack. Its pure torture. Like being sleepless for 48+ hours.

What I do against it:

Not much I can do really. I can only minimize my suffering. My newest neurologist prescribed me Rizatriptan (one to two tablets per attack) to manage the pain. If I have enough energy and thought about it, I'll take one immediately when I feel it coming. I dont have an aura tho before migraines (meaning Id feel it coming days in advance) and since I also get headaches from a stiff neck and other things I often notice it too late. Since I dont want to take my meds unnecessarily, I often wait too long. (Ibuprofen and similar over-the-counter painkillers don't work for me)

I also take pills against nausea so I dont use up my energy too much.

I take both meds with me at all times including school. Usually I will leave school immediately upon noticing headaches if I am not sure they are harmless. This prevents me from throwing up in the nasty school bathroom, possibly fainting and the headache from worsening.

I sometimes try to use mint oil first to relieve my neckpain, however it doesnt work with relieving the pain. It does calm me down tho,

Next step after meds and getting into a safe location (at best my room, any bed/flat surface works) and stuff, is that - if at home - I will grab a washing cloth, wetten it with cold water as well as a bottle of water to keep at least a little hydrated. I then either manage to go up the stairs to my room or I go to my parent's bedroom.

I will dim the room and go to bed. I place the wet cloth on my forehead and put the pillow against my neck to put pressure on whatever side hurts. It helps usually. In my room I have a bucket next to my bed in case of throwing up. When sleeping in my parents bed I only have to go five steps to the bathroom. It happens very rarely that I barely can walk there due to literally shaking from exhaustion. I will stay a few minutes in the bathroom to calm down before going back.

Otherwise I will sleep. I will sleep until the migraines are better/away. From yesterday 14:30 when I fell asleep to today 7:30, I slept 17 hours with occasional bathroom breaks. then the headaches were better and I immediately walked down, drank and took my meds I hadnt taken the day before because I was just too tired.

TLDR: Taking my migraine painkillers, taking anti-nausea pills, making a wet cloth for my forehead, dimming the room, preparing a possible bucket for throwing up and most importantly: SLEEP

How I got diagnosed:

So I was diagnosed several years ago, I am not sure when. I had started getting migraines and since my dad also suffers from them and they can be genetic, we got them checked up (+ my psychiatrist at the time suggested going to a neurologist)

My first neurologist first recommended trying if Ibuprofen or similar works and put me on preventive meds that Id have to take every day. My autism and lack of structure disliked that. Ibuprofen didn't work either.

Then followed MRIs, EEGs, bloodwork and i think an EKG too Im not sure tho; to just rule out other possibilities (like a tumor). Those were all safe. I still have to do an MRI every now and then just to be safe as well as an EEG and Bloodwork. Like once a year or so.

Back at the doctor: My first neurologist moved. Onto the second one. He prescribed me Sumatriptan after some testing and stuff.

I had one meeting with him before he retired. I also could stop taking the preventive meds that I wasnt taking anyway because I cant deal with it.

My third and last neurologist changed Sumatriptan to Rizatriptan and acinowledged that I struggled with daily intake tablets. Those are what I have now and it works good so far. That neurologist went into a private praxis a few weeks afterwards.

My main struggle was that I couldnt get a prescription for the meds without a neurologists referral. So it was a very stressful calling back and forth until my general doctor was able to give the prescription. So now everything is fine!

I really hoped someone would help this "^^

[neonponders]

*sigh* ..... Nobody’s surprised here lol I require very little enabling.

Here’s part 1 of this lil mafia_au ✨ @lovebillyhargrove 💗

This got out of hand quickly orz but I’ll hold onto this for a later time 🔥

And to answer your question.....yes, I do write smut 😘

Billy made Steve cum four times.

Four.

He couldn’t believe it. Once, standing up in his towel with Billy massaging his groin, and twice more while he opened him up. Steve knew he was pent up, but...this was something else.

Billy yanked the towel to fall to the floor and walked him backward into the bedroom, shedding Steve of his t-shirt. Then he spread Steve wide and licked inside his ass. Steve couldn’t really say if the next orgasm was normal, dry, or just a pleasurable spike from being overwhelmed from Billy’s fingers tickling deeper than he thought possible.

Some lingering brain cell chirped at him and he carefully turned over to start crawling over the bed toward the side drawer. He managed to get his fingertips on the brass handle before Billy laid on top of him, flush with his pants open. Steve’s cock kicked to full eagerness at the sensation of Billy behind him, soft skin and strong muscle.

His arm followed up Steve’s to the drawer, where he withdrew the lube. Steve flushed from embarrassment that he gasped against Billy saying into his hair, “I’ll take care of you.”

Steve could only manage, “Condoms?”

“I’m clean. You?”

Steve blinked, lust making his head heavy until he released his weight onto the mattress. “I think so. I haven’t checked.”

The sound of the bottle cap behind and above him. “We’ll get you checked if you want, baby. Lift your ass for me.”

He sluggishly moved his elbows underneath him to do so, but then his voice escaped with his surprise at Billy hefting his pelvis up. “Breathe for me. Let me hear you.”

Steve let his torso recline like a ramp up to where Billy began to push inside. As much as the stretch made Steve’s jaw intermittently go slack and clench, the little, repeated pushes against his prostate made him see stars. The way Billy pulled him back and pushed inside him with a steadily increasing pace...Steve had never just let go before. Was usually entirely devoted to making sure his partner got everything they wanted and needed.

Billy used him and it felt great. To reach behind him for Billy’s hip when he arrived at the pace that ramped up Steve’s panted whines. The soft moan Billy made when Steve pushed against him with stuttering pulses, so close, so so

Steve’s nails bit into Billy’s hip, silently begging him to stay put as he bucked against him, the two at a clumsy impasse as Billy tried to fuck him through it and Steve’s short thrusts negated his efforts but made wet slaps fill the small room.

“Hahh!” Steve exclaimed when Billy’s arm came around his front and he moved them further up the bed. His other hand pressed into the mattress beside Steve’s head. He loosely held onto Billy’s wrist as the man took his pleasure from Steve. The way he just handled Steve into position...

“What?” he grunted breathily above him when Steve laughed. Something twirled in Steve’s belly at how mutually wrecked he sounded.

“Nothing. I just like this.”

Billy came with two more stuttering thrusts that pushed his hips tightly against Steve’s ass. He didn’t know what to expect afterwards, and he was too fucked out and tired to care much. But Billy landed beside him and rolled Steve over to spoon his backside and feel that silk shirt against his skin.

Maybe ten minutes, maybe an hour later, Steve felt Billy easing his thigh up to slot himself inside again. The angle shoved a gasp right out of him, but where before had been fast, Billy took his time now. Relishing each shiver that his nose and mouth caused behind Steve’s ear and on the side of his neck. The moan he got when he slid his hand down the inside of Steve’s thigh, easing it over his own leg to open Steve up further.

When his hand finally closed around Steve’s erection, Steve’s hand overlapped it, guiding him to what he needed. Billy came first this time, but he stayed inside and pumped Steve to his finish.

His last remotely cognizant thought went into noticing how Billy lifted his covers over their bodies as he slipped into slumber.

He shouldn’t have been able to wake up from the little shuffles and belt tinkering after the sun had risen, but Steve opened his eyes to see Billy adjusting his clothes in his closet door mirror.

“Do a turn.”

Billy perked up and looked back at him. He smiled like he’d been caught at something. “What?”

Steve gazed at him as much as he could from where his face was smushed against the pillow. He twirled a finger in the air. “Do a turn.”

Billy laughed softly, and...that was nice. He looked sweet when he smiled. It made a weight land in Steve’s belly, but a pleasant weight. It was even nicer how he held his arms out and rotated for Steve to see all of him. The silk shirt that was a dark, dark green; made the pink of his cheeks and lips pop. The black slacks around thick thighs...Steve wouldn’t mind having those wrapped around him.

“Gorgeous.”

Billy grinned through another laugh and let his arms fall back to his sides. He approached the bed and Steve’s eyes closed against the hand combing through his hairline. “What’s your shift today?”

“Closing,” he exhaled, his voice light with sleep.

He cooed a sound when Billy kissed his temple. “I’ll see you later.”

He hummed two more sounds like, Oh-kay.

Steve didn’t go to work.

His alarm when off, he stood up, and then fell back into bed while reaching for his phone to call his manager and use one of his sick days. Considering the tip he got last night, he could certainly afford a day off.

Perhaps he shouldn’t have been surprised, come dinner time, that a knock came at the door. Steve hauled his whole comforter with him to the door, where Billy immediately looked him over and stepped inside. “I went to the restaurant to see you. What’s wrong?”

Steve chuckled a little through, “Nothing’s wrong. I just called in sick.”

Billy lifted his gaze from the plush turtle shell around him. “You were fine this morn - ”

“I’m sore, Billy,” he droned and began to shuffle his way back to his room, perfectly content with the blunt look of surprise on the man’s face. For good measure, he sassed, “Coulda left me an ice pack.”

He head Billy shut the door for him and then the same rustle and twinkle he’d heard this morning, only in reverse as he undressed. He put his clothes on the couch until he wore just his briefs and tank top. Steve’s eyes followed him from the bed, because even those were a look. The man couldn’t do anything without a couple hundred dollars on his body.

He brought an ibuprofen and a tall glass of water to the bed. Steve had already taken one, but it had been some hours ago.

“Have you eaten?”

He nodded while gulping water. “Lunch.”

He left the bedroom again and Steve heard him talking on the phone about what sounded like Chinese food. He only paused to lean in and ask, “Steve?”

His bedhead lifted up, just eyes, nose, and hair above his mound of comforter. Billy laughed, “What sides do you want?”

“Crab rangoons,” he returned easily.

When he finished, Billy climbed into bed with, “Come here,” and Steve eased his way onto his chest. He lent some of the comforter over Billy’s legs.

It was nice. Really nice.

By the time the food got there, Steve could sit properly again and Billy respected Steve’s choice in watching Netflix anime on the laptop on the end of the bed.

It was nice. All of it went incredibly well considering Steve didn’t know Billy’s last name. And frankly, he didn’t feel confident enough to ask. Even if Billy filled up every spare minute he had with holding Steve’s body against his chest, pushing Steve’s hair behind his ear, kissing him until Steve didn’t know his own name - even if it was just for a glorious weekend

He was fine with it. Because Steve wanted to be wanted. And Billy unashamedly desired him.

Steve did manage to ask him if the phone number included with his tip was Billy’s. He took the small slip of paper from Steve and wondered, “Who did you think it was from?”

“I didn’t handle your tab,” Steve defended while their legs were tangle together and the room still smelled of sweet and sour sauce. “I didn’t handle anyone’s, and there were like, fifteen people in your party.”

The corner of his mouth lifted in a smirk. “Do you often get numbers tucked in the receipt folder?”

“No,” Steve scoffed while rubbing behind his ear. “I did get a tiny baggie of cocaine once.”

“Someone thought tipping the waiter with blow would be fine? Wow. Did you try it?”

“It could’ve been powdered sugar, for all I knew. I didn’t keep it. I’ll stick to downers like classic THC.”

Billy smiled and Billy laughed. Sometimes he just touched Steve like he was curious, or...checking like he was really there. A finger under his chin. A nose turning into his hair and deeply inhaling. Sometimes he touched Steve’s leg so he looked at him, but when Steve asked what he wanted to say or ask, Billy just shook his head. Like he just wanted Steve’s eyes and attention on him.

Steve really should’ve expected the gifts.

First came the flatscreen television. The men who installed it were generous enough to provide the HDMI cable to connect his laptop to it.

Then came a new internet router.

And Billy started picking Steve up to take him to work. The first time was sweet and a pleasant surprise. Billy drove a luxurious car that looked demure on the outside but boasted upholstery that smelled expensive and the entire dash glowed with neon, indigo lining. He reeled Steve over the center console to kiss him before his shift.

“You’re dating either a criminal, or an heir to something,” Robin declared when Steve met up with her on his day off. Her words were tight due to the sheet mask on both of their faces. Steve folded his up so he could slurp on a Sprite can.

“I haven’t seen any security force, though? Shouldn’t a guy like that have a bouncer with him or a portable secretary everywhere he goes?”

Robin scoffed, “A portable - you mean a personal assistant? I don’t know, probably. Just because you haven’t seen one doesn’t mean he hasn’t got one or six. Make sure he knows I don’t get wet for dinguses.”

“You know, I never needed that,” he grimaced.

What did come as a surprise, though, is that Billy never initiated sex again after that first night. He and Billy kept rather busy schedules despite how often Billy walked into Steve’s life, but he couldn’t help but wonder what Billy’s motivations were. Maybe he just wanted to take it slow for the sake of Steve’s body. Maybe he realized Steve was a sap who could stick around for longer than a week.

He stopped wondering after an accident happened at the restaurant. Steve always did have a talent for landing himself right at the apex of one problem intersecting another problem.

A wine glass fell on the floor - nothing extraordinary - and someone bumped into him as he bent to collect the bigger pieces. His hand caught right on the upright, jagged stem of the glass. Yeah, it hurt like stepping into an oyster bed, but Steve carefully pulled the stem out of his hand and used one of the chef’s gloves over cotton and gauze to finish his shift.

Billy picked him up.

Steve knew what his car looked like now, and clearly Billy wasn’t taking chances on anybody else picking him up -

He leaned on the car as Steve approached, but he stepped off to stride right to him and lifted up his hand by the wrist. Steve’s mouth opened to speak, but no words came. He’d never seen Billy angry before.

The dagger hovered in Steve’s belly.

“What. Happened.”

“It was just an accident,” Steve tried to say, but his voice didn’t fully back him up. Billy’s grip tightened on his wrist. Steve tried again, insisted, “It was an accident, Billy. Someone dropped their glass. It happens all the time. I’m fine. Can we go?”

He couldn’t say what actually made Billy turn around and open the car door for him. But he didn’t take Steve back to his apartment. Or the Emergency Room. Billy didn’t talk during the drive. Steve didn’t know where he was going after Billy parked in a parking garage and he cradled his hand in an elevator that just kept going up.

“My place,” Billy finally said as the doors opened.

Criminal. Definitely a criminal, Steve’s brain declared as he slowly stepped inside the suite that the elevator opened directly into. He left his shoes by the elevator, not daring a speck of dirt on the marble foyer hallway or the carpeting beyond that.

He looked left. He looked right. The suite kept going on either side, like it was meant for a family of eight.

“Come here.”

Steve obeyed and sat on the crushed velvet couch. Billy set a phone down on its receiver. Steve hadn’t heard him say anything into it, but Billy went through a door while he removed his coat. Steve assumed it to be the bedroom. Or a massive closet. He stayed put where he was, petting the couch one way, making the threads look black, and then the other, glistening sapphire blue.

In a matter of minutes, the elevator doors opened again. Steve stood up but Billy reappeared and waved him back down. He was beginning to feel like a trained dog at this point.

“Dr. Owens. Thanks for coming up.”

“Always an obligation, Mr. Hargrove,” came the reply in the foyer.

Hargrove?

“Ah, are you the one?”

Steve’s mouth opened, but what came out was, “There’s only one of me.”

All three of them seemed to be mildly confused and disappointed in that sentence, but they each let it slide. Owens nodded at his bandaged hand. “Would you mind explaining your injury to me?”

He did while Billy sat on the other couch, knees crossed and a hand wandering his mouth. Brooding.

Owens began to look through the case he brought with him. It opened like a makeup kit, with three tiers that opened like stairs with medicine supplies. “I’m going to do some minor injections to numb your hand. Then I’ll need to look around for any lingering glass.”

“What if I’m afraid of needles?”

“You’re going to be more afraid of an infection caused by glass in the hand. If an infection gets entwined far enough with the metacarpals, it’s nearly impossible to clean it out. Hands and feet are the worst places to get injured.”

Steve’s shoulders drooped an inch. “Great.”

He felt and smelled Owens moving an alcohol swab all over his hand, but he otherwise kept his gaze elsewhere during the injections.

Of course he’d have to feel the first two or three.

Billy entered his vision, sitting next to him and curving Steve’s arm around his own, locking Steve to him. Steve’s vision couldn’t quite focus on him. Everything had a blurry edge.

“Lean back.”

The notion didn’t sound great. “I’ll vomit.”

“Then lean into me.”

That proved...more manageable. Billy held firm with Steve’s weight falling into him. He wore a blue shirt today. Just a nice, soft and mundane long-sleeve. He matched the couch. His hair had already grown out past the fade, too. Softly fuzzy against Steve’s face...

“Tell me what happened.”

Steve’s brain didn’t want to cooperate, and with each word he pushed out, confusion intertwined the cogs in his mind. “The...glass. Wine glass. I work in a restaurant - ”

His head lifted to look at him. “You don’t believe me?”

“I want to make sure.”

Steve stared at him. “What? That I can keep a story straight while trying not to pass out or vomit?”

“Keep your hand still,” Owens droned. Steve felt his dull hold on his wrist, and the distantly sharp exploration through his palm.

Billy didn’t respond, and Steve didn’t say anything else until Owens had finished. He rattled a small glass vial, two bloody pieces dancing around in it. “I’ll let you keep these unless you want me to dispose them?”

“I love souvenirs,” Steve remarked.

Owens looked just as pleased to be out of there as Billy looked unhappy at being left alone with Steve. The color had returned to his face while Owens wrapped up his hand, and now Billy paced his living room.

“Am I allowed to leave?” Steve asked the same time Billy said, “Want the tour?”

Billy frowned. “Do you want to?”

With his unharmed hand, Steve rubbed his face. “I don’t actually like staying up until four in the morning.”

Steve didn’t get the tour.

Billy drove him back to his apartment. He didn’t stay, but he said before leaving, “I’ll pick you up tomorrow.”

It didn’t occur until Steve’s head was hitting the pillow that he didn’t have work tomorrow. What could Billy possibly be picking him up for?

So Steve made sure he wasn’t home.

Yes, it’s petty.

Yes, Robin called him a moron one the phone while he strolled through the park.

“You’re gonna die because you refused some rich douche bag’s date.”

“I am not going to die,” he refuted. “I’m just going - ”

“To explain why.”

He startled away from Billy walking beside him, causing the pebbles paving the walkway to go flying. “Steve?” Robin said in his ear.

“I’ll call you later.”

Billy didn’t look nearly as lethal as the night before, but he certainly wasn’t strolling through Disney World. “Why weren’t you at your apartment?”

Steve had a tendency to panic when overwhelmed, all right? He’d reached his limit and exploded, “I don’t know! Because you didn’t say why or when? Because I’m not one of your poodles? I’m a person who’s allowed to live their life like - like - normal?”

Billy blinked at him, his brows lifting until he said incredulously, “Poodles?”

“A trained dog! You know what I mean.” Steve waved his injured hand for emphasis and grimaced for it. “You’re suspicious as hell. Don’t think I’ll do anything you ask just because the sex was good - great. Whatever.”

A smirk began to warm Billy’s features. “Poodles.”

Steve’s hair bobbed over his face as he nodded. “Yeah? My aunt had two of ‘em. They were assholes. What are you not getting here?”

Billy laughed a little and, as he stepped close to him, Steve began to wonder if the park was...emptier, than it usually was on a Friday.

“You’re prettier than a poodle. And more disobedient than I ever tolerate, Steve.”

He tried to steel his jaw, but Steve had long since given up adolescent charades of hauteur. He shrugged, “What does that mean? You want your TV and router back? Are you going to sabotage my health insurance if I say no?”

Billy’s eyes lolled under a slow blink. “I’m not revoking your health insurance.”

Steve’s shoes touched Billy’s even though they had the space of the whole park. “Then what are we doing? I’m just some nobody. You’re clearly a somebody.”

“You’re not a nobody to me,” Billy finished, his breath tickling Steve’s lips. “I don’t want to hear you talk about yourself like that again.”

“Bossing me around isn’t going to end well for either of us. Especially if you can’t even believe me when I’m injured at work with an audience to vouch for - ”

Billy kissed him, but it wasn’t a hard, silencing kiss. It was one of Billy’s little touches. His cravings. To touch Steve. To share his air.

Steve’s brows furrowed and a conflicted moan hummed in his throat. His unharmed hand found Billy’s chest, and the latter took it as his cue to lace his fingers behind Steve’s back.

He’d barely broken the kiss before he started to say, “What we’re doing, is going to my car. You’re going to let me taste your dick behind my tinted windows because I’m done being considerate. Then we’ll go back to my place. I’ll give you the tour, and you’ll choose which room we fuck in first.”

Steve’s eyes ached with lust and how long he’d held them open. He gulped dryly. “This was an inconclusive argument.”

Billy smiled and turned them both to continue along out of the park.

[topsytervy]

Wisdom Teeth ~ JJ Maybank

Blurb: JJ takes care of you after you get your wisdom teeth out. Not gonna lie, this post is kind of a mess

Word Count: 1,890

Warnings: mentions of blood, swearing, small mention of alcohol/drinking, I think that’s it.

I’m just going to say that this is based off of my wisdom teeth experience. I didn’t get gassed or put under, my moms friend suggested me holding alcohol in my mouth cause she did that when she got hers out and it worked for her (it worked for me enough to let me sleep like the dead, and my mom kept laughing at me.

I aged JJ and the reader to 19 cause why not.

I also lowkey started thinking of JJ taking care of his kids after their wisdom teeth get pulled and thats shows in the ending. 

anyway, small shoutout to @taylathornton who got me thinking about this after she said something about JJ or Rafe taking care of the reader when they get their wisdom teeth out.

~~~~

You walked out into the waiting room, gauze on either side of your mouth, your boyfriend standing by the counter as someone gave him the same rundown they gave you post-extraction. 

JJ smiled as he saw you, not that you could see with the mask over the bottom half of his face, and pulled you into his side.

"Just remember that if you still feel pain while taking the prescription he gave you today, call back and he'll prescribe you something stronger." the lady said. 

You nodded as you shoved the sheet filled with the instructions, prescriptions, and the extra gauze they gave you into JJ's hands. JJ said a quick thank you to the lady and then directed you to the door, every penny being covered by your insurance.

Thank God.

"How do you feel, princess?" He asked, intertwining your fingers together.

"You didn't tell me the extraction was such a violent process." You told him.

Well, attempted to tell him but the gauze in your mouth wasn't helping. The mask definitely added to muffling your voice.

JJ chuckled. "What?" He asked, unlocking the truck.

"You didn't tell me the extraction was such a violent process." You said slower, louder, and slightly more enunciated. 

JJ helped you into the truck. "Didn't want to scare you, Y/N/N."

"I can do it myself. I wasn’t gassed or anything. Just numbed." You swatted his hand away as he went to buckle you in.

He held up his hands. "Alright. I'm sorry." 

"Besides the lady said that I was surprisingly calm during the process." You informed him as you took off your mask.

"That's good." He closed the door and walked over to the driver’s side, climbing in as he also took off his mask. "Since you were so good during the process, how about you remind me in a week to take you to Dairy Queen and we'll get you some ice cream." He suggested, leaning over the center console and brushing some hair out of your face.

"Can I get chicken tenders too?" You asked, looking at your blonde boyfriend with the best puppy dog eyes you could muster.

JJ let out a laugh as he started the truck and began to pull out of the parking lot. "Yeah. You can get chicken tenders too, princess."

You smiled, reaching into your mouth to readjust the blood-soaked gauze only to have JJ swat your hand away. "Don't."

"But I feel like I’m swallowing the gauze every time I go to swallow my saliva." You whined.

JJ sighed. "That’s because the roof of your mouth is swollen so it makes it difficult to swallow the saliva. Just leave the gauze where it is."

You shot JJ a look before bringing your hand to your mouth again. JJ reached over and grabbed your wrist his eyes never leaving the road.

"Y/N." He warned.

"JJ." You imitated.

"I said don't touch it." 

You took your wrist away from him and crossed your arms, looking out the window. 

"Keep that up and you won’t get dairy queen next week. I'll get myself dairy queen and you can keep eating soup and mashed potatoes." 

"You're so mean to me sometimes, J." You whispered.

"Only cause I love you and care about you, baby." He smiled, his hand going to your thigh and giving it a light squeeze. 

You uncrossed your arms and took his hand in yours. "You're so sweet."

JJ shook his head. "Flip-floppy today, huh. 3 seconds ago I was mean and now I'm sweet."

You shrugged. "You're a flip-floppy guy. You threw me off the dock once when it was chilly outside and then gave me clothes to change into not even three minutes later."

"That's called being a gentleman." He smirked. 

"No. It's called being an asshole with a heart." 

JJ snorted as he pulled into the pharmacy parking lot, pulling into a parking space before throwing the truck in park and grabbed his wallet along with your prescriptions.

"Stay here. I’ll be back." He kissed your temple before putting his mask back on, adjusting it so it was over his nose.

You shot him a thumbs-up as you pulled out your phone, taking the time to reply to Kie and Sarah who wanted to check in on you. They both offered to come over and take care of you but you told them you were fine cause you had JJ with you.

Kie immediately replied with a 'that's why we're offering.'

You let out a small giggle before sending them an 'I'm sure JJ can handle it' before locking your phone and pulling down the sun visor to look in the mirror. 

You opened your mouth and made a face as you looked at the inside of your mouth and saw the dried blood on your lips.

JJ opened the door and slid back into the driver’s seat, placing the bag with the two pill bottles in your lap. "You know, technically you’re supposed to keep pressure on the gauze for an hour so it clot and shit."

"You didn't tell me the inside of my mouth looks like it’s having its own little period. I smiled at you with my mouth looking like I took a baseball or something to the teeth." You scolded.

"Princess, and I mean this with all the love in my heart, you look like a hockey player who took a puck to the teeth." JJ laughed as he put the car in drive and made his way to the grocery store.

"JJ," you whined, not finding his comparison cute in the slightest.

"What? It's more accurate than the baseball comparison you said." 

"Stop laughing at me, J. It's not funny." 

"I'm sorry. You're just so whiney right now and it's adorable to me. Makes me want to bundle you up and hold you in my arms and protect you from all the evil in the world." JJ glanced at you. You crossed your arms over your chest and looked out the window. “Y/N, don’t be like this now.”

“You’re being mean to me.” 

“I am not.”

“Yes, you are. I’m over here bleeding, preparing for the numbness to wear off and the pain to set in and you’re laughing at me.”

JJ grabbed your hand and pressed it to his lips. “I’m sorry, baby. Can you accept me buying you soup as my way of asking for your forgiveness?”

He stopped at a stop sign and looked over at you, giving you his best puppy dog eyes.

You sighed. "I suppose."

He grinned as he squeezed your hand lightly. “See, you can’t stay mad at me forever, Y/N/N.”

You rolled your eyes before leaning your head against the headrest. “It’s because I need you to take care of me while I’m healing.”

“Oh?”

“Mhm. As much as I love Kie and Sarah, I don’t think their cuddles can compare to yours.”

JJ nodded. “Fair enough. That’s all you need me for? Cuddles?” 

You shrugged. “We’ll see.”

****

Within two hours, you were tearing up as the numbness wore off, the pain coming in at full force. You laid on the couch in the living room of the apartment you and JJ shared, a blanket thrown over your body.

JJ walked over with a glass of water and the pills you were prescribed. “Alright, here’s your amoxicillin, and here’s your ibuprofen.” He handed you the pills as you sat up.

You popped the two pills into your mouth, taking the glass of water from your boyfriend’s hand before taking a sip and swallowing the pills. JJ took the glass from you and set it on the end table as you sniffed.

“You know what might help?” JJ asked, walking over to one of the cabinets and opening it. 

“What?”

“I know you’re not a big drinker, Y/N, but I remember Mr. Heyward telling me when I got my wisdom teeth out that, if you take vodka, whiskey, tequila, whatever, and kind of hold it in your mouth, tilting your head left and right, it’ll help with the pain. It almost renumbs it and because it’s alcohol, it also helps fight infections.” JJ explained, grabbing the bottle of vodka he had stashed away.

He grabbed a shot glass and filled it up before bringing it over to you. 

“JJ, baby, I don’t think I should be having alcohol after taking a 600 mg ibuprofen and a 500 mg amoxicillin. Besides, I’m pretty sure that’s what the amoxicillin is for anyway.” 

JJ sighed. “I know, princess, but I’m trying to help you out here. It hurts me to see you hurting.”

“And just two hours ago you were saying it was cute when I’m all whiney.” You joked.

“You are cute when you’re whiney and not in pain. Now you’re just in pain and I don’t like it.” 

You looked at JJ with a frown. “How about we just cuddle for the rest of the day? Maybe take a nap because I’m all tuckered out.” 

JJ smiled lightly, downing the shot of vodka before heading over to you and picking you up. You wrapped your legs around his waist as your arms snaked around his neck, him holding you up by your thighs. He carried you into your bedroom, taking one of his hands and pulling back the blankets before gently setting you down and tucking you in. 

He climbed in on his side, gently pulling you into his side, putting a pillow on top of his upper arm so you weren’t resting on his arm, knowing that it wouldn’t help the pain at all.

“Comfortable, princess?” He asked.

You hummed in response, your arm draping across his stomach. 

He kissed the top of your head, brushing your hair away from your face. 

“I’m sorry in advance if I drool on you. I’m even more sorry if it’s bloody drool.” You muttered.

“It’s alright. You can drool on me whenever you want, bloody or not.”

You smiled. “And Kie and Sarah were worried about you taking care of me.”

JJ scoffed. “I always take care of you so Kie and Sarah can shove a sock in it.”

You giggled. “It’s okay, baby. I defended you and your ability to take care of me.”

“I would hope so. After all, I’m buying you Dairy Queen next week. I don’t buy Dairy Queen for anybody, you know.”

“I know.” You sighed.

It was quiet for a few minutes and you were almost asleep before JJ spoke again.

“You gotta eat your soup and mashed potatoes though or else you don’t get chicken tenders next week.”

You let out a laugh. “Oh my god, JJ. You sound like my dad when I had to go get shots.”

“That just means I’m prepared for when we have kids. The whole bribery part of parenting, in the bag.” JJ stated with a nod.

You nodded. “Alright, baby. I can’t wait to tell our kids how you knew you were ready to be a father because you told me a week after my wisdom teeth were removed, you were going to buy me chicken tenders and ice cream.”

JJ smiled. “And I can’t wait to be saying the same thing to them when they get their wisdom teeth out.”

~~~~~~

[writersarchivex]

New Job- One Shot

a/n: basically y/n just got a new job, and before her first day she goes out to celebrate with some friends. she meets harry at the bar. things happen. b o o m.

warnings: angst, adult language, drinking, mentions of sex.

!theres no smut in this guys . give me a break this is my first time posting on tumblr!

words: 1.6k

After months of looking and years of hard work at college, Y/N finally got the call. She had gotten her dream job at a law firm, which might not sound like much but it very much so is. All her life this had been just what her dad wanted for her, to grow up and become a powerful lawyer and strong young woman.

So that’s what she did. She worked her ass off, never attending parties and never straying far from the lines. Pretty much everything she did was to please the memory of her beloved father.

Tonight though, was a change of pace for Y/N. A group of her friends invited her to the local bar, after finding out about her new found job.

“Come on Y/N. One drink. Live a little before you jump into that great job of yours.” Mia said into the phone.

Y/N sighed and looked around at her apartment. She didn’t really have any plans for the night, and there wasn’t any harm in having one drink with her friends. I mean, how often do you get to celebrate things like this right?

“Fine, Mia. Just one drink. No funny business though, I really can’t go in tomorrow with a hang over.” Y/N smiled.

One drink very quickly became two, and two became four. Y/N was very drunk. The room was a bit blurry, but she was certainly sober to know she’d had enough.

Mia and the group were having a blast, and of course she was as well. This type of thing was never Y/N’s scene. She was more of the ‘stay inside with a blanket and a book’ kind of girl.

She kind of hated nights like this. The smell and taste of alcohol overpowering her senses, drunk sweaty people dancing around, and a black dress that was all too short and uncomfortable.

After looking at her friends a while more, she had decided she was done. It’s way past time to call it a night.

She gave a smile to know one in particular, and turned to get her wallet.

She did not expect though, to be met with very pretty eyes and the most gorgeous hair she has probably seen on a man, or any human being for that matter.

“Can I buy you a drink, love?” The man asked, eyeing her carefully up and down.

His voice was dripping with attractiveness, and a beautiful english accent.

“Uhm, I really should be going. Thank you though,” She did her best to be polite.

Although the man looked like a literal gift from God, she really needed to get home.

She missed her pajamas. And her cat.

“Come on, just one. If you really wanna go after that, I’ll call you an uber.” He smiled.

Okay, by now Y/N was very sure she was dreaming. No man that sexy can possibly be that kind. Nope.

She looked at him carefully, like he did to her just moments ago. He was quite tall compared to her, and he was wearing a very nice suit, that fit him perfectly. A businessman maybe?

The man continued to patiently wait, until she gave her answer.

“Okay fine one drink, can I at least have your name?” She smiled at the curly headed man.

He clapped his hands together softly, and let out a chuckle.

“I’m Harry.”

——————————————————————————

Y/N felt the warmth of the sun on her as she slowly sat up in her bed. The memories of last night still a mystery in her mind.

All she knew is that, somehow she was not late for work.

And there was someone in her bed.

A man was laying next to her, facing the opposite direction. From what she could see, he was hot. He certainly had a very nice back.

“I’m Harry.”

Memories from the night prior flooded her mind. She began to slightly panic. She’s never experienced anything like this before, and she didn’t quite know what to do with the man in the bed next to her.

He was fast asleep, and right now she wishes she were dead. Out of all the stupid things she's ever done, this seems to take the cake. 

Trying her best not to wake the man, Y/N made her way quietly out of her room. I mean, she could just get ready for work? Let him wake up on his own?

With the few times that she had gotten drunk in the past, she's never really had a hang over. Call it good karma, or maybe just luck.

She examined her self in the mirror, noticing the hickeys that littered her pale chest.

"Jesus. Couldn't he have aimed a little lower there Harry." She grimaced, turning away from the mirror.

Although she felt a little stupid and embarrassed, she didn't really regret sleeping with the man in her bed.

He seemed mature, which is always nice in situations like this. Not to mention he was mind numbingly attractive.

—

Soon after her shower was finished and she had gotten ready for work, she stepped out of the bathroom trying her best to prepare to wake the man up.

It took every bone in her body not to just let him stay there until he deemed fit to leave, but she figured that wouldn't be the best of ideas. She walked down the small hallway and quickly noticed the smell of coffee surrounding the apartment.

Walking into the kitchen, the man was stood in just his boxers, patiently waiting for the coffee to brew.

Standing there she decided to indulge herself a bit. She never really gets the pleasure of housing someone like this in her apartment, so she figures it wouldn't hurt to admire a bit.

"The mugs are in the top cabinet." She was a bit surprised by how weak her voice was, considering how confident she was last night.

He turned quickly and gave her a quick smile. He seemed a bit wrecked, which was a given under the circumstances.

"Hangover?" She asked, slowly making her way to the medicine cabinet.

He nodded and sat with his cup of black coffee, placing his hands around his head.

"Yes. You seem perfectly fine though. Is it bad that i kind of wish you were hungover too?" He laughed a bit, but quickly grimaced at the sound of his own voice.

What he said made her giggle a bit, before she handed him a few ibuprofen.

He mumbled a quick thank you and finished his cup of coffee.

He stood, placing his hand on either side of the counter where Y/N sat.

Suddenly, she felt like she was in junior high all over again. Y/N felt her cheeks go hot and it felt like every sign of breath had vacated her lungs.

"Hangover or not. From what i can remember, last night was great." He said in a slight whisper.

He was close enough now, that Y/N could feel his breath on my neck. It sent shivers down her spine and she could've swarm she would die right on the spot.

He placed his lips on hers gently, and boy she could've sworn she felt sparks. Her whole face was on fire at this point. No man, or woman, has ever had quite this effect on her.

"I wish I could stay love, but I have to head in to work in about an hour." He said, tracing circles on the side of her arm.

She smiled and looked at the clock, she still had about thirty minutes before she had to get to the firm, and living pretty close surely helped her situation.

"It's okay you can go. It was nice- meeting you Harry."

He gave her one last kiss on the lips before returning to the room to get dressed.

—

Y/N was actually quite sad that he had left. She wishes he could've stayed longer, but she wasn't going to be that girl.

It was a one night stand, and nothing more.

She sighed and looked up at the polished building. Her cup of coffee had gone a bit cold, but she drank it nonetheless.

She checked her watch quickly, and decided it would be best just to go ahead in.

Y/N was very nervous. She worked hard and earned her position, but she was still a bit worried about how her arrival would be taken.

She was a nice girl, and she hoped that people would treat her the same.

She got a few looks as she walked in, but most everyone continued on with their business as if she was just another intern. That she was though.

"Y/N hey!" She stopped in her tracks as her close friend Liam flagged her down.

He stopped in front of her and began to give her the run down of the building.

"Here's everything you need, badge, ID card, and I wrote down the pin numbers to the break room doors. Oh and you have a quick meeting with the boss in about five minutes. He's running late, so you can just go wait in his office." Liam panted.

I was a bit overwhelmed with all the information he gave me, but I did my best not to show my nervousness.

"Okay. I'm going to head there now. Wish me luck okay?" She grinned at the man.

He gave her a quick hug, and then hurriedly made his way over to his office.

———

The bosses office was quite bare. She'd never seen or met this man. Y/N was hired by the head of the department she'd be working in. This man that she was meeting with was the head of the whole damn building.

Kind of intimidating, but it's nothing she can't handle.

After waiting for about fifteen minutes, the door opened and closed quickly.

"I apologize for my lateness, Miss Y/L/N. I was stuck in morning traffic." A familiar voice rang out.

She grimaced and turned around slowly to face the man.

Her boss.

"Harry?"

[journalxxx]

By Hook or by Crook (1)

"Is it possible to become a hero like you even without using any quirks?" Toshinori thought that it was a strange question. Strangely worded, and with too obvious an answer to be worth asking. Still, he stopped. The memory of a similarly naive middle-schooler from way too long ago made him pause. He shouldn't have paused. Another impossibly shrill scream erupted from the boy when Toshinori tried to reassure him of his identity, and turned up with a mouthful of blood instead. What a charming day this was proving to be. Almost an entire night spent awake due to his old wound deciding to make a fuss and disregard any sort of painkillers he threw at it, a frustrating morning followed by an equally frustrating afternoon he had struggled to navigate through with the alertness of a drunken sloth, which had caused him to get lost in the sewers while chasing a dangerous criminal, as well as fail to notice a whole human being sticking to his leg as he took off at the speed of several hundreds kilometres per hour, and now this.

Toshinori took a proper gander at the brand new crack in his privacy. He was a freckled, scrawny thing, with unruly green hair and enough jitters to be picked up by the nearest seismographs, probably.

"How... How? Is it- are you- are..." The boy stuttered, pale and physically shivering from the shock. "Is... was that your quirk? A transformation quirk?" He brought a hand to his mouth, subconsciously mimicking Toshinori as he wiped the blood from his lips. "That hurts you when you use it?" "...Something of the sort." It was an explanation as good as any. They stared at each other for a few moments, before the kid dropped his gaze and started muttering to himself. Toshinori could barely make out the words, but it seemed to be something about internet forums and theories about All Might's quirk. Toshinori sighed and sat down on the concrete, leaning his back against the railing to catch some much needed breath. There was no point in running off now, was there? He supposed the most sensible thing to do at this point was to have a little chat with the boy, if only to ascertain whether he was capable or willing to keep such a momentous secret. He waited for the boy to finish his quiet soliloquy... for two or three minutes, during which the onslaught of words didn't show any sign of dwindling. He politely cleared his throat, and the young man's attention was immediately back on him. "What's your name, boy?" "Uh... Izuku. Izuku Midoriya." "Midoriya." Toshinori acknowledged with a nod. "And you're quirkless, I take it." "Oh... Uh... Uhm..." Midoriya snappily clasped his hands behind his back and his eyes darted around as if caught stealing jam. It was an understandable reaction, if a tad overblown, Toshinori thought. Quirklessness was rare these days, and never something one could be proud of. His own powerlessness had frustrated him in his youth, and it positively tore at him in the present, now that his physical condition rendered him functionally quirkless for more than twenty hours a day. "Regarding your first question..." Toshinori paused, running a hand through his hair tiredly. Was there any way of putting this kindly? "Surely you realize the huge dangers and requirements that come with a hero's profession. Pros risk their lives every day, and in order to even make a livelihood out of it, they need to achieve a certain amount of success and visibility. Frankly, I'd advise anyone with a less than exceptional quirk, either in terms of combat ability or versatility, to think very carefully about undertaking this career path. To think of someone without a quirk attempting it..." Midoriya's head dropped again. "I... I see... But what if...?" The boy bit his lip and trailed off with a conflicted look. He shook his head, apparently reaching some private conclusion, and continued. "It's just... I've always admired you so much! Saving people with a fearless smile is just about the most inspiring and incredible thing one can do! If only everyone followed your example-" "I should hope they wouldn't have to!" Toshinori interjected decisively. "You know, the world I dream of is one where only few of the very strongest have to bear the hero's burden, so that all the more people can be free to enjoy their lives without fear or extreme sacrifices. We aren't there yet, not by a long shot, but..." He allowed himself a little smile. "I'm sure happy to know I'm inspiring courageous and driven citizens such as yourself." Midoriya's face immediately acquired a marked tomato hue. A small barrage of stuttered thanks followed. Toshinori raised a hand to stop him. "Look, kid. Your heart is in the right place and there's nothing worthier in life than pursuing your dreams, but... I cannot in good conscience encourage you to follow a path that would ultimately destroy you. You have no hope of becoming a hero - no hope to survive as a hero without a quirk, and a damn good one at that. As you can see..." Toshinori gestured towards himself, unable to keep his smile from turning sour. "Not even I can be a hero like me without using my quirk." Midoriya took it better than Toshinori was expecting, all things considered. Those anxious eyes roved around his gaunt form for a few moments, sympathetic and a tad disturbed. But the boy's features soon composed themselves into a look of calm thoughtfulness. "I understand." He nodded, straightening up his back, only to curl slightly upon himself all over when doubt reared its head again. "I guess... I'll just have to find a different solution..." "Indeed. If helping people is your goal, there are plenty of professions that regularly achieve that. Healthcare professionals, lawyers, policemen, firefighters, social workers-" "I know, I know..." Midoriya's expression became distant. No doubt it wasn't the first time he received such a speech. Children these days received their first career advice as early as primary school, during the mandatory quirk counselling sessions, to help them better understand how their abilities could be nurtured and directed into constructive endeavors for the benefit of the whole community. Now that Toshinori thought of it... did quirkless children like Midoriya even receive any such counselling? The program didn't exist when Toshinori himself was a kid, so he realized he didn't quite know. A lack of career counselling would explain the boy's irrealistic hopes. "If you are dead set on working in the heroics field, there are options there as well." Toshinori added, determined to do at least one thing right that day and offer the poor kid a grain of useful advice. "Have you considered working as a support item engineer or as a quirk analyst, for example? You certainly seem to have the qualities for jobs like these." "Uh? How can you say that?" "I took the liberty of flipping through your notebook before signing it." Toshinori tapped his temple as the boy's cheek tinged with pink again. He really wore his heart on his sleeve, didn't he? "You seem to have quite a well-organized mind, and keen observation skills. If I were you, I wouldn't underestimate how far those two talents could bring you in the right field." "Ah... Thank you! I- it's just a hobby, nothing more! But thank you! I really appreciate you taking the time to answer my question! And give me advice! And listen to-" It devolved into another short stream of gratefulness and humility. Toshinori deemed his impromptu orientation session a job decently done and he finally stood up. His left side gave a sharp twinge. He couldn't wait to be back home, stun it with a generous helping of ibuprofen and hopefully catch up on a few hours of sl- ah crap, he'd left his grocery bag near the manhole he had emerged from, hadn't he? Maybe it would be quicker to just do the whole shopping again at the closest convenience store... "Now, about what you just saw..." Toshinori approached the boy, lowered his voice and scanned his surroundings automatically, as if there was anyone who could overhear them on the small rooftop they were standing on. "I don't think I need to point out that it would be really, really bad if voices of a secretly emaciated Symbol of Peace were to start circulating, on the web or by other venues-" Midoriya raised his head from the deep bow he had maintained for the last good minute, eyes wide. "O-oh! Of course-" "But I'm going to do it anyway. It would be really bad. Catastrophic. Not only for me, because I would know exactly who put the rumors forth and I would have some choice words for said source, smash being one of them." He had meant it in jest, but the terrified expression on Midoriya's face warned him not to put too much faith on the boy's sense of humour. He showed the palms of his hands in the universal gesture for I'm not going to smash anything. "...I'm joking! Obviously. But I do need to know if I can count on your utmost discretion." "O-Of course! Your secret is safe! I swear it on my life, All Might! No one will know!" There was no doubting the fervor radiating from Midoriya's every pore. Toshinori nodded and squeezed the boy's shoulder while also not-so-subtly pushing him towards the door to the stairs. "Good to know, good to know. Now, let us both be off." Toshinori moved towards the exit as well, patting the pocket of his cargo pants. "I have to hand this guy over to the nearest precinct before-" His hand patted rough cloth and the wiry muscle of his thigh, and nothing inbetween. Toshinori stopped in his tracks and checked his right pocket. Then his left one. Both empty. He gazed around the rooftop in confusion, noticing a clear lack of plastic containers on the barren expanse of concrete. "Hey, have you seen..." He started, glancing at Midoriya. Who was staring at his empty pockets in obvious distress, both hands covering his mouth as if to keep himself silent. Something cold gripped Toshinori's scrambled insides. "...the bottles... where..." Toshinori's sleep-deprived brain pieced it all together with frustrating slowness. Loose trousers pockets. Clingy boy. Hundreds of kilometres per hour. Gravity. RIght on cue, a loud explosion made them turn their heads in unison, and a black cloud of smoke erupted among a cluster of buildings a little to the south of the one they were standing on. "...Shit." A small part of Toshinori's mind added 'cursing in front of a child' to the impressive streak of fuck-ups he was accumulating in a single day, but most of his evidently dwindling faculties were busy trying to come up with a way to unravel the current predicament. He marched to the door without wasting another moment. "Go home. Take a detour if you have to, just stay well away from there." "It's my fault." Once again, despite Toshinori's better judgement, the boy's words compelled him stop. Even muffled by Midoriya's hands, his whispers sounded positively agonized. "I made you drop them. It's my fault. Oh God, what do I...?" "What? Don't be absurd! You didn't do anything, I should have-" It came out more harshly than he thought, and the kid's horrified eyes snapped back to him. God, he hated seeing him blame himself for what was clearly Toshinori's blunder - a blunder unworthy of the greenest of rookies, let alone of the celebrated number one hero - but there was really no time to waste self-recriminating. "Look, just go home. I'll-" "I can't! None of this would have happened if I'd just-" Midoriya burst out, halting his own words just as abruptly and wringing his hands guiltily. "I have to help! I can help! Let me-" "All right then." Toshinori said, and his ready agreement shocked the boy into silence just as he had expected. Telling him to wait around and do nothing wasn't going to work with that hero-obsessed mentality of his, so he chose a different approach. "Here's what you'll do. You'll stay here until you've calmed down enough to keep your wits about you. Then you'll go to the nearest police station - there's one just over there - and tell the officers what just happened. Minus the part where you've seen me like this, obviously-" "How's that going to help?! They can see the smoke, by the time I get there they'll already know-" "We don't know if that explosion is the villain's doing. It might be unrelated, and in that case the villain would be still at large." Toshinori explained with his most commanding tone, despite the urge to dash off. "Even if it is connected to the villain, I scooped him up into two bottles. We don't know if each half is capable of causing damage on its own. You have to alert the police so that they can start searching for both as quickly as possible. I'll take care of whatever that accident is." Despite the panic, Midoriya seemed to process his words. He gulped, and gave him a worried once-over. "But... can you fight again? Even like that?" "Tsk! I'd expect more trust from a fan." One more for the road, Toshinori coached himself. He reached into his quirk and flexed, his muscle form puffing up dutifully and his trademark smile slotting back in place. He gave the boy a confident thumbs up. "I'll have this solved before you can blink!" Toshinori flung himself down the stairway before Midoriya could come up with more objections. He managed five flights of stairs before his quirk failed him again and one hundred and eighty kilos of muscles went up in steam. He stumbled as he coughed up more blood, his scar hurting like it was trying to murder him, but he didn't stop. Hopefully the boy would follow his orders and make himself marginally useful, and more importantly he would keep himself out of trouble and away from the danger zone. Meanwhile, Toshinori... well, he'd have to clean up his own mess in some way or another.

Izuku stood stock-still for a good minute before his body reconnected to his brain. A lot had happened in the last half an hour, there was... there was a lot to unpack there. First things first, his duty. The admittedly sensible instructions given to him by All Might himself. Point number one was regaining a semblance of lucidity. His legs felt like jelly, so he simply let himself slump to the ground and breathe deeply. Never in a million years, not even in the darkest and most conspiratorial corners of the net, Izuku would have ever imagined to discover what he had discovered about All Might. All Might had a quirk... that debilitated him? Some sort of temporary performance-enhancing boost that wore his body down whenever he used it? Because what Izuku had just seen wasn't the body of a healthy person, not even remotely. Pale, hunched, with barely any flesh hanging from his still oversized bones, with sunken eyes and non-existent cheeks. Totally unperturbed by the gush of blood spurting from his mouth, as if that was a perfectly ordinary occurrence. Was it the result of decades of continued usage? Was Japan's Symbol of Peace constantly and deliberately harming himself in order to do his job? Izuku had experienced firsthand that powerful quirks came with unforeseen drawbacks, but this... this was... This was none of his business, Izuku chided himself. All Might was... All Might. Number one hero. An unprecedent and yet unsurpassed phenomenon. He knew what he was doing, for sure. It was presumptuous of Izuku to even doubt that he did. He had said he would take care of things, and he was certainly going to. Izuku scratched his head furiously, as if to rid himself of those intrusive thoughts. He felt better, more grounded. Time to move onto step two. He made his way down the stairs and out of the building, slowly, mindful of the lingering dizziness, careful not to trip and cause himself and others further troubles. The street was full of curious onlookers glancing at the rising column of smoke, filming it with their phones and chattering about it among themselves. Luckily, Izuku spotted a policeman almost immediately, as he was busy trying to disperse the small crowds and redirect the traffic. He recounted his tale, purged from gossip-inducing details, to the zealous officer, who promptly reported it to his superiors via his radio. There, he'd accomplished his task. Quick and effortless. The last item on his to-do last was heading home. Izuku stood on the sidewalk, contemplating the enlarging black cloud. Smaller explosions could still be heard popping in the air now and then. It had been at least ten minutes since All Might's departure and, judging by the heated talking coming from the officer nearby, the crisis hadn't been solved yet. Izuku thought back of how All Might had left the building using the stairs, instead of one of his much quicker, much more efficient leaps. A gnarling unease gripped his stomach, and his feet started moving on their own. He just couldn't get it out of his head. His idol's shrunken body, the immense tiredness that seeped through his every movement when in that form, his stern request for discretion. Your very life and safety may depend on your discretion, Izuku. Izuku shivered. Accidents aside, he had acted for the best, hadn't he? Despite everything... Civilians were not allowed to use quirks freely on public grounds, even though exceptions could be made in case of blatant self-defense. But even if he had used his quirk to stop the sludge villain by himself, what would he have done afterwards? He doubted he could use his newly acquired quirk effectively, and in a quirkless fight against an adult, he would have gotten the short end of the stick anyway. Not to mention the aftermath. Questions. His quirk revealed. Suspicion and distrust. Izuku's legs brought him to the site of the accident in a rushed daze, as his thoughts wandered in circles. He peered beyond the crowd of onlookers, and the scene he witnessed froze the blood in his veins. It was a disaster. The sludge villain was indeed responsible for it, and he had a hostage as well, tightly wrapped in layers and layers of goo. Numerous fires surrounded the captor and his victim, the heat and destruction giving them an almost hellish appearance. Almost half a dozen of heroes were already involved, but none of them seemed capable of creating an opening or coming up with a plan to face the situation. A veritable tragedy was unfolding before everyone's eyes, and no one was moving an inch to stop it. Izuku gazed around in a frenzy, searching for the one man who could and would solve it all. He spotted him quickly enough, his wild blond mane making him easy to pinpoint even with his gaunt frame huddled against a wall. All Might, the number one hero, looked like he was barely managing to stand on his feet. Hunched over, jaw clenched, one hand holding onto the nearest lamppost, the other clutching his side tightly, bright blue eyes dimmed in frustration and trained on the grim spectacle unfolding in the fiery lane. The sight dispelled any remaining doubt in Izuku's mind. All Might couldn't intervene. He couldn't use his quirk freely, either because of some pre-existing hard limit, or in fear of the repercussions it would have on his body. He had had to waste some of his limited stamina to save Izuku earlier that day - save him from a danger that Izuku could have, should have at least tried to handle himself - and now he was too drained to help. And the current hostage was paying for that - Izuku's heart nearly stopped as said hostage suddenly thrashed about enough to free a small portion of his face, enough for Izuku to recognize him, as more explosions boomed and set ablaze more of the surrounding buildings. Kacchan. Izuku moved without thinking, his mind blank. In that moment, he couldn't think about anything - not his father's recommendation, not his fear of exposure, not his weakness or inexperience, not the Symbol of Peace, not even his crushing guilt - except one thing. He couldn't let Kacchan die for his mistakes. A lot happened, very quickly, too quickly for him to process. The crowd and the heroes screamed. The villain saw him and readied a blow. Izuku barely dodged it by bodily throwing himself to the side, blindly. He landed hard on something that felt like overheated metal, but it didn't hurt too much. A slimy arm impacted solidly against the asphalt, missing him by mere centimetres. Goo from the monstruous limb splattered all around, staining his clothes. Without thinking, he reached for the green mass with both hands, let his palms sink into it, closed his eyed to focus and just did it. There was a strong gust of wind, as if a very fast car had suddenly raced past him and barely missed him, at the same time as he heard the asphalt crack a little to his left. Suddenly, all went perfectly still and silent. Izuku gulped, and forced his eyes open. The first thing he saw was All Might's massive back. Roaring muscles filling his oversized clothes amidst thin strands of steam, the hero was standing in full bulk right between him and the villain, his right arm raised and poised as if charging a punch, but completely motionless. There was no more sludge around Izuku's hands, nor anywhere in the street. Peeking between All Might's legs, Izuku saw Kacchan twitching weakly on the ground, and another person standing beside him. A thin, flabby-looking guy, with an ashen complexion and not a single hair on his head, face or bare chest. A blood-curling scream erupted from the man's - the villain's - mouth. As he stared in stark horror at himself - probably seeing his human limbs for the first time in his life, Izuku realized - the weird silence and stillness instantly receded. The heroes rushed forward to help Kacchan and apprehend the panicking criminal, the crowd cheered, and All Might turned to look at Izuku. There was no smile on his face. Izuku had never seen the Symbol of Peace without his usual cheery attitude. He realized the hero looked a lot less reassuring without it, and a lot more... purely, bleakly intimidating. The sheer magnitude of what Izuku had just done suddenly hit him like a train. He scrambled to his feet, heart beating wildly in his chest, and sprinted towards the closest alley. He heard All Might's voice calling to him, but he ignored it and ran, ran until his lungs burned with the effort and the tears made it impossible to see where he was going.

An undefined number of streets and turns and forks later, Izuku stopped. He collapsed against the closest wall, gasping for air and clutching at his jacket in a desperate effort not to succumb to hysteria. He'd done it. He'd used his quirk in front of a whole crowd of civilians and heroes. There was no hope of avoiding the consequences of that. Kacchan would dispel any doubt the police may have about what had transpired. Even though his childhood friend had kept quiet about it for years, out of... Fear? Respect? Leverage? Izuku honestly had no idea - there was no reason for him to shield him from the official investigations. It was out of Izuku's hands now. But maybe... maybe it wasn't such a bad thing. He had saved his friend from a gruesome fate, first of all, which was undoubtedly good. And maybe his father was plainly wrong, maybe their quirk could be tolerated, even accepted by society at large. Maybe even trained for the purpose of- "Midoriya!" Izuku's stomach did another somersault. All Might's skinny silhouette had just emerged from a nearby road and was approaching him quickly, one long arm raised to catch his attention. Oh God, Izuku had hoped he'd be too busy to chase him right off the bat. He'd hoped he could at least make it back home and talk with his father, with his mother before... "There you are! Why did you run off like- Hey, are you hurt?" All Might asked, immediately grabbing his arm to support him when Izuku wobbled dangerously. The man eyed his side worriedly, and Izuku finally remembered to check it himself. His jacket was torn and singed where he had fallen on the burning debris, but the layers of clothing underneath were surprisingly intact, and so was Izuku. "No no, I'm fine, thank you. I just... I guess I was scared of being told off for rushing in." Izuku offered with a poor attempt at a smile. "More afraid of being reproached than of facing a villain head on? You're an odd one, all right." All Might chuckled, visibly amused. "Law enforcers can be sticklers for non-professional quirk usage rules, but I don't think you would have gotten into too much trouble, all things considered." "I-I see... well... I guess I'll have to deal with it anyway, sooner or later..." "Ah... Not necessarily. I don't think anyone other than me realized what you did. In fact..." All Might rubbed the back of his neck with an oddly embarassed grimace. "I think I may have... sort of accidentally taken the merit of what happened back there. People saw me and just assumed I smashed the sludge off the villain faster than the eye can see. Journalists were already showing up and I was running quite low on stamina, so I scampered off before, you know... " He gestured at himself eloquently. "I can release an official statement later to rectify the matter, if you want. I'd hate to steal the spotlight of an aspiring hero." Izuku blinked. No one else knew? Kacchan hadn't talked? Or had All Might fled before he could hear his account? Probably the latter. And... "Aspiring hero?" "Indeed. It seems I have made some wrong assumptions about you." All Might positively beamed, ruffling his own hair and regarding Izuku with a sort of challenging grin that made Izuku squirm on the spot. "You aren't quirkless at all, are you?" "I never said I was..." Izuku tried to deflect lamely, hoping not to sound too cheeky. All Might merely laughed in response. "Very true! A variant of Erasure, isn't it? I've never seen any Erasure quirk work on mutant types, but I guess it is true that the new generations are naturally more endowed." "Uh... Y... Yeah..." Izuku heard himself say. He... He didn't want to lie. There wasn't even any point in lying considering that Kacchan was going to expose the truth anyway. But Izuku's mouth had been basically running on autopilot since his idol had materialized into his life, and his brain seemed to have lost the computational power to rein it in when said hero was in the vicinity. "That's good! Very good! Why would you be concerned about not using your quirk?" All Might scratched his chin thoughtfully. He seemed strangely unbothered by the fact that Izuku hadn't corrected him earlier, prompting him to waste valuable time of his day to bestow misplaced advice. "I guess Erasers tend to be somewhat at a disadvantage with rescue operations and solo missions... But I can assure you that, when it comes to apprehending villains, any combat specialist would beg to be teamed up with an Eraser. They're the absolute best support in case of quirk misfires and misuse... As you've just proven yourself." All Might seemed hell bent on encouraging Izuku's dream, now that he saw a real chance of success for him. Izuku was... moved, honestly, and sincerely grateful. But the hero was, once again, wasting his words. That wasn't Izuku's quirk, Izuku's quirk was far more sinister in its mechanics, far less likely to be requested or even endorsed by the hero community. Far more powerful, frighteningly so. Would All Might even be standing so close to the boy, within an arm's length, if he knew what would befall him if a hint of greed or envy pushed Izuku to- "Don't look down on yourself, kid." A bony yet amicable hand squeezed Izuku's shoulder, ripping him out of his meandering thoughts. All Might was smiling openly, his voice tinged with a softness that was entirely at odds with his haggard looks. "Your quirk might be less flashy than others, but I've seen enough today to know that you're definitely hero material, both in skills and heart." The really important thing is recognizing your own flesh and blood. Recognizing yourself. Izuku had been thinking a lot about that old interview of All Might's lately. The closer the UA admission test got, the more he found himself doubting his father's pessimistic take on the villainous nature of their quirk, and the more he wondered if he shouldn't trust himself, recognize himself, with enough conviction that everyone else would simply have to trust and recognize him too, eventually. It was easier said than done, of course. Spending the first twelve years of his life as quirkless hadn't exactly geared him towards building oodles of self-confidence. But he had to start somewhere. And if there was anyone in the world who was likely to see and trust and recognize Izuku for who he was, villanous quirk or not... it had to be him. The man who was the living embodiment of hope, reliability, rectitude and positivity. The man who apparently had a quirk with such a detrimental side effect that he ought to avoid resorting to it like the plague, and yet who kept using anyway, for the sake of the people. The man who was standing right in front of Izuku, giving it his all to obliterate his insecurities with sensible and kind words, with something awfully akin to pride for him shining in his clear eyes. If there was anyone that could change Izuku's world, it was All Might. "I, ah... actually, I... that isn't my quirk." "Oh?" All Might would have raised an eyebrow, if he had any. "Then what is it?" "I..." Izuku gulped. "I can take quirks. From other people. Permanently. And use them as my own." Silence. Not a muscle had moved on All Might's face, but suddenly his smile seemed a lot less alive, and a lot more set in stone. Izuku willed himself to keep speaking. "That's what I did to the villain. I stole- I took his quirk. It was the fastest way to stop him. The only way I could think of. It... worked quite well, uh?" Izuku offered a tentative smile, at the same time as All Might's started to fade. That... didn't bode well. But of course not even All Might could react to such a piece of information with immediate enthusiasm, it was a lot to take in, Izuku understood that. No doubt any moment now he'd slip back into his pep talk, reassure him of his chances to become a hero, wipe away his insecurities with a blinding smile and a boisterous laugh- "Do you still have it? The villain's quirk?" All Might asked in a whisper. "I do." Izuku knew, without really needing to try it out. He knew it with the same certainty as he knew that he was thirsty, or that his side did in fact hurt a little bit, or that most of skin was constantly brushing against his clothes. It was an almost visceral sensation, both conscious and subconscious, that he couldn't quite put into words. "I could try to use it too, if I wanted. Although I d-don't, really. I don't think I'll want to see any more slime for the next ten years or so, especially not on myself. Or as myself..." Izuku chuckled nervously, his heart growing heavier as All Might's expression reverted to one of studied, rigid neutrality. For once in his life, words failed him completely. He wrung his hands in discomfort, hoping that All Might would be the one to break that increasingly worrying silence. But his fidgeting caught the hero's attention. Very slowly, as if trying not to spook a wild animal, All Might's hand left Izuku's shoulder and took the boy's hand in his own, turning it over. He straightened the curled fingers with his thumb, fully exposing his palm and the small, circular hole right in the center of it. And then all of Izuku's hopes crumbled to dust. Very scary, very disturbing things had happened to him that day. He had almost died, he had almost accidentally killed a friend, he had inadvertedly learned a potentially peace-endangering secret, he had been forced to reveal a personally-endangering secret. He could have lived with all of that, probably. But nothing could have prepared him for the subtle shaking of All Might's hand as he observed the stigmata of Izuku's quirk. Nothing could have humiliated more than the sharp inhale of his idol, than the way his breath caught in his throat in obvious shock. Nothing could have confirmed his father's warnings more than the one thing he would have never, never, never expected to see - let alone cause - in the eyes of the Symbol of Peace. Fear.

[dilfhanni]

You might be pregnant.

You were searching around the bathroom shelf for ibuprofen, frustrated that it wasn’t where you left it. That’s when you came across your box of tampons and you froze.

You were late.

You were supposed to have your period two weeks ago and lately things at the hospital had been busy and you were too distracted to notice. Your head started to ache even more and you stepped into the adjacent bedroom, sighing internally at the upcoming conversation. House was asleep, his last case was solved in the middle of the night and it was already 9 am.

You didn’t want to wake him up yet, so you decided to make yourself something to eat to distract your mind. It was probably stress; you had a lot of things going on with patients and Cuddy had been on your ass about clinic hours and Wilson wouldn’t stop trying to get you involved in the prank war between him and House. Usually House knew when you were getting your period – something that initially weirded you out because you hadn’t lived together at that point, but you had gotten used to it – but he had been so distracted with his case and with the prank war.

As you were finishing up cooking your French toast, you heard House coming down the hallway and kept your focus on the food in front of you. Suddenly your stomach felt tight and you didn’t know if you’d be able to eat because of your nerves; something he would definitely question you about.

You turned to face him as he entered the kitchen and gave him a warm smile, his hair mussed from sleep and his eyes half open. You knew he only woke up from the smell of food and was hoping for you to make something for him.

“Morning, sunshine. I’m making French toast and I’m going to assume you want some?” He gave you a nod in response and came over to you, wrapping his arms around your waist and leaning into you, resting his head on top of yours. You placed the two pieces of toast that were already done on the plate you had taken out and moved the syrup closer to the plate for him. Your body naturally relaxed into his and the tightness in your stomach eased, the fear from just a moment ago fading into thin air.

“What’s got you up so early? It’s your day off, you usually sleep until noon and it’s not even 9:30 yet.” His thumbs found their way under your shirt – his shirt, really – and rubbed back and forth over the bare skin just above your hips. You started preparing two more slices of bread for yourself and nudged your hips back a bit, tilting your head slightly in the direction of his plate. You couldn’t lie to him while he was so close to you, that was impossible. Lying to him was difficult enough.

“Eat your food, it’ll get cold. I had a headache and I was hungry, so I just figured I’d make something to eat instead of going back to sleep.” You hoped he would believe that; it’s not like part of it isn’t true. You were woken up from a headache and you were somewhat hungry. But that wasn’t what forced you to stay awake. It was the nerves tightening your stomach and running through your veins. The thought that you could be pregnant.

You were thankful when he stepped back and grabbed his plate, a fork, and the syrup, going into the living room to eat. At the same time, you didn’t like his silence. You knew he was thinking over what you said and trying to read your body language.

“You took the nonexistent ibuprofen then? ‘Cause we ran out of that last month when your Aunt Flo came to visit.” You stayed silent and kept cooking, biting down on your bottom lip. You hoped that by staying silent he would get the message that you just didn’t want to talk about it, you also hadn’t realized he knew it ran out. Something he could have mentioned, you thought to yourself.

Even with your back turned to him, he picked up on something you weren’t saying. You heard his plate being set down on the coffee table and you tried to stay focused on the French toast in the pan so it didn’t burn.

“Are… We don’t have anything to worry about, right? No small clump of cells in the room to be addressed?” You turned the burner off and set the pan aside, your stomach feeling tight and now nausea overcoming you from the fear of talking about. You turned around to face him and took a deep breath, trying to compose yourself.

“It’s fine, I’ve been stressed so that’s a valid reason for why it’s late. I’m not pregnant. And if I am then we’ll deal with it, okay?” You could sense the tension in the room and decided you couldn’t be trapped in this apartment all day with nothing to do. “I’m gonna go into work today and get my mind off of things so I don’t stress out even more. Not a word of this to anyone, okay? We can just give it another week and see what happens or… Or I’ll just have to take a test.” You quickly walked back to the bedroom, hoping that would end the discussion. But he was surprisingly quick to follow you.

“Why won’t you just take a test? It’ll tell us everything we need to know in a few minutes. Look, I know we haven’t talked about any of this, but you can’t seriously think we could have a kid right now?” He watched as you stripped your t-shirt off and quickly put a black button up on and some dress pants. You stopped to look over at him and put your hands on your hips, sighing softly.

“I don’t think anything because I’m not pregnant, House. I’m not taking the test because I know what it’ll say so you can forget it.” You walked past him and into the bathroom, shutting the door as a sign that the conversation was over.

--

You decided to work in the clinic for the majority of the morning – unlike House, you welcomed clinic duty. It was an easy distraction and you had a revolving door of people and never got bored. Well, you got bored, but the people were interesting.

You were finishing up some notes on a patient’s chart at the nurse’s desk when you notice House’s team come into the clinic. You roll your eyes and set the file in the proper tray and grab a new one, ready to get away from them as soon as possible because you were sure he sent them. You knew he couldn’t keep his mouth shut. He either told Wilson and Wilson sent them or he somehow found a way to get them to do his dirty work for him.

“(Y/N), can we talk?” You looked over at Foreman and pretended to think about it for a moment, glancing up at the ceiling almost as if in thought. You looked back at him and raised your eyebrow, setting the file you just grabbed back down because the clinic was no longer a distraction.

“No. Go back to whatever case you have.” You gave them a tight smile and walked past the group of four, heading out of the clinic and towards the elevators. You heard footsteps behind you and sighed in annoyance, stopping and turning towards them. You made eye contact with Thirteen, who looked like she was about to say something. You tried to give your best resting bitch face as you spoke, making it clear you didn’t want to be followed or questioned or talked to.

“This doesn’t concern any of you. I don’t care what any one of you has to say. If you keep following me, it won’t be pretty.” You started to turn back towards the elevators before glancing back at them. “And before any of you goes back to House and tries to say that I’m acting angry because of hormones – I’m not pregnant.” You walked to the elevators and thankfully one was already opening up. Unfortunately, the people on the elevator were Wilson and Cuddy.

You decided to take your chances and stand your ground, stepping into the elevator and pressing the button for House’s floor. Wilson cleared his throat and you closed your eyes.

“Just say whatever it is that you’re dying to tell me so I can get on with my day.” You refused to face either one of them.

“You do realize what this means? Potential House spawn? Do you really think he could be a father? And why aren’t you taking a test? I mean it’s just… It’s crazy not to!” You knew he was trying to look out for you and House, but his words stung a bit. You stayed silent, deciding that whatever you said would only be used against you. It was Cuddy that spoke up next.

“(Y/N), are you okay with any of this? I mean, from what it seems-“ You were glad that the elevator doors opened at that moment and decided to cut her off, still keeping your back to them both.

“Stay out of it. I’m fine, I’m not pregnant.” You walked out of the elevator and towards House’s office, taking a deep breath and biting down on your bottom lip. Your anger was slowly disappearing and hurt was building up in the empty spaces.

It hurt you to know that they thought he wouldn’t be able to be a father; that they didn’t know the real him. You knew he was scared at the possibility, but you knew he would step up and that he would be an amazing father one day. The fact that they called any chance of your baby a spawn was only adding to your anger. It didn’t bother you when House had called it a clump of cells – the it might not even be there for all you know – because it’s best to stay detached until you know for sure. And after all, that’s all it would be at this point.

You didn’t know if you wanted to be pregnant, your mind had been everywhere at this point and you kept saying that you weren’t pregnant that you didn’t think about the possibility of you actually being pregnant and what you would do. You opened the door to his office and he looked up from his papers, taking his reading glasses off and leaning back in his chair.

“I take it you talked to a few people?” You questioned him. You sat down in the chair in front of his desk, crossing one leg over the other and resting your arms on the arm rests, holding eye contact.

“Was I not supposed to?” He fired off with sarcasm and you waited for his actual response, trying to be patient for this conversation. “Yes, I did. I figured they could get you to take the test and that’s why you’re here. To tell me that you are in fact not pregnant because you took the test.” You shook your head and you saw some of the color drain from his face.

“I’m not saying I’m pregnant, House, calm down. I’m saying I didn’t take the test.” You saw him take a deep breath and nod a bit, his eyebrows scrunching together in confusion.

“So, if you didn’t take the test, then why are you here? Got bored of wiping snotty noses and checking for strep?” You smiled a bit and shook your head, uncrossing your legs and bouncing your foot up and down for a moment.

“No. I want you to do the test. I’m not peeing on a stick; I don’t trust it. So, I want you to draw my blood and test it. I’m not accepting a compromise.” You watched his face for any sign of resistance, glad that he nodded and stood up. He grabbed his cane and started for the door, leaving you still sitting in the chair.

“Are you coming? I can’t draw your blood without you.” You nodded and bit your lip a bit, standing and following him out of the door.

--

As you two sat and waited for the results, you rested your head on his shoulder, not caring that you were at work. Normally you didn’t do any kind of PDA except for kissing, the rest made you feel like others were seeing too much into your private life.

“For the record, I do think you’ll be a great father one day. I don’t care what anyone says, they don’t know you like I do.” You felt his lips press a soft kiss to the top of your head, his arm tightening around your waist.

“You can’t predict the future.” The sound of paper printing made your blood run cold and you sat up, waiting as he walked to get the paper.

Your results and something that you didn’t know if you even cared about.

You heard him stop a few feet away from you and you turned to look at him, shock written all over his face. You didn’t know if that was a good or bad thing yet.

“House? Can you just tell me what it says?” You stood up and walked over to him, taking the paper from his hand and looking down at your results. You felt a pit in your stomach and like you were on fire.

Positive.

“It has to be wrong, I’m sure it’s wrong.” You looked up at him and he just stared down at you, swallowing hard. His eyes seemed a bit glossy and you could feel a small lump in your throat. You set the paper down on the tabletop beside you and placed both of your hands on his cheeks, holding his face. You placed a soft kiss to his lips and felt thankful that his arms immediately wrapped around you, pulling you closer to him.

You were wrong – you were pregnant.

[reidingandwriting]

Four Times Tony Needed You, and One Time You Needed Him

Word Count: ~2400 words

Ship: Tony Stark x Reader, Peter Parker x Reader (Platonic)

Warnings: Little bit of language, mention of nightmares (not detailed), drunk Tony (being absolutely adorable)

The first time Tony needed you was early in the morning. You were Tony’s personal assistant, and you basically kept Tony from running his business (and himself) into the ground. He was a genius, excellent with people, but when it came to remembering meetings and other obligations, he was a little lacking.

“Y/N, darling, the glue that holds me together.” You groaned as you heard Tony’s voice.

“What did you forget, Stark?” Your voice rasped as you sat up, still thick from sleep.

“Those files we were going over last night, I may have left them in your office. And I’m in meetings all day, my first meeting’s at eight, and I don’t have the time to turn around and-“ You cut Tony off, putting your phone on speakerphone as you got out of bed.

“I’ve got it, Tony.” You yawned, stripping from your pajamas as you walked to your closet. “Did you have breakfast this morning? Coffee doesn’t count either.” Tony’s laughter filled your room, and you couldn’t help but smile at the sound.

“You know me too well, Y/N. If you could get my usual at Brookstone...” Tony trailed off as you grabbed a dress from your closet.

“Of course. I’m also helping myself to breakfast since it’s supposed to be my day off. And taking your Audi.” You teased as you slipped the dress on.

“You know where the keys are. Thank you again, you’re a lifesaver.” You could hear the genuine gratitude in his voice, and you smiled.

“Y/N Y/L/N, personal assistant to Tony Stark, certified lifesaver.”

———

The second time he needed you, wasn’t necessarily for him.

“Ms. Y/L/N, Mr. Stark is requesting your presence in the lab.” The AI’s voice made you jump, and you lost your focus. You were in your office, curled up in your desk chair. You were reading the proposals for a potential partnership when FRIDAY spoke to you.

“Tell him I’m on my way, thanks FRI.” You stood up and made your way to the elevator. “To Tony’s lab, please.” You spoke to FRIDAY, and the elevator went up, stopping on the floor of Tony’s lab. You stepped out of the elevator and knocked on the door, coming into the lab when you saw Tony wave. You smiled as you saw Peter Parker in the lab as well, in a chair beside your boss.

“Hi, Y/N!” Peter greeted you as you walked in.

“Hi, Peter. How’d your chemistry test go?” You had found yourself getting close to Peter as well, taking on an older sister role to him. You picked him up from school whenever you could, happy to spend time with the kid. (And to give Happy a break from his excited rambling that seemed to never end.)

“Aced it! I was really nervous about it, but I did the best in the class with a ninety-eight.” Peter beamed and you felt your own mood being lifted simply by being around him.

“Good job, Peter! Maybe tomorrow after school we can stop somewhere and get a bite to eat, my treat for how well you’ve been doing.” Peter smiled and nodded quickly, thanking you. Tony cleared his throat and you lightly rolled your eyes, walking to him.

“If you’re done with my mentee, I also needed you.” You lightly patted Tony’s shoulder, laughing when he slapped your hand away. “He’s actually the reason I need you. We’re working on a project for his chemistry class, and I need your help.” Tony showed you some rough sketches and your eyes scanned the papers as you took in everything.

“Ah, here.” You took a pencil Peter had nearby and erased a decimal, moving it over one to the left. “Try this instead.” Tony talked to himself under his breath as he recalculated everything and turned to face you and Peter.

“Kid, I think we’ve got a winning project.” Peter grinned and you stepped aside as him and Tony started discussing the project.

“I’m taking a producer credit for that!” You called as you walked out of the lab, leaving the two with their work.

———

The third time Tony needed you was late in the night. You padded down the hallway, walking to the kitchen. You were alone in the compound with the Avengers celebrating a successful mission with a night of drinks, and your stomach growling made it impossible to sleep. You made your way to the fridge once you were in the kitchen and opened the freezer, eyes scanning the shelves for your Ben & Jerry’s ice cream you had bought earlier that day.

“Jackpot.” You whispered to yourself. You took your ice cream to the couch, wrapped yourself in a blanket, and turned on Netflix as you happily ate your ice cream. You just finished your episode as you heard voices, recognizing the team.

“Hi, Y/N.” You heard Steve’s voice first, and you turned to face him.

“Hi, Steve. Did you have a good night?” Steve opened his mouth to respond but was cut off by a very drunken and very loud Tony Stark.

“Rhodey, Rhodey, Rhodey-o. Rodeo! I’m gonna start calling you Rodeo.” Tony slurred, holding onto Rhodey as he stumbled.

“No, absolutely not.” You stifled a laugh at the annoyance in his tone, and Tony’s eyes met yours.

“Y/N/N!” Tony tried to drag Rhodey along, resulting in both men stumbling and Tony falling to the floor. You got up and quickly walked over, helping Tony up. “Gravity check, still works. Don’t have to worry about floating away, it still works.” You cooed at Tony, supporting him as he leaned against you.

“Thank you for testing, Tones. I was really worried for a minute.” You heard a snort of laughter, seeing Natasha and Clint leaning against the wall, the redhead smirking and the archer looking amused. “How is he the only one who’s wasted?”

“He had some Asgardian liquor, Lady Y/N.” Thor’s voice filled the room, and you nodded in understanding. You had a shot of some liquor from Asgard that Thor had brought to a bonfire night a few months ago, and one was more than enough to get you drunk. Based on how Tony was acting, gods know how many he had. “He had many drinks. I told him he had enough yet he wouldn’t listen to me.”

“It’s alright, Thor. He’s a grown man, he can make his own stupid decisions.”

“Make them all the time!” Tony chirped from beside you, face buried in your hair. “Y/N, want to sleep. Need your help.”

“Do you need any help, Y/N?” Steve asked and you shook your head.

“I’ve got him.” You offered Steve a smile before looking at Tony. “Think you can walk with me?” Tony nodded and you supported him as you walked towards the elevator. “FRIDAY, take us to Tony’s floor please.” You spoke once you were in the elevator, and Tony clung to you as the elevator moved. You kept your hold on him and walked with him to his bedroom once the elevator doors opened.

“‘m thirsty, want more drinks.” Tony said after you walked into his room.

“I’ll get you a drink once you’re settled in bed, yeah? You need to change first, doubt you can sleep in your outfit.” You guided Tony to his bed. “Here, take a seat. I’ll help you with your shoes.” You helped him sit down, and he laughed as he fell back, now laying across his bed. “Tony, you can’t sleep like that.” You shook your head as you knelt down, carefully taking the man’s shoes off.

“Just have to close my eyes, and I can fall asleep. Sleeping isn’t hard.” Tony argued as you rolled your eyes, standing back up.

“You sure don’t sleep enough for something that’s not hard.” You countered and Tony pauses before responding.

“Touché.” You both laughed as Tony sat up with your help. You walked to Tony’s dresser and grabbed a pair of his sweatpants, glancing back at him every few seconds to make sure he stayed seated on his bed. He waved at you the third time you glanced back at him and gave you a dorky smile.

“Think you can handle getting dressed while I get some water for you?” You asked as you set the sweats beside him.

“Challenge accepted.” You nodded as you left Tony to change, and you grabbed a bottle of water and a bottle of Ibuprofen for the hangover you knew he’d have in the morning. When you came back to Tony’s room, you smiled when you saw him half asleep in bed, tangled in his duvet. You set the water and pill bottles on his nightstand, adjusting his blanket so it was draped comfortably over his body.

“Thank you... for taking care of me.” He mumbled, eyes still closed. You hummed as you carefully leaned down, pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek.

“It’s my pleasure. Goodnight, Tony.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

———

The fourth time Tony needed you was at the annual Stark Industries charity gala. Everything was falling apart hours before the gala. The orchestra’s trailer with all their instruments had a flat tire, the usual co-host caught a virus, the ice sculpture never got delivered, and Tony felt his anxiety climbing by the second. His hand trembled as he pressed call under your contact.

“I’m almost ready, Tony. I’m leaving soon.” You hummed as you applied your mascara, not really paying attention.

“Y/N.” Tony whispered, voice shaking.

“Tony? What’s happening, are you okay?” You immediately focused on him when you heard his voice.

“It’s... It’s all falling apart. I told you I could plan everything, you deserved the time off. And now everything’s ruined and the gala will be a bust.” You frowned deeply.

“Hey, hey. Tell me what’s wrong, and we’ll get it fixed.” As Tony explained everything, you grabbed your StarkPad and went to work.

“I’m sorry, you’re supposed to be getting ready and I’m cutting into your time.”

“Tony..” You frowned as he mumbled an apology and hung up. You sighed and made another phone call as you left, headed to the gala.

Tony walked back into the venue after half an hour and was surprised at what he saw. There in its spot was the missing ice sculpture. In a side stage, there was an orchestra setting up. And on the main stage, there you stood, in a floor-length gown. The [favorite color] satin clung to your body perfectly, and you looked stunning. Tony held his head high, feigning confidence, as he walked to you. He lightly rested his hand on your shoulder, and you turned around, smiling as you saw him.

“I don’t know how you did this, but I owe you infinitely for everything.” Tony spoke softly. You shook your head with a small smile.

“I’m just doing my job, Tony. When I heard how worried you sounded, I had to do something. I made a few phone calls, pulled a few strings, called in a few favors. And it’s all perfect.” You said.

“What about my co-host? I can’t do this alone.” Tony’s voice cracked and you gently took his hand.

“You aren’t alone, Tony. You’ve never been alone, and you never will. I’ll be here every step of the way, starting with helping you host tonight.”

With you and Tony hosting, this was the most successful gala Tony had hosted in years.

———

And then, there was the time you needed Tony. You woke up from a nightmare, your breathing shallow and tears streaming down your face. You sat up and pulled your knees to your chest, arms wrapped around your knees as you tried to calm yourself down. “FRIDAY? W-Where’s T-Tony?”

“Mr. Stark is in his lab. Would you like me to send him up?”

“N-No, thank you, FRIDAY. C-Can you take me down to the lab?” You got out of bed, and wrapped your blanket around you, dragging it behind you as you took the elevator to Tony’s lab.

Tony was in his lab, working on Peter’s web-shooters for his Spider-Man suit. The webs had been jamming up frequently lately, and the last thing Tony needed was his spider kid grounded. Tony finished his third cup of coffee when FRIDAY spoke.

“Boss, Ms. Y/L/N is approaching your lab. Should I let her in? She sounded distressed.” Tony looked up, responding.

“Please, FRI. Also dim the lights to fifteen percent, and play my midnight playlist at ten percent volume.” Tony set the web-shooters aside as you entered the lab. He frowned deeply when he saw you, your eyes red and puffy, tear marks on your cheeks. You wordlessly took a seat beside him, sniffling softly. “Come here.” Tony wrapped his arms around you, holding you close to him. You buried your face in Tony’s neck, your shaky breath hitting his exposed skin.

“I-I’m sorry. I just... I needed you.” You whispered and Tony held you tighter.

“I’m always going to be here. Whenever you need me, I’m yours.” Tony soothed, combing his fingers through your hair. You smiled against his neck, and he pressed a gentle kiss to your head. “Hold onto me.”

“W-Wait, what?” You gasped as Tony stood up, clinging to him. “Tony!”

“I warned you.” Tony adjusted your blanket, tucking it around you. “This chair is killing my back, we’re going to the couch.” Tony effortlessly carried you out of the lab, and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes.

“Yeah, and carrying me is much better for your back, old man.” You squealed when Tony let go of you, and quickly grabbed on tighter to him. “Asshole!” You swatted the back of his head. Tony laughed as he carried you to the living room and then sat on the couch, holding you still.

“FRIDAY, turn on the television and play [your favorite movie].” As the movie started, you smiled up at Tony.

“Thank you. For everything.” Tony smiled in return as you both watched the movie. Thirty minutes in, you both had fallen asleep, your head on his chest and his legs draped over yours, as if holding you in place. And if Natasha and Sam had taken pictures of you when they saw the two of you asleep together in the morning? That was no one’s business but theirs.

Taglist: @daughter-of-stark @agent-barnes40 @spideygirl2003 ❤️ Taglist is OPEN. Let me know if you’d like to join! This was my first time writing Tony as a romantic interest, so I hope it wasn’t bad.

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

Once Bitten, Twice Stupid prt.28

Lance looked pathetic as he sipped his bag of blood. Coran had taken a small amount in a syringe to inject Lance with pain medication. Whatever had been in it sent Lance loopy. He’d turned into a babbling mess under Keith’s watchful eye, Coran playing along with Lance’s mumblings much to Keith’s annoyance. The man wanted his Mami. Normally Keith was against kidnapping senior citizens, but Lance was really hurting and he couldn’t stay by his side. Coran ushering him out the room once Lance had finally fallen asleep, blood bag still between his teeth as he did.

Walking on the balls of his feet in an attempt to keep his footsteps light, Keith made his way into the kitchen, Allura beaming at him as he entered

“Good news, I take it?”

“There’s nothing good about Lance being sick”

Coran clamped a hand on Keith’s shoulder

“Never you mind, boy. He’ll be fit as a fiddle once these symptoms subside”

“I’m sick of this. He’s sick. He’s like sick sick. What’s happening now?”

“Well, lets take a seat then have a little talk about it. Allura, tea if you will”

The two of them seemed comfortable in Lance’s home. It irked Keith that Allura knew where everything was, she using matching cups and saucers like Lance would have. Taking Lance’s usual seat, because fuck Coran and Allura, Keith was no in the mood for the tea placed before him

“It’s chamomile”

Like that meant something to him. Tea was tea. You put a teabag in and that was that

“It’ll help soothe your nerves”

“What nerves?”

Allura giggled at him

“Your nerves over Lance, silly. He’s going to okay”

“He didn’t look very okay”

And he hadn’t wanted to be alone. Keith really should be back in the spare room making sure Lance was resting soundly

“That’s because his body is going through changes”

He got that... and that Lance was a breeder, meaning his body was changing but he didn’t get it at the same time. Coran took over the talk

“Lance’s body is changing to bear children. It’s happening faster than we expected, but he’s perfectly fine”

“He’s not fine. He’s sick and he’s in pain. And you didn’t help by making him smell my blood. He didn’t want to. He’s been trying his hardest, and you made me trick him”

“Ah, yes, well, for his own sake that was unavoidable. He needs to eat, no matter how ill he feels. I’m sure you are a great help to him”

“I didn’t even know what to do. I barely wiped his back before he was apologising”

Keith crossed his arms and glared at the steaming teacup before him. Coran and Allura were both being annoying.

“That’s because he cares for you”

Pulling out the chair, Allura sat to his right. Keith letting his cranky side show

“No, he doesn’t”

“He does. You two have such remarkable compatibility with your quintessence”

“Enough with that! What does it even mean? Lance is a vampire and I’m a hunter. Everything’s gone to shit. First Shiro dumps me here. Then Lance keeps getting sick. Miriam has a fall. Luis admits he reported his own fucking he reported in his own brother. Lance turns into a bat. And now he’s sick again. I’m sick of it. He hasn’t done anything wrong. He tried to save my life and he’s suffering, while you and Coran decide now is the perfect time for a tea party!”

Keith could have punched Allura for still smiling. Why wasn’t she angry?

“I understand it must be hard. But we cannot stop the changes. He’s strong, you know. He was tortured when he was turned, by his sires. He’s kept everyone he’s ever met since at a distance. Allowing himself friendships, let alone having someone living with him, is a large step. You could say he’s waited the last 36 years for a friend that knew him and didn’t judge him for it. He’s got such a sweet soul. The transition would be easier with fresh blood, the life is so much more alive when fresh, but he will never feed from you without permission. He’d never feed from you when offered either. He thinks rather highly of you”

Allura didn’t seem capable of giving straight answers. She looked enough like Coran to also be a fae. They both had the same tapered ears, and aura around them. Not a glowy aura, but a feeling

“If he did, he wouldn’t have tried to hide he was sick”

“Keith, Lance fears burdening you more than he already has. He doesn’t want pity or sympathy. He doesn’t want to draw even closer to you. He fears you leaving, so he’s hardening his heart so it won’t hurt when you do”

“You make it sound like we’ve known each other for years, not weeks”

“Sometimes a day or two is all it takes to decided what a person means to you”

Their first few days together had been shit. So he’d always mean shit to Lance if he followed Allura’s chain of thought

“You are allowed to befriend him, and him you. Romantical feelings can develop quite rapidly when your quintessence is so compatible”

“What now? Who said anything about romance?”

Allura sighed softly

“I misspoke. I simply mean to say that if you wish to pursue a romantic relationship with Lance...”

“I don’t”

“It’s alright to...”

“I don’t have those feelings for Lance. Stop making this into something it isn’t. There’s nothing there. He’s weird and he’s dead. We’re stuck together so whatever we’re feeling is because of that. I wouldn’t date him, even if he was the last man alive”

“I see I’ve upset you. Lance is quite fond of you, to hear you speak like that would certainly upset him”

“Because I call him weird and dead?”

He pretty much did that every day. Lance ragged on him just as much in return

“Yes. He is very sensitive about such topics. Perhaps leaving him in your care was too much”

“Allura, that is enough. Keith, please understand that what we were trying to say is that even through friendship, or something more, we would support the two of you. Matters of the heart are a complicated thing. Lance has lost many people he cares about along the way and remembers them all. He is wise and he is brave. He worked out from early age that to survive he had to hide large pieces of himself away. With you, he can be more open about those things. You are a great presence in his life”

“You make it sound like he has feelings for me”

“Perhaps he does”

Keith shook his head. Their “friendship” was complicated enough as it was. He felt as if Coran and Allura were pressuring him into something with Lance, which was the last thing Lance needed right now. He was sick and vulnerable. Besides, he didn’t have those feelings for Lance. He didn’t know what he felt, but it was nothing like romance. He was still trying to cope with the changes in his body. Once Shiro returned, he was going to request a medical to find out what was going on with his heart. The racing and the weird beats weren’t normal. He’d been in plenty of heart racing situations, but none made his chest physically ache, like it did for no good reason when Lance was around. His moods were as up and down as Lance’s. He felt sure that Lance’s bite had done something to change him physically. It was the only explanation for what was happening with his heart.

“How long’s he going to sleep for?”

“A few hours. He needs the rest. These changes are hard on his body, as well as his mind. If he’s in pain, you can try a combination of ibuprofen and a few drops of blood. Blood will help his body absorbed the painkillers, so make sure you don’t give him straight painkillers, or they’ll be ineffective”

“Wait. You’re leaving me in charge of looking after him? I don’t know how to help him”

“You can’t take away the physical pain, but your presence will help keep him calm”

“He wanted his Mami, not me”

Coran sighed softly

“Poor Miriam. She’s such a kind woman. She’s always been on Lance’s side. Lance wouldn’t have told her about Luis...”

Luis deserved to stand in a nest of fire ants for what he’d done to his brother

“Nope. That reminds me, has he always been like that?”

“Yes and no. Lance’s family all went through quite a lot after Lance was turned”

“He asked me the other day if I could find out whether Rolo and Nyma are still around”

“Fortunately, they are not, as far as I know. For a period I did keep an eye out for signs of them, but the last records are from nearly two decades ago. They’ve either wised up, or they were executed. They were listed as violent offenders, and scheduled for termination, but they’d left my jurisdiction by then”

That was good. The world didn’t need Nyma and Rolo. Though Keith was annoyed he didn’t get to kill the pair of them himself

“I’ll let him know. Maybe Shiro will know something more”

Allura took a sip of her tea, before carefully saying

“Keith, think about it carefully before you decide. There are somethings in life that you can’t unknow. We have no information on if their deaths did indeed occur. Telling Lance that they may still be out there may not be the best thing for him right now”

“He needs some kind of closure”

“Which, without facts, isn’t possible right now. Now, we need to be leaving. I’m afraid our work never seems to be done. We’ll send someone to check in with you once the weekend has passed. I’m sure you two must have plans?”

“Pidge has plans. Lance is going if he isn’t fully recovered”

Allura laughed at him. She laughed, and seeing it was straight after Keith had spoken, the only way to interpret it was that she was laughing at him. The hunter still didn’t understand how she could giggle and laugh like it was nothing. Maybe human lives didn’t matter so much when you spent your time dealing with supernatural creatures

“You sound like a concerned parent. Oh, Keith. I think I quite like you”

“Then why do you keep making fun of me?”

That sobered Allura right up

“I’m terribly sorry. That was not my intent in the slightest. I do think you and Lance quite compliment each other. I am struggling to contain my happiness over him finding an understanding friend, someone who understands him and has such compatible quintessence... I never thought it’d happen for Lance, so I can barely keep from smiling. I do believe you two will become very close”

“Is that a fae thing?”

“A touch of foresight, and a belief. Please reach out if you require anything”

Keith didn’t want to. Not when Allura and Coran were both so damn weird. What happened to people talking simply, without all these added meanings that seemed to go over his head

“I don’t have a phone number... I was going to borrow Lance’s phone and call Coran, but then both of you showed up”

“Here we go my boy. Direct line. Call anytime and you’ll be answered”

Coran drew a business card out of seemingly nowhere. Passing it over, the business card was for the bookshop side of things. Some help that was... Coran didn’t seem the kind of man who’d be above ground all that often

“Thanks... are you sure... that he’s to be okay? All of this feels kind of sudden, and now you’re both suddenly leaving... What do I do if he gets worse? What if he like... snaps?”

“Keep him calm and keep him fed... Monitor that fever and know you’re doing the best you can for him right now”

“That’s it?”

“I’m afraid so. It’s quite disheartening that we cannot do more for poor Lance. We can only guide him through his change. Now, I have one other thing for you. I believe you had no money of your own, so I’ve set this up for your account. It’s activated and ready to go”

Coran pulled another card out of his pocket and passed it over. Keith’s eyes widening at the bank card in his name

“I would say I’m surprised, but I think I’ve hit my limit on surprises. Thanks for this, now I have to convince Lance to let me use his car”

“I’m sure you’ll have no problems. Now, as Allura said, we must be going. No need to stand, we’ll see ourselves out”

Keith felt like he should thank them, they had come to Lance’s aid, but he was also kind of preoccupied with everything Allura and Coran had said. Leaving him sitting at the table, Keith really wanted to call Shiro and fill him in on everything that happened. His brother was such a huge part of his life, but now he was too busy to be there. Besides, Shiro would probably worry over Lance, when there wasn’t anything they could do about the pain of his body changing... and Keith didn’t want to have a conversation where talking about Lance’s bits and pieces was likely to mean talking about what was happening below his belt line. That was icky. Not that Keith hadn’t shared a communal shower before, but thinking about Lance’s dick was sure to only leave him feeling weird around the man. Seeing him shirtless had been weird enough as it was. He probably needed to get back to Lance, so Lance wouldn’t wake up alone and scared. Being a vampire was a lot more complicated than Keith had spent all these years thinking it was.

*

With Lance sleeping, Keith had wound up on his bed playing with his camera. He’d sat, paced, sat, then paced until he grew frustrated, before throwing himself down on his bed and pulling out his camera. Blue had come to inspect what was happening to her human, then run off when Keith went to pat her. Cats were so weird. He thought Blue had warmed up to him, but apparently not. Staring at the photo on the screen, he wished he could have seen the cavern the way Lance had. He’d probably been able to differentiate between the lines of sediment with his weird vampire powers. Lance had seen enough to know there were fish down there, which Keith found weird. He could only hazard a guess that they’d been introduced down there as emergency food reserves, then lived down there undisturbed when the mine was decommissioned. The Third World War had been a major turning point in industrialisation. Technology coming along in leaps and bounds since. The hunter still wasn’t sure that the mine hadn’t made Lance ill, seeing Lance had waded out into what had to be freezing cold water.

Sighing to himself, Keith looked over to Lance. The tea towel across his forehead would need changing by now. The vampire still looked wiped out by fever, and the scent in the room had definitely grown sweeter. Climbing off his bed, Keith’s knees nearly buckled as he tripped over air. Clumsiness coming from nowhere. Taking the tea towel off Lance’s forehead, Keith jumped as Lance’s eyes snapped open, staring right at him

“Lance?”

Reaching out, Lance grabbed him by the wrist, Keith being pulled forcibly forward as Lance rolled away from him. The vampire’s eyes closing again as Keith tried to free his wrist, only to find Lance’s grip too tight. Not physically tight around his wrist, but his hand was firm as if his muscles had seized that way

“Lance? Hey, let me go”

Half kneeling on the bed, Keith continued to try freeing his hand. Lance seemed to have fallen back to sleep, Keith not getting his hand back anytime soon. His heart was doing that racing thing, Keith sighing loudly over now being trapped. He didn’t have a choice.

Against his will, mostly, Keith realised he was going to have to wait until Lance woke up again. Climbing up on the bed, he slipped under the blanket, forced to spoon around Lance’s sleeping form thanks to his hold. Keith wasn’t used to this. He’d bunked with Shiro before, even cuddled up behind his brother like this, especially after the loss of Adam, when Shiro’s PTS got to the point he couldn’t sleep alone. But that was Shiro. His brother. Not a big sick vampire baby, like Lance. Locking his jaw, Keith ignored the way Lance wriggled back against him. His slim body seemed to meld far too well against Keith’s... something he was acutely aware of given how insistent Allura had been that they’d be something more than whatever they were now. Friends hugged friends. Keith could totally see Hunk spooning up with Lance like this, even if Lance seemed more the type to spoon. He’d be a cuddler. Like a big dopey dog or something. With his eyes scrunched, Keith tried to calm his racing heart. There was nothing wrong with this. Friends hugged friends when they were down. There was no need to complicate things by over thinking. Nope. This was fine. Everything was fine... perfectly fine...

[queenmylovely]

Apparently, Blake aka @sweet-ladyy is sick rn, and when she posted saying to send her things to read about being taken care of by one of the boys, I couldn’t resist writing something lol. I hope you like this, Blake, and if it makes you feel even 1% better, I’ll consider it successful!

Also, do I know what a blurb is, cause this is 1.2k (I guess there are the slightest allusions to sex and nudity but nothing explicit)

☆☆☆

Body aching and head pounding from the inflammation and sinus pressure respectively, you groaned as you tried to sit up to turn off the alarm that was blaring on your bedside table. After a minute of struggle, you managed to, and blinked blearily around your room to find it empty.

Frowning, you tried to call out to your boyfriend, but all that came from your throat was a garbled sound and then a hacking cough. As you tried to cough into your elbow, you saw a figure walking quickly into the bedroom out of the corner of your eye. When you were finally able to take more than one breath in smoothly, you looked up to see said boyfriend, Brian, holding a steaming cup of tea out to you.

“You’re up,” he said sympathetically, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear as you took a careful sip.

The hot tea with a touch of honey helped soothe your throat and you pushed the covers off your legs with one hand, “Yeah, the alarm woke me. I gotta get ready for work.”

You were about to stand when Brian gently pushed on your shoulder to stop you. Looking up at him confusedly, he explained, “You’ve been coughing all night and you felt like you had a fever when I got up about an hour ago. I already called your work and told them that you’re sick. They said to rest up and get better; they don’t want an outbreak of a cold or the flu.”

Slumping back down in the bed, you took another sip of the tea and then set it down. You were relieved that you wouldn’t have to go into work or even have to call in, but then you thought about what Brian said and frowned again.

He noticed and asked, “What’s wrong?”

“I was coughing all night?” you clarified and he nodded. “Oh, Bri, that means I kept you up with my coughing. I’m so sorry.”

Brian chuckled a little at the pout on your face and sat down next to you on the bed where you made room for him. “To be honest, I slept on the couch and just checked on you a couple times after the first hour of coughing. Also, don’t be sorry for coughing when you’re sick.”

“Okay,” you accepted easily, making Brian chuckle again, and you laid back down completely, trying to get comfortable enough to fall back asleep. Then you felt another throb of pain in your head and brought a hand to your forehead.

“I’ll go get you some ibuprofen,” Brian said, standing and walking out of the room. He returned in a second with the pills and a glass of water.

You sat slightly to take them and then Brian helped prop you up with two extra pillows behind your back so the congestion wouldn’t be as bad. Once you were settled, he sat down next to you again and massaged where your sinus cavities were on your face and you instantly felt better, the pressure being alleviated with his talented hands.

With the pain quickly retreating, you fell asleep with ease. It was a couple hours before you woke up again, due to hunger, and this time Brian was sitting on the bed next to you softly messing around with one of his acoustic guitars.

“Hungry?” he guessed easily, and when you nodded he left the room, setting the guitar on a stand that was permanently in your bedroom in case inspiration struck in the middle of the night (on multiple occasions it had struck in the middle of sex and if it weren’t so hot to see him working out a song naked, you would’ve been annoyed).

After a minute he was back with a bed tray that had a bowl of chicken noodle soup, a piece of buttered toast, saltines, and a glass of orange juice. You smiled and thanked him and then immediately dug in, glad it seemed to be just a cold and not the flu. The soup was delicious and soothed both your throat and body with its warmth.

Through a bite of toast, which was already settling your stomach, you asked, “Did you make this soup?”

Brian nodded, smiling a little proud smile, “I called Deaky for help and he handed me off to Veronica, but she gave me her family’s recipe and told me how to make it.”

You beamed back at him, the nap and the food already reenergizing you, and you told him, “Well, it’s delicious. Thank you, bub.”

He blushed at your praise and said, “Anything for you, love.”

Once lunch was finished (you made sure Brian had eaten as well), you started to get uncomfortable in the bed, and realized that you had sweat a bunch during your nap. Brian helped you to the shower, your body still a little weak, and you pulled off your damp pajamas as Brian undressed himself. He turned on the water and made it warmer than either of you usually preferred, then led you inside.

The hot water felt great on your achy body, but you noticed Brian wince at the temperature and turned it down so it wasn’t scalding him. He helped you wash and condition your hair, having done it multiple times before. Then he washed your body for you, and while there was nothing sensual in his movements, it was still a wonderfully intimate moment between the two of you. He gave you mini-massages on your shoulders, lower back, and thighs, helping to release the tension that had built up lying in bed. He pressed a kiss to each place when he was done and you would’ve kissed him senseless as a thank you, but refrained because you didn’t want him to get sick.

Once the shower was done and you were in fresh, clean pajamas, the two of you moved to the living room couch, cuddling up to watch reruns of whatever sitcoms happened to come on throughout the afternoon. Eventually, you fell asleep again, waking around 7:00pm.

A dinner of chicken noodle soup and a chat and listen to an album later, you were already ready for bed. Brian went with you, telling you that he was tired out too, and wanted to keep up on his rest so he didn’t get sick. You took a dose of cough syrup, hoping that would keep both you and Brian asleep through the night. The two of you got ready for bed together, sharing a quick kiss right after brushing your teeth because that seemed like the least likely time to spread germs.

Then you crawled into bed, sighing in appreciation when you realized that Brian had changed the sheets during your afternoon sleep. You felt him come up behind you and wrap his body around yours. It was a little tricky at first with the mound of pillows supporting you, but he managed to get settled.

Melting into him, you let out a hum and then said, “Thank you for taking such good care of me, Bri.”

“‘Course, it was my pleasure, love. Gotta make sure you’re happy even when you’re not completely healthy,” he said so sweetly that you couldn’t help but turn around in his arms and give him a kiss.

“I love you,” you said against his lips.

“I love you too.”

★★★

Masterlist

I’m also tagging because it’s practically oneshot length: @riseetothesun @caborhapch @drowseoftaylor @queenlover05 @johndeaconshands

[hikingmysteries]

The (”Mostly Harmless”) Nameless Hiker

Arguably the biggest hiking story of 2020, the tale actually starts a few years ago. Though we love researching and writing our own pieces for Hiking Mysteries, it is tough to top Nicholas Thompson’s article from Wired magazine. So, here it is, along with images.

A Nameless Hiker and the Case the Internet Can’t Crack

The man on the trail went by “Mostly Harmless." He was friendly and said he worked in tech. After he died in his tent, no one could figure out who he was.

IN APRIL 2017, a man started hiking in a state park just north of New York City. He wanted to get away, maybe from something and maybe from everything. He didn’t bring a phone; he didn’t bring a credit card. He didn’t even really bring a name. Or at least he didn’t tell anyone he met what it was.

He did bring a giant backpack, which his fellow hikers considered far too heavy for his journey. And he brought a notebook, in which he would scribble notes about Screeps, an online programming game. The Appalachian Trail runs through the area, and he started walking south, moving slowly but steadily down through Pennsylvania and Maryland. He told people he met along the way that he had worked in the tech industry and he wanted to detox from digital life. Hikers sometimes acquire trail names, pseudonyms they use while deep in the woods. He was “Denim” at first, because he had started his trek in jeans. Later, it became “Mostly Harmless,” which is how he described himself one night at a campfire. Maybe, too, it was a reference to Douglas Adams’ The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. Early in the series, a character discovers that Earth is defined by a single word in the guide: harmless. Another character puts in 15 years of research and then adds the adverb. Earth is now “mostly harmless.”

By summer, the hiker was in Virginia, where he walked about a hundred miles with a 66-year-old woman who went by the trail name Obsidian. She taught him how to make a fire, and he told her he was eager to see a bear. On December 1, Mostly Harmless had made it to northern Georgia, where he stopped in a store called Mountain Crossings. A veteran hiker named Matt Mason was working that day, and the two men started talking. Mostly Harmless said that he wanted to figure out a path down to the Florida Keys. Mason told him about a route and a map he could download to his phone. “I don’t have a phone,” Mostly Harmless replied. Describing the moment, Mason remembers thinking, “Oh, this guy’s awesome.” Everyone who goes into the woods is trying to get away from something. But few people have the commitment to cut their digital lifelines as they put on their boots.

Mason printed the 60 pages of the map and sold it to Mostly Harmless for $5 cash, which the hiker pulled from a wad of bills that Mason remembers being an inch thick. Mason loves hikers who are a little bit different, a little bit strange. He asked Mostly Harmless if he could take a picture. Mostly Harmless hesitated but then agreed. He then left the shop and went on his way. Two weeks later, Mason heard from a friend in Alabama who had seen Mostly Harmless hiking through a snowstorm. “He was out there with a smile on his face, walking south,” Mason recalls.

By the last week of January, he was in northern Florida, walking on the side of Highway 90, when a woman named Kelly Fairbanks pulled over to say hello. Fairbanks is what is known as a “trail angel,” someone who helps out through-hikers who pass near her, giving them food and access to a shower if they want. She was out looking for a different hiker when she saw Mostly Harmless. She pulled over, and they started to chat. He said that he had started in New York and was heading down to Key West. She asked if he was using the Florida Trail App, and he responded that he didn’t have a phone.

Fairbanks took notice of his gear—which was a mix of high-end and generic, including his black-and-copper trekking poles. And she was struck by his rugged, lonely look. “He had very kind eyes. I saw the huge beard first and thought, ‘It’s an older guy.’ But his eyes were so young, and he didn’t have crow's feet. I realized he was a lot younger.” She was concerned though, the way she used to be concerned about her two younger brothers. The trail could be confusing, and it wouldn’t be long before everything started getting intolerably hot and muggy. “I remembered him because I was worried,” she added.

Six months later and 600 miles south, on July 23, 2018, two hikers headed out into the Big Cypress National Preserve. The humidity was oppressive, but they trudged forward, crossing swamps, tending aching feet, and dodging the alligators and snakes. About 10 miles into their journey, they stopped to rest their feet at a place called Nobles Camp. There they saw a yellow tent and a pair of boots outside. Something smelled bad, and something seemed off. They called out, then peered through the tent’s windscreen. An emaciated, lifeless body was looking up at them. They called 911.

“Uh, we just found a dead body.”

IT’S USUALLY EASY to put a name to a corpse. There’s an ID or a credit card. There’s been a missing persons report in the area. There’s a DNA match. But the investigators in Collier County couldn’t find a thing. Mostly Harmless’ fingerprints didn’t show up in any law enforcement database. He hadn’t served in the military, and his fingerprints didn’t match those of anyone else on file. His DNA didn’t match any in the Department of Justice’s missing person database or in CODIS, the national DNA database run by the FBI. A picture of his face didn’t turn up anything in a facial recognition database. The body had no distinguishing tattoos.

Nor could investigators understand how or why he died. There were no indications of foul play, and he had more than $3,500 cash in the tent. He had food nearby, but he was hollowed out, weighing just 83 pounds on a 5'8" frame. Investigators put his age in the vague range between 35 and 50, and they couldn’t point to any abnormalities. The only substances he tested positive for were ibuprofen and an antihistamine. His cause of death, according to the autopsy report, was “undetermined.” He had, in some sense, just wasted away. But why hadn’t he tried to find help? Almost immediately, people compared Mostly Harmless to Chris McCandless, whose story was the subject of Into the Wild. McCandless, though, had been stranded in the Alaska bush, trapped by a raging river as he ran out of food. He died on a school bus, starving, desperate for help, 22 miles of wilderness separating him from a road. Mostly Harmless was just 5 miles from a major highway. He left no note, and there was no evidence that he had spent his last days calling out for help.

The investigators were stumped. To find out what had happened, they needed to learn who he was. So the Florida Department of Law Enforcement drew up an image of Mostly Harmless, and the Collier County investigators shared it with the public. In the sketch, his mouth is open wide, and his eyes too. He has a gray and black beard, with a bare patch of skin right below the mouth. His teeth, as noted in the autopsy, are perfect, suggesting he had good dental care as a child. He looks startled but also oddly pleased, as if he’s just seen a clown jump out from behind a curtain. The image started to circulate online along with other pictures from his campsite, including his tent and his hiking poles.

Kelly Fairbanks works at the Army and Air Force exchange store on a Florida military base. She normally monitors the CCTV cameras for shoplifters, but if there’s no one in the store she might sneak a look at Facebook. It was a quiet moment, and suddenly the picture popped into her feed. There he was: eyes wide open and looking up. She recognized the eyes and the beard. “I started freaking out,” she says. It was the kind man she’d seen on Highway 90. The sheriff’s office had also posted a photo of the hiker’s poles, and Fairbanks knew she had an image of the same man holding the same gear.

She clicked right over to the Collier County Sheriff’s Facebook page and sent in two photographs she had taken of Mostly Harmless. She got a message back immediately asking for her phone number. Soon a detective was on the line asking, “What can you tell me?”

She told him everything she knew. And she shared the original post, and her photo, all over Facebook. Soon there were dozens of people jumping in. They had seen the hiker too. They had journeyed with him for a few hours or a few days. They had sat at a campfire with him. There was a GoPro video in which he appeared. People remembered him talking about a sister in either Sarasota or Saratoga. They thought he had said he was from near Baton Rouge. One person remembered that he ate a lot of sticky buns; another said that he loved ketchup. But no one knew his name. When the body of Chris McCandless was found in the wilds of Alaska in the summer of 1992 without any identification, it took authorities only two weeks to figure out his identity. A friend in South Dakota, who’d known McCandless as “Alex,” heard a discussion of the story on AM radio and called the authorities. Clues followed quickly, and McCandless’ family was soon found.

Now it’s 2020, and we have the internet. Facebook knows you’re pregnant almost before you do. Amazon knows your light bulb is going to go out right before it does. Put details on Twitter about a stolen laptop and people will track down the thief in a Manhattan bar. The internet can decode family mysteries, identify long-forgotten songs, solve murders, and, as this magazine showed a decade ago, track down almost anyone who tries to shed their digital skin. This case seemed easy.

An avid Facebook group committed to figuring out his identity soon formed. Reddit threads popped up to analyze the notes he had taken for Screeps. Amateur detectives tracked down leads and tried to match photographs in missing persons databases. A massive timeline was constructed on Websleuths.com. Was it possible, one Dr. Oz viewer asked, that Mostly Harmless was a boy featured on the show who went missing in 1982? Was it possible that Mostly Harmless was a suspect in Arkansas who had murdered his girlfriend in 2017? None of the photos matched.

The story pulled people in. Everyone, at some point, has wanted to put their phone in a garbage can and head off with a fake name and a wad of cash. Here was someone who had done it and who seemed to have so much going for him: He was kind, charming, educated. He knew how to code. And yet he had died alone in a yellow tent. Maybe he had been chased by demons and had sought an ending like this. Or maybe he had just been outmatched by the wilderness and the Florida heat.

It just wasn’t a normal story in any way. And, as Fairbanks said, “he was a good-looking dude,” which, she notes, might explain why so many of the searchers are women. In mid-October, one woman in the Facebook group posted a slideshow comparing his photos to those of Brad Pitt. “Actually I think MH looks better. 😉,” one commenter wrote.

The dude, though, seemed to have followed, to near perfection, the hiker credo of “Leave no trace.” None of the clues panned out. Nothing actually got people close to solving the mystery. An industrious writer named Jason Nark spent more than a year obsessively tracking down leads and then wrote an elegy to the hiker that began, “Sometimes I imagine him falling through space, drifting like dust from dead stars in the vast nowhere above us.”

Natasha Teasley manages a canoe and kayak company in North Carolina. As business slowed when the coronavirus hit, she started to spend more time online, and she started to fill the gap in her life with the hunt for Mostly Harmless. She sent flyers to the Chambers of Commerce in every city where people thought he might have come from, including Sarasota, Florida, and Saratoga Springs, New York. She tracked down details about every car that was towed out of Harriman State Park, where he likely started his journey. She scoured missing persons databases. I asked her what motivated her to spend so much time looking for a man she’d never met. She responded achingly, “He’s got to be missed. Someone must miss this guy.”

WHEN WE THINK of DNA tests, we normally think of their miraculous ability to give us a yes or a no. The unique thread of base pairs that make us who we are exists in every cell. So we take the genetic information found at a crime scene, or in the saliva on a coffee cup, or on the hand of a deceased hiker. Then we look closely at roughly 20 chunks, or what geneticists call markers, and we search in a database of collected samples to see whether the markers match. Imagine if a book, 1 million pages long but without a cover, washed up on the shore. And then imagine you could scan one page and search all the books in a giant database to see if that exact page appeared. That’s conventional DNA testing.

But DNA also can tell the story of human history. By running a different kind of test, you get beyond yes or no and into a million variations of maybe. The genetic markers in your body are closer to those of your first cousin than your third. And they’re closer to those of your third cousin than your sixth. There’s a little bit of each generation in each of us, from our parents to our great grandparents to the early apes of the forests of Africa. So now imagine that book, and imagine that instead of comparing one page, you could compare everything in the book with everything in all other books, to find similar words, syntax, and themes. You would need complicated math and pattern tracing, but, eventually, you might figure out the author. And so, early in the summer of 2020, the organizers of the Facebook group searching for Mostly Harmless’ identity sent news about the case to a Houston company called Othram. It had been started two years earlier and pitches itself as a one-stop shop for solving cold cases.

Othram’s founder, David Mittelman, is a geneticist who had worked on the original human genome project, and he was drawn to this odd case. The company asks the public for suggestions for mysteries to solve, and that’s one of the best parts of the job. “I like doing the cases from the tip line,” Mittelman told me. “Lab work for the sake of lab work is kind of boring.” If he could crack the hiker’s identity, he’d get attention for his technology. But there was something else, too, drawing him in, a riddle he wanted to answer. The hiker seemed to have found an internet family but had no connection to his real one.

Othram called up the Collier County Sheriff’s Office and offered to help. DNA analysis is expensive, though, and the company estimated that the whole project—from evidence to answers—would cost $5,000. The sheriff's office couldn't spend that much money on a case that involved no crime. But it would love Othram’s help if there were another way to pay for the work. And so three of the great trends of modern technology—crowdfunding, amateur sleuthing, and cutting-edge genomics—combined. Within eight days, the Facebook group had raised the money to run the analysis. Soon a small piece of bone from the hiker was on its way west from Collier County to the Othram labs.

The first step for Othram’s team was to extract DNA from the bone fragment and to then analyze it to make sure they had enough to proceed. They did, and so they soon put small samples of DNA onto glass slides, which they inserted into a sequencer, a machine that costs roughly a million dollars and looks like a giant washing machine made by Apple.

Unfortunately, it’s a washing machine that has a long run cycle. And it doesn’t always work. Sometimes the pages of the book you find are ripped or blurry. Sometimes the process is iterative and you have to tape fragments back together. So, as the sequencer spun, the Facebook hunters fretted that, once again, nothing would come of a promising lead. But by mid-August, Othram had a clean read on the DNA: They knew exactly what combination of As, Cs, Gs, and Ts had combined to create the mysterious hiker. A company spokesperson appeared live on the Facebook group’s page to detail the progress; posters responded with gratitude and euphoria.

Science sometimes gets harder with every step, though, and having the sequence was just the beginning. In order to identify Mostly Harmless, the team at Othram would have to compare his genetic information with other people’s. And they would start with a service called GEDMatch, a database of DNA samples that people have submitted, voluntarily, to answer their own hopes and questions—they want to find a lost half-sister or a clue about their grandpa. That collection of DNA has become a cornucopia for law enforcement. Each new sample submitted provides one more book for the library that can be searched and scoured. It was through this technique that investigators in Contra Costa County, California, found the Golden State Killer in the spring of 2018, connecting a DNA sample of the killer to GEDMatch samples of relatives. Just this past week, Othram helped law enforcement identify the murderer of a 5-year-old in Missoula, Montana, a case that had gone unsolved for 46 years.

It’s been over a month since Othram started looking through the GEDmatch database. It won’t say anything about what it has found, and the Collier County Sheriff’s Office is keeping quiet as well. But one source outside of the company who is familiar with its progress says that, while Othram doesn’t know Mostly Harmless’ name, it has found enough matching patterns to identify the region of the country from which his ancestors hail.

That isn’t sufficient though. Knowing for sure, for example, that his relatives came from Baton Rouge doesn’t mean Mostly Harmless came from Baton Rouge. His parents could have been born there and moved to Montreal. He could have been born in Louisiana and dropped on a doorstep in Maine. But, right now, the data scientists at Othram are combing through all the DNA samples in GEDMatch, looking for patterns and trying to circle closer to his identity. They’re most likely building out a family tree. Let’s say they found someone in GEDMatch whose DNA seems like a fourth cousin of Mostly Harmless, and then perhaps someone who seems like a third cousin. How do those two people connect? Through this sort of slow, painstaking analysis, they can get closer to an answer. Soon they might find his extended family, and then perhaps his parents’ names. And then law enforcement will be able to solve a case that has stumped them for more than two years.

They might get there, and they might not. A source familiar with the work suggests that the earliest we’ll get an answer is December. Unless between now and then, perhaps, someone reading this article or browsing a Facebook group recognizes his face. Or puts together clues that have eluded everyone else. Finally, he won’t be “Mostly Harmless”; he’ll have a real name.

And then, with that mystery solved, a new one will open up. Why did Mostly Harmless walk into the woods? And why, when things started to go wrong, didn’t he walk out?

[larkiwrites]

“Redemption” Chapter 9

AU: Supernatural Title: Redemption Chapter: Nine Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Reader Word Count:  1,925 Pairing: Getting There…. Warnings: None that I can think of A/N: Sorry for any typos/errors, feel free to point ‘em out and I’ll happily fix them! Feedback is always welcome ^_^

Chapter 8  |  Chapter 10  |  Masterlist

Sam drove the three of you back to the motel in silence. His gaze continued to skim your face in the rear-view mirror every few minutes but you ignored him. You kept your eyes pointed out the window and up at the twinkling stars above. It was a clear night, not a cloud in sight, and it was beautiful. It took your mind off the throbbing pain in your cheekbone, even if for just a moment.

You darted into the motel room once Sam shifted into park, dutifully ignoring the brothers as you went. You needed to find some Tylenol, or advil… ibuprofen? Something. It probably wouldn’t hurt to look for an ice pack, either. Sam and Dean didn’t come in for a while. You were able to get some pain killers in your system and while you couldn’t find an icepack, you were able to use a cold can of coke you found in the fridge to ebb away at the ache. You found yourself wondering why on Earth you had jumped in between the fighting idiots. Why Dean? Why didn’t you step in to protect Sam? Probably because you were physically closer to Dean at the time, honestly, and you were clearly not thinking logically.

Dean came into the room with Sam shortly behind him, shutting the door and locking up for the night. Both stopped in their tracks when they saw you sitting on your bed with your back up against the headboard, holding a can of coke to your face.

“(Y/N),” Dean started, a lot more sober than he was a half an hour ago. You waved him off, not wanting to delve into the drama.

“Seriously, are you ok?” Sam piped in and you shrugged a shoulder in response. Dean was digging through his duffel bag now, looking for something.

“Ah, here they are,” he mumbled and then tossed a gel icepack to Sam and pulled out a small first aid kit. Sam caught the pack with ease and quickly put it in the freezer while Dean came around his bed and closer to you, “Can I, uh…?” He gestured vaguely to your bed, asking to sit.

You shrugged again, your curiosity getting the better of you. Dean sat gingerly on the side of the bed and gently took the can from your grasp. He sat it on the side table next to you and cracked open the first aid kit. He sighed, looking from the supplies up to your face. His calloused fingers hooked under your chin and softly turned your face into the light from the lamp. Your eyes watched him closely as he bit his bottom lip, taking in your bruised cheekbone. You hadn’t noticed earlier, when you were searching for medicine, but apparently your skin had cracked ever so slightly, leaving a small trail of blood down your face. Dean took out an alcohol wipe and patted it to the wound, cleaning your face of any dried blood he could find. You hissed slightly at the sting before biting your own lip to shut yourself up. He muttered a quick apology as he dabbed a cotton swab in antibacterial ointment and lightly applied it to the cut.

“You want a band aid? We’ve got scooby-doo,” he chuckled, his eyes meeting yours. You shook your head.

“Thanks, Dean,” you gave him a small smile. He hadn’t been this kind to you since the first week, when he offered to check on your sutures.

“Yeah, uh, don’t mention it,” he cleared his throat as he cleaned up the trash and packed away the first aid supplies. He took the coke with him and put it back in the fridge before pulling out a new one and bringing it over. It would take some time for the ice pack to freeze and the coke you had been using had grown warm.

“Here,” he handed you the cold can of soda and you smiled again, looking down briefly just to avert your eyes from his green stare. You weren’t used to him making eye contact with you and at this point you weren’t sure how to react.

He sat on Sam’s bed across from you and cleared his throat again, playing with his hands nervously. You realized then that Sam had gone to get a shower at some point while Dean was patching you up. Well, you thought to yourself, that’s awkward. Dean gives me attention for two seconds and Sam is suddenly invisible. It was your turn to clear your throat. You focused on the coke as a distraction and brought it back up to soothe your cheek.

“Look, (Y/N), I…. Why did you do it?” He had meant to apologize but he couldn’t help himself. He had to know what the hell had possessed her to jump in between him and some pissed-off drunk in the middle of a bar.

You had wondered the same thing earlier and still weren’t sure you had an answer, for either of you. You resorted to shrugging and gesticulating widely with your free hand.

“Well,” Dean’s voice became hard again, more along the lines of what you had become accustomed to, “Don’t do it again, right?”

You narrowed your eyes at the man, “I think what you were trying to say here, Dean, is ‘I’m sorry’ or maybe even ‘thank you’.”

“No, because if I thanked you for acting like a brainless git then you would be tempted to do it again.”

“A brainless—Where do you get off, Winchester? You’re the idiot that got drunk off his ass tonight. It wasn’t Sam or I that decided it would be fun to pick a fight with some biker twice our size. We just came to pick you up, ok?”

“Well, Sammy should’ve left you here,” he tensed his jaw, meeting your glare.

“That’s what you’re going with? That is your defense? Sammy should have left poor defenseless, brainless, (Y/N) at the motel?”

“No, (Y/N), that’s not what I mea—”

“Shut it, Dean. I’m going to sleep, you can go fuck yourself,” you cut him off, tired of his bullshit. You placed the coke onto the side table, restraining yourself from throwing it at his head, and turned your back to him.

Dean made a frustrated sound somewhere between a yell and a grunt as he got up and stormed back out of the motel. You briefly wondered if he was heading back to the bar, or if perhaps he was going to sleep outside tonight? You gave yourself a mental shake. I didn’t concern you what he did or where he went, after all.

Sam sighed, having been out of the shower long enough to see the tail end of your conversation. You jumped, startled at the noise. You hadn’t noticed the sound of the water shutting off or the bathroom door opening as you had fought with Dean. The younger brother didn’t say anything, choosing to follow Dean out of the room instead. You rolled your eyes before sliding out of your jeans, unhooking your bra under your shirt, and tossing them both to the floor beside your bed. Fuck them, you tried to tell yourself as you climbed under the sheets. You tried to force yourself to hold on to the anger, but it was hard with the image of a very-concerned Dean biting his lip while trying to take care of you repeatedly popping up in your mind’s eye. You sighed, turning over, and tried to will yourself to sleep.

---

You woke up to a black eye the following day but you couldn’t say you were surprised. You found it when you went to wash your face and brush your teeth. You hadn’t asked the guys to buy you anything frivolous, like makeup for example, so you had no concealer to hide it with. You sighed, at least I’m not going anywhere anytime soon.

“Good morning, (Y/N)…” Sam’s sentence died when he saw your face.

“It’s fine, Sammy,” you answered as you started to pull some eggs out of the mini fridge, “You hungry?”

“Oh, no, I had a smoothie earlier.”

“Before your run?”

Sam grinned, “Yeah, before my run. Why don’t you go with me one of these mornings?”

It was your turn to cringe, “Yeah….about that….”

Dean waltzed into the motel room, the door hitting the wall behind it with a thud.

“I brought coffee,” he announced, carrying a cardboard cupholder with three steaming cups nestled securely in it.

You tucked the eggs back into the fridge at the site of coffee. You didn’t get much sleep last night, tossing and turning quite a bit. You had hazy memories of troublesome dreams but you couldn’t bring the images into focus. Giving yourself yet another mental shake, you gratefully accepted the Styrofoam cup Sam had taken from Dean and offered to you. You took a sip and sighed, your eyes fluttering closed as the ambrosia hit your tongue and lit up your taste buds.

“Did I get it right?” Dean chuckled at your reaction.

Your eyes snapped open to find him staring at you with a hint of a grin still on his face. You narrowed your eyes slightly and bit your tongue, not wanting to yell at him first thing in the morning, especially when he had brought you coffee. This was probably his way of apologizing for last night, you thought to yourself, but you would rather he just say he’s sorry. You nodded your head and hummed that he had indeed gotten your order right; two creams two sugars. How he knew how you liked your coffee was beyond you. You didn’t linger on it, instead offering your help to Sam with research or whatever he needed.

“How long are you going to let me live with you before you let me help you with your ‘investigation’?” you curled two of the fingers on your free hand in the air when you said investigation. You knew they weren’t private investigators; they may as well fess up at this point.

Sam chuckled and shook his head, “You can live with us as long as you want, (Y/N), but we’re not pulling you into our work anytime soon.”

“Or ever,” Dean added.

“Why’s that?” you asked between sips of coffee, following the two men to the small table that held Sam’s laptop.

“It’s not safe,” Dean’s voice came across sternly, as if he was trying to put an end to the conversation. He only piqued your curiosity further.

“Not safe? What, are you secret assassins?” You laughed the same way you had when you asked Sam if he was a drug dealer. You missed the look the brothers shared when you sipped your coffee.

“Yes, (Y/N), we’re assassins,” Sam answered in a flat tone as he booted up the computer.

“Oooh, so you privately investigate people before you kill ‘em?” You wiggled your eyebrows at him.

“Yes, (Y/N), and we’re also ninjas,” Dean added, biting back a grin.

You tried not to glare at him. After last night you may or may not be harboring a grudge.

“Cool. Private-investigating ninja-assassins. Sign me up, boys, I want in,” you grinned, wincing when it stung your cheek.

Dean’s smile faltered as you winced, “You ok?”

You bit your tongue once again, willing yourself to be nice for Sam’s sake if nothing else. Rather than answering him you simply nodded and took another sip of your coffee. If you can't say something nice, don't say nothing at all….right?

-Next Chapter-

[wolfpawn]

I Hate You, I Love You, Chapter 59

Chapter Summary - Tom wakes to a sore Danielle, but tending to her, he notices something, leading to a few hours of worry and more conflict with Emma's words before Christmas. 

Previous Chapter

Rating - Mature (some chapters contain smut)

Triggers - references to Tom Hiddleston’s work with the #MeToo Movement. That chapter will be tagged accordingly.

authors Note - I have been working on this for the last 3 years, it is currently 180+ chapters long.  This will be updated daily, so long as I can get time to do so, obviously

tags: @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog​ @jessibelle-nerdy-mum​ @nonsensicalobsessions​ @damalseer​ @hiddlesbitch1​ @winterisakiller​ @fairlightswiftly​ @salempoe​ @lys-syl @youcantcatchafallingstar

If you wish to be tagged, please let me know.

Tom groaned as he rubbed his eyes, a few times during the night, he was convinced he felt Danielle getting in and out of bed, though he was half asleep so perhaps it was just that she was tossing a little. Another movement next to him and a small groan caught him attention.

“Elle.”

“What?” Her voice was a tad snappy.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

“I must have fallen asleep in my wrist, it is really sore.” she moaned.

“Have you taken something?”

“I took the diffene before bed and a paracetamol an hour ago, but I am all out now. I have literally used more pain meds over Christmas than I did all year leading up to this.”

There was a distressed tone to her voice which caused Tom to pull her close to him. “Give me two minutes,” he said, kissing the top of her head before getting out of the bed.

“Where are you going?”

“Mum has a medicine cabinet, I saw Jack getting out Alka seltzer last night, so I know she has some Nurofen.”

“I knew he would have a sore stomach after that much food. Don’t go annoying them.

“Elle, it is four thirty in the morning, how much sleep have you had?”

“Some.”

“Elle…”

“Two hours, three at a push.”

“You need to get some rest. You have not had a good night’s sleep in weeks.” He put on his pants and shoes and grabbed a jumper before leaving the bedroom. As soon as he left, Danielle groaned and cursed herself before groaning again and running to the bathroom.

“Tom?”

He turned to see Emma in her nightwear behind him, “Go back to bed Em.”

“What are you doing over here?”

“Elle’s wrist is sore and she ran out of Nurofen.”

“Top shelf, at the back. Her Royal Highness was on the counter yesterday so mum thought it was best to put them higher, just in case.”

“The outside does taste like sweets in all fairness.” Tom agreed.

“Why is her wrist sore?”

“She broke it, remember,” Tom growled, still not after forgiving Emma for what she had said to Danielle, but Danielle insisted that they try and move on.

“Right, I…”

“Look, go back to bed Emma, I just came over to get this, Danielle isn’t sleeping right at the moment.”

“Is it because…”

“Well, I doubt you helped.” Tom inhaled deeply. “Look, she wants to move passed this, and so do I, but what you said to her, what you demanded of her, I can’t get over that quickly Emma, you are my sister and her friend and you told her to choose between us.”

“I didn’t say…”

“You said if she had any respect for you and your friendship to back off, that is telling her to choose, and guess what, she chose you.” Tom snapped. “Just go back to bed and get some rest, I can’t deal with bratty behaviour now.” He growled, storming out of the room and rushing back over to Elle.

“Hey, darling.” He handed her a glass of water and the ibuprofen. “This will help.”

“Thanks, six o’clock cannot come fast enough, I can take another diffene then.” She groaned taking the medicine and water and swallowing it. “It’s just a constant dull throb.”

“The sort that keeps you from getting comfortable.” Tom nodded in understanding.

“I was such a fucking idiot.” She groaned.

“You are no such thing, just relax and get some rest.” He soothed.

“Aren’t you going to sleep?”

“I am darling, I just need to go to the bathroom first.” He explained, heading to the en suite. To his surprise, the seat was up, though he knew it had been down going to bed, as well as that, there was a small sickly sweet smell of air freshener in the bathroom. Shaking his head slightly, he turned to wash his hands and realised that there was a hint of toothpaste and mouthwash in the sink. Sliding his tongue across his teeth, he had a suspicion as to what had occurred. Walking back into the room and getting into bed, he pulled a half asleep Danielle to him, making sure her injured wrist was not at risk of being hurt by having it placed on his chest and kissed her forehead, as soon as she got comfortable, he smelled the mouthwash on her breath and sighed defeatedly.

*

“Hey, there you are.” Tom turned to see Danielle smiling at him before frowning slightly. “Going somewhere?”

“Pharmacy.” She cocked her head a little. “You’re out of painkillers, and you might need more later, so I am going to grab that, some fresh milk and a few other bits and be back very soon.” He walked over and kissed her. “You go back to bed or take a shower.”

“Well, I have to say, that’s a tad insulting. I love you, but you smell.” Danielle laughed.

“Yeah, sorry. I will be back soon.” he kissed her again and left, leaving Danielle wondering why he was so out of sorts. Groaning at another bad night’s sleep, she turned and made her way to the kettle to make a cup of coffee, not sure how to deal with whatever was bothering Tom.

*

It had been awkward, but Tom had gotten everything he needed, even with a very confused pharmacist looking at him, thankfully, he had not recognised the movie star, otherwise it would have been on the morning internet news before Tom even got back to the house. He barely remembered the other items he said he would purchase before heading back, wondering how to even broach the subject with Danielle.

When he returned to the house, he saw Mac come round to the side gate to see what car had just invaded his driveway, on seeing it was Tom, he wagged his tail and went around back once more, telling Tom that Danielle had chosen to stay up and was probably just tidying or cooking. As soon as he opened the door, she popped her head out from the kitchen. “I just texted you, we needed eggs too.” She stated, though her face told him she had no intentions of sending him out again. “I suppose we can have a no egg breakfast for one day.”

“I got them.” He answered.

“Good, so come on and we’ll get some food into us, I am starving.” He walked into the kitchen and looked at her worriedly. It took a moment for Danielle to figure out that there was something worrying him. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“Were you sick again last night?”

“What?”

“Danielle, just...were you sick again last night?”

Danielle bit her lips together at him using her full name and nodded. “Yes.”

“You didn’t tell me.”

“It was just a little and as soon as I was sick I was fine again, it’s just that I obviously vomited up my diffene, so my hand was sore as a result.”

“I got you more painkillers,” He held out one small bag, which she took, but her eye went to the other pharmacy bag he had with him. “I want you to take a test.”

“A test?”

“Yes,” He rummaged through the bag and pulled out a box and held it out for her.

“Tom, this is a pregnancy test.” She pointed at the small box.

“You have been sick, two nights in a row in the early hours of the morning, as soon as you are sick, you seem to be okay again.”

“Wait, this has been plaguing you all night, hasn’t it?” She noted the tired look on his face. “Did you get back to sleep at all last night?”

“No.”

“Tom,” she sighed, “You are worrying for nothing.”

“Just take the test, Elle.”

“I am not pregnant.”

“We need to know,” he stated factually. “You could be.”

“I have the bar.”

“For nearly three years, you said that yourself when we first slept together, I Googled it, the bar lasts three years.”

“Tom, I am due to have it changed the day of your birthday, ironically, that is how I know it needs changing then, I confirmed an appointment for it before Christmas, I moved it forward a few days so I could celebrate your birthday with you without a sore arm. I am still covered by it.”

“Please Elle, I feel like I am going insane, I...just please.”

“Fine.” She shrugged, “No harm in it really, is there? I mean, yeah, there is the world’s tiniest chance and you are clearly not going to relax until I do it, so give it to me.” She took the small box and read the back cover before opening it and taking out the instructions, her lips moving slightly as she read it. “Okay, you keep an eye on the food, I will go and pee on a stick. What a way to start the day, right?” She scoffed sarcastically before walking out of the room.

Tom put on the eggs and watched the door, his pulse audible in his ears. He was relieved she had not gotten angry at him, but her blase manner did not help much either. She returned less than a minute later, holding the stick in her hand. “Well?”

“It takes three minutes, my phone will go off when it’s time, but I am telling you, you are freaking out for nothing.” She dismissed.

“We need to know.”

“I am telling you, I am not pregnant.” She stated adamantly before she bit her bottom lip. "If we had an unplanned pregnancy, what would you do?"

"I don't know," Tom answered honestly. "I would like to think I would not panic and be completely alright with it, but I cannot say I would, I would probably be worried about everything."

"What about your work?"

"That would be affected." He stated as though obvious.

"Would you resent it?"

"I don't think so. You?"

"I have a plan for myself, anything that would scupper that, I don't know, I cannot say, but you know how I feel about different options Tom, I can't...I mean, what other women do, that is their business, but I could never..."

"I know, and I respect that as your choice."

"I’m scared, though, I mean, I say that, but if I was faced with it, would I?"

"Hypotheticals are great in that we can pretend we know the answer, but we don't, we cannot know the answers." He consoled.

“But it might not be hypothetical now.”

“We will deal with that if it is.”

There was an awkward silence for a moment before Danielle’s phone went off, nervously, she looked at the small stick before frowning. “I…”

“What?”

“It can’t be.” She shook her head. “No.”

“Elle.” She cocked her head to the side and grabbed the piece of paper that came with it. “Elle.” He walked over and looked at the small stick. He knew nothing about the tests other than a plus tended to mean a positive result, and what was looking back at him seemed to be a very faint plus. “Positive.”

“No, it can’t be, it’s wrong.”

“Elle, it is saying it here in front of us, it is not wrong.”

“No, here, look, it is supposed to have another little line in that small box to show that the test is functioning, it’s not there. It’s faulty.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means the test is not working properly, it is faulty.” She repeated.

“What do we do?”

“Nothing you can do, you’d have to take another test now.” Tom walked over to the bag. “Don’t tell me you bought more than one?” Danielle asked in disbelief.

“I got the three top brands, I didn’t know what one would work.”

“Three, you bought three pregnancy tests, they are like a tenner each.”

“I think it is safe to say I can afford three pregnancy tests, Danielle.”

“Why are you calling me Danielle all of a sudden?” she asked, hurt at him calling her by her full name.

“I think my girlfriend is pregnant and we aren’t together long enough to know how to deal with this, so to say I am a tad stressed is a bit of an understatement,” Tom growled.

“I am not pregnant,” she reiterated again in annoyance. “Look give me the other two, let’s just get this done with.” He handed her another test. “This one is digital, it will read ‘error’, ‘pregnant’ or ‘not pregnant’ it is that simple. I’ll use this.” She walked off again.

Tom rubbed his hands over his face. He had a lot of different pressures over the years with women and relationships, but a pregnancy scare was a new one, he knew that there was always a risk, but he wasn’t ready, not since he and Danielle were already going just a tad too fast by some people’s standards. Knowing her so long meant they could be a little hastier in some respects, but a baby, that was not something that would do any relationship any good too soon. Again it was only a minute or so before she returned.

“Another three minutes,” she stated. She went over to the cooker and stared at the breakfast she had been working on for them. “I’m not really very hungry now.” Her voice was small.

“Hey,” She turned to face Tom, “No matter what, it will be okay, we can sort this, whatever way you want if it happens, alright?” she nodded but said nothing.

“I’m not ready.” She admitted.

“I know,” He walked over and wrapped her in his arms and kissed her head.

“If it…”

“Elle, it’s alright, we will not get worried about it until we see what it says.” Tom reiterated.

The little device beeped and Danielle remained where she was. “I can’t.”

Gently, Tom removed his arms from around her and walked over to the little device. She had put the cap back on the end and wrapped it in tissue to be hygienic, but that was not the reason he feared touching it. Slowly, his eyes went to the little window and a sigh of pure relief rushed from him. “Not pregnant.”

“Oh thank God.” Danielle physically slumped and then walked over, sure enough, the writing was there in front of her. “I knew it, fuck that is scary.”

“Better to be safe,” Tom stated, pulling her to him.

“I know, but fuck that first one has knocked me for six.”

“Has what?”

“Scared the shit out of me.”

“Ah, right.” Tom kissed her again.

“Don’t think this is how I want it to stay, I just, I’m not ready Tom, I want to get further first.”

“I know, darling.”

“I don’t want to be getting nannies to mind my kids while I head to work at four am or waddling around dangerous sets heavily pregnant, I want to be able to order someone else to do it, so I can teach our kids GAA and stuff.”

Tom smiled at her saying ‘our’ in relation to children. “I know, by the way, GAA is that crazy game with sticks right?”

“It’s called hurling, Tom.”

“Our kids are not learning that, it’s vicious.”

“Hey, I’m Irish, so you damn well believe they will.” She corrected him as she dumped the used tests into the bin and cleaned all the instructions and whatnot off the table and set up for the food. “I am not even hungry, but I have to eat.”

“Yes, you do.” Tom smiled fondly. “Elle,” She looked at him. “I’m sorry I was so crazy.”

“You were worried, and I don’t blame you, but I know me.”

“You never told me you were sick last night.”

“Because I was only sick for a minute, as I said, I felt perfect again after. I think the drugs are just giving me a tender stomach.” She wrapped her arms around him, “I actually need to thank you for being so nice to me.” She grinned, “After breakfast.”

“After?” Tom smirked.

“Can we take a moment to note that five minutes ago we were worried I was pregnant, yet now we are about to go upstairs again.” Danielle laughed as she intertwined their fingers and pulled Tom out of the kitchen to the hall. They had not made it to the first step when there was a pounding on the front door. “What the?”

Tom opened it to find Yakov on the other side. “What’s wrong, is everything alright?”

Yakov shook his head. “It would appear your argument with Emma was overheard this morning.” His brother-in-law informed him. “And Sarah and Diana are...well it would be best if you come over, both of you.”

[jarienn972]

A Simple Spell - Chapter Five

A Captain Swan Supernatural Summer Tale

Sorry for the week delay in posting this new chapter of my @cssns story, but between the rough week at work, and an even rougher weekend in my personal life, I barely had the time, or the energy, to write. This chapter also ran a little bit longer than I originally intended but that was partially because I decided to add a brief glimpse into Emma's everyday life as a Storybrooke deputy to bridge the time between her two "dates".  Just a little bit of comedy to lighten things up because a big revelation is coming soon that will shake Emma’s trust.

I want to extend my thanks to everyone involved in this event!  @kmomof4, your commentary leaves me in stitches every week!  I have to also thank @cocohook38 for the incredible artwork above and @lassluna for her time as my beta to help keep this tale on track.

I also want to give a little head’s up that since next week is my daughter’s birthday, it will be another 2 weeks until I can post Chapter six.  Party planning is a lot of work!

Read from the beginning on Tumblr: One  Two  Three  Four    AO3  FF.net

Thursday morning came way too quickly. The sun hadn't even risen yet as Emma reached across her nightstand to squelch the incessant beeping of her alarm clock, wishing the whole time that there was a similar button that would cease the throbbing inside her skull. She was going to pay dearly for overindulging last night, but despite the hangover, she didn't regret everything she did last night and she was actually looking forward to the day. Well, more specifically, the night.

The past few hours had also given her a stark reminder as to why living with her brother was a bad idea. Her sister-in-law had still been awake watching television in the living room when Emma tried to slip in the door unnoticed. Mary Margaret had a huge, exuberant grin on her face, probably hoping that Emma would spill all of the lurid details of the evening - especially the part that included why she was trying to sneak into the loft after midnight, but Emma wasn't going to be quite so forthcoming. Not tonight at least.

She gave her sister-in-law an embarrassed smile and feigned a yawn as she practically darted across the room to the stairs. Mary Margaret simply nodded and whispered "good night" but Emma had little doubt that they'd have the full conversation later. The woman definitely had a way of pulling information out of people without even breaking a sweat, or her sweet demeanor. She'd probably make one hell of an interrogator if she wasn't a third grade teacher, Emma thought as she ascended the stairs to her bedroom.

Now that it was morning, she had a bigger challenge facing her - getting downstairs and out of the door before David realized that she was running nearly half an hour late. She really wanted a steaming hot cup of coffee with a side of ibuprofen, but it would have to wait until she got to the station since she wasn't going to have time to stop at Granny's on the way. She tiptoed down the stairs as stealthily as she could, crossed through the kitchen to grab her bag and jacket by the front door - instantly freezing and cringing at the sound of two words uttered from the living room.

"Late night?"

Damn. Of course, David was already awake. "Yeah. Sorry… I'm on my way in…" she apologized without making eye contact with her brother. She absolutely needed to get a place of her own.

"Give Anton a call when you get to the station. He left a very strange message on my phone this morning and it sounded very much like a problem that will take someone with your particular skill set to deal with…"

"Really? What kind of problem?"

"He said that a couple of his pigs escaped their pen and got into the bean fields…"

Emma swung her head around at the mention of Anton's beans with a puzzled and slightly worried expression on her face. "Do I dare ask - which beans? String beans? Beanstalk beans? Or…"

"That would be the or. Apparently, they ate a few of Anton's new experimental anti-gravity beans that he's been testing to make climbing those big ol' beanstalks to his realm easier."

"So… we've got flying pigs?" she deadpanned, too hungover to even find the humor in this ridiculous situation.

"Technically floating pigs… I mean, they can't really go anywhere due to the protective field around Anton's farm, but he needs someone who might be able to do a little magical piggy wrangling."

Emma shook her head and exhaled a frustrated sigh. This definitely wasn't the start she needed for this day. She had to think of a spell that would either counteract the effect of the beans or somehow figure a way to confine them to a safe area until the beans wore off - however long that may take.

The ironic part was that two days ago, if someone had told her that she'd have two handsome, eligible men vying for her attention, she would have replied when pigs fly. Now she was about to contend with actual airborne swine while thinking about both of those wonderful men. But she was also trying to ignore a niggling thought deep in her subconscious that kept saying that this wasn't necessarily a good thing. She just wasn't clear-headed enough to want to listen to it yet.

**********

A few hours later, after battling three very unruly pigs at Anton's bean farm, Emma was now certain she'd seen everything. She'd attempted three different spells trying to get the pigs to come back down to earth, but none were successful. So, with Anton's assurance that the floating effect would wear off in a few hours, as a last resort, she used her teleportation abilities to relocate each of the pigs into the general area of their enclosure. Once all three were back in one place, she utilized a protection spell to put a separate force field around the pig pen so they wouldn't be able to fly off again. She just couldn't promise Anton that they'd have a soft landing when the beans wore off, so he'd made the decision to make the enclosure as muddy as possible to help cushion their descent.

Mud that had clung to her boots as she'd wandered into Granny's, already exhausted only two hours into her morning. Who would have thought that wrangling flying pigs would be such hard work? It had certainly been enough to leave her famished so she'd left David a message to let him know she was taking her lunch hour early so she could get breakfast. Graham could handle things until she got back she told herself as she slid onto one of the stools at the diner's counter.

The little devil on her shoulder urged her to order some bacon and eggs, but when Ruby came over to take her order, she decided on a Belgian waffle with strawberries and a heap of whipped cream on top instead. She did go ahead and order a side of scrambled eggs, but what she really wanted brought out to her first was the biggest cup of Granny's strongest brew. Ruby took her order to the kitchen, then returned to fill both Emma's stainless steel travel mug as well as a ceramic mug to drink here. Emma thanked her bubbly friend, silently questioning how anyone could be so perky this early in the morning as took a tentative sip of the steaming coffee. She relished the beverage's aroma but didn't realize how much she'd been craving it until the welcome warmth reached her belly. Now this morning was improving.

After a short wait, Granny herself emerged from the kitchen with Emma's food, immediately scrunching her nose in disgust as she approached the deputy.

"What the hell is that stench?" Granny scowled, glaring at Emma - and the muddy footprints that the deputy had left on the floor when she entered the diner. "And where did that mess come from?"

"Sorry, Granny," Emma flushed with embarrassment while digging through her jacket pockets in search of her wand. "I was out at Anton's farm and I sort of forgot…" Brandishing her magic wand, she waved it in the direction of the dirty floor and recited the spell - "Et abiit lutum. Dirt be gone." With a swish of her wand, the floor was sparkling clean once again and Emma repeated the spell over her boots, not daring to leave behind even the slightest trace of mud when she left the building.

"That's better," the elder woman grumbled as she placed the plates of food onto the countertop directly in front of Emma. "Next time, please clean the boots before entering my diner." Emma nodded in agreement as she stabbed her fork into a chunk of scrambled egg. You just didn't argue with Granny. Ever.

By the time she'd finished off the eggs and devoured half of the waffle (but all of the strawberries), she heard the tap of shoe soles on the magically clean tile approaching her. A quick glance over her left shoulder revealed that the figure nearing her was Walsh, seemingly off to a late start this morning. She noticed that his pace slowed a bit as he got closer, his steps becoming tentative as he reached the counter - and Emma, for that matter.

"Good morning, Emma," he greeted her, his voice a little timid. "I hadn't expected to see you here. Would you mind if I joined you?"

"The seat's not occupied," she teased, still very aware of the awkward way they'd said goodnight last evening. He was partially responsible for her hangover so she didn't feel the least bit guilty taunting him a bit. Maybe, if she was lucky, she could wrangle an explanation out of him for his weird behavior yesterday without having to outright ask. "Thank you again for dinner last night. I had a great time catching up on lost time. Can I return the favor and buy you breakfast?"

"How about just coffee?" he suggested as he took a seat on the stool to her left. "I have a meeting with one of my suppliers this morning so I'm short on time."

"Sure. Hey, Ruby - can I get another coffee for my friend here?"

"Just a sec. I've got a fresh pot brewing," Ruby responded, fishing a second ceramic mug from beneath the counter. She brought the empty mug over to where Emma and Walsh were sitting, giving Emma a sly wink of approval as she placed the cup in front of Walsh. "Be right back, hon."

Emma shook her head at the waitress' actions, although she secretly appreciated the affirmation. As promised, Ruby came right back over with a fresh pot of coffee, filling Walsh's mug and topping off Emma's before scurrying off. They each waited until she was out of earshot before continuing their conversation.

"Emma, I think I owe you a bit of an apology over how our evening ended last night," Walsh spoke up, his confession catching her off-guard. She hadn't imagined that he would bring up the subject without even the slightest bit of prodding.

"An apology?" she feigned ignorance. "For what?"

"I guess I didn't like how things ended rather abruptly and that's entirely my fault. I let myself get a little too comfortable and I completely forgot that it wasn't the old days. I'd fully expected to see you off with a goodnight kiss, forgetting entirely that we weren't on a date. It wouldn't have been appropriate and I'm very sorry if you sensed any disappointment on my part."

"The thought never crossed my mind," she insisted, shoving another forkful of waffle into her mouth before her tongue had a chance to betray her.

"Phew," he sighed loudly. "I was honestly worried that you'd be upset with me this morning and I'm really glad that you aren't because I'd love to have dinner with you again. If you'll have me, that is…"

"I would love to have dinner with you again, Walsh," she replied after she finished chewing and swallowing her food. "How long do you expect to be in town?"

"Through the weekend, for sure and it looks like probably Monday since the shipment I'm awaiting seems to be delayed by a storm in the Atlantic. That's what my meeting this morning is about - to get an update on the ship's pending arrival. Are you free tomorrow night?"

"Tomorrow's Friday, right? I can't tomorrow. I have a meeting…"

"A meeting? At night?"

"Well, more like a training session - to help me work on refining some newly-acquired skills." She wasn't entirely sure how she should explain that she was actually attending a coven gathering at the height of the full moon, but since Walsh had hinted earlier that he was familiar with Storybrooke's less-than-secretive other side, she didn't think he'd be opposed to discover that she was dabbling in magic. "I've been studying to become a witch."

"A witch?" he asked incredulously, although she didn't sense he was overly surprised by her revelation.

"Yes. Technically, I guess I already am a witch, but I'm still pretty much a novice. I've been studying with some of the town's most powerful…"

"The Mills sisters?" he interrupted, again catching her unprepared for his query. He was definitely well-versed enough to be able to drop names.

"Yeah, I've been learning from them as a part of their current coven."

"Excellent teachers, I'm sure."

"They are, but just how do you know about them?" she asked skeptically. "You've crossed paths with them?"

"So to speak. I've been doing business in Storybrooke for years and through my contacts here, I've learned a lot about this little town. As I mentioned yesterday, this town is a great source for unique discoveries."

"Alright then, I have to ask - do you practice magic at all?"

"No, I don't dabble in it myself, but I've picked up a few potions here and there from Mr. Gold at the pawn shop. He's an excellent apothecary as well. I've been told that both he and his wife were members of the Mills sisters' coven until maybe a year ago. I guess they mostly stopped practicing magic when their son was born but Mr. Gold is still a wonderful source of information and trinkets."

"I haven't really gotten to know the Golds that well, but as you know, Storybrooke is full of surprises," she chuckled nervously, for some reason feeling ill at ease with the direction the conversation had taken. She glanced up at the clock on the wall near the old jukebox and made a very animated display of being late. "Oh, crap! I hate to run off on you again, Walsh, but I really better get to the station before my brother sends out a search party. I'm probably free Saturday though…"

"I'll take a look at my agenda, but I'm pretty sure I'm free that day too."

"Great. Call me later then." She forced a smile to her lips as she gathered up her things and dropped a ten dollar bill and a couple of ones on the countertop to pay for her meal and Walsh's coffee. "Thanks, Ruby!" she shouted to her friend as she snatched up the travel mug. "I'll see you around town, Walsh."

Walsh stood up to see her out before returning to his seat. Ruby swiftly whisked away Emma's empty plates before asking Walsh if there was anything else she could get him. He politely declined, staring at Emma through the window as she made her way through the diner's courtyard and disappeared beyond the hedge. Ruby gave him a smile and a nod as she vanished into the kitchen with a huge grin on her face knowing that tomorrow night she was absolutely going to grill Emma to learn everything about her handsome friend.

**********

Despite clearing the air with Walsh and making tentative plans with him for the weekend, Emma had only a singular thought on her mind the rest of the day - her date that evening with the infuriatingly charming Captain Jones. A relatively light afternoon of patrols allowed her to leave the station on time - and to take a much needed shower to wash away any remaining traces of Anton's bean field mud. Tonight, she was going on a proper date, albeit on that modern day pirate ship, and she wanted to look her best.

She'd selected a soft pink chiffon dress from her armoire and drew her unruly hair back into the neatest ponytail she could manage. She wasn't sure why, but she really wanted to project a softer image tonight, to showcase a more feminine side than the tough-talking, hard-drinking deputy that the captain had witnessed so far. She'd even added a rare touch of makeup to her face - a little mascara, a bit of shimmering peach eyeshadow and a hint of shiny mauve lip gloss - not that she was intending to kiss anyone tonight. It just seemed appropriate.

At quarter to seven, she scurried down the stairs, grabbed her tan leather jacket from the rack beside the front door and slipped out before her sister-in-law, Mary Margaret, could even say "have a good night". She'd decided it was best to drive to the harbor since the gathering clouds overhead were threatening a storm and the last thing she wanted to do was walk home through rain-swollen puddles in dress shoes. It was just before 7PM when she pulled her yellow Bug into a parking space opposite the Jolly Roger, and she couldn't quite figure out why she was experiencing increasing anxiety.

It was just a date. She'd been on dates before. Why was she suddenly so damned nervous?

Her heart was pounding as she ascended the gangplank, cursing her choice of footwear as her heels made an awful racket on the metal ramp. Once aboard, she noticed that there were a few lanterns illuminating the deck but there was little activity. She could hear the creaking of the old wood and the waves lapping against the hull, but not much else. It would appear that the captain had been true to his word about giving the crew a night off.

One individual was on the deck to greet her though and that was the jovial Mr. Smee. At the sight of her, he scrambled to get to the top of the gangplank before she did, offering a hand to aid her in stepping down onto the slippery wooden planking.

"So lovely to see you again, Deputy Swan," the first mate gushed, welcoming her with a huge smile. "The captain hasn't stopped talking about you all day and he's expecting you in his quarters."

"He's been talking about me, huh?" she responded with a nervous chuckle, thankful that the darkness of the night obscured her blushing.

"My goodness, yes, dear… He had Cookie prep a lovely meal for the two of you and,if I do say so myself, it smells absolutely divine!"

"Sounds wonderful."

"Well, now - right this way, Deputy," he instructed with an animated gesture towards the hatch she'd seen Killian Jones emerge from yesterday. Smee led the way and even raised the hatch for her. "Right down below, Miss. Just watch yer step…"

"Thank you, Mr. Smee," she replied, getting a look at the steep, angled ladder that descended into the Captain's quarters, wishing once again that she'd worn anything but heels tonight. She was also regretting her choice of attire as a sharp breeze across the stern nearly gave her an unwanted Marilyn Monroe moment. They were way too early in this relationship for her to be showing off her undergarments and she could only hope that her date was enough of a gentleman to allow her to descend this awkward ladder without peeking up her skirt.

The cozy room below was decorated with surprisingly eccentric style and smelled faintly of rum, candles and the musty scent of old books and maps. She found Killian in the center of the chamber with his back to her, lighting the second of two slender, ruby red taper candles atop a sturdy looking wooden table. In addition to the candles, the table was set with two plates that appeared to be actual fine china, flatware that was likely real silver as it has just the slightest blemish of tarnish and two crystal goblets. A pair of matching wooden armchairs with brocade seat cushions flanked the table and in the center of the display sat a silver ice bucket containing a bottle of wine he'd brought out to chill.

"Good evening, Swan," he greeted her, spinning around to face her with a single, long stemmed red rose clutched in his prosthetic left hand. "For you, Love." He extended the mechanical hand toward her, offering the flower that she accepted with a blushing grin.

"Thank you," she replied as she brought the bloom to her nose, inhaling its fragrance. "No hook this evening?"

"I decided to go with a softer persona this evening, although if you prefer the other attachment, I'll be happy to swap them."

"A softer persona? Were you afraid of intimidating me?" she asked him with a snicker.

"Well, I do cut an intimidating figure, do I not?"

She wasn't entirely certain if he was being serious or facetious but with a challenge like that, she couldn't help but give him a visual once-over. He'd traded out the black denim from yesterday for a pair of black dress trousers which he'd paired with a black wool sweater that hugged the curve of his biceps almost indecently. Her brain immediately reminded her about his off-the-cuff comment yesterday about seeing anything she liked and right now, she only had one answer - yes. She was enjoying everything she was seeing.

"Still full of yourself, I see," she quipped as he ushered her to one of the armchairs so she could sit down.

"Merely confidence, Love," he assured her with a sinful smirk as he withdrew the dark green glass wine bottle from its icy bath. "Would you care for some wine? I have this lovely vintage chilling here, but if you prefer, there's always plenty of rum."

"After last night, I think I'll start off slow. Some wine would be perfect." As she took her seat, he yanked the cork from the wine bottle using his teeth, filling her goblet before his own.

"My cook will be here momentarily with tonight's repast. I do hope that you enjoy seafood as I inadvertently failed to ask."

"I grew up in New England so I think seafood was one of the main food groups - at least if frozen fish sticks and tater tots count."

"Ah, a classic combination," he chuckled. "This may be a trifle more haute cuisine though."

"I certainly hope so, Captain, or I'll be sadly disappointed in your standards," she countered sarcastically as she took a sip from her glass, quickly realizing that if his taste in wine was any indication, dinner should be an absolute treat.

In fact, the only real disappointment Emma experienced that night was that it had to come to an end. The food was delicious and the wine he'd selected complemented it perfectly. This roguish captain surprised her at every turn. For all of his posturing and machismo, she'd found Killian Jones to be a perfect gentleman and a well-educated, excellent storyteller. True or not, he'd entertained her with tales of his voyages around the globe and when he'd finished, he listened intently to her exploits. She'd not been on a date this enjoyable in a very long time but unfortunately, tomorrow was still a work day so she knew she needed to wind things down.

"Well, Captain Jones," she began with a deep sigh, "you do indeed know how to show a girl a good time, but unfortunately, my time is running short."

"Alas, the real world interferes," he replied disparagingly. He was enjoying the evening as much as she was, but he knew that they each still had duties to attend to in the morning. "We wouldn't want you turning into a pumpkin at midnight, now would we?"

"I can assure you, I've never turned into a pumpkin… A bear, maybe, but never a pumpkin... But yeah…, sometimes the real world sucks."

"In Storybrooke, I would hesitate to take any unnecessary chances at the witching hour."

His choice of words caught her attention and for a moment, unnerved her until she recalled that she'd been toying with Magic last night at the Rabbit Hole. He'd probably observed her for a while, deciding if it was safe to approach, but clearly not adverse to her powers.

"I really hope we might be able to do this again before you set sail," she mentioned, hopefully that he'd be open to the suggestion.

"I can certainly make that happen, Love. We're awaiting supplies from another ship that has been delayed by a foul Nor'easter. We won't be leaving port for a few days, at the very least. Just let me know when you're free and I can make arrangements to be there."

"You can just drop everything for a date?" she wondered.

"It's good to be the Captain," he assured her with a wily smirk.

"I'm sure it is," she smiled broadly. This man was just too much. "Well, Captain, I will let you know when I have some free time. I'd really like to do this again."

"As would I, Swan. Now, how about I walk you out to your vehicle?"

"Actually, as wonderful as that sounds, I'm going to walk myself out so I'm less likely to give in to temptation. After being burned one too many times before, I'd rather not rush into anything…"

"Then I shall bid you goodnight, Emma. Until we meet again?"

"Absolutely." There was no way she wasn't going to plan a second date with Killian Jones but she was treading cautiously with both potential romances. The spell promised that she'd discover true love but it didn't say it would be easy.

[remmiesaloser]

13 Years | 4 Weeks

honestly, I dont know which of the two have been longer in my life. 

so recently I ended a 13 year long relationship with the guy I've been dating since my freshman year of high school. it took me this long to understand, acknowledge, and accept the relationship was emotionally (and borderline physically) abusive and thanks two my two best friends and a very nice therapist I asked him to move out.

I thought the overwhelming life style change would be the hardest. I haven't been alone since I was 14 and it took me a long time to build up the courage to end things because I am terrified of change and had little to no idea what to do without him. to my surprise I've adapted to being alone pretty well. the loneliness does get to me sometimes - I miss those moments we had where we could have a conversation without speaking. I miss over a decade’s worth of inside jokes, and it still hurts when I see something and instantly think of him cause it was our thing.

its a daily struggle to remind myself why I did this because its frighteningly easy to minimize the damage he did when he’s not here to do it every day. the gaslighting and emotional manipulation isn't something that just switches off or diminishes with distance. somehow, in some super shitty, unfair way, it gets worse. because im left alone with my thoughts that he’s managed to turn against me and they’re still working angles for him that catch me off-guard sometimes. I still battle with guilt for making him move out, because I feel terrible that now he’s stuck living with his mom and all his things are in boxes. and I hate that it’s gonna take a long time for that to go away. 

but I digress. because all of that isn’t the hardest part. the hardest part is getting him the fuck out of this apartment. we 'ended things’ April 5th. there are quotes around that because we haven’t officially broken up. like, I told him I needed a break till he gets his shit together, and he’s all but moved out, but I haven’t even changed our relationship status on Facebook (yay, guilt!) and we haven't really agreed that we’re broken up. Jesus, again I digress. ANYWAYS. I knew it was gonna be a process to move him out because our lives are so intertwined that we’ve had to go through rooms and drawers and boxes one by one separating our shit. and this process has been fucking agonizing because he is dragging his goddamn feet. 

Initially I thought we were gonna bang this out in a weekend, get all the shit out and be done. A month later, and there’s still a pile of his shit at the top of the stairs, a handful of things in the corner of the living room (including the giant china cabinet filled with his things) and his grandmother’s dishes in my cupboards. but that’s a post for another day. because right now im just gonna vent about him taking his sweet ass time, being insanely petty, and still somehow fucking manipulating me when he doesn’t even live here anymore. 

honestly the pettiness and inconsideration for my own time and requests is the biggest thing that’s getting to me, what’s driving me to write this. most of the time he’s been here for his shit, his mom’s been with him, and I was chalking up a lot of the pettiness to her. because he’d be here to get the things from the living room, and hours after they'd left I’d notice small things had been taken from other parts of the house. now some of the stuff he’s taken was his, just something I was using with him that I’d assumed he’d at least mention he was taking. im a lot of things, but selfish isn’t one of them and honestly unless it’s something from my family or something that I bought that was expensive, I don’t care. he can have it. It’s more the fact that, when I need something all of a sudden I cant find it and realize he took it. 

like, his nana’s pots and pans. They’re a really nice set his mom let us have and I fully expected them gone. my only request was that he give me a heads up so I could go out and get my own set when he planned to take them because with them gone, all I’d have left is a few frying pans. This is our conversation from that weekend:  

This was Saturday afternoon. He never told me he wasn’t going to come by Saturday, and gave me a 15 minute heads up he was on his way over on Sunday - which did me no good because I wasn’t even home. That meant I couldn’t clean out the dressers (I didnt want to do it until the day he was going to get them because I would have to leave my clothes on the bed until I could get my own dresser from my parent’s house once his were gone). When I got home, all of my clothes were thrown on my bed and the ground.I had to rewash a bunch of shit, refold everything, and then clean the entire room from the mess that was made. 

fucking on top of that, his mom decided to take the pots and pans. I’d specifically asked him Saturday because I was going to Walmart and could have bought a new set for myself while there. I didn't want to buy them until I needed to because I’m trying to save money and didn’t get paid that weekend, so I figured if he’s not taking them I don’t need to get things until I get paid next weekend. Wrong. I had to go out that night again and get a set because, as I said, all I had were 3 frying pans and a skillet thing. Oddly enough, she didn’t take the dishes. They were her mom’s, just like the pots and pans, and for some reason she didn’t want them... don’t worry, I already plan to pack them up this weekend and give them back because lord knows what’ll happen if I dont and she decides she wants them six years from now. 

honestly though the biggest level of petty was the Tylenol PM. I know, it’s not a big deal. But it’s just one of those little things that I stopped and was like, are you fucking kidding me. I noticed that, after taking his bed and dressers, the pack of tissues he’d got us from Sam’s was gone. Again, he bought them, whatever. would’ve been nice for him to tell me so I had a heads up to fucking get them when I was at Walmart but whatever. he also took a 6-pack of toilet paper he’d gotten literally the day we ended things (because he’d gone to king Soopers with his mother instead of talking to me about the fight we’d had) and he’d initially told me to keep it, it was for me anyways. I noticed just last weekend it was gone. 

but the fucking Tylenol PM. I'm not one to buy brand name medicine. if I can get store brand, I will. Almost all my medicine is store brand except that Tylenol PM because I was really sick one year and wanted the good stuff. Y’all know how expensive Tylenol is. I sprang for it, and I used it sparingly because I didnt want to have to buy more if I didn’t really need it. Well, two weekends ago I fell down a fucking mountain. I was running a trail down a mountain, tripped, flew through the air, and landed on my shoulder and kneecap. It still hurts, and that day I was in a lot of pain. The regular Tylenol and Ibuprofen that I’d been switching back and forth with all day just wasn’t doing the trick and I was like, okay. this is a Tylenol PM kind of pain. That night, right before bed, I went to grab it from the bathroom cabinet. 

it was gone. the rest of my medicines, the store brand acetaminophen and store brand ibuprofen, those were still there, but the Tylenol PM was gone. It has exclusively only lived either on the dresser/nightstand in the bedroom, or the bathroom cabinet. as he took the dresser and nightstand, and it wasn’t in the cabinet, it had been taken. I cannot tell you how livid I was. it still pisses me off. because of all the things to take he took that. Not the rest of his bathroom shit, not even all his shit from the bedroom. but he took the Tylenol PM. I even asked if he knew where it might be - thinking he’d come across it at some point. he told me “it’s always been in the linen closet” where the rest of our medicines are. It was never there, but I checked the entire closet just in case - nothing. Again, I know it’s small. it’s just a bottle of pills. but it’s the whole damn thought behind it. 

there’s more things too - the fact that no, he doesn’t take all his things from a certain room, and I have to then box the rest of his shit up, move it out of my way, and clean the room that he trashed. 

It’s the fact that 90% of the things on our walls were his (which helps show me how little say I had on my own things in the apartment I exclusively pay for) and now that he’s taken them, he’s left the walls, hooks, and nails behind. most of them are up way above my head - he needed a ladder to put them in - and now they’re littered all over the wall. today, as he worked to get the shit from our front bedroom (hopefully the last things he’ll need to get) I asked him if he could also get the nails and hooks out of the wall because I can’t reach them. he asked me, “did you try using the step-ladder?”. I answered no, and he simply said, “that should work then”. Like, no. you put those up, so you could display all the things of yours YOU wanted to display (3 out of 4 walls in the room were covered with his things) and now he can’t even take the tacks down even though he took the hangings down. 

and then of course, it’s the fact that he just leaves a mess in his wake. when he first moved things out of the living room it was a mess. I spent hours rearranging shit, packing up the rest of his shit that he left behind, and then cleaning up everything because I still have to live here. it was the same with the bedroom. and now it’s gonna be the same thing with the front room. I told him today that everything needs to be out by next weekend because I can’t do this every weekend. He asked what I meant by ‘this’ and explained that I was tired of having to clean up everything that got messed up. He told me simply “it’s not being destroyed. I’m just taking my things”. At the moment the entire room was in shambles, everything askew from him digging his things out and leaving my stuff lying in piles. It’s cleaned up now - save the pile of boxes and junk at the top of the stairs - but I told him I have to clean up the mess that’s left behind. He didn’t have an answer for that. 

Honestly there’s really not a point to this. I’m just pissed, I’m annoyed, and I’m angry, and I’m sad. I’m just tired. And I wanted to vent. So if you stuck with me through this, I wanna thank you for listening. I appreciate being heard, because I haven’t been for so long. your time means a lot to me. 

[queeniewritesce]

Shall We Dance 6/?

Lucy lazily opened her eyes, blinking to adjust to the light feeling the room, streaming from the beautiful arch windows near her side of the bed. Her head throbbed a little, she felt sore in places that hadn’t been used in quite some time, and she admonished herself for not taking some ibuprofen before falling asleep last night.

She tried to move but a firm hand gripped her waist, keeping her in place, digits digging the soft skin of her tummy. She turned her head, carefully to not worsen her headache, and regarded the sleeping man by her side; apparently, they were both stomach sleepers, arms under the pillow type of people and she wondered if that was uncomfortable for him, as he was not lacking on that department. Like, at all. She giggled quietly at her teenager mentality, studying the beautiful profile of Chris’s face, fingers itching to get closer, to lose themselves in the soft fur covering his jaw, trace the fullness of the lips that had driven her crazy the night before.

Ghost memories heated her skin as she slid out of the bed, padding softly to the bathroom, her thighs protesting the burn his beard imposed upon them, the sensation not dissimilar to the friction the pole created when learning a new move, but much more pleasant. She washed her face and used his moisturizer, the mirror showing her the purple marks he left on her neck and the top of her breasts, hair in disarray, and a small grin graced her face. She had been loved hard, and she reveled in every minute of it.

Lucy glanced at Chris’ sleeping form, grabbing his folded sweater and her socks and quietly slipping from the room, Dodger following behind her.

“Morning Dodger,” the stairs were cold on her bare feet as she descended. She makes quick work of his sweater, smelling the collar and folding the cuffs. She pulls on the thick socks while scanning the living room, locating her purse on a side table and to find a hair tie, tying a messy bun on top of her head. She grabbed her phone, opening the small bottle of Advil she always kept with her to grab two pills and walked back to the kitchen, where Dodger sat patiently by the door. “Listen, I’m not too keen on the idea of the alarm going off when I open that door, so I’m really sorry, but there won’t be any visits outside till your dad wakes up, alright?”

She could’ve sworn the dog ruffed before a small whine escaped him. Lucy spotted the treat jar on the island and gave the pooch two small ones as a peace offering. Satisfied, she opened the fridge, grabbed a bottle of water and sat on the same stool she had occupied yesterday, unlocking her phone. She sends Penny a quick message saying she won’t be back till later because Chris is taking her to one of the museums and snorts when her sister’s reply is a bunch of eggplant emojis. Siobhan is next and she asks about Morris, quickly retelling what happens without naming Chris and promising to call soon. There’s a message from JP enquiring if Garret’s plan was to propose on Christmas’ Day, and she thinks it’s odd, ‘why wouldn’t he ask Garret directly instead of asking me?’, she ponders and decides to call her brother later. Her last new message is from Sunny, inviting Lucy to stop by whenever she has the chance. She replies explaining they’ll arrive early on the 23rd, maybe she could have dinner with the family that night.

Opening Instagram, she clicks the plus sign, it’s a habit to always post something about the latest football game she attends; a picture of everyone she’s with, a few words about the game and when the Patriots were involved, a sarcastic remark about Tom Brady. She scrolls through her photos and it suddenly hits her she can’t share the incredible day she had yesterday. Not only all pictures feature Chris, either smiling to the camera or in the background, but he’s also in every quip and every joke she can think of writing. Sure, her account was private, but when was the last time she weeded out her followers? She sighs and closes the app, adding the task to her mental to-do list.

“I was about to file for my missing sweater, but it looks so much better on you than it does on me.” Chris’s voice is right behind her and she jumps a little, but she smiles and spins the stool around to look at him. “Even when paired with those goddamn awful socks.”

“I have cold feet.” Her eyes follow him around and she licks her lips at the sight of the half-naked man turning on the coffee maker, sweatpants hanging dangerously low on his hips and she is almost certain that is the only piece of clothing he’s wearing.

“I kinda noticed that.” He pats Dodger on the head before disarming the alarm and opens the kitchen door, a very happy dog now bouncing on the fresh snow outside. “You might want to have that checked, I believe they’ve frozen some time ago and you just haven’t noticed.” Chris grins at her indignant face and she scowls at him, trying to elaborate a good comeback when he invades her personal space. “Good morning, gorgeous.”

He’s pressed right at her side when he speaks those last words, tilting her head back and kissing her soundly, the hands on her neck keeping her in place, and does she really need to breathe because she just wants to kiss him forever. Her whole body awakens, his touch moving like lightning on her skin. Her palms sprawl over his chest, fingers combing the short hairs covering the muscles and she’s delighted at the small moans coming from him. Sadly yes, they do need air to live and so they part, foreheads touching, fingers caressing and smiles on their faces.

“I believe it’ll be, yes.” She eyes him as he draws on her skin, following the pattern of the cherry tree branches on her arm, reaching the last flower perched near her inner elbow and she tenses. As wonderful as he is, they barely know each other, the scars on her forearm and wrists are part of the demons that plague her dreams, ones that she’s not willing to discuss. She feels better when his fingers skip the scars, going straight to her palms and tangle themselves with her own, bringing her hand up to kiss the knuckles.

“How about some breakfast?” He offers while his mouth skims over her hands. “There’s this great place right around the corner that serves breakfast till 3 p.m., we can walk over there and get my car afterward, go to the Museum?”

“Breakfast food for lunch?” her stomach grumbles at the mention of food. “I was gonna make a joke about it being so very un-Hollywood of you, but as you heard it, parts of me are already on board with the plan. But I do need coffee first.”

“As milady wishes.” He goes back to find two cups in the higher cabinet, grabbing the creamer from the fridge and setting it all on the island in front of her before seating by her side, “How are you feeling today?”

“I woke up with a bit of a headache, a little sore too, but I took some Advil when I came down, I’ll be right as new in a few hours.” She rests her chin on her hands watching as he scoots the chair closer to hers, knees touching as he runs slow circles on the small of her back.

“I’m sorry about the soreness baby, but damn, it was a tight fit, I almost blew my load when I first entered you, you felt so good.”

He says it like he’s commenting on the weather, not of giving her the best sex of her life. Her cheeks felt warm; the man had no filter, did he?

“It’s been a while since I last fooled around with anyone, it’s been mostly me and my hand for the past twenty months.” Apparently, she had no qualms talking about it with him either. Lucy felt at easy with Chris, from the first time they looked at each other she felt like a missing piece of herself finally found its way home. How would she keep going after today? She shook her head to clear her head, she wouldn’t think about that now. “And you're going around with a large concealed weapon in those pants. How do you get past TSA with that?”

He laughs with a deep bass guffaw, slapping his knee.

“Wanna give me a pat down, Officer Seabrook?” a waggle of his eyebrows had her chuckling before he got serious. “But almost two years baby, are New Yorkers that blind? You look smoking hot, do not give me that look, ‘cuz you do. I’d be following you around like a lost puppy for that ass alone.”

“There were plenty of opportunities, it’s just… It never felt right, I guess? I…” she stopped, unsure about giving up too much of her past. What was with this guy and the need to know all her secrets? And what was up with her and wanting to tell them all to him, hoping he wouldn’t run away screaming?

“Then I’m extremely glad it felt right yesterday. Because it felt right to me too, the moment you walked into that room? I was a goner. You had me at hello and all that shit.” He grinned at her over his cup, but she could tell his eyes were studying her and at some point, they would come back to this conversation.

“And all that shit uh? You’re such a romantic. Wait, the fact that you even know that the movie is awesome enough. It’s one of my favorites”

“Figures you’d have the hots for Tom Cruise being angsty as fuck” He laughed and batted away the packet of Splenda she threw at him.

“Oh shush, he’s not angsty, he’s had a revelation and it’s acting upon it. Plus, the ‘show me the money scene’ is already movie history.”

Chris lets Dodger back inside before grabbing the coffee pot, and he sits facing, a sheepish grin on his face while he poured himself a cup.

“So, if you had to choose, wine or coffee?” he asks as he prepares his drink; three sugars, a splash of creamer.

“Coffee, no doubts about it. I love wine but by this point in my life, I have coffee running in my veins instead of blood. There’s no way I could give the liquid gold up.” She pours half a cup, skipping the sugar and filling the other half of the cup with the creamer.

“What the hell,” he eyes her cup suspiciously, “that is not coffee baby, that’s an insult to anyone who drinks coffee.”

“Says the person who puts enough sugar in his cup to rotten teeth.” She scoffs before taking a long drink. “Delicious.”

“Oh my god, you’re one of those girls.” Chris grabs his chest, pretending it hurts. “You order a PSL at Starbucks.” He finishes with a low, horrified voice, whipping an imaginary tear from his eye.

Lucy was glad she wasn’t drinking when he finishes because she laughs so hard, she snorts.

“One hot, venti, two-shot, almond milk, no whip pumpkin spice latte. I’m a basic bitch who loves her PSL, so sue me.” She shrugs and brings her cup to her lips, sipping slowly.

“I bet the barista knows your name and draws a smile on the damn cup too.” He raised an eyebrow at her, and she smiled over the brim of the cup, giving a little shrug. “I knew it!”

“There’s a store on the same block of my apartment and it’s on the way to the subway, they’ve been there since I moved to New York, of course they know me by name by now.” Pouring more coffee into her mug, she acknowledges, “This is absolutely delicious though, it’s Hawaiian Kona coffee, right?”

“Color me impressed.” Chris grins, nodding his head. “It’s one of the few things I splurge on, I have the company send a few beans bags every month to wherever I am staying. I refuse to drink the goo they serve at most places when I’m doing press for a movie.”

“You’re a coffee diva.” She states, amused by his confession.

“Some people hate green M&Ms, I hate bad coffee.” He concedes laughing. “I even provide the coffee, it’s not like they have to go and buy it, you know? Just follow the instructions or let my assistant make it and I’m a happy guy.”

“What is that like, having an assistant?” Lucy glances at Chris, untrimmed beard, mussed hair, no shirt, ratty sweats and barefoot. Incredibly good looking, but more of guy-next-door than a movie star, she almost forgot he was more than Garret’s hot best friend.  Their worlds differed so much, she couldn’t imagine having someone on her beck and call, or worst, a publicist. That gave her pause and she pursed her lips in thought while he responded.

“It’s weird at first, someone controlling your schedule, telling you where you need to be and when. But you get used to it so fast, especially since they seem to know exactly what you need and they deliver it, you know? Almost like a superpower, they learn how to read you and anticipate your moods.” Chris pondered and looked away embarrassed when he continued. “It’s… convenient. If you’re not careful you can get lost inside the Hollywood lifestyle, get jaded by the lights and you end up forgetting who you truly are. It almost happened to me once and I swore I wouldn’t let it happen again. It’s one of the reasons Tobias stays in Los Angeles whenever I’m here, I can take care of myself, I can be Chris.”

His words reassured her, but one question lingered. He was famous, he had an image to protect. As Samuel clearly reminded her, most people only saw her as a glamourized, overweight, stripper. She turns to face him, “Do I have to sign an NDA? Would pictures of the two of us together be bad for you?”

“What, Lucy, NO.” he shakes his head startled. “First of all, NDAs are ridiculous, they rarely work, I know that first hand. Maybe if you’re into some hard kink sex and doing it with random people, then okay, an NDA would be ideal, but I don’t ask people who I sleep with to sign them. And no, a picture of us together wouldn’t be bad for my image, it might stir some pots because some people believe they can dictate who I date…” Shaking his head, he grabbed her hand, linking their fingers together. “I know we’re still getting to know each other but one thing you should know is that I rarely give a fuck to what the media or the general public think of me. I keep my people close to my vest, I don’t talk about friends and girlfriends in interviews, but that’s because it isn’t anybody’s business what I do on my personal time. But I won’t shy away from being around someone I care about either. If a picture leaks or if they follow me when I’m with someone, I set my publicist on their cases because they are assholes, but the one thing I won’t do is to acknowledge their presence or react to them. It’s what they want, and I learned to tune them out.”

“I’m sorry doing what you love comes with so much bullshit involved.” Her thumb rubbed circles on his palm, in a soothing manner, her free hand combing his tousled hair. “Just so you know, if you decide a week from now that maybe I should sign one of those ridiculous things, I’d do it.”

“Thank you. The fact that you offered is enough.” Chris leaned into her hand, almost purring from the feeling of her fingers massaging his scalp. He closes his eyes, enjoying the moment and Lucy wants to save this forever, a perfect reminder of their time together.

He tastes of coffee when she kisses him, molding her mouth over his, dragging her lips sweetly across his own. She tastes like cream when his tongue touches hers, light touches that entice her, coaxing her lips to follow his when he retreats, seeking more, needing more.

The whiskers on his face tease her skin when he drags a line from her mouth to her neck, nipping hard at the pulse point, sucking the skin to sooth the bite. She gasps at how pleasurable the tiny amount of pain feels, fingers splashed on his hair, pulling him back till she devours his mouth, taking the lead.

His hands are everywhere, cupping her neck to hold her in place, squeezing the soft flesh of her breasts, gripping her thighs, finally circling her waist to bring her closer to him, hiking up legs over his, making the sweater she’s wearing ride up, his eyes popping when he realizes she’s not wearing anything under it.

“Such a naughty girl you are baby.” Chris murmurs against her mouth with a grin.

“I’m full of surprises.” She pulls the string securing the pants and it pools on the V of his abdomen, his cock springing upwards to rest against his belly. “I see I’m not the only one not wearing underwear.” Fingernails rake on the hard muscles of his abdomen while her teeth do the same to his collarbone, biting his neck. A thumb grazes the silky skin of his head and he twitches underneath her palm, his soft moans delighting her.

Her sweater is halfway up her body now, a large hand cupping the globes of her buttocks, while the other is busy massaging a hard nipple. Ripples of hot lava dances over her with every pass of his finger.

“I love how responsive you are, how you look ready to cum just with me playing with your tits.” Chris lowers his head to take a hard peak in his mouth when Lucy hears the low rumble of his stomach, making her raise an eyebrow at him. He ignores it and shushes her with a kiss, slating his mouth over her giggling lips, bringing her back to the moment.

A second, louder rumble follows. There is a pause and their eyes open, green meeting blue, mouths pressed together turning to grins before they are both laughing.

“I guess I’m hungry.” He remarks.

“When was the last time you ate something?” a hand smooths down her sweater when she stands up.

“I had a pretty nice snack last night.” A wiggle of his brows had her punching him on the shoulder as she narrows her eyes at him, still laughing.

“Oh my god, you’re such a man Christopher.”

“Glad you noticed babe.” He embraces her, kissing her shoulder. “Come on, we can shower together and save time.”

..__..__..__..__..

Showering together did not save time, she remarks when Chris closes the door behind him. It’s almost noon when they finally leave his house, all bundled up, gloved hands clasped together. There was no snow right now, but it’s supposed to start back late afternoon, so the plan was to be back home before that.

Lucy wasn’t sure exactly what he meant. Would he drop her off at Garret’s house after their outing (she didn’t dare call it a date) or would they go back to his place together? Sure, she understood the concept of one-night stands; she’d had her fair share of them but spending the day with one of them was never part of the deal, they had never asked, always leaving her house before the sun was up. In the beginning, she didn’t care about them leaving, her walls kept her safe, away from heartbreak. She had given herself away twice before and she had the scars, emotional and physical, to remind her not try it again.

Being single wasn’t something that bothered Lucy like it had bothered Penny or Siobhan and, unlike her sister and her best friend, she had welcomed it, focusing her energy and passion into dancing. She was proud of what she had accomplished in the last twelve years, the dance studio was thriving, she had made a name of herself and was now giving back to the community as much as she could.

Yet she now yearned for more. She couldn’t pinpoint exactly when that happened but somewhere in the last six months the feeling snuck up on her and was now part of her daily routine, accompanying her from dusk to dawn. She pushed it aside, tried to bury it under her work but, no matter how late she stayed in her studio, how hard she danced, how tired she was, the loneliness that greeted her when she arrived home made her ache.

She wanted what JP had with Marianna. She wanted what she saw between Penny and Garret.

She had no idea how to get it.

Her eyes glanced over at the man walking beside her. Chris was funny, charming, interested in what she had to say and what she did for a living. It didn’t hurt the whole package was contained inside a sinful body, and boy, did he know how to use that body. She shook her head. This was a one-time thing, it’s not like he would want to see her again.

“We’re here,” Chris announced with a muffled voice, concealed beneath the heavy scarf covering his mouth, pointing to the red stone building that occupied the corner of the block they just turned. “The food here is amazing, you can’t go wrong with anything really.”

Lucy looks up before they enter and sees a neon sign with Mike’s City Diner written on it. The place had an old school vibe, a red, black and white theme that reminded her of the diner in Cooperstown, the one she went to almost every day after school for milkshakes and grilled cheese, or for family breakfast during the weekend. She’s about to ask if he comes here often when his name is called by a pretty brunette wearing an apron with the diner’s logo on it.

“Hi Chris,” the woman is all teeth and pink lipstick when she winks at him. Lucy tries to not pay attention to the way the hand, not coffee pot squeezes his biceps in hello.

“Hi, Corinne. Is my table occupied?” he questioned, removing his winter gear.

“It is, but the booth next to it is free, if you seat turned to the back wall, I’m sure no one will bother you. We’re past the rush hour anyway.” She grabs a couple of menus from the counter and leads them to the very back of the restaurant, away from the windows. “I’ll bring some fresh coffee for you.”

Chris helps Lucy out of her coat and mentions for her to get in first. He slides next to her and wraps an arm around her back, pulling her closer.

“I take you’re a regular?” She asked while reading over the menu.

“Yeah, I come almost every day when I’m not at my mom’s house. I’m an okay cook, but breakfast food is my favorite and I rather not screw it up.” He nods, not even looking up at the menu. “Very kind people, delicious food, most patrons are either engrossed on their food or too deep in conversation to notice me, which is a plus.”

“I grew up going to a very similar diner back home. My friends and I would spend whole afternoons at Patty’s, doing homework and playing the arcade games he’d kept in the back room. He was the sweetest guy, always looking out for the town’s kids, running fundraisers for a neighbor in need… And the food was so, so good.” Wistful eyes looked around the place, taking in the decor and the warm way the waiters would talk to the customers.

Corinne approached with a smoking pot of coffee, sashaying her mint skirt as she did. She poured Chris’s coffee and points the pot to Lucy in question. “Want some, sugar?”

“Please.”

“Alright, you guys know what you want?” she placed the pot on their table, whisking out a white pad.

Chris signaled Lucy to go first and she orders cinnamon walnut waffles with a side fruit, saying no to the meat.

“I’ll have the Dynamic Duo with bacon and scrambled eggs. And she wants cream, lots of it.” Chris says with a teasing smile.

“I can drink my coffee black, you know?” Lucy huffs after Corinne leaves them alone.

“Yes, but do you like it?” He gives her a pointed look, a lone eyebrow raised at her.

That was so unfair, who could resist that damn eyebrow?

“No,” she answers with a pout.

He laughs and steals a quick kiss. “So, no meat?”

“No meat. I can’t call myself a vegetarian because I love cheese and eggs and still indulge in some seafood, but it’s been almost ten years since I decided to stop eating red meat, eight since I last ate chicken.”

“Impressive. Hemsworth is thinking about adopting a plant-based regimen on our next bulk up. We’ve been discussing it for a while.” He plays with the empty sugar packets, sighing. “I don’t think I could do it.”

“Chris, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. I don’t know the guy, but if he’s your friend I’m sure he’ll understand.” Her hand closes around his, giving it a squeeze. “Quitting anything is hard, my friend Terry has been trying to stop drinking soda since I first met him, sometimes he goes months without a single drop, other times he drinks Coke for breakfast, lunch, dinner and midday snacks.”

“Don’t I know it. I’ve quit smoking maybe a dozen times now. But I pick it back up whenever I’m stressed or if I go clubbing a lot.” He picks her hand up, dropping each finger on the table only to do it again. “I stopped after I broke up with my last girlfriend.”

Lucy pursued her lips. She once had called Penny to see how her sister was doing and throughout the conversation, Penny had been curt with her, until Lucy snapped and decided to end the call. That was when Penny apologized and explained she was mad by proxy because Chris’ girlfriend was being a bitch, divulging personal details about their relationship. Lucy didn’t know the actress was, but she instantly disliked the woman.

“Uh, so maybe a good thing come out of that?” her smile was sympathetic.

“Yeah,” Chris gave her a warm smile. “I was single when I met you.”

“And if you weren’t?” it was a serious question disguised within a light smile.

“Here’s the thing, I don’t cheat. I may be a shitty boyfriend at times, especially with all the traveling and time away from each other, but cheating? That is inexcusable.” His eyes were fixed on hers when he continued and the intensity she found in those eyes made her squirm in her seat. “Had I been dating someone I’d have watched you from afar, cursing whatever deity for giving me a glimpse of yourself when they’d know I couldn’t act on it… The truth is I would have left the game. I was drawn to you like a compass needle is drawn to the north and I wanted you. Anything from the moment we said hello would be considered cheating in my book.”

A flustered laugh escaped Lucy’s mouth; she wasn’t expecting any of what he said, admittedly his stand on cheating mirrored hers but the other half of his speech floored her. Never had a man been so candid in his interest towards her and she was at a loss for words.

She was saved by the arrival of a boisterous man who introduced himself to her as Jay, the owner of Mike’s City Diner. He and Chris shared that typical bro hug after he set down the plates.

“I took the liberty of making your waffle with almond milk when Corinne told me you said no meat.” He had an accent she couldn’t place it. “I hope it is to your liking.”

“That’s very thoughtful, thank you.” She took a bite of the waffle and moaned at the taste, speaking between bites. “This is amazing Jay, best waffle ever.”

“Thank you. I’m happy you like.” He looked between Chris and Lucy. “It is the first time you bring woman with you. Corinne was… disappointed. I can see why she can’t compete with your chosen fire head. Beautiful woman.”

“Keep it up and I’ll tell Janet you’re hitting on my girl.” Chris pointed his forkful of pancakes at Jay, before popping it in his mouth.

“Janet more prettier than Lucy because Janet is my wife.” Jay grinned at them. “I’ll leave you to your food. Wonderful day friends.”

She busied herself with another forkful of waffles and strawberries, trying not to focus too much on Chris calling her his girl.

“Don’t mind Jay, he’s a flirt. Didn’t I tell you the food was good?” Chris drizzled more syrup on his pancakes. “The man is a breakfast food king if I was a billionaire I’d hire him as my personal breakfast chef!”

“But you gotta eat more than just breakfast though. Who would you hire for dinner service?” she dumped most of the cream in her coffee, smirking when Chris cringed.

“Uhm… that’s a tough one.” He stroked his beard in thought. “Either Tyler Florence or Jeff Mauro… I’m going with Jeff Mauro; I love sandwiches and he is the king. What about you?”

“I don’t even need to think about it, it’s all about the good vanilla and the Italian mascarpone! Ina Garten is the Barefoot Contessa for a reason.” She observed.

“Now that would cost you an arm and a leg.” Chris countered. “And if you want Jeff to go make the cheese in a climate-controlled cave in Connecticut, then you’d be bankrupt by the next dinner service.”

“But she told me store bought was fine.”

“Store bought is never fine.” He gasped in mock horror.

Trying to contain her laugh had Lucy wiping away the moisture from the corner of her yes. “I can’t believe you watch Food Network, Chris!”

“Well, there’s just so many times you can play Boggle while on set. Sometimes you just want to watch something to take your mind off things you know?” He pushed his empty plate away, mirth in his voice. “Plus Chopped is psych! Scarlett, Sebastian and I place bets on our favorites. I usually leave a hundred dollars richer by the end of our marathons.”

..__..__..__..__..__

The Museum of Science was somewhat busy for a Monday since most schools in the city were already off for the Holidays, making Chris lower his cap to cover his eyes as they entered the building.

Lucy’s eyes got big when she took in the place. “Oh my god, this is incredible! It’s almost bigger than the Museum of Natural back in New York.”

“I believe New York has more exhibits but we have more square footage or something like that. They grow everything big in Mass.” He winked.

“Don’t I know it?” Lucy waggled her eyebrows, laughing before grabbing the map she had picked up at the entrance. “Alright, what’s the plan?”

“I got us tickets to the Lightning! show at two, the Planetarium at three thirty and the butterfly garden at five pm.” Chris held her hand and lead her to the right side of the building while pointing things up in the map she held. “Maybe we could start with the dinos and make our way back to the red wing for the show?”

“Let’s head downstairs and see the Triceratops exhibit then, they are my favorite.”

“So, you like then horny, uh?” Chris whispered in her ear while they descended the escalator.

“Horny and big boned.” She whispered back with a straight face, a sneaky hand landing on the fly of his pants. “Small boners just don’t do it for me.”

A mother cleared her throat behind them just as they reached the lower level, and they moved quickly out of the way, looking sheepishly at the woman giving them a death glare before bursting into giggles.

“You’re such a bad influence on me.” Chris tutted at Lucy, bringing her close to his side and putting an arm around her shoulders.

“ME?” she protested with a laugh. “I was merely stating the fact that I like big dinosaurs, like a triceratops or a brachiosaur.”

“I’ll show you a brachiosaur when we get home.” He winked at her.

“If I recall correctly, your brachiosaur has quite a thick neck. Can I pet it? Maybe kiss it a few times?” She teased him, rubbing his forearm in a suggestive manner.

“Are you trying to make me pop a boner in public woman?” she saw him discreetly adjusting himself. “Come on, let’s see those dinos.”

The exhibit was fantastic, three full skeletons held the main floor, including a small, unhorned hatchling that made Lucy tear up. They admired the displays, taking turns pointing something they liked and debating which dinosaur would in against various superheroes, in the end deciding Hulk would probably join the dinosaur side, just to even things out. When they got to the T-Rex exhibit, Chris joked about this being Dodger’s wet dream and that he the only reason he wouldn’t steal a bone to take home to Dodger was that it wouldn’t fit inside his house, prompting Lucy to ask about it.

“The whole main floor is gorgeous, but I looooove your kitchen, it’s freaking amazing. If I ever move, I want a huge kitchen just like yours!”

“It was the first room I renovate when I bought the house last year.” Chris beamed. “Every detail, from the island to the fixtures have a history or a special meaning. I installed the backsplash myself.”

“Wait, you did it yourself?” Lucy asked, wide-eyed.

“The backsplash yeah, but I’ve had a lot of help from Dix and Garret during the reno. I also stained the hardwood and installed the mantle over the fireplace.” Chris grinned proudly and pulled up his phone, opening the gallery app and showing Lucy the before pictures. “Dix’s a contractor, damn good one too. We hired a design to come up with a general idea of I wanted and went from there. We’ve finished all the main floor, the master bedroom, and bathroom plus the staircase, but the other three bedrooms, the guest bathroom, basement and the backyard are kind of a mess. We only work on the house when I’m not filming, so it’s going slow.”

They walked over to the entrance of the Theater of Electricity as it was almost time for the show to start, and sat on a backless wooden bench, away from the main area, Chris straddling the bench and Lucy facing him, one leg bent over the smooth surface.

“Chris, the fact that you decided to tackle your own renovations when you could just pay someone to do it for you is remarkable. It speaks volumes of what you are as a person and what you want in life. My dad always quotes, we shape our buildings: thereafter, they shape us. You’re turning that place into a reflection of what you want for you and it shows.”

Chris regarded her for a moment, wistful eyes scanning hers.

“My ma’ always told me something similar before I moved to Los Angeles: whatever good things we build, end up building us. I’ve been trying to live by it, surrounding myself with people that want to build each other up, who share their talents with others in the best way they can. It takes a while to weed out the bad, especially in a place that thrives in being fake. There are many good, hard-working people in L.A. but there are at least three times as fakers and clingers who just want to use you. I love my house there, but sometimes it feels less like a home and that’s especially true now that I’ve bought the condo here. Ma’ was ecstatic when I told her I had found a place here, granted she wanted me closer in Sudbury, but I reckon Boston is a heck of a lot closer than Los Angeles. She helped decorate the living room and the big ass island was more of her idea than mine, but in the end, I loved it.”

“She’s got an awesome taste; I have the biggest case of kitchen envy now. I absolutely adore my apartment, it isn’t small by the city standards, but it doesn’t have much kitchen space. It certainly doesn’t have a big ass island, but it’s home.” She shrugged.

“I remember Penny mentioning you guys are from somewhere upstate, when did you move to New York?”

Lucy shifted in her seat. She would not think about him and what made her move back home.

“Late 2002. I had just gotten back from England; I went through a rough patch for a while and I wanted to start fresh some place where I could lose myself and not worry about everyone from the neighbors to the Mayor knowing your name. So as soon as I could I packed again and moved to New York. My father was supportive, but my Mamma was livid, she didn’t speak to me for a whole month.” she saw the confusion on his face. “That might not sound like a lot, but my Mamma is originally from Trento, Italy. She embodies all the stereotypes of an Italian woman you can think of. Not talking to me was maybe harder on her than it was on me!”

“My mother is like a quarter Italian so I can relate a little when she gets going is you better shut up and listen because she means business.” Chris nodded. He looked her over and Lucy had the distinct feeling he was trying to pierce some of her story together. He was much more perceptive than she initially thought, there would be no glossing over details with him. “England, uh? For dancing school?”

“Yeah… I joined when I was sixteen. Did almost six years with the company.”

He looked impressed. “That’s a whole lot of time dancing. What was the school like?”

“Demanding. We had to be the best one hundred percent of the time, you could lose your spot if you ever slacked on grades or on your dancing. I had a private tutor for classes, so I had no free time until I was finished with their version of high school. Then I got promoted to first soloist when I was twenty, so I barely know any touristy spots in London.”

“I keep wondering why you don’t want to tell me that you actually danced for the Royal Ballet of London and not some random school.” Chris gave her a pointed look and Lucy’s eyes widened. “Your sister is your biggest fan you know? She might have mentioned you danced with them once… or twenty times.”

Lucy looked away, her face heating up. Penny had been so supportive back in the day, even at thirteen, she was Lucy’s most supportive family member, encouraging her older sister to apply to the scholarship, staying in during the weekends so they could practice together. The events that preceded her return to the States still stung Penny and Lucy never thought her sister would look over them to hype her up to her friends.

“I don’t know really, I feel like I’m bragging when I mention their name. And some people look at my body and think ‘yeah right’ because a ballerina is supposed to be always this dainty girl and I’m now the opposite of that.” She waved her hand in front of her body. “I got rather crafty with not saying exactly where I studied, they mostly assume it was just a regular dancing school.”

“People are assholes.” He conceded.

The theater doors opened before Chris could comment further and they were ushered inside after handing their tickets to the greeter. They chose a seat near the middle row, moving all the way to the last seats, Chris pulling his cap down and slumping a little in the seat while everyone got seated around them. When the lights diminished, he righted himself up, removing his hat and running a hand through his hair.

Chris brought her arm over her shoulder, drawing her closer. He leaned into her, whispering in her ear. “I’m sure you were the cutest ballerina ever, but I much prefer the upgraded version of you.”

Even if she had any cute comebacks, and she didn’t, lights went up on the stage and the presenter introduced Professor Lightning, who proceeded to show the audience how Tesla coils worked and how to create lightning strikes at the comfort of their own lab. That was the first of the many corny science jokes of the thirty-minute show and Lucy lost herself in it, along with Chris.

..__..__..__..__..

“Maybe they’ll get it ready before we die, can you imagine it? A holiday trip to Mars?” Chris was walking backward while talking to Lucy, hands waving around in excitement, and she thought he looked like a little kid dreaming about what he’d do when he got older. It was the cutest thing.

They had just left the planetarium wing and they decided to head back down to the Starbucks locates at the atrium for some coffee. Chris had fake gagged when she ordered a Caramel Brûlée Latte and she made a show of drinking it slowly, moaning and making faces to get back at him. He ordered three double espressos in a grande cup, making the barista blink and repeat the order back to him.

They were now sitting by one of the many tables overlooking the Charles River, and Chris was dreaming of spending weekends on Mars instead of down in the Bahamas.

“I guess if you had thirty million dollars you could do it.” She agreed just to appease him. She saw his smile get bigger, probably already deciding which investments he’d give up being in that voyage. “You know, for each leg of the trip.”

Chris dropped his shoulder, defeated. “Maybe I could just go to the moon then. A quick getaway to look at Earth from another perspective.”

He looked serious and Lucy had a feeling he was indeed planning for that excursion.

“Would you really do it?” She inquired with a tilt of her head.

“Hell yes, I’d do it in a heartbeat. I’d crap my pants while going up but man, that would be so fucking cool.”

Lucy watched as Chris got a dreamy look on his face and she contemplated if he would think she was crazy if she got him a Christmas gift. She just had the perfect idea for one.

“Send me a picture when you get there ok? You’d pay to go, I wouldn’t go even if they’d paid me.”

“Is it the heights?”

“Actually no, I love rollercoasters and I’ve bungee-jumped before.”

“You what?!” He stared at her with wide eyes.

“I did yeah! It’s such a cool experience, I’ll tell you about it sometime.”

“You better! So, if it isn’t heights, what is it?”

“I’m terrified of enclosed spaces. I can barely make out off an elevator without going into a mini panic attack.” Her body did a quick shake at thought of being inside a spaceship. “It’s not too much of being in a tight space but I need windows and I need to know I can quickly get out of the situation if the need arises. You can’t exactly do that while going to the moon.”

“I can see how that would pose a problem.” Chris nodded and finished his coffee. “How do you cope with flying?”

“I have a prescription for Xanax, but I try to avoid using it. I rely on lots and lots of distraction.” She picked her up her phone, unlocked and pulled up Spotify, showing him a playlist labeled Flying Sucks, and he scrolled through her picks. “I’m so glad I don’t need to turn off our phones anymore, I have my headphones on and music blaring from the moment I step into the plane.”

“I’m afraid to ask, but how does one go from Chopin to Slipknot in two songs?” He turned her phone back to her pointing from Nocturne op. 9 to Duality.

Lucy cocked her head at him, a grin on her face.

“My tastes are very singular,” she whispers trying to contain her laugh. “You wouldn’t understand.”

Chris paused for a bit and she saw the moment he got the joke.

“Did you… Did you just quote Fifty Shades Of Grey to me?” Chris was laughing so hard he dropped her phone on the table, his hand automatically landing on his chest. That was the third time she saw him doing that and vowed to try and make him laugh that hard again, it was the most adorable thing.

A few other visitors turned around startled by the sound of his laugh and Lucy shushed him, ineffectively. She saw a teenage girl squinting at Chris, trying to place the man sitting two tables away from her and Lucy immediately got up and stood in front of him, blocking her view.

“Let’s go, doofus, there’s a very curious teen staring at you and I say she’s seconds away from figuring it out who you are.” She gestured with a thumb to the table behind her. Lucy grabbed his hand and pulled him up, Chris lowering his cap while they left the cafeteria area.

“I still can’t believe you quoted that awful movie at me,” Chris said while tossing their cups on a nearby bin.

“And I don’t understand how you know that line at all.” She pointed at him, waggling her finger.

“They uh, may have offered me the role?” Chris glanced sheepishly at her.

“THEY WHAT?” Lucy shrieked and immediately covered her mouth. Chris pulled them into an empty alcove to get away from prying eyes. “I’m sorry for yelling but what?”

“They offered me the role. Twice. The second time they even threw veto power on whom would’ve play Anastacia.” He shook his head. “It was a hard pass from me. The sex scenes in the book were passable, but the plot felt iffy, very constricted and oversimplified.”

“You’re the first guy I know who actually have an opinion about the plot and do not dismiss it as being mommy porn.” Lucy praised him.

“I make a point of having an informed opinion and not rehash what others think.” Chris nodded. “If that means I have to read a book about kinky fuckery, hey, let’s do it!”

Lucy threw her head back with a laugh and they resumed their walk, discussing their favorite books and authors and soon it became very clear they did not share the same interests. Chris tended towards non-fiction, biographies, science and spirituality books while Lucy rarely picked up something that wasn’t about fantasy, especially vampires and wizards. They did agree on Harry Potter and A Brief History Of Time, so they called it a win anyway.

They circled back to the blue wing where the Butterfly Garden was located when a voice over the intercom announced that everyone with tickets for the five pm showing was now welcomed to enter the Garden, and they quickly made their way there.

They started the tour on the opposite side of the entrance, walking around a path brimming with the colorful wings of the kaleidoscope who lived there. Lucy took pictures of her favorites and marveled at how nature worked, turning into what most would consider an ugly nuisance into such an exquisite animal.

The thick, lush foliage extended all the way to the glass ceiling, the various shades of green a great contrast against the gray skies above. Each section of the garden filled with different types of flowers and plants to attract the butterflies, it was a cacophony of plants from all over the world, turning the area into something quite magical in Lucy’s eyes.

Chris stopped here and there to discuss whatever butterfly they could see, Chris pointing what he remembered of his previous visit and telling Lucy anecdotes of his time there with his family.

“Then he convinced Shanna to lick the picture! So she goes up, takes the mounted frame from the wall and low and behold, licked the fucking leaf!” Chris remembered laughing. “Of course, the moment she lifted the frame a silent alarm must’ve sounded somewhere, and two guards appeared out of thin air… and that’s how the Evans Family got banned from the MOS for six months.”

Lucy wheezed as she laughed, trying to control her breathing. “Poor Shanna! You and your brother were not kind with your sisters uh?”

“We’re vicious sometimes.” He agreed. “But we’re also very protective, I got in trouble once because I bit a guy for pushing Carly off the swing set. Granted I was six at the time, but man, I drew blood and everything! Dad had to pay for his hospital visit and I lost dessert rights for a month.”

He pouted, making Lucy giggle.

“Your family sounds amazing Chris! Are you guys doing something special for Christmas?”

“Mom’s hosting a huge party this year, so the whole family will be there. Lots of Evans and Capuanos, plenty of food and booze, games, I live for those parties, they are my favorite, so much love going on. Big breakfast in the morning, let them go crazy opening presents, then we take the kids sledding or to ice skate on a pond nearby and then we all gather to the party. How about you?”

“That sounds lovely. It’s just the immediate family this Christmas for us. Mamma insists on having all her kids there at least every other year, it’s a deal she makes with all in-laws when they become family.” She paused. Lucy was the only one who had never taken a boyfriend to one of their gatherings. She had mastered the art of ignoring the looks of pity her family sent her way every time she arrived alone, dodging questions about her failed love life now second nature. “We don’t have many relatives in America, mamma being Italian and Dad from Scotland, so we kinda created our own family traditions; we decorate cookies on the 24th, mamma chooses the Yule log, and we sit around talking about our year while listening to the Beatles and drinking wine. Then on Christmas Day we go ice skating, hold the ‘Annual Seabrook Snowman Challenge’, which I suck at by the way, and consume way too much wine and crostoli.”

“I love crostoli, my mom never got the recipe right from her grandma so hers it’s not so great… But I’ll deny it to my grave if you ever tell her I said that.” He tapped the end of her nose, making her giggle. “It’s been such a long time since I had them though.”

“Mom makes a ton of them to give the neighbors as gifts, I’ll save you some and send them back with Penny.”

“That’d be awesome, thank you.” He ran a hand through her hair and brought her closer, intending to kiss her. His lips almost touch her when a group of kids no older than six-year-old breezes by them, screaming ewwww and making kissing noises. “I guess you got cooties.”

They giggle and separate, but he clasps her hand while they toured the winding paths.

Walking further into the garden they got to a small section where hundreds of white or blue butterflies floated over the flowers, enjoying a rare ray of sun that filtered from the glass ceiling above. Chris took his phone out from his front pocket and handed it over to Lucy before embracing her, arms closing around her front and pulling her closer, her back molded to his front. She shivered at the full body contact and had trouble opening the camera app. Searching for the best angle, she took a couple of pictures of them surrounded by the clouds of wings, including one where a blue butterfly sat on Chris’ shoulders and Lucy had a surprised look on her face, which quickly become their favorite.

“Ladies and gentlemen, the museum will close in ten minutes.”

The voice over the intercom made them both jump, and Chris looked at the clock.

“Wow, it’s almost six already?” He looked surprised.

“Are you serious?” Lucy couldn’t believe how fast the day had gone by.

Yesterday had been amazing, all the teasing leading to a frenzied and amazing night of sex but if she had to choose her favorite time with Chris had been today. There were no awkward moments, not long silences where they didn’t know what to say to each other. As much as she was pressed not call it a date at the beginning, there was no denying today had been exactly that. And she loved every second of it.

Now came the hard part, letting go of Chris and going back to her own life.

“At least it’s not snowing yet, roads should be clear.” He talked absently. Chris scratched his beard appearing to miles away from the museum already and Lucy tried not to let it bother her.

The escalator had a line and the elevator was for seniors, pregnant women and people in need of assistance, so they took the stairs, keeping closer to the wall as to not draw much attention.

He picked up her left hand, drawing patterns on her palm before twisting their fingers together while they descended the stairs to get to the garage. Lucy noticed how touch drove he had been the entire day, always reaching out to her, holding her hand while they walked, circling her waist while they waited in line for tickets. It occurred to her he would distance himself from her while they were in public and she understood why he would do it but in a deeper level, she was elated when he didn’t. She thought back to that morning’s conversation; I won’t shy away from someone I care about’, and her heart skipped a beat. Could he care about her in a more permanent way than a one-night stand? She shook her head. No, that wasn’t possible, right?

Then how you would explain your own feelings? Her heart had terrible timing, as always. Okay, so maybe today had been better than good. I was a fucking great day okay, could you at least own up to that? And Lucy couldn’t argue because it really had been that.

At least she’d had the memories of their time together, the last thirty hours had been incredible, and she knew a smile would always accompany those memories, no matter what happened from now on.

They got to the garage after a few minutes, people shuffling around them to get to their cars as quickly as possible. They walked fast, not bothering with their coats, just wanting to get inside his car. Lucy was really looking forward to sliding against the heated leather seats.

“Fuck, it’s cold!” Chris exclaimed pulling her along. His wide stride made her almost run after him, air leaving her mouth in smalls white clouds as she breathed out. He hit his key fob a few meters before they reached the car and engine came to life with a hum. He opened the door for her, and she placed a sweet kiss on his cheek before getting inside. Chris quickly went around to the driver’s seat and moaned when the heated air hit his skin. “Oh, much better.”

“Do you think Audi would sell me just one of these seats? The heating at the studios sucks, I’d love to have one of these for my office!” She wriggled happily in her seat.

“Or you could buy a proper office chair that does the same thing?” He pointed at her when he got behind the wheel. Soft jazz music filled the air around them when he turned the key, the melodic sound swirling around them.

“Uhm I could, but then I couldn’t tell people how I convinced fucking Audi to make me a custom chair. Now that’s a story.” She chuckled and turned on her seat, facing him.

“So buy a chair, slap an Audi sticker to the back of it and tell the story anyway, how ‘bout that?”

“Uhm… There’s an idea.”

He laughed. “Why are we discussing this particular one anyway?”

“’ Cuz there’s like a hundred cars trying to leave at the same time and we’re stalling?”

“Such a smart girl.” Chris reached over the console and picked up her hand, playing with her rings. “Are you hungry?”

“Not really.”

He nodded and concentrated on the traffic inside the garage, managing to get out and merge into the exit lane, all with one hand, the other still holding hers.

Why in the world did she say she wasn’t hungry when he asked? She wasn’t, that was true, but they could have gone somewhere to just talk, she could have a few more moments with him and now she blew it. God, she was stupid. She thumped her head in the back seat, cursing herself. Was it too late to say something, hey, changed my mind, let’s go grab a pizza or something.

She kept her body turned to him as he drove, a leg bent on the seat, studying his profile, the little bump on his nose, the mole on his left cheek, how his beard was not dark blond but auburn like Penny’s hair. She wanted to commit it all to memory so she could relive it once she got back home. Maybe daydream about not being a fucking coward and ask him to take her back to his place instead of back to Garrets.

They drove in silence for the next ten minutes, the only sounds inside the car coming from the speakers. He pulled to the curb of Garret’s house and Chris killed the engine, turning to Lucy. She felt the intensity of his gaze while she studied his face, waiting for his final words. This was it. He would thank her for a good time, say she was a nice girl and send her away.

Was it even possible to have feelings for someone you’d met in person just the day before? Maybe it was just some leftover infatuation from the night before? Sure, she had heard of him from Garret and Penny, they were practically his personal cheerleader squad, but meeting Chris had been a whole different experience. She couldn’t remember the last time she’s had so much fun with a man. It wasn’t just the sex, which by the way had blown her mind after twenty plus months of celibacy, but how he’d made her feel like the most important person in the world when he talked to her, how he listened with his whole body, really paying attention to what she was talking about. How he laughed at her jokes, cracking up with that adorable and dorkable laugh of his. He had cut through her walls and her fears with his witty banter and a charming personality and she had been impotent to resist him. She liked everything about him. She was falling for the guy.

No.

She had already fallen.

The realization hit her like a ton of bricks.

Stupid, silly girl. Why on earth would someone like him ever want more than a one-time thing with the likes of her?

She screamed at that poisonous voice to shut up, she didn’t want to hear it today. She concentrated on the affirmations Doctor Clark had given her.

She was worth it; she was not perfect but every being deserved love.

She was happy with her body; maybe she wasn’t a size four or even a six, but she was stylish, some days she would be so bold as to call herself sexy.

She was a good person; a loving friend, a kind person, a passionate lover,

She was deserving of love.

She closed her eyes, exhaling slowly, willing away all bad thoughts, breathing in and out, centering herself.

Maybe not his love, but he had awakened something inside her, if Captain America himself thought she was worthy of his time, that voice surely must be wrong.

“Lucy?”

She opened her eyes and leaned forward, resting her hand on his knee.

“Thank you for an amazing time, Chris. I haven’t had this much fun in quite a few years.”

She kissed his cheek, lingering just one second more. Unbuckling her seatbelt, she moved to open the door.

“What, no, Lucy wait.” He hit the lock button, breathing rapidly. “Just wait, give a man a moment to breathe, will ya’?”

“Chris?” She tilted her head, watching as he took deep breathes, counting on his fingers while murmuring what looked like affirmations, much the same she did earlier.

“Sorry, I had to run a few scenarios in my head. A trick my therapist taught me for when I get anxious.” He explained, tangling the fingers of one of their hands and pulling her to him, kissing her square in the mouth. “None of that cheek kissing thing alright?” he pleaded when he released her.

“Alright?” she had no idea what to answer so she nodded instead.

“Good, good. We had a great day together, didn’t we?” his free hand reached for a stray lock of her hair, twirling it between his fingers.

“I believe I thanked you for it already.” She looked nonplussed at him.

“That you did baby.” He kissed her again, this time biting her lower lip. “What if this wasn’t the end of that time?”

“Chris?”

“What if instead of dropping you here, you get out, get your bags and go home with me?” his clears eyes shone with hope and he licked his lips, waiting.

“You know we leave after lunch, right, I told you that.” Her heart was speeding up and she was sure he could feel her hands getting clammy. Was he really asking her to spend the night again?

“That would give us more,” he checked his watch, “eighteen more hours together.”

“Are you sure Chris? I’m okay with this being the end of our little rendezvous, I really liked the day we had.” She regretted the words as soon as they left her mouth.

His smile vanished.

“Oh, unless you don’t want to, I can understand that.” He chewed on his lip, defeated.

“Unlock the door, Chris.”

“Okay.” He hit the button and bowed his head. “Can I… can I kiss you goodnight?”

“Yes, you can kiss me goodnight.” She opened the door but didn’t move, waiting for him to look up. “You can kiss me goodnight after I have my wicked way with you after we get back to your place.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes! I was beating myself up for not saying yes when you asked if I was hungry.”

His face broke up in a huge grin.

“We can eat, then go back home.”

“I just want to spend more time with you, I don’t care what we do.”

His lips were cold when she kissed him, the outside air rapidly entering the car, but neither cared, too lost in each other to bother closing the door.

“I’ll go grab my bags.” She said when they separated.

“Hurry up woman, we have just nineteen hours and fifty-five minutes left.”

She threw her head back and laughed, getting out of the car and running up the stairs.

“Hey Lucy?” he yelled from the lowered window. She turned to him, after knocking on Garret’s door. “I hope you don’t have plans to sleep tonight.”