#it has been ok! my hair was like halfway down my back before any haircuts were done and I would cut it little by little testing my fear

[applejongho]

I need advice: I do not know what to do with my hair

[wiypt-writes]

Stark Spangled Banner

Ch 5: You Make It Easy

Summary: Steve finally takes Katie out on a date.

Pairing: Steve Rogers X OFC Katie Stark

Warnings: Language! And a whole heap of fluffy fluff fluff.

A/N: Once again, a huge thank you to @angrybirdcr​ for her lovely little edit.

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Chapter 4

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist

The elation Steve had felt about actually getting a date with Katie soon evaporated the next morning when he realised he hadn’t the first CLUE about where to take her, what to do or what to wear. He wasn’t naïve, he knew dating had changed since his day but the fact he had no reference point to even start from, having never been on a date before, wasn’t helpful either.  So he sought some advice

“A nice shirt and jeans.” Peggy smiled at him, the old woman elated he had finally done it. “Nothing too flash, and pick a restaurant. It doesn’t have to be fancy, women are more impressed by a man who’s paying them attention instead of simply paying for the meal.”

“Okay, right.”

“You know her, Steve.” Peggy looked at him. “What type of food does she like?”

“Italian, Chinese, but we do that all the time.” He shrugged, before he stopped, suddenly remembering something she had said to Evans a couple of weeks back in exercise, “You know, come to think of it she has mentioned a new place in town. La Placa I think it’s called.” “See, there you go.”  Peggy patted him on his arm before she smiled at the look on the young man’s face “Just be yourself Steve, that’s who she wants. No one else.”

“Thanks Peg.”

“And make sure you kiss her goodnight…” She grinned, a twinkle in her eyes. “Us ladies do like a bit of passion every now and then you know.” He rolled his eyes at her cheekiness, running his hand through his hair which was in desperate need of a cut. He stayed with Peggy whilst he googled the restaurant number, made his reservation and then text Katie to tell her where he had booked.

Can’t wait xxx

He grinned to himself, and then pushed his phone away and turned back to find Peggy watching him, a sly grin on her face.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this happy before.” she remarked, somewhat wistfully

.He smiled “Been a long time since I felt this good.”

“It suits you.” On his way home he swung into the barbers and stepped in. As he sat in the chair the man asked him what he wanted doing, and he was about to say trim when Katie’s voice stirred in his mind.

“Trying to imagine what you’d look like with shorter hair and a beard…” “Shorn back and sides please,” he said as the man asked him what he wanted, “and take it a little shorter on top.”

******

Katie woke suddenly on top of the comforter on her bed, fully clothed. She’d fallen asleep!  She sat up, thinking back to the last thing she remembered before her nap, piecing her train of thought together. Ah, yes, Steve had messaged her to tell her he’d booked a table somewhere which had prompted her to start looking for an outfit. She’d realised she had no idea what to wear so had been debating calling Pepper to ask for advice, but had decided it wasn’t a good idea because she didn’t want Tony to know she was dating yet, let alone who.

But there was someone she could call. Desperate times called for desperate measures, right?

Biting her lip she sighed and picked up her phone, scanning through to the person she was looking for and the cavalry arrived an hour and a half later in the shape of a red-haired deadly assassin.

“There has to be something in here that’s first date suitable…” Natasha mumbled, as she continued to search through the various items in Katie’s closet. Half Katie’s clothes adorned the floor of her walk-in-wardrobe and bedroom as they had discarded everything she’d tried so far. “It would help if I knew where you were going.” she sipped her beer thoughtfully.

“La Placa.” Katie told her after a pause, “Tapas place, but if you turn up I swear to God…”

“I got better things to do with my spare time.” “No you don’t. And I wouldn’t put anything past you.”

“If you don’t trust me why did you ask for my help?“ Natasha drawled, still rifling through the clothing racks. “Because Pepper is a four hour drive away…”

“Well that’s just rude.” Natasha mumbled and Katie grinned, shaking her head as Nat placed her beer down on the top of a set of drawers and moved to a rail “Ok, try this.”

She pulled out a knee length navy blue Balenciaga dress with a fitted top half, scalloped neck line and three-quarter length lace detailed sleeves. As Katie shrugged it on, Natasha hunted in the shoe rack, pulling out a pair of mid-height nude Kurt Geiger courts with a stiletto heel and matching bag.

“Not bad.” She mumbled as Katie stepped into the heels and gave her a twirl.

“Better than the grey one?” “Definitely.” Natasha nodded approvingly “I think we have a winner!”

Katie gave her a double Hi-Five and Nat picked up her beer as Katie stripped out of the dress and pulled on her T-shirt and shorts, before she glanced around the large bedroom, sighing at the mess.

“Better tidy this up in case things go well.” Nat smirked, before she pondered “Huh, actually, do you reckon Captain America puts out on the first date? Mind you, knowing Roger’s he’s probably a virgin…”

“I’m pretty sure people had casual sex back in the 40s too you know.” Katie rolled her eyes. “He was on the USO tours surrounded by dancing girls, there’s no way he didn’t do the old horizontal tango.”

“Yeah but…its Rogers.” Nat pressed giving a snort “Imagine if you are the one to pop his cherry.”

Katie groaned, shaking her head. “Shut up Widow.”

She smirked “Okay, so how long have we got?”

Katie glanced at her phone “An hour and twenty. And what do you mean we?” “You asked for my help, right?” Natasha shrugged, “Thought I could do your make-up and hair too…” Katie looked at her for a moment and smiled “Thanks.” She shrugged then drained her beer before turning Katie round and pushing her towards the en-suite “Go shower then we’ll start the transformation.”

An hour later Katie was ready. Her hair was curled in soft waves, and her makeup was done, a bit heavier than normal, but still subtle enough to avoid looking like it had been applied with a trowel.

“Perfect.” Nat gave her an appraising look. “Right, I trust you can get dressed without me?” “I think I’ll manage.” Katie said, standing up as she made her way out of the walk-in wardrobe and followed her into the hall where she picked up her jacket.

“Oh and if you need me to bail you, just give me an SOS call…” Nat made a phone sign with her finger and pinkie by her ear. “I think I’ll be ok.” Katie smiled, “but thank you, for all of this.”

“Have fun…” Nat grinned and then added with a smirk “And don’t do anything I wouldn’t”

“That doesn’t exactly leave a lot…” Katie quipped

“That’s my point.” Natasha intoned as she walked into the hall and pressed the button for the elevator.

“Nat, you won’t tell anyone will you?” Katie asked, “I mean, it isn’t that I don’t trust you, just…” Nat paused turning back to the brunette to find her chewing her lip with nerves. She shook her head “I won’t tell a soul. I know how much you two like each other, you’ve been dancing around it for months, so… just enjoy ok? Have a good time. You both deserve it.” “Thanks Nat” Katie smiled. The two girls shared a quick hug and then Nat left

***** Steve had to admit, he liked his new hair. It was much more like the style people sported now, but in a way it also reminded him of how Bucky had worn his back in the Howlies. He picked a light blue shirt, his dark navy jeans and then pondered before settling on a pair of brown boots that matched his jacket and belt. He was ready with plenty of time and found himself pacing as he thought about how the night could go. There was no doubt it was going to be way different to how he had imagined his first date to be. Back in his day it was movies, dinner and a dance. Now there were no dance halls, and they watched movies all the time. But, as Peggy had advised, for once he was going to “go with the flow” and just see where the night took them both.

Finally, after an agonising fifteen minutes during which he had pretty much paced non-stop and drained a good measure of scotch, even though it did nothing bar give him a comforting burn in his throat on the way down, he headed to the cab that was waiting and they set off to pick up his date.

Jesus Christ she looked amazing. Her hair was cascading in waves over her shoulders, the smoky brown eyeshadow she was wearing made the green in her eyes even more noticeable. And her dress…navy blue, knee length with a detailed neckline and sleeves that finished halfway down her forearms. The top half clung to her body where it flared out slightly from her hips and her heels accentuated her shapely calves to perfection. As Steve looked at her he found himself imagining various crude scenarios where said delectable dress ended up on the floor, but that wasn’t gentlemanly. Nor appropriate.

Katie felt her breath catch when she saw Steve. His light blue shirt was tight enough to accentuate his ridiculously well-built top half, and a brown belt with a gold buckle adorned his toned waist. And he’d had a haircut. Gone were his longer locks and side parting, and in its place was a short back and sides with slightly longer strands on the top, tousled into an exceptionally modern style. He looked incredible.

Steve broke the silence between the two, clearing his throat gently.

“You look beautiful.” He leaned down to give her a peck on the cheek.

“Thank you, you look pretty good yourself, you do something to your hair?” Katie teased.

“Thought it was time for a change.” he shrugged it off casually as his cheeks warmed. “Still getting used to it.” “It looks great.” she assured him.

He beat her to her jacket as she reached up to take it off the peg and held it out so she could shrug her arms into it. Once they were in the elevator, he reached out and took her hand and she laced her fingers into his. He glanced down at her, his eyes meeting hers and she flashed him a smile.

Yeah, he’d lucked out, big time.

******

The restaurant was busy but not packed. They were seated at the back in a little booth in the corner. Steve had never had tapas before, but Peggy had explained it to him before.

“So the idea is we pick, what, three or four dishes?” he asked, looking at Katie

“Yeah, they’re like small portions and you share.” Katie nodded. “Although you eat like a horse so we should probably order more.”

He grinned and looked back at his menu.

“You choose.” he placed the card back down eventually, beaten by the list of items. “I literally have no idea…”

“Alright.” Katie grinned. “But you have to try everything…”

“Deal.”

The waiter returned with their drinks and took their food orders. Katie ordered a large enough selection along with a side order of olives and different breads with dipping oils before flashing the waiter a smile and he scuttled off.

“I think this is normally the part where we ask each other questions,” Steve said as the waiter disappeared. “You know, get to know each other a bit more.”

“Yeah… think that ship already sailed though.”

“True,” Steve nodded bashfully, there wasn’t many things that they didn’t know about each other, although as he watched Katie was biting her lip, almost as if she wanted to say something, but at the same time didn’t.

“What is it?” he asked, reaching out for his drink.

“Something Nat said before…” Katie flushed, caught out. There was no way she was asking that question.

“Why does this worry me slightly?” He paused, beer raised halfway to his lips.

Katie looked at him and shook her head, the flush continuing to rise up her neck “Yeah, I’m not, it’s not first date conversation.”

He cocked his head to one side. “Now I’m extremely worried, and a little intrigued.”

“You really want to know?” Katie cocking her head to one side and when he nodded she shrugged. “Alright, you asked for this…” she straightened up in the seat as he did the same, bracing himself. “Are you a virgin?”

Steve groaned and screwed his eyes shut. “No, I’m not.” He sighed shaking his head before he looked back at her. "After I first got the serum there was suddenly all this attention on me and I didn’t really know any better…” “There was no one before?” she frowned slightly, almost as if she was surprised.

He shook his head again. “Girls weren’t exactly interested in me before hand, Bucky was the one who had the looks and the swag. He had a different girl every weekend. I guess when they finally did start looking at me that way I just, I dunno…” He stopped and took a breath. “God, this makes me sound like a right jerk. There weren’t that many”

Three to be exact. And none of them had been anything to write home about. He got the distinct impression they hadn’t particularly enjoyed themselves either, not past the fact they could boast about having bedded Captain America. Plus, he was infatuated by Peggy at that point as well and found he craved the tenderness that was supposed to be associated with the act, not merely the physical bliss. As corny as it sounded, he genuinely wanted someone to be with him intimately that wanted him, not Captain America.

As he watched, he noticed Katie was watching him intently and he swallowed a little as she simply shrugged. .

“We all have a past Steve.”

“I haven’t been with anyone since I came out of the ice.” He added softly, feeling the need to explain that he wasn’t that type of man.

“I haven’t since Grant.” she eyed him. “One night stands are overrated.”

“I wouldn’t know.” He shrugged, locking eyes with her. “That’s all I ever had.”

Katie studied him for a moment. She had no idea why, but to learn he hadn’t had a girl that way before he became some kind of war time celebrity, and knowing that the ones he had been with were probably chasing nothing but the kudos of being able to say they fucked Captain America, made her kind of sad. No wonder he was always so self-doubting.

She smiled and reached across the table, giving his hand a squeeze.

“Well, personally, I think all those girls that picked Bucky over you were dumbasses. I’ve seen the photos of you before all this happened…” she raised her free hand and held out her index finger, and gestured up and down his torso. “You were sweet”

He chuckled and took a drink of his beer. “You know I heard that a lot…you’re really sweet and all but…“

“Like I said…”she leaned back in her chair slightly, “Dumbasses” Steve was aware that her ankle was brushing against his slightly and he felt the warm flush in his cheek at her forwardness, but soon found it disappeared and was replaced instead with simply enjoying the fact she wanted to be so close to him.

As tactful as ever, Katie swiftly moved the conversation on and it took a natural turn to Tony’s renovation of the tower and then New York in general, how much Brooklyn in particular had changed since Steve had left it behind to go to war.

It was through this conversation Steve discovered that in all the time Katie had spent in New York she had never been to Coney Island.

“Maybe I could take you one day, down to the fair.” He suggested.

“I’d love that.” She smiled and his chest swelled even more.

Their food arrived and they continued to talk. And, considering they had started the date off thinking there wasn’t much more to find out about each other, both of them were surprised to see exactly how much trivial stuff there was to learn about the other. For instance, Steve knew that Katie enjoyed baseball but what he didn’t know was that whilst Tony was a Yankees fan, she actually supported the LA Dodgers, having grown up in Malibu. Suddenly her teasing about the fact they had moved made perfect sense. And in turn, Katie knew that the Dodgers relocating was a bug bear of his but, since he would rather go into the ice all over again than support the Yankees, he had started watching out for the Mets results, but apparently it just wasn’t the same and as such he hadn’t been to an actual game since he came out of the ice. Both of them found out the other preferred dogs to cats, cats making Katie sneeze and their ability to hiss and scratch you with no damned warning whatsoever made Steve not trust them as far as he could throw them. 

“I can just read the headlines now!” Katie chuckled after Steve had added that if he wanted to he could probably throw a cat quite far. “Captain America killed my Cat.” Steve let out a low chuckle, shaking his head as he picked up his beer. “Don’t cats always land on their feet?” “I dunno, depends how hard you’re intending on throwing it.” “I’m not intending on throwing any cat anywhere.” Steve shook his head “As much as I don’t like them I couldn’t deliberately harm one.” “Tony did. Well not deliberately, and he didn’t so much harm it as kill it…” “Oh you gotta tell me this story!” Steve grinned, leaning forward, topping up Katie’s wine glass from the bottle that was in the ice bucket in the middle of the table.

Katie grinned, “When we were kids, the first place we lived in was down this huge, posh road  with like 3 other houses on and we had this really eccentric neighbour, Mrs Livesy her name was. She had like 18 cats or something ridiculous and one morning, Tony was reversing the car out of the garage and he flattened 2 of them.”

Steve nearly spat his beer back into his glass. “He ran them over?” “Yeah…” Katie said, and by now she was full on laughing “But the best bit is, she comes round asking Dad if he’s seen the cats, dad’s got no idea what’s gone on right as Tony’s moved the cats and bribed me to keep quiet with the biggest ice cream you could imagine, so dad is all like ‘I’ve got no idea Mrs Livesy I’ll be sure to keep my eyes open…” Katie took a deep breath, wiping at her eyes “So then Tony comes back, Dad mentions that Mrs Livesy was looking for 2 of her cats and Tony’s like ‘huh, well you know what they say, curiosity killed the cat’ and me, being the little shit I was at the age of 4 pipes up ‘no that was you this morning, remember?’”

Steve laughed, and watched as she carried on giggling. “He never forgave me for that, Dad made him go round and apologise. And he had to attend a memorial for Mr Whiskers and Bagpuss…”

Eventually after desert and a few more drinks it was time to leave, Katie tried to split the meal bill with Steve but one stern look stopped that in its tracks. This was a date, he was paying. Thankfully she didn’t argue too much. Steve then asked her if she wanted to go for a drink, she gleefully accepted so he took her hand, gently leading her across the road, holding the bar door open for her. They both sat at the bar, Katie turning her seat so she was directly facing him, the pair of them leaning closer to one another as they talked. And the conversation just continued to flow, as did the odd but subtle display of affection, moving their chairs closer together, her hand on his shoulder. Steve was surprised to find how easy the whole thing was. He had no nerves, no awkward moments. The chemistry fizzled and there wasn’t a single moment he was stuck for anything to say. It was for that reason he was disappointed when the bar tender called time and reluctantly stood up as Katie drained the final bit of gin from her glass.

As Steve held out her jacket, his hands gently brushed her shoulders as she shrugged it on, sending a tingle down her spine and the hitch in her breathing didn’t go unnoticed. She turned to face him, all green eyes and pink lips, blinking as her eyes locked onto his and before he could stop them, his hands connected at the base of her spine as she moved closer to him, not moving her gaze from his, hand resting on his chest.

“I’d really like to kiss you again…” Steve said, shyly.

“You know you don’t have to ask.” she replied. Smiling softly he leaned down and connected his lips with hers, the kiss growing slightly deeper until Steve remembered they were in the middle of a public bar. He pulled away gently, resting his forehead against hers briefly, blushing like an absolute moron as a small smile tugged on the corners of his mouth.

“You know, for someone who said they’d never taken a woman on a date before Rogers, you’ve done amazingly well.” she blinked up at him, grinning.

“That’s because you make it easy to be around you.” He shrugged, honestly. He took her hand, curled his fingers round hers and made their way out into the street to hail a cab.

All too soon they pulled up outside her apartment block and both of them found themselves wishing the night would never end. Steve told the driver to wait whilst he hopped out and walked her into the lobby, their hands still twined together. There was a part of him that wanted to follow her in, and a part of her that almost invited him to, but they both wanted to do this right, take their time.

“I think now is the part where I’m supposed to ask you if you had a good time.” Steve turned to face her as they stopped by the elevator door.

“I did.”

“And if you’d go out with me again?” “I already said I would, Coney Island remember?” she replied cheekily, leaning closer to him.

“I meant before that.”  He rolled his eyes.

“I’d love too.” She muttered, and then his lips were on hers again and they were kissing, exactly where they had left off in the bar, only this time they were alone. Steve’s hand snaked into her soft hair, angling her head slightly and she parted her lips, their tongues tangling easily as once more the fireworks erupted deep in Steve’s belly.

“Always leave ‘em wanting more Stevie…” Bucky said, nudging him on the arm, winking as they crossed the fairground towards the girls “That’s the trick…”

Steve couldn’t stop himself from smiling he pulled back. Their night was at an end, it was a perfect place to leave it.

“I really did had a great time tonight, thank you.” Katie whispered as he pressed his forehead to hers, giving her lips another quick peck before he stepped back a little and she reached into her bag for her key card, pressing it to the pad by the elevator.

“Me too.” He smiled as the elevator doors opened. She stepped inside, turning to face him and flashed him another grin.

“Night Stevie.”

“Night, Sweetheart.” He replied as the doors shut. With that, he turned round and grinning to himself he walked back to the cab. Date 1 down, and it had been a roaring success.

**** Chapter 6

**Original Posting**

[karasuno-chaos]

Quarantine Haircuts with Noya, Kuroo, and Bokuto

I gave my sister a haircut during quarantine a few days ago (salons are still closed where I live) and it got me thinking about how some of my favorite volleyball boys would handle a similar scenario.  Likes/reblogs are appreciated! -Giz

Noya

He’s only surviving this quarantine because of you, okay?  Our boy does not do well being stuck inside all day.  He has too much energy and loves to experience things!

There are only so many things to experience in self-quarantine.

But you’ve done your best to help him by coming up with cute little in-home date ideas and couples exercises and everyday things to keep both of you sane.

One of those things is trying to stick to a morning routine.

Noya’s an early riser, so he’ll go through his whole morning routine and be halfway through making breakfast by the time you roll out of bed.

“Good morning sunshine.”

You blink at him, looking a bit confused even though he’s greeted you like this every morning since you moved in together.

“Babe, I think you’re shrinking.”

He looks so scared for a second.

“Your hair,” you explain.  “It’s drooping.”

His hair has grown so long that the gel can’t hold it up anymore.

At first he’s a bit pouty but then you’re both laughing because he looks kind of like a troll doll.

But neither of you particularly like troll dolls so that evening after his shower he asks you to trim his hair.

“Are you sure?  You don’t want to grow it out and wear it in a man bun like Asahi?”

“Nah, that sounds like too much of a hassle.”

(Because gelling it every morning isn’t a hassle??  Though you’re always a little amazed at how quickly he does his hair.  (You timed him once.  It took less than a minute.))

Not gonna lie, you’re a bit nervous.

“What if I cut it too short?”

“It’ll just grow out in a few weeks.”

“You love your hair, though.  I don’t want to cut it and then have you hate it.”

“Guess what, babe?  I love you more than I love my hair.  Whatever you do will be fine with me.”

Well.  When he trusts you so fully like that, how can you say no?

Noya is totally unphased when you start snipping and little bits of hair fall to the floor.

He’s chatting about funny stories he’s heard or random facts he’s remembered or the memes he and Tanaka have swapped recently.

Pretty soon you’re both laughing and you have to stop your scissors.

“Babe, I can’t cut straight when I’m laughing so much!  And I need you to sit still or I’ll mess up.”

He does his very best after that to sit still for you but you can feel the energy emanating from him waiting to be let out.

You do your best to go quickly so he can go back to his usual bouncy self, but it still takes you awhile because you’re being careful.

You love how fluffy his hair is!  Especially right after the shower.  You could just stand and run your hands through it forever, but you won’t because Noya probably can’t sit still that long.

You walk around him doing one last inspection, looking for any chunks you missed.

You can feel his eyes following you.  He’s hyper-focused like you’re a volleyball he’s preparing to bump.

When you finally declare that you’re done, he leaps off the chair to run to the closest mirror.

You’re silently freaking out while he runs his hands through his hair and checks out your work.

“Babe, it looks so good!”

He’s so happy!!

“I should let you cut my hair all the time!”

His excitement makes you so proud and warm and soft.

If it’s always going to make him this happy then of course you’ll cut his hair next time, too.

Kuroo

You’re on the couch binging a TV show together which is how you’ve spent most of your quarantine.

Kuroo’s only half paying attention scrolling through his Twitter feed with his head in your lap.

You’re playing absentmindedly with his hair.

“Tetsurou, you’re getting kind of shaggy.”

He grunts in acknowledgment like he’s only half listening, but after a moment he puts down his phone and shifts onto his back so he’s looking up at you.

“Do you like it?” he asks with a smirk before trying to blow his overgrown fringe out of his face (what a dork!)

“I love you,” you chuckle.  “Do you like it?”

“It doesn’t help the bedhead, so I don’t really care either way.”

“Have you ever tried growing it out?  The weight might help flatten it.”

“I did one summer but it looked awful.  Kenma refused to be seen with me until I cut it.”

You laugh together, though your interest is piqued.  Later you’ll hunt around for pictures of long-haired Kuroo to tease him.

“I’m not the only one whose hair is longer,” he says, reaching up to run some of your hair between his fingers.

“True, but I can actually style my hair somewhat.”

“Lucky duck.”

“If it’s bugging you, I can give you a trim.”

“Hm, I don’t know if I trust you near my head with scissors.”

“Suit yourself,” you say, ruffling his hair so his fringe is back in his face.

You suspect it’s just a matter of time until he can’t handle it…

Sure enough, a few days later he comes to you grouchy.

“Were you serious when you offered to cut my hair?”

“Of course.”

You drape an old sheet around his shoulders and sit him down on a stool.

His bedhead is both a blessing and a curse.

If you cut unevenly, it wouldn’t be very noticeable, but you know Kuroo wrestles with his hair enough already.  You want to do a good job for him.

You just can’t figure out where to start.

“Everything good?” he asks, looking at you over his shoulder.

You’re making him nervous just standing there.

“Yeah.  Face forward and don’t move.”  You push him gently so you’re faced with the back of his head again.

With a deep breath, you get to work.

You make a few tentative snips and pause, running his hair between your fingers and tilting your head as you try to visualize what you’re working towards.

“If you don’t want to do it, you don’t have to.”

“Hey.”  You tilt his head back so you can meet his eyes, raising one of your eyebrows.  “You don’t trust me?”

“No, I do.”

“Then shut up and let the master work.”  You kiss him on the forehead before he drops his chin with a chuckle.

You run your hand through his hair again, feeling how unusually long it is.

Wait a minute.

You can feel how long it’s gotten!

Suddenly you’re snipping away with confidence.

You play with Kuroo’s hair so much that your fingers have memorized how it should feel.

You do his fringe last, coming around to face him.

“You’d better close your eyes or you’ll get hair in them.”

“Seems worth the risk when my hairdresser’s so hot.”

“You won’t be complimenting me if I’ve butchered your hair.”

“You love me too much to do that.”

“Do I love you more than I love making fun of you, though?”

“Okay, you’re done.”

He throws the sheet off, sending bits of hair flying, and runs to the bathroom to make sure you haven’t intentionally embarrassed him.

“Tetsu!” you laugh, following him.  You lean in the doorway and watch as he inspects your work in the mirror.

“So?  What’s the verdict?”

He primps in front of the mirror a bit longer before turning to you with his crooked grin.

“Like I said, my hairdresser’s super hot.  And she does good work.”

“I’m glad I meet with your approval,” you grin, wrapping your arms around him and giving him a kiss.

“Now go clean up the mess you made in our kitchen.”

Bokuto

Ok so quarantine has been kind of hard for Bo.

He’s missing the gym and volleyball and getting out of the house and his teammates.

Extra time with you is a huge positive and you do your best to help him navigate the craziness but he’s just a tiny step away from emo mode at any moment.

So you’re not too surprised when you find him one morning in the bathroom staring at himself in the mirror near tears.

“Hey hun, is something wrong?”

“My hair,” he whimpers.

“What’s up?”

“It won’t do the thing right.”

So you step over and squirt some gel onto your palms and get to work, but no matter what you do, it’s not turning out how it usually does.

“I think it’s too long,” you finally declare, letting your hands and his hair drop.

He looks so dejected.

“So I have to go through the rest of quarantine like this?”

“Well the salons aren’t allowed to open yet.”

“It’s not right.  I can’t be the best ace without my super awesome hair.”

“You’re the best ace no matter what,” you promise, wrapping your arms around him and kissing his cheek.  “But if you want, I’ll try and cut your hair for you.”

“Really?”  There’s a hint of hope in his voice.

“I need you to wash the gel out first, but I’ll give it a shot.”

Fifteen minutes later you’re running your hand through his damp hair figuring out where to begin.

You need to take about an inch and a half off, so you start at the bottom and work your way up in layers.

You have a vague idea of what you’re doing, having accompanied him to the salon a few times previously and watched his usual hairdresser work.

As long as it turns out close to what it normally is, Bo will be happy.  He’s not one to get picky with the details.

You can feel him relax as you work.  He loves the feeling of your hands in his hair.

You run your hands through his hair a little more than necessary, massaging his scalp lightly and feeling him lean into it.

Eventually he starts humming, a sure sign that he’s content.  It makes you smile.

He’s so content, in fact, that when you work your way around to the front to check the evenness of the cut, he wraps his arms around your waist and nuzzles your stomach.

“I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you too,” you chuckle, patting his back fondly.  (He’s just a big softie!!)  “But I need you to let go so I can finish up.  I’m almost done.”

He sits back and lets you keep going, but his eyes follow your every move.  He’s smiling lightly the whole time.  You make him so happy!!

You set the scissors down and hold up his hair in some semblance of his flamboyant updo to check the length one last time.

“Okay Kou, I think that’s good.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yup.”

He waits for you to brush the bits of hair from his shoulders before he runs to the bathroom.

You’re sweeping up the bits on the floor when you hear a jubilant “Hey hey hey!” from the other room.  You know he’s pleased with your work, and it makes you smile.

A few minutes later, he struts into the room, his hair gelled in its usual dramatic style.  He sweeps you into his arms and gives you a big kiss.

“What do you think?” he asks with a grin.

“I think it looks good.  What do you think?”

“I think I’ve never looked better!  Thanks babe.”

“Anything for you, hun.”

[ramblinganthropologist]

N7 Challenge - 5 (Cruelty)

Summary: It was cruel fate that stuck Garrus in that cafe, waiting for his fake date so they could get that mission going. He would’ve been so much better as the tech oversight guy... damn the fact Shepard’s too gay to pretend to be into a woman realistically.

(Aka, Chris plays fast and loose with the rules.)

ME1

---

It was a lovely day on the Citadel... and Garrus was in hell.

'Relax, you're as stiff as a board. Nobody's going to believe you're on a date like that.'

His mandibles twitched as he listened to Tali through his hidden transmitter. Normally, this was where his visor would come in handy... except he wasn't allowed to wear it. No, apparently that was against the first date dress code and he'd been made to leave it on the Normandy along with his armor and weapons.

Well, he had a pistol stowed away... but that wasn't the same as his rifle, damn it.

“I still don't get why I'm the one who had to do it.”

'We needed a tech expert, and Shepard says... Shepard, what did he say again?'

'He's too fucking gay to fake being into a woman, so Tali was out. You were the only one left, Mandibles.'

The other Shepard's deep voice disrupted the quarian's electronic tones. Garrus hadn't been expecting it – the sudden change made him wince a little. Luckily, nobody at the cafe noticed. They were too busy eye-fucking their dates.

He knew this place, had walked past it when he had still been in C-Sec. It was a popular spot for couples to have their first date thanks to the fact it was public, fairly reasonable, and offered booze if things started to go south. Had he not been on a mission, the turian definitely would've been ordering a drink or two to survive this.

After all... he had to fake being on a date with Commander Shepard.

There was a point to all this, of course. According to Alliance intel, there was something strange about this cafe and the fact a lot of well-armed people tended to stop by after hours. He hadn't heard whispers of it being a front for something, but it had been sometime since he had walked a beat. For all he knew, someone could have moved in while he was gone.

That... or he just hadn't really cared. Scoping out hot date spots had never been high on his priority list.

“Where is my date anyway? He didn't run away at the thought of being in public, did he?”

Garrus hadn't meant to use that much scorn, but it leaked out anyway. It wasn't as if he disliked the man, per se … just found him incredibly odd and more than a little off-putting. He had a way of catching you off guard and hammering home that made the turian uneasy, not to mention his strange hamster tending habits. Add in the fact they had met by colliding into each other and... well, maybe he was a little salty.

So, he didn't dislike the Commander... but maybe they weren't quite to like just yet.

'You're not that ugly, Mandibles.' The Normandy's XO sounded bored on the other end. 'I think he's scoping the area out. Make sure to appreciate the view when you see him, I worked my ass off getting him ready.'

'She really did a good job, I'll be amazed if you recognize him at all.'

Well, that was perfect. Guess they were going for the blind date angle and taking it to the extreme.

“Thanks.” Now he really meant the sarcasm as he sipped at his water. If he was on a date, he should probably wait before he ordered anything. That was polite, right? “I swear, you two are enjoying watching me suffer.”

He could expect that from the human, but Tali's cruelty really caught him off guard. Who would have known the quarian had it in her?

The line went quiet not long after that – no doubt they'd gotten their fill of his misery. Garrus was left to glance around in the hopes he might spot Shepard. He had already checked all the obvious spots, but nobody quite fit the profile of short and kind of awkward looking.

Ok.. maybe that was mean. But the guy was awkward. Even he said so.

“Where are you...” Garrus' mandibles twitched as he kept looking. Really, it was couples as far as the eye could see. Apart from a couple school-age looking girls gossiping, everyone else looked to be on a date. There was nobody who stood out as being on their own, especially not someone who looked to be casing the joint. “Shit, he better not be the girls.”

Before he could worry if he was going to have to ask one of the teenagers if they were actually a fully grown man in disguise, a shadow fell across the table. He looked up, expecting to have to apologize to the waitress for taking so long to order. The excuse was already on his tongue – his date wasn't there yet. But then it died on his tongue.

There was a man standing there, human and wearing the tightest jeans Garrus had ever seen. He gave a little wave as he smiled, eyes sparkling. Well, eye – the other one was covered by his blue-streaked blonde hair.

“Hey there, been waiting long?”

Garrus' brain had short-circuited long ago. It didn't help that his tongue had somehow glued itself to the roof of his mouth of the sight of the man and his incredibly tight pants. Really... he must have had to paint those damn things on. Weren't humans concerned with ball space or something? Their genitals were on the outside...

…

Also wasn't he supposed to be straight? Why was he checking some dude's ass out?

Right, words. “Uh... what?”

The man chuckled as he sat down. “Sorry I was late, I know we said we'd meet at 2 but I got held up at work. You didn't wait long, did you?”

By now, the turian's brain was thoroughly fried. Somehow, someone had mistaken him for their date. Scenarios to get him out ran by quickly – the most obvious being to tell him that he wasn't there on a date at all. But that would probably break his cover...

And more importantly, Shepard and Tali would enjoy it way too much. They were evil.

“I...”

“Anyway, thanks for waiting for me. I hear this place has great tea. Not sure what you can get, though. Are you allergic to levo?” The man's voice lowered as he leaned forward to whisper to Garrus. “Perimeter's clear, though the back door has some pretty serious locks for a simple business. I think we're onto something.”

…

His brain turned back on. “Wait... Shepard?”

The man's cheeks turned pink as he sat back down, playing with the ends of what Garrus realized now was most definitely a wig. “I told her it was too much, but she said otherwise I would've been too easy to spot.”

In theory, that made sense – Shepard was the first human Spectre. Pretty much everyone had seen the video of him accepting the position at least once. To say a small human with a bight red military haircut and a missing eye would've stuck out in a popular cafe was putting it mildly. Honestly if any of this was actually true, it might have gotten guns pulled on them had they tried it.

Which, probably would've made things easier but they were trying to be subtle.

“Well... she's right. Those two are probably enjoying this.” He moved in closer as well, if only to prolong the image. That close, he could definitely smell Shepard had been sprayed with something that wasn't sweat. It wasn't bad just... odd. “So... see anything else?”

Shepard pulled the menu so he could flip his wrist over to expose his omni-tool. Specs popped up, showing the blueprint of the building. Garrus' facial plates twitched as he gave it a brief once over, stopping at the basement level.

It was pretty damn big... maybe too big for a restaurant.

“I think it's shared with a building halfway down the block that has connections to the Blue Suns.” Another spec, for a place Garrus definitely remembered as being a suspected front for something. They had still been working on it when he left C-SEC. Maybe they'd wind up wrapping two cases. “It'd probably be easier to get into this one once it closes up...”

That would be in a couple hours... so they were probably doing dinner then.

“Hi there, are you two ready to order?”

Both men sprung back up as they realized they had company. A cheery looking waitress had appeared, smiling at them like she knew what was going on. At the same time, the pocket of her uniform was sitting a little weird. Maybe it was a datapad... but maybe she was packing heat. The Blue Suns were getting creative with their recruiting.

“Uh, yeah. I'd like a strawberry soda for now.” Shepard had dropped his voice way below where Garrus thought he could, and his accent was different. He grinned as he turned to the turian. “How about you, big guy? Pretty sure I picked somewhere you could eat.”

It was hard to keep his mandibles from twitching. This was going to be a long night. Luckily, there were no turians around to pick up his subvocals as he shot murder over at the human. Instead, he checked the menu fast – honestly, he had forgotten it was there.

“Coffee is fine by me.” And then he remembered he had to pretend to be into Shepard. The pants helped. “Wouldn't want to be bouncing off the walls and kill the chance of a second date.”

The waitress giggled – maybe that was a datapad. That, or she was one hell of an actress. “That's one strawberry soda and a coffee for the cute couple at table 5 then. Be right back!”

And then she was gone. Both breathed a sigh of relief as they relaxed – it was a little harder for Shepard for obvious reasons. But at least they had managed to pass the first round of this fake dating nightmare.

“You didn't seem like the coffee kind of guy, Garrus.” His fake date sounded a little too honest as he leaned back. The turian would have thought him using the position to look around under the wig, but he knew better – that eye was dead. “Let me guess, you take it black as night and bitter as hell?”

Garrus' mandibles twitched a little. “Not big on sugar. Clearly that's not the case with you. You planning to bounce around all date?”

“Some of us need the energy. Besides, if you think this is bad you should see me slam pixie sticks sometime.”

Just the thought of it made Garrus twitch. Biotics and their energy requirements...

“Right, well, we should start to figure out where we're going next.” His eyes wandered back to the storefront. “Maybe a walk around? There's a park nearby that's beautiful at night.”

Shepard smiled at him, and his stomach flopped. Maybe it was the fact he hadn't eaten anything. “Sounds good to me. Now, why don't you tell me a little about yourself so if you try to murder me and shove me in a trash can, I can text my sister beforehand so she knows who to tell C-SEC about when you go to the bathroom.”

Despite everything, Garrus found himself laughing. The human chuckled as well, maybe in spite of himself. Honestly, the whole thing was just utterly ridiculous and the plot of some cruel spirit that enjoyed jerking them around. Somewhere, they were enjoying this.

Fucking spirits...

“You two are doing great. Shepard's scan gave me a weak point you can access once the building is shut down.'

Tali was back in his earpiece. From the sound of things, she wasn't in engineering anymore. Wherever she was heading this mission's tech corner was somewhere much quieter, and with a little less foot traffic. Maybe they wanted to enjoy this in private.

'Tell Al to fix his shirt, unless he wants to show his new underwear off when you two go to take your walk.'

The other Shepard sounded almost amused by this. Garrus felt his mandibles twitch as he glanced over at the human sitting across from him. Shepard had taken to folding a napkin again and again, turning it into a rather lopsided bird. If it were real, it probably would've been spawned near a toxic waste dump and probably glowed under black light.

But at least he was doing something with his hands that wasn't too suspicious.

“Hey, I know this is awkward because I shouldn't be staring at your ass yet-” At least Shepard had the sense to chuckle at that. “But... might want to pull your shirt down.”

The blush that colored Shepard's cheeks was definitely real as he tugged his shirt down over those skin tight pants. Hooray for method acting, he assumed. If they kept this up, people might actually believe they were a couple.

Maybe. Spirits, this was hard.

“Thanks...”

“No problem.” The turian nodded as he spotted the waitress. “I spot my coffee and your sugar syrup. Refuel for round two?”

They would need it – he was starting to get the feeling things might get interesting after all. After all, it wasn't every day he faked being someone's date to get into an underground facility with a Spectre in skinny jeans.

Now that was something even the writers of Blasto couldn't come up with... too bad he was living it instead of watching it. At least he got coffee...

[orionares]

Drabble, Part 13

A/N: Happy 2019!

I’m going to be able to hear his voice again. Oh my God, I’m going to hear his voice again.

Kensi can hardly breathe as Doctor Morales and a team of nurses clear the tools used to pull out Deeks’ endotracheal tube.  The news of the doctor ready to remove the tube came the night before as Kensi had once more watched the rising and falling of her fiancée’s chest. The long, painful waiting for the results of the CT scan had been hard but once the news of the removal had finally settled in the sleep deprived agent, a new set of emotions had hit her hard- relief and fear.

Two weeks without a word from her love.

A two-week drought, filled unfinished arguments, things unsaid, ending in minutes.

I can hear him ramble, we can end our fight and move forward, Kensi thinks. Her eyes are locked on Deeks, sitting up a little higher in the bed with a clear oxygen mask over his face. After having suffered the uncomfortable removal of the tube, Deeks occasionally shoots a glare at Morales, who’s in the midst of explaining the expectation for the next few hours.

“So I’m going to continue monitoring you for at least the next 48 hours, but if all goes well, we can talk about discharge,” Morales explains. “There’s no rush right now, Mr. Deeks. Our goal is recovery, alright?”

Deeks wrinkles his nose at the forty-eight-hour goal before nodding. His look causes an amused filled smile from Morales who adds, “I’ve dealt with your wife for two weeks now. That look doesn’t work on me.”

With Kensi shaking her head with a smile, Morales gives Kensi’s shoulder a quick squeeze before exiting the room with two nurses behind him. One of the nurses, a redheaded woman around Kensi’s age, lingers for a moment. She smiles as she takes another glance between Deeks and Kensi before asking, “Do you need anything before we go?”

The dark-haired agent’s gaze remains locked on her fiancé. “No…no, I’m fine.”

“Ok, he’s all yours,” the nurse chuckles, “Call us if you need anything.” She passes Kensi with a look brimming with more hope and excitement than Kensi expects; however, the slight uncomfortableness with the nurse’s excitement falters almost immediately when the door closes as she’s finally alone with Deeks.

“You know the silence I’ve had for the last two weeks,” Kensi starts, approaching the bed casually, “has been just so nice. Being able to hear myself think and not have to hear about the flip house opportunity in Pebble Beach or the efficiency of pigs in a blanket as an entrée for a wedding has been amazing.”

A familiar spark shines in Deeks’ eyes at the comment. In response, Kensi continues, adding in an overdramatic fashion, “Ahh, the silence…”

Her demeanor changes when she reaches his side, her expression settling into relief as she kisses his forehead with teary eyes.  With thee warmth of his skin, the clearness in his eyes and the “mountain man” scruffiness that has formed over the past two weeks, the only word Kensi can manage is, “Hi.”

“….’ns…”

“No, no- the doctor told you to take it easy. Don’t try to talk yet.”

Deeks narrows his eyes in frustration at her comment and he momentarily glares at the foot of the bed before reacting faster than the tired Kensi can stop him. He slides the oxygen mask off of his face and squeaks out a barely audible, “…’ens-“

“Baby, there’s no need to rush,” Kensi reminds him, “Let me get you some water or a notepad-“  

Deeks’ face scrunches in concentration before emitting a weak, “…Fern.”

It’s him, it’s home, Kensi thinks in relief. She leans in and kisses him slowly, fighting back the teary relief eating at her. She then rests her forehead against his and whispers, “I missed the sound of your voice, baby. I missed it so much.”

“Wife?” Deeks asks. He tries to grin broadly at her but stops halfway to rub his sore cheeks.  Kensi gently pulls the oxygen mask back over his face and replies, “It just felt right.”

Deeks pulls the mask back off his face. “Like…it… too.”

Kensi pushes the mask back up and enlaces her fingers in his. “I know. Quick side note- as much as I’d like to talk with you and my God, baby, we have so much to talk about, you heard the doctor. You have a good two days and then we get to go home. So keep your oxygen mask on.”

The goofy spark flashes in his eyes and he uses his free hand to pull off the mask again. “Ok, wifey.”

“No.”

“Gr…no...”

With a throbbing headache, Kensi jolts awake at the faint, panicked mumbles coming from Deeks. She lifts her head slightly off the bed to see him fidgeting underneath the blanket and emitting pained whimpers.

“Hey, hey,” Kensi calls out. She rubs a hand over his forehead and whispers, “Baby, wake up. Come on, you’re ok.”

Deeks continues to fidget under the sheets without a response, pushing the sheets away unconsciously. Kensi grabs his hands and repeats, “ Come on, wake up for me.” Flashbacks suddenly pop in her mind at the memory of the helicopter approaching them in the desert and her pleading, begging for him to wake up. Not again.

He turns his head away from her before he finally opens his eyes in deep confusion. Deeks blinks before his eyes travel to Kensi. He slides off the oxygen mask and calls out weakly, “Where?”

“We’re in the hospital. Don’t you remember?” Kensi asks, rubbing his arm. “Can I get you anything?”

“Water.”

“Sure,” Kensi replies. She moves to the bedside table and pours half a cup of water from the cream colored pitcher. She holds it to his lips and helps him take in a sip before he coughs a bit of water onto the bed. He takes in another sip of water and sighs when it settles down the right pipe. “Anything else? I can get you ice chips?”

Deeks shakes his head slightly and rests it back on the pillow. His eyes avoids her as it had days before as he mumbles, “M’ fine.”

“Was it about Mexico?”

“Don’t….’member much about Mexico,” Deeks says.

“What do you remember?”

“Plane….compound…explosion and that’s it.”

“Do you want me to tell you what happened after the explosion?” Her question is hesitant filled and heartbreaking. With everything that had happened in the last two weeks, she had not readied herself with the potential of explaining Mexico to Deeks. A part of her, a tiny minute naïve part of her, had hoped to never really speak about it again.

“Not yet.” A yawn spills out from his lips before continuing on. “ Tired of being tired.”

“Did you just say you were sick of sleeping?”

Deeks smirks at her question and settles back into the pillow. He enlaces his fingers in hers. “You okay?”

“I, unlike you, am in desperate need of sleep,” Kensi replies. “But besides a little sleep, I’m ok.”

“You sure?”

“Yes. I’m sure…..can I ask you something?”

“Sure, I guess.”

“Were you dreaming about Granger?”

Deeks winces at the question and avoids Kensi’s eyes. He shakes his head and stays quiet, giving Kensi all the answer she needs. “It was about Granger, wasn’t it?” she continues quietly. “I miss him too. More and more since the wedding is getting closer. I wanted him to walk me down the aisle and I think that he’d be proud to give me to you.”

Deeks shakes his head and focuses on the old green lamp on the nightstand. It’s unnerving- rarely has she seen him nervous or scared to look her in the eye. “It’s alright. Can I tell you about one of the last times I talked to him?”

“…Fine….”

“He caught me reading a bridal magazine at ops one night at my desk. He didn’t reprimand me about it- All he did was walk over to your and Sam’s desk, lean against it and started listing off records that my dad loved to play and songs that you and I should play to honor him at the wedding. He also told me about how to circumvent any issues we’ll face once we’re married. I was speechless, and he must have picked up on it because….” Her voice trails off tearfully. Kensi squeezes her fiancée’s hand peacefully to gather herself.

“He gave my hand a squeeze just like this and said simply ‘No doubt in my mind that your father would approve of Deeks. He’d push for a haircut and some duct tape, though. But he’d appreciate knowing his daughter’s in good hands.’ Then he left….it was like he knew he wouldn’t be here. Baby, you were like a son to him. You don’t have to tell me all the details of your dream right now but I think you should know that.”

Slowly, Deeks turns his head back to Kensi and says softly, “I saw him…in my head…after the explosion. “I was so tired…. you died…and he said…. to fight.”

Kensi cocks her head slightly to the left. “I died? You know what? We can talk about that later. Right now-” She carefully hoists herself onto the bed and lays back next to him. “Let’s just sit here and enjoy the moment. Nothing about Mexico, nightmares or injuries- let’s just enjoy this moment.”

[firesoulstuff]

Mick’s Secret Girl

Read on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16100462

A little story I’ve slowly been working on for awhile now. 

Mick has been exhibiting some... odd, behaviors lately. Nothing bad, definitely nothing bad, but strange, at least for Mick. Now, on top of it, he's up and disappeared. Sara has no idea where he's gone, but the excuse he has for her when he gets back is a load of bull, right?

Sara thought it was weird when Mick stopped drinking.

Ok, to be fair, she doesn’t actually have any proof that he’s stopped. He didn’t quit cold turkey, or at least, she doesn’t think he did. She could be wrong, considering she hadn’t even noticed on her own that he wasn’t buzzed literally every second of the day anymore.

Of course she isn’t an idiot, nor is she blind. She had noticed that he’d been a lot more agreeable lately, while simultaneously being a little gruffer and on edge at team meetings. She did pick up on his voicing his opinion a little more frequently, and while she had absently wondered about the gradual change in his demeanor she still didn’t notice he’d stopped drinking until Leo stopped by the ship to give them a hand with an Earth-X fugitive and made a comment to her about it.

“So,” he had said in that drawl of a voice that still reminds her a little too much of their Leonard. “I see Mick finally got the help he needed.”

She had almost asked him what he was talking about, her eyes suddenly flying to the sight of Mick at the other end of the galley, and that was when it clicked. Leo had been so obsessed with getting Mick to change, namely by addressing his love of beer, and here the other man was sitting at a far table and drinking water.

She almost thought it was a fluke, that maybe Ray had given it to him or he just wanted water in that moment. So she kept her eyes on him for the next few days, making mental notes of what she saw him drinking.

It’s been over a week, and she still hasn’t witnessed him touch a drop of alcohol.

Mick Rory, the man who blew their cover with a group of Vikings all because he wanted some ale after having his beer confiscated for an hour, hasn’t gone near alcohol in over seven days.

It’s a miracle, it’s amazing, it’s, it’s….

It’s driving her insane.

It’s not like it’s a bad thing, obviously, but she just doesn’t understand why or from where this sudden change came about.

She tries not to think about it, after all, it isn’t hurting the team and so therefor it isn’t her business.

At least, that’s what she tells herself up until the day she can’t find him.

It isn’t an emergency; there isn’t any life or death situation at hand or anything like that. But Axel has wormed his way out of his cage again and with the entire team looking for him, except for Mick, she decided to go to his room and drag him from what she could only assume would be a very deep sleep.

He wasn’t in there.

Now she’s scouring the entire ship looking for him, at least Ray caught Axel and put him back where he belongs.

“Gideon,” she finally says, closing the floor panel in the office that she hasn’t touched since the day she hid down there with Leonard. “Do you have any idea where Mick is?”

“Mr. Rory is asleep in his quarters and wishes not to be disturbed.”

Sara furrows her brow at that, because she knows for a fact that Mick is not asleep in his room.

“Gideon?” She asks again, her voice drawling suspiciously. “Are you lying to me?”

There’s a pause, as though Gideon is trying to come up with an explanation.

But, ultimately, she can’t.

“I am sorry Captain,” she says, “Mr. Rory instructed me to tell that to anyone looking for him, as well as to alert him if a mission came up. He commissioned the jump ship earlier today, saying that he expected to be back by tonight.”

“Where did he go?” Sara demands her eyes narrowing as she rises from where she’s crouched on the floor.

“He didn’t say,” Gideon replies, voice regretful. “He also erased the jump ship’s logs.”

When the jump ship clicks back into it’s rightful place Mick makes sure to slip the access key back into the glove compartment, tucked into the 3rdpage of the owners manual, where it belongs. He’s right on time getting back, though he wishes he could’ve stayed later. But he doesn’t want anyone catching on to his little trips just yet, not before he figures out how to handle it anyway.

Too late.

He jumps back with a shout the second in which he opens the door, because Sara is standing right there just far enough away for the opening hatchway to avoid clipping her face, her arms folded over her chest and a deadly look in her eye.

“Jeez Boss,” he says, regaining his composure and stumbling out onto the actual ship. Sara steps back to make room for him, not saying anything when he turns to close the hatch for the jump ship. They both know he can only procrastinate this for so long, and she is going to let him drag out every guilty second of it.

He sighs while turning back around, dreading this conversation more than she can possibly know.

“So,” he says awkwardly, swinging his arms in front of him and hitting the palm of one hand against the other fist. She lets him do this a few times, letting him suffer with the knowledge of being caught until he can’t bear it anymore. “Busy day?”

“Where were you?” She finally says; voice unimpressed by his stalling, like she had been expecting at least a halfway decent excuse.

He wishes he had one to offer, he isn’t ready to tell her the truth yet, too worried about how she’ll react.

Damn, he really is going soft.

“I was uh… I was visiting my girlfriend.” He tries to sound confident, but it doesn’t really come off and instead he sounds more like he’s making it up, as evidenced by the eyebrow she raises at him.

“You were visiting your girlfriend?” She asks, pronouncing each syllable of every word, like she wants to make sure there won’t be any way for him to mishear her.

“Yeah,” he confirms with a nod, though she’s still looking at him as though he’s lost his marbles.

“Does your girlfriend have a name?” She finally asks, apparently deciding she is going to go along with what she has to be thinking is a load of bull.

Maybe he should’ve tried lying, oh well.

He shakes his head, and again she quirks an eyebrow.

“No?” She asks, then she waits for a response and of course he doesn’t give one. “So you stole the jump ship and had Gideon lie about it, so that you could go somewhere and visit a nameless girl?”

He lets his eyes wander up to the ceiling so that he can avoid her gaze, hoping that maybe if he stays quiet long enough she’ll let him go without any more questions.

It’s entirely too long that they stand there in silence, her watching him and waiting for an explanation and him doing all that he can to avoid giving one. It isn’t that he never wants her to know, not if things work out anyway, but right now things are still new and he can’t say if she really has to know yet or not.

“Yup.”

She stares at him blankly, like she’s trying to decide if she wants to force the information out of him or let him get away with it. He waits until she hasn’t said anything in over minute, and when it still doesn’t look like she’s going to demand any more answers he decides to try getting out of here.

“Well goodnight,” he says with a wave, excusing himself and heading off down the hall to his room.

After getting caught Mick knows he needs to be more careful about when he leaves the ship, and for how long, yet even with every instinct he has screaming at him to lay low he just can’t stay away from 2018, or the warm bed awaiting him there.

His eyes flutter open with the early morning light creeping through the edges of the shades, something he’s learned to appreciate ever since he established his life on the Waverider.

Another thing he has right now that he’s learned to appreciate is the warm feeling of another naked body against his, the subtle rise and fall of breathing lungs under his hand, and the faint scent of coconut lingering on the blonde hair he has found his nose buried in.

Suddenly that hair moves, Laurel waking up and rolling to look at him. He’ll never admit to being soft, but he knows that’s exactly what he’s become when he feels his heart skip upon seeing Laurel smiling at him. He matches her expression even as she leans up to kiss him.

“Morning,” she mumbles, her voice still thick and dreamy with sleep.

“Morning.” He returns, still grinning at her like an idiot, until she frowns thoughtfully.

“I thought you would’ve left.”

He hums at her words, “You want me to leave?”

“No silly,” she giggles at him, and it brings the smile back to his face. She takes a second to stretch her arms out then, nearly smacking him in the face, but he’ll let that slide because of how often he does leave in the middle of the night. “I just know it’s dangerous if you stay away from the ship for too long.”

He can feel his expression turn thoughtful as another hum escapes him. That’s a loaded word she’s used, dangerous, but it’s accurate. He keeps one of The Professor’s temporal walkie-talkies here so Gideon can notify him if he’s needed, but that isn’t to say he doesn’t ever get… distracted. As she’s pointed out, he rarely ever stays the whole night, and he isn’t going to pretend he didn’t wake up and check for an alert twice last night. He’s always afraid the thing isn’t going to work and the team is going to need him, that he’ll get back and someone will be laid up in the med bay with an injury he should have been there to prevent, or worse.

Then there are the more rational fears. The fear that somebody, probably Haircut, Pretty, or even New Girl, will break their way into his room while he’s here and realize that he isn’t locked up in there. Which brings him to his most consuming fear as of late.

“Your sister’s getting suspicious.”

Laurel whines at his reminder, and he chuckles. They’ve talked about this already, to an extent. He told her one night while they were talking via the walkie-talkies about Sara discovering his absence. They agreed, though neither of them was happy about it, to cut back his visits.

That was last week, so they aren’t off to the best start.

“What do you want to do?”

Laurel’s question snaps Mick’s attention from his thoughts and back to her. She’s lying stiff now, picking at her nails and actively avoiding his eyes.

Now that is a loaded question.

He may have called her his girlfriend to get Sara off his back, but they’ve both been avoiding labeling this thing between them. At first they were just having fun, letting off steam. It started after all the Nazi shit, nothing more than a half drunken hook-up at Scarlet’s wedding (Laurel was completely sober, he was a little more buzzed than usual). But holy hell was it a good hook-up, so they agreed neither of them was going to read into it when it happened again, and again, and again. He stayed maybe one of those times, too tired by the end of it to get up before the sun and head back to the ship. Then her dad died, and Sara was hailed home. She asked him if he would come over that night, not for sex, just to keep her company, and he went.

That was when they realized how deep they’d gotten in with each other.

They’ve been avoiding talking about it, even though they talk about almost everything else. He knows things about her he’s never cared enough to learn about anyone else, and he’s told her some things about him he once thought he’d be taking to his grave.

He doesn’t do feelings, though, and it isn’t like she’s had the best luck with them. So deciding what to do now, if they’re gonna admit where they are or if they’re going to fall back on the familiar safety of running, is one of the scariest things Mick’s ever faced; likely because he knows the answer.

She’s still picking at her nails when he looks back at her, acting like she hasn’t just put the nature of their relationship into his hands. He smirks at the purposely-neutral expression on her face, and leans down to press a kiss against her lips.

She smiles against his mouth, giggling into the kiss when he settles a hand on her waist and then pulls back.

“Well, I know I don’t want to give this up.”

Her beaming continues at his answer, her arms winding up and around his neck while her legs do the same at his waist, and then in one swift motion she flips them over. The sheets fly halfway off of them with her movement, knotting around his legs, but Mick can’t bring himself to care. He hardly notices the chill that should come with the sudden loss of coverage, her skin against his more than enough to keep him warm.

They’ll work out the details later about how they’re supposed to come clean to Sara, along with when, but for now he needs to be getting back to the Waverider before anyone notices he’s gone. Meaning he doesn’t have time to focus on anything other than getting Laurel off one more time before he goes.

[leointhemoon-blog]

my past with dieting

wow, i think this post might end up being long.

to begin with, i was a fat kid from the very start. i don’t think i was obese but i was, i guess, overweight. now that i look back at it, it might have been the baby fat that added to the illusion. or maybe not, since i was fatter than everyone else in my grade. 

before i even started school, i was just known to my family as that toddler that loved to eat. as with every story about eating disorders (disclaimer: i never really had an eating disorder but i guess... i almost did if that’s possible.), a likely factor would be the bullies. so in my story, my first bullies would’ve been my relatives. 

it’s funny because the word and notion of “family” are supposed to resemble people who support you and care about you. i’m not saying my family doesn’t, but i guess they just have the worst ways of showing it... maybe it’s part of being asian? 

anyway, i would remember when my parents dropped me off at my uncle’s place. he’s the second oldest brother of my mom. the uncle would every so often pick at me and say “oh who’s the chubby baby? it’s you” or some cringey baby talk that people do to toddlers-- except it’s usually “who’s a good girl” not “who’s the chubby kid”. lol. there was my cousin, his daughter, who is like at least a decade older than me who didn’t hide her dislike towards me and constantly ask “why do you eat so much?” i often didn’t answer because tbh, as a really young child, i wasn’t much of a person that reacted.

they weren’t wrong ofc. i actually did eat a hella lot. damn, i was a fat kid, deadasssss. even my mom joined on in the pinching of my belly and teasing. i think my first time being self-conscious about it was when i kept sucking in my belly as much as possible when my mom tried to force me into some uncomfortable ass jeans.

when i was a student at my third elementary school (my family moved multiple times), that’s when the bullying started. there’s a ton to say on that matter, maybe i’ll make a separate post, so i’ll just talk about the moments that really matter here. in general, the girls would often refer to me as the fat kid and sometimes would even throw in a comment or two. damn, why are kids so mean sometimes? even now, as a near young adult, i still see kids bullying each other and i can’t help but sigh in disappointment how it’s innate nature of humans to bully others. it’s kind of ridiculous. if you’re going to dislike someone, don’t show it enough to make them feel utterly terrible about themselves. if it gives you power to do so, you’re rotten trash. literally, you’re the real ugly one here.

i remember once when i was sitting a couple of rows behind the rest of the girls in my class in the auditorium of my elementary school, i was watching them talk. and they talked loud so i heard everything. they were just saying stuff like “i do this to my hair to make it look prettier” and “omg your hair is so long it’s so pretty”. i guess they caught me staring so one just smiled and said “(my name) can never be pretty enough with that short hair” to which another said “she’s kind of fat anyway”. ok, first of all-- i loved my damn ass dora the explorer hair cut ok? i was excited to go to the barbershop as a child to request the dora haircut specialty, bitch, i rocked it. i was sorta hurt by both the short hair and fat comments but like again, i didnt say anything i just looked away. 

after that, the next time my dad brought me to the hairdresser, i was rebellious as heck. i didnt want short hair. i wanted to keep it long. but you know, there’s only so much 6 year old me can do, so i got my hair cut anyway.

fast forward to fifth grade. after years of constant teasing about my shape and weight, i think i had my awakening after i finished some good ass sandwich at barnes and nobles. i told my mom i was going to use the bathroom and so i did. after washing my hands, i looked into the mirror. ahh, the mirror that makes all the self-conscious people shudder. but i think i had never felt extremely self-conscious and distraught until then. 

nobody was in the bathroom at that time, so i was brave enough to continue staring. i took in the sight of my flabby arms (which honestly wasn’t that flabby but it wasn’t thin) and most of all, my round belly. i was horrified as i turned to the side and gaped at how my stomach protruded out of my abdomen. it was like i have never noticed before. then as if a dam has been broken. all those comments and pinching at my body flooded my mind, screaming at me that yes, you are fat. you just realized? again, remind you, i literally wasn’t obese. i was overweight. two totally different things. if i want to make myself feel better, i guess i was borderline overweight only but idk, i was still fat. 

i went home that night looking up on the internet “how to be cute” and “how to be pretty” like the naive kid i was and i gave up reading on tips on how to stand or how to dress. i decided i was going to diet. 

when i refused to eat more when my mother offered another helping at dinner, i told her i was going to diet. immediately, she yelled angrily and was probably shocked, like who gave my daughter that idea what-- i was and still am a stubborn person so i persisted... i’m not going to go too deep into this because it was often just her trying to feed me and me trying to eat less and less. 

i remember when we were at this shopping mall we frequently visited and i was in the dressing room trying to fit on new bras. when my mom helped me buckle up my bra after i finished trying on things, she said, “(my name), you got skinnier. i don’t even need to clasp your bra at the outermost row.” there were three sections for adjustment. i had managed to go from the outermost one to the innermost one. her voice held disappointment, but my heart had felt so light. i was elated.

this continued on into sixth and seventh grade. that’s right, it continued on deep into middle school. except it gotten worse. not only was i cutting down on portions of meals at home, i even did so at school. i skipped lunch, opting to avoid the lunch lines. i managed to skip breakfast when one day i got the idea of lying to my mom. “dont give me breakfast at home. i can just eat the school breakfast” to which she believed and sent me off to school without realizing i really wasn’t going to eat anything. i spent classes with awkward stomach growling. at that time, i didn’t know people could hear your stomach make noises when it’s hungry so i was fine with it lol. i slimmed down by a whole lot. 

just to mention, if you’re going to lose weight, make exercise a thing. don’t strictly diet like me. i should’ve probably exercised but nah, i just depended on eating less or not eating at all. like any other rant, i’ll mention this: the rough start of my depression started at the beginning of eighth grade.

i was sick of “friendships”. sick of being used. sick of being second or third or anything else not first. sick of being manipulated. sick of being easily thrown away. most of all, i was just so sick of myself. i felt like i could never be able to have a friend. a friend i could depend on. i cut off all ties, if they barely even existed. i went into complete isolation. eighth grade was the grade i spoke not a single word to anyone. unless ofc i had to answer some question in class or do some group discussion. but even then, i honestly went so quiet. more quiet than i ever was before.

when i did speak a word outside in the hallway once, my classmate thought he was funny and said “wow, (my name) can talk?” and laughed like it was just that damn funny. idk bro, you got nothing better to laugh about? it’s nice that i matter so much to you, you had to make a comment, let alone say my name because clearly my attention wasn’t even on you in the first place. 

anyway, hell yeah, i was hella emo. and when i’m emotionally depressed af, my appetite is ruined. starting that year, i fell into constant times of not feeling like eating. by then i was already thin enough i guess. i admit, i wasn’t skin and bones. but i wasn’t overweight anymore. my skin grew paler. it became harder for me to stand up without feeling lightheaded. i began catching colds more often than i ever had before. none of that deterred me from dieting though, despite by the start of my depression, i was already midway through not strictly dieting anymore.

depression continued that for me though. it hurt to eat sometimes. when i feel like crying, when my throat feels rough, my heart feels heavy, why add to the pain by forcing myself to swallow food? i’m not bulimic, i never was. i just avoided food. i would constantly protest “mom, i’m not dieting, i really just am not hungry.” did i ever mention that throughout my years and still up to this day, my mom would constantly throw shade at me for choosing to diet in the past? it hurts every time she does. in fact, i started writing this long ass post just because she did it again today. 

i think she also started to notice my increase in depressing mood so sometimes she won’t say much if i refuse to eat. it was like my body hurt when i saw food and my mind drove me somewhere else to avoid the food placed in front of me. food repulsed me. my stomach turned at seeing it. near the end of eighth grade, i gotten into my first serious relationship with some girl 2-3 years older than me online. it lasted for about a year. honestly, it was a very rocky one. i constantly felt depressed. she was depressed too. she made me feel more depressed than i’d be if she wasn’t there, if i had to be honest. 

the week following after our breakup, i was utterly broken. 14 year old me had no idea what i was supposed to do. it was halfway through my freshman year at high school. i didn’t have much friends. i only had one. even then, they weren’t there to support me. the other one...who’s now my best friend...i had lost her contact number. it wasn’t until four months later til i finally got in touch with her again so she wasn’t there to help me through my post break up either.

if me skipping meals often because of emotions was bad, this week was the worst. i legitimately didn’t eat more than 3-4 small bites of food a day. even now, i’m surprised how i managed to survive that week on so little food and how my mom didn’t even say much. she did notice and ask “why arent you feeling hungry these days? something wrong?” to which i’d brush off. i cried a lot. a hella lot. most of the times, it was heaving like i was trying to throw up my heart. i mean, i still have my crying sessions as i’m still...hella...depressed and yeah it feels like that. it be like that sometimes. and then the moments besides “most of the times” was me sniffling on the school bus because i just couldn’t stop thinking about it.

i could’ve killed myself. i nearly could’ve. midyear exams were coming. the stress from both school and my personal life was overwhelming. my body was destroyed. but somehow, i manage to overcome myself and get myself back into focusing on the exams. damn, i was hella scholar. now i’m not though lol. but then, i was focused since i was only a freshman that had just gotten into a prestigious school. the exams had managed to make me forget about what happened temporarily.

now, i still constantly look down on my body and wonder if i’m too fat. i still fat check. i squish my thighs, stare at them, hold them, then stare again. i look at my belly, i pinch it, i stare, i hold it tight wishing i can make the fat disappear. i’m not fat per se. people now call me skinny af, call me a pile of bones (i’m not, they’re exaggerating but i wish i was tbh). i hold my arms, squishing them to see if they’re too thick or not. i still look in the mirror observing the width of my body. i still try to calculate how much i’ve eaten on a daily basis. thinking about what i ate today and how much i’ve eaten. 

perhaps, i’m not actively starving myself anymore, but those actions of paranoia and self-consciousness never left me...my stomach is probably ruined. will that stop me? probably not. i’ll be honest.

[harryff]

Fluffy

Im Feeling very fluffy today so here goes.And i just thought of an unsure Harold

Harry rolled off you catching his breath “S so good pet” he said pulling you into his arms

“Yea” you respond with a loving sigh.

You lay still waiting for him to sleep so you could roll over. Truth be told you were getting tired of the lack of emotion that had now become your relationship with Harry. The sex was great but that’s it. There was nothing else you could really said you enjoyed but the lifestyle he provided, which was useless because you were alone a lot of the time. So you decided that it was best to pull away and hope that he could find another woman who would play this role being his sub/friends with benefits.

The first was to pull away sexually and Harry had a high sex drive. There were days you would have sex three times a day, multiple days during the week.

“Dinner was great Y/N” he said smiling at you as you cleaned

“Yea thanks” you said cleaning the rest of the dishes in his penthouse

“ ‘M ready for dessert” he said kissing your neck and pulling you close

You spun around “not today Harry” you said softly fixing his collar

“Why?” He blurted out. He didn’t like to be told no

“Uh just don’t feel good” you explained

He gave you a look before nodding You sighed in relief when he walked away. You’re ‘not feeling well’ turned to you having your period which helped. You hated the fact that he knew when your cycle was on and off so the day it got off he was on you like a ravaged dog and it took all of you to decline his offer. When the next week rolled around and you declined his advances he opted to let you initiate. You had your quirky ways kneeling in front of him, biting your lip while staring at his, lingerie, sleeping naked but when that didn’t come in the days following he got worried.

He then started to recall all of your movements and he realized your affection had gone no more cuddling, no more neck kisses, or scalp caresses, you started to do this grabbing thing where you would grab at his arms like his grandmother would, your hugs were empty and half hearted. You were spending a lot more time at your apartment than you were with him.

But last night you had spent time with him and were gone by mid morning he had left to deal with emergency work situation. Being the CEO of his record label meant he had to drop everything at a drop of a dime. When he returned in the afternoon his heart sank when he found you gone. He checked his phone for any new messages to find none.

He wanted to surprise you with his new haircut. He had debated on it by himself for weeks and he was hoping you would be the first one to see it.

He sat on your side of the bed and  noticed a flyer halfway under the bed. He picked it up and examined it. It was a ballroom show at a studio for today  that was starting at 5pm and he wondered if that’s where you had gone.

He quickly got dressed in all black outfit and his weird cowboy boots as you called it and headed to the studio he arrived an hour early and noticed that it was an intimate show it looked like family and friends were there.

“Hi are you here for our first show?” the young girl asked him

“Yea is Y/N here?” he asked

“Yea! I can go get her” the girl turned towards the back

“No no i can sit and watch”

“Are you sure?” she asked eager to impress

“Yes just don’ tell her ‘m here”

“Oh yea no problem. It will be $20”

“Oh yea here” he said pulling out his wallet

“Thanks seat anywhere”

He looked around and saw people with flowers and gifts he darted out to get you a bouquet.

When he arrived he sat in the back corner hiding from you.

As the show went a long, he watched amazed by how you moved, jealous that your partner was holding you in ways you had denied him for the past couple of weeks. After the show you stood socializing with guests and fellow dancers you were completely oblivious of his presence. Harry made his way to you and lightly touched your lower back you spun around and your eyes lit up.

“Youre here”  is all you could think to say

“ ‘M here… these are for yeh” he handed you the bouquet

“Thank you Harry” you smiled looking up at him

“Yeh looked amazing” his eyes piercing into you

“Thanks” you felt shy, “howd you find out?”

“Flyer on the floor” he shrugged

“Oh”

“Y/N who’s this?” Maja asked

“This is harry my uh…”

“Boyfriend” he answered reaching past you to shake their hands

“Oh wow she’s been keeping you a secret” Beth an older woman  teased

“Has she now?” he gave you a smirk looking over his shoulder

You playfully rolled your eyes

“You’re handsome!” Laura another older woman commented

He smiled“Thank yeh”  

“Just absolutely gorgeous do you have a brother?” Maja asked

He smiled and nodded

“You guys are we having dinner?” Charles asked walking up to the circle

“Yes!” Beth answered

“I can take you all” he offered  standing by your side “GIA’s” he suggested

“Yes i love that place!” Maja stated

“Ok i will wait as you change”

You walked away and got dressed in your long sweater and tights. Harry sat playing on his phone.

“You cut your hair” you mentioned as you walked up to him

“I cut my hair”

“I like it” you said finally taking it all in

“Do yeh?”  he questioned standing up

“You look good in anything Harold….. I’m not really dressed for GIA’s” you pointed out your outfit flaws

“Nonsense i told them ‘m on m’way ‘nd my guests just got through with a show to disregard their dress policy”

You smiled “wow the ‘Harry Styles’!”

He smiled and gave you an admiring gaze “you look beautiful”

“Thank you” you blushed and waited for the group

An hour later you all sit at GIA’s waiting for your food. Harry had purposely pulled you close to him your thighs were touching.

“So how long have you two been together?” Laura asks

“Lmost a year” he answered

“Nice!”

“Where’s the ring?”Beth asks

“Soon” he smiled as he looked at you “didn’ know yeh danced”

“Really Y/N has been dancing for years”  Beth comments

“How come you didnt tell him Y/N?” Maja  inquires

“Yea why didn’yeh tell me pet?” he asks

Your next words and actions feel like a knife through his heart.

You pulled your hand away from his grip “you never asked” you speak softly. He looked confused but soon resumed his stoic feature.

“Really does he need to ask?” Maja said confused

“No he doesn't” you smile no one around that table knew the game you two played neither did they know you two weren’t really in a relationship at least not to you anyway. “I just dont know didnt think he would be interested” you look at him and although his gaze is featureless you can tell in his eyes he is hurt

“‘M interested in everythin’ tha’ concerns yeh” he speaks softly and you’re stunned because for once you know he isn’t just saying it just to appease you or your friends. He places his hand on your lap for you to grab once more you look down at it then back at him. He isnt saying anything but he is pleading with his eyes. So you grab it and wrap it around your two small hands.

“You two are cute i like him Y/N” Beth snaps both out of your thoughts

You smile and look at Harry “yea he’s cute i guess”

He chuckles and drinks his wine.

After dinner you end up at his penthouse the ride there was deathly quiet. You didn’t know if this was a cruel joke that Harry was playing because he is known for doing that for just joking around with no care of how it made you feel.

“Thanks” you said as he let you in

“Yea” he said taking his shoes off

He walked to the kitchen and pulled out two glasses of wine and set them on the counter “so do yeh really like my hair?”

“Yea!” you say walking in a little

“I cut it cuz i thought i need to look like a CEO not a teenager”

“You didn’t look like one before”

He chuckled and pulled out the bottle of wine

“So i’m gonna go back to my apartment” you speak nervously immediately dropping your gaze to your feet

He looked at you confused “why?”

“I just need to check on a few things”

“You’re gonna come back?” he asks circling the counter and leaning on it crossing his arms

Your head shoots up “Yea!”

“Tonight?”

“……Yes” you said unsure of your answer

He walked over to you “what did i do?” he asks the question he has been dreading to ask

“What nothing?!” Which was the truth he hadn’t you just wanted something more

“Then why does it feel like you’re leaving me?” he whispered his grip on your waist was tight

“I’m not leaving i just need to check on things” you look up into his eyes

“Then ’m coming too”

“Harry i’m not leaving you by the time i get there it will be late and i will want to sleep” you argue “Then i will share your bed with yeh” he insists bending to put on his shoes

“Harry” you sigh pulling him up  “you stay here i’m gonna go”

“Don’t go” he pleads

“I’m not leaving you, you complain about my old rickety bed anyway” you joke trying to lighten up his mood. You hug him and you start doing it again that grabbing thing and you smile kissing his cheek

His head hangs low he knows he’s done something but he doesn’t know what and you won’t let him fix it

“I’ll text you when i get there ok?”

He nodded

When he continues to stand there looking like a sad puppy you offer words of encouragement “I…I’m not leaving you” you were going to say you promise but you didn’t want to keep a promise you were unsure of at the moment.

He gave you a half smile and watched you walk away.

The next week you did not return to his penthouse you made up an excuse of being busy which you were but you were also not trying to get sucked into thinking he actually cared. You wanted something tangible and if he couldn’t give you that he needed to move on and let you be. Harry on the other hand was in agony it’s not like he didn’t know where you lived not like he couldn’t pop up at your job but things felt different and he knew that him trying to dominate you would no longer work and he found himself asking permission just to see you. He found himself being restless at night and scrolling through your pictures together to calm down. It was as if you broke up with him.But you were making him vulnerable which he didn’t like at all he hated being vulnerable.

You woke up to someone banging on your door in the middle of the night. You looked at your phone and 1:17am displayed across it. You grabbed your bat preparing for anything but when you looked through the peephole you saw Harry his head was hanging low. By the time you got to the door he had given up hope.

You opened the door quickly “Harry?’

He looked up at you his lips were trembling

“Why are you…come in!” you said pulling him in it was freezing in Chicago

When you closed the door and turned to face him he was still looking at his feet

“Harry whats wrong?”

“Haven’ felt your touch in a month” he starts

“What don’t be silly i have touched you” you stood back the cold was oozing from him making you cold

He shook his head “Not like you mean it not like i mean something to you”

You sigh “Harry why”

“Said yeh weren’ leavin’”

“I didn’t!”

“Please” he steps towards you “i just need to feel your touch”

You go to do that grabbing thing again

“Like you mean it Y/N”

“I do”

“No not like that…” He looks down “like that it feels yeh don’ care” it was breaking your heart

“Ok” you say looking all over him to assess the situation. You unbutton his coat and push  it off. His hands are in fists grabbing his keys and phone you literally have to pry them away from his grip.”You didn’t go home?” you ask when you notice he still has his suit on. His brows furrow he isn’t concentrating on your words just your actions. He knows your actions will speak louder than your words that’s how it always with you. You remove his suit coat and it falls to the ground.

“Harry i don’t….” you still don’t know what he means\

He steps closer “please” He’s so close you can smell his minty breath. His breathing is rapid and uneven.You nod and grab his hands bring them to your mouth and blow on them so that the air can defrost them. His grips loosen and you wrap his hands around you he doesn’t realize your hand has unbuttoned his shirt because you were busy caressing his face. He gasps when he feels your warm hand on his chest you kiss it a few times before laying your head on it and hold him tight. You feel him wrap his hands around you.

“Im not going anywhere”  you say as his breathing calms down. “Its ok relax Harry” you coax him into calming down. You look up at him and his eyes are fierce they are bright

He clears his throat “ You’re my life. ‘M all yours to love ‘nd to hold…I…I…I love yeh…please don’ leave me” he searches your eyes for confirmation that you aren’t going anywhere

You’re taken aback “I love you too” Harry you whisper back

He leans down and kisses your lips you whimper because he is so cold. He pulls away.

“It’s ok you’re just freezing” you step away and pull him towards the bathroom because you don’t know a faster way to warm him up. After you shower he cuddles into you. In the middle of the night you wake up to his phone ringing when you return to the bed he was tossing and turning he abruptly turned to look over his shoulder to see if you’re there.

“I’m here” you whisper wrapping your arm around him as he turns back on his side making you the big spoon you kiss his temple “I love you” you whisper as you notice his face relax into the pillow. In the morning he wakes up and turns to face you. You were awake but he was asleep still fighting against it. He slowly opened his eyes as you played with his fingers

“Hey” he rasped gently opening his eyes as they readjust to the light in the room

“Hi” you smiled at him

“You’re awake” he frowned

“I was going to work but there was a snow storm I’m not going”

He looked outside and noticed the tree outside your window was covered with snow.

“Snow storm” he repeats

“Yes”

He groaned and got out of bed and walked towards the bathroom

“Why’s it so hot?” he complained when he got back in bed

“Because Hazza you hog the covers” you explain

“Hazza?” he raises his brow

“Yes”

He smiled “i do not”

“You do too so i had to take defensive measurements”

“Can yeh turn it down” he asks laying down

“I did i got hot too” you smile

He cuddles next to your neck on your collar bone “smell amazing”

“Are you ok?” you ask feeling him relax into you and  now that you can process things

“Meant what i said last night. You’re my life don’ leave me please” he says holding you tight

“I won’t i promise.” You promise because this feels different for him to profess his love to you and make himself vulnerable is not something he does at all. He kisses your inner wrist as as you caress his temple. You sit up abruptly causing his head to plop on the bed “are your toes ok?” You ask yanking the covers away from him

He erupts in laughter

“Seriously?“ you ask pressing down on each making sure each has blood return

“Stop ticklish” he says pulling his feet away as he pulls you back

You giggle and lay back down “i just need to make sure ok? because who walks four blocks in the freezing cold to get to where they need to get after the weather man advised everyone that the wind chill was dangerous and staying in doors was better”

He chuckled “i missed yeh” he said wrapping his arms around you inhaling your scent “Don’t do that thing Styles” you tease

“What thing?” he asks positioning his head in a comfortable spot for him

“That cute thing”

“Sooo yeh think ‘m cute?” he challenges

“Maybe? maybe you’re adorable”  you smile and kiss his temple.

The next weekend is his Christmas office party where he invited everyone and you had promised to be there but you ended up being his event planner since he made the decision to invite them to his penthouse. You were at the tailor with him while he stressed about every inch of his suit that morning. You leaned by the door frame and smiled

“Take in a little Sean” he spoke as the tailor bent over at his feet

“Yes sir”

He didn’t notice when you walked over to him as he stood.

“Great!” he smiled liking the length

“My tie” he spoke  

“May I?” you ask Sean reaching for the tie

"Yes Madam” he says stepping back

You grab it and tie into an Eldredge knot. “Relax” you speak he frowns and looks at you

“The board of directors are coming I can’ this means another year being CEO or not”

“Well you can become a board member and be more powerful” you wink “Do you like it?” you ask stepping behind him

His brows furrows and he looks at it fidgeting with it

“I think…“ you start to undo it "you don’t need a tie it’s a party not a board meeting” you say pulling it off

“Y/N!… give me”

“No tie” you speak calmly “you need to be relatable putting on a tie makes you seem uptight”

He huffs

“Trust me” you sing

He frowns before concentrating on his suit. You smile and place the tie back

In his penthouse you do everything to keep him in the bedroom as he is beginning to panic

“Calm down Harold!” you say making him sit

He glares at you “Harry”   “Harry” you smile and kiss him “its ok your staff will love you!”

“ ‘M not a loveable person” he grumbles

“You are i love you and we are complete opposites!” you stick your tongue out at him

He chuckles

“It’s not ready yet so you can’t go…” you hear a plate falling and breaking

He jumped up “Bloody!” “No I’ll do it you just get ready you know it takes you a long time” you push him into the bathroom. After minutes you hear his feet thumping towards the kitchen

“Nope!” you say pushing him back

He giggles “come on i need to see how it looks”

“It looks great! I promise! did you shower?” you ask noticing his naked body with a towel wrapped around

“Yea” he said in an obvious tone

“Get dressed.” you order An hour passes you let him see how his home is decorated

“Wow” he says looking around “amazing” he says turning back to look at you

“Cute right?”

He nods

“This is Mr.Styles this party means a lot to him so lets try to be our best right?”

“Yes Ma’am”

“Thank you” Harry nods at them

The door bell rang indicating his guest were beginning to arrive

“I need to get ready mingle” you said before you unbuttoned the top button on his shirt he frowned at you "be relatable” you coaxed walking away. It took you longer than you wanted to get ready you wore a shimmery emerald green dress it complimented your tan skin and dark hair.

When you walked out his home was full with people you knew Harry wasn’t going to see you so you hang around the kitchen eating all the hors d'oeuvres as the waiters walked them around. You heard the doorbell ring above the loud music and you rushed towards the door

“I got it don’t worry about.” You chased away the waiter “HI WELCOME! Would you like me to take your coats?” you grabbed their coats they thanked you “…Yea no problem!” “…. Thank you” you said taking the wine bottle “Wow Mr.Styles is living it up!” they commented walking into his home

You giggle and put the coat away as soon as you get ready to walk away the doorbell rings again “HI WELCOME! Thank you!  Would you like me to take your coat?” Harry heard you that time and slowly made his was towards you.

“Mr. Styles Beautiful home”

“Thank you” he said bowing towards them

“Hey” you said smiling at him

“Come on” he said reaching out his hand for her to grab. He pulled you in and gave you a kiss. “Yeh look stunning!”

“You look tense!” you teased rubbing his chest  

“Yeh left me with the vultures!” he joked pulling you towards his board members “Gentlemen” he said interrupting “i want yeh to meet Y/N”

“Hi” you greet them “so nice to meet you! Do you need anything we have a full bar?…. This is a christmas party you shouldn’t be discuss stocks!” They chuckled “Mingle make people like you” she whispered before dashing off.They all laughed at her antics

“Shes spunky love her already!” one of them commented  

From across the room you spotted his mother and Gemma talking to his friends

“Hi how are you?” you greeted them

“Oh hi!” his mother Anne smiled at you  

“Hi you guys look amazing!” you compliment

“Thank yeh!” Gemma responded  

You smiled “can i get you anything?”

“No but yeh can tell me how yeh know my son? i’ve seen your picture before”

“Yea he’s been recently showing us your pictures are you his girlfriend?” Gemma asks

“Uh….” you blush and look at him he looks concerned his eyes are on you “Yes i am”

“How long have yeh two been together?” his father asks

“A year?” you answer unsure

“A year!” Anne exclaims

“Or maybe less” you fib

“Oh wow first girlfriend ever to attend these things” Anne smiles

“Yeh make him happy we can tell” Gemma comments

“Oh i dont do much” you blush

“Thats why we like yeh!” his father raises his glass at you  

“Now tell me where did yeh get that dress?” Anne asked pulling you in

“Oh thank you! My friend is a seamstress so she made it”  

You chat with his family for awhile before you step away and work the room it’s clear that you were needed to give the room a calm vibe you charmed those around you which made them endear him more.

“Yea he is a great guy extremely talented.” you compliment Harry

“Excuse me may i borrow her?” Harry interrupted as you were talking to a group of men who were eyeing you like hawk. They nodded backing away “Come with me please” he said guiding you with his hand behind your back

You heard a glass fall and instead of following Harry you follow the sound

“No no no don’t pick it up get another one!” you say rushing towards the distraught woman. “It’s fine i promise get another glass!” you grab a napkin and place it over the mess

She smiles at you with sad eyes and walks away. The caterers rush to you and start cleaning up the broken glass

“Oh hey” you say looking up at Harry

“They got it pet come on” he said tilting his head  

“Oh” you say standing up and you grab his hand where are we going you ask as he pulls you towards his room. He goes to open the door but it’s locked he looks at you and grins

“What you told me to lock it!” you say as he types in the code

He lets you walk in first as he makes sure no one is paying attention to you two.

“Yes Hazza whats up?”

He makes his way towards you he is nervous it’s been so long he feels like you might reject him

“Whats wrong?” you ask caressing his cheek noticing his internal turmoil

“May i have yeh?” he asks, he pulls you in closer “really need yeh right now…”

“You have me" you say leaning up for a kiss

He shakes his head “not like that pet” he says making you walk back towards the bed “yeh look beautiful”

“Harry”

His devious smirks appears

You smile  “We.can.not”  you whisper

“Why not?” he whispers back “I just want a taste”

“They’ll be glitter all over you” you countered while he made you sit on the bed

“ ‘S not my fault yeh look ravishing in that dress!” he says dropping on his knees

Because of the ongoing party outside you were reluctant but you missed the intimacy you shared with Harry. So you didn’t stop him when he reached up and pulled off your panties and pulled you close to him. He plants kisses from your ankle and trails up to your thigh “spread ‘em darling” he speaks softly “just the way i like it” you open your legs and place one behind his back as he hooks his arm around the other. He knew he had to work quickly because you two had about a 10 minute window before people noticed. He had you reaching your peak in 5 minutes your legs trembling screaming into the pillow. You held onto the pillow feeling him crawl up planting kisses

He yanks the pillow away “Let me see” he smirked leaning down to kiss you

You erupt in laughter against his lips

“What is it?” he asks nuzzling your neck

“Glitter all over you!” it takes you a while to calm down

“Silly goose!” he chuckles

“People are gonna tell” you say trying to wipe it off “It’s in your hair on your face!”

“Don’ care”

“You will! You need to go to the bathroom” he gives you a look and walks to the bathroom as you follow him. He frowns at the image he sees there’s way too much glitter than he expected

“See!” you hunch over laughing “let me try you reach out to him” and he laughs at you

“S not funny” he said trying to take it off

“You said you didnt care!” you laugh

“I care now” he mumbles

“Yea ok let me see babe”

You grab a washcloth and flick them away you continue to laugh “i can’t they are soo many!”

He laughs at you “You’re drunk”

“I am it’s your fault and the damn glitter!” you giggle

“I think that’s good. Yea?” he makes a face that’s his “serious” face

“Yes!” you smile cheekily

“No i don’ like that smile” he frowns

“No i promise” you lean up “kiss?” You say pouting your lips

He plants a kiss and laughs at you “Your fun drunk”

“Hey im fun all the time!”

“Yes yeh are” he says leaning down to kiss you “love yeh” he says looking at you

“Love you too ok we gotta go!” you say hopping off the counter “I need to go first distract people”

And you did and no one really realized your absence.

You thought Harry would have gotten his fix he wouldn’t be so attached but the opposite happened it was like you were his magnet and he somehow always found his way to you

“Aww thank you you’re so sweet”  Harry steps into their line of sight  “Hi” you smile as he blocks mens view of you “you ok?” you ask him smiling brushing your fingers through his hair

He pulls you in close “Move in with me” he states leaning his forehead on yours

“What?” you asked shocked smiling

“Move…”

Before he finishes you see a shimmer and you erupt in laughter “Pppfffft!” You hunch over

“Pet” he says chuckling. You hide your face in his chest laughing. “You’re so giddy”

“I’m sorry” you blow raspberries, fan your face “continue”

“Come’ere” he says pulling you closer

You smile “ok yes” you look up at him

He speaks slowly “Move in with me”

“Are you asking or demanding?”

“Both?” He makes a face

You smile “I’ll think about it”

“What’s there to think about?”

“It takes a lot to get you ready!” you fuss “What?” he smiles “i can get myself ready”

“I know but you have to promise”

“I promise”

“You don’t even know what you’re promising?” you giggle

“I’ll promise yeh the world” he kisses your forehead

“How long do i get to think about it?” you ask “Till tomorrow morning” he answers

“Ok” you shrug and start dancing

The party ends and you stand by the door saying goodbye to your guest

“Thank you for coming! Here is your coat”

Harry and his family watch you from afar

“I like her” Anne comments

“Me too”Gemma chimes in

“She’s good for you” His father states

He smiles and nods

“She’s very sweet girl can handle pressure” Anne states

He smirks

“Thanks for having us it was a blast” Gemma thanks him

He hugs them “I’ll be in europe in 2 weeks”

“Ok see you later”

“Love yeh Hazza” Gemma says walking away

“Love yeh too”  he blows kisses  

You happily hug his family goodbye before making your way to the kitchen and hug the chef like she’s your mom before her and her crew leave.

“Hazza!” you sing taking a bite of bite cakes

“Yeh like calling me that?”

“No i like Harry”

He hugs you from behind “Let’s go to bed pet”

“Oooo are we gonna do the dirty?” you ask dancing back

“Maybe” he says waggling his brows.

The next morning you feel Harry spring out of bed and hear him mumble something about board meeting and you immediately go to grab his arm

“Let go pet have to run” he says pulling his arm away

“Run where?” you fuss

“I have a board meeting” he complains trying to get away from your grip

“It’s sunday” you state

“It’s sunday” he repeats

“Yes!”

“It’s sunday” he repeats again confused by what you mean

“Yes! who has a board meeting on Sunday?”

It finally clicks “it’s sunday” he slumps back in bed

“I gotta pee!” you say rushing out the bed

“Yeh’nd youre unpredictable bladder!” he chuckles

“Hey thats not nice!” you say from the bathroom “Glitter all over the  bloody bed” he fussed trying to get it off   You laugh as you walk back in

“Look at how much cover yeh have i have nothin’! Yeh have everything!”

“Cuz you hog it so i have to burrito myself in” you argued

“Burrito yourself in?”

“Yes!” you stress getting in bed and giggling

He waited for you to snuggle in with him often tickling you

“Stooop” you complained starting a giggling fit

You felt his body relax and pull you in close

“Soooo…” you began

“Soooo?”

“Soooo i guess im moving in? Which is weird cuz technically i had moved in your asking me to get rid of my apartment?”

“…Yes?” he didnt know you looked at it that way

“Ok” you shrug

“Really?!”   “Yea!”

He moved and hovered over you “so i guess the next phase is making yeh my wife”

You blushed “what?”

“I want yeh to be Mrs.Styles, my everythin’” he said before kissing you.

[sithlordintraining]

When A Man Loves A Woman

A/N: This is a story about a girl and broken relationships. Y/F/N= Your father’s name. 

tagged: @rebeccamaximoff  @hoe-for-kylo

Tell Me More Masterlist

Summary: Greaser Kylo Ren fell in love with good girl Rey Kenobi over the summer. When they unexpectedly discover they’re now in the same high school, will they be able to rekindle their romance? OF COURSE, with a little help from their friends and some singing. But that was Junior year, can their love really stand the course of Senior year, college applications, and other teenage problems?

Kylo dragged his feet through the door. The sound of laughter could be heard coming from the kitchen. He saw the smoky air and knew it had to be boy’s night. The different, but deep, laughter from Han, Chewie, and Lando continued without even catching a breath. Kylo thought he was in the clear, halfway up the stairs, until the short middle-aged woman appeared. “Ben, is that you?” Leia called. “Yeah.” He croaked. The doorbell rang and he was asked to get it. He rolled his eyes and swung the door open. It was two people he really didn’t want to see: Uncle Luke and Mr. Kenobi. A blush hit his face immediately as the two men cut their conversation to greet him. “Hi, Mr. Kenobi, Uncle Luke.” He mumbled. The men moved passed him. “Oh Ben, are you going to join us so I can get you back for skipping History?” Luke joked. Mr. Kenobi gave him a judging look. It wasn’t a secret that Rey’s father wasn’t the biggest fan of Kylo nor the relationship, especially since he always saw it as him weighing Rey down. “I-I don’t know, I have homework.” And began to sneak his way upstairs.

It seemed like a good ten minutes before he was being called again. Rolling his eyes, he made his journey downstairs to see his mother with her hands on her hips. “Yes, mom.” He groaned. “Ben, we have guests, that’s rude to not say hello. Go in there right now.” She pointed. His large form slid past her as she went to open the door that was yet again ringing. Entering the smoky kitchen, Han, Chewie, and Lando greeted him with a loud roar. “THERE HE IS!” Han smiled. “Come on and play with your dad.” Han pulled him closer. “Oh no, Han. I taught him, he’s mine.” Lando pulled. “Just choose so I can whip you already!” Luke yelled fixing himself a drink. “Look who’s here!” Leia’s voice rang out. “Y/N!” Kylo got out of the men’s hold and over to his best friend. His large arms wrapped around her tightly. “Thank you for saving me.” He whispered into her hair. You just laughed at his dramatics. “Looks like you’re the superhero now, Moonbeam.” Mr. L/N chuckled. Kylo removed himself to greet him. “Y/F/N, let me introduce you to Obediah Kenobi.” Han beckoned. “Obediah, Y/F/N; Obi here is the lead doctor at Hoth Hospital and Y/F/N is the country’s best defense attorney.” The two men greeted each other and humbly denied what Han said was true. “And this is my daughter Y/N.” Your father put his hands on your shoulders. “You attend Hoth as well?” The man shook your hand with a firm handshake. “Yes,” You smiled. He looked at you and Kylo before retorting “If I would’ve known, I would’ve told Rachel to come so you could have a friend.” But you didn’t catch on because you were trying to figure who Rachel was. “Rachel?” Your arched brows furrowed. “Rey,” Kylo whispered. You didn’t mean to laugh but you did and it came off disrespectful. “I-I I’m so sorry, I just, I just thought it was Rey and that’s it. I’m surprised, but it’s ok, I have a friend.” You turned to Kylo. “Thanks for the concern.” You smiled, eyes widening realizing how disrespectful this whole conversation was becoming. But now you realized where Rey got her snooty attitude from. “Oh, I like her! Princess, you play poker? Because my team needs a mouth like that.” Lando called you over. Everyone laughed except for Mr. Kenobi and the hidden one from your father. “No sorry. She’s grounded hopefully you need some help around here?” Mr. L/N asked Leia. “Good!” Leia pulled at both the teenagers. “You can help Ben clean out the basement, so next time, they play down there.” They couldn’t even reply before they were shoved in the basement.

“Oh, this is the famous whirlpool!” Y/N exclaimed causing Leia to snort. “What?!” “Benji wouldn’t stop raving about it.” You shrugged nonchalantly. The tips of his ears turned red and poked out underneath his raven hair. “Really? Yet he has yet to do any of his own laundries.” “MOM!” She shushed him as you giggled like a child. “Oh, that’s a pretty necklace you have there.” Leia walked towards Y/N who began to beam. “Thanks, Mrs. Solo. My boyfriend gave it to me for Christmas. He couldn’t wait.” Both she and Leia giggled. “Sounds about right, Han couldn’t even wait a day after he picked up the ring.” She smiled at her hand and Y/N gushed about how beautiful it was. From the corner, Kylo watched with warm eyes, his best friend and mother talking about wedding rings. A strange feeling was whirling in his stomach at the sight. “Yeah, we are waiting for this one to ask for it for Rey.” This quickly pulled Kylo out of his gaze as he concentrated on your face, he expected to see some type of disgust or disappointment but instead, you were just happy.

Some time had passed between then and now, Leia stood on the stops patrolling the two teens like a warden. “I’ll be back, you two. Behave!” Leia said leaving her post. Kylo waited until he could hear his mother’s footsteps before asking you the question that’s been gnawing at the back of his mind.”W-why are you grounded?” You turned to see him staring at you. You chuckled a little before starting: “After the match on Tuesday, we all went out to eat and then the movies and I went past curfew.” You laughed but Kylo didn’t find this funny. “Y/N, I don’t think you should be joking about Juney getting you in trouble.” He stated. Your (y/e/c) eyes shined in front of him. “It wasn’t like that. He rushed me home and I didn’t have my key so he rushed me to Daddy’s firm and apologized for making me late and it was only five minutes past. It was so funny. Even Daddy thought so! He told Juney every day for every minute. But, it’s nothing serious. If it was, do you think I would be here?” You questioned him and he just shook his head. “Look what I found!” You were peering into a box. Kylo came up to you as your revealed two colorful recorders. A wide smile spread across his face; taking the red one, he blew the dust off. “I can’t believe you still have these, especially mine.” Your eyes scanned the plastic instrument. Your heart tugged and you didn’t know if it was from happiness that he kept it or sadness because you gave it to him before you moved away when you were younger. (Y/e/c) eyes looked up solemnly. “I’m sorry Benji. I didn’t want to leave you.” You sighed.

Kylo sat on a sturdy box as his mind drifted to that day you two were practicing for the Christmas show. It was in this basement when Han came down to tell the kids to stop and Y/N’s mother wanted to see her. You gave him your recorder and told him ‘you’d be back’. He watched you, unknowingly, climb those stairs for the last time. He waited for you, recorders in hand until Han called for him and told her she wasn’t going to come back. Apart of him felt that his resentment towards his father came from her. From the first time Han scolded his strong attachment to the girl, that moment seemed like Han finally getting his way and removing Y/N from his life. As time went on, he became insecure, her being his only friend, he thought she did this; that it was her fault. But it was proven wrong every time she came back, yet he still couldn’t shake that feeling. So when those words came out her mouth, he knew that the situation was bigger than both of them. They were just children, even still. Standing from his spot he sauntered towards her. His large hand enveloped hers as they both felt their heart beat against each other’s chest. “It’s not your fault.” His breath fanned against her cheek. “But you can do me the honor of playing ‘Jingle Bells’ with me.” A toothy smile made his eyes shine brightly in this dim room and you swore this was the happiest you’ve seen him. “Okay,” you nodded.

“What is that sound?” Han asked the guys who just ignored it. “No,” He hushed them. “I know that sound.” Han became paranoid the more the high-pitch squeals rejoiced. Everyone else thought maybe it was a busted pipe but soon the sound came together to be an off-putting Christmas song. “No one look!” Slamming his cards down he made his way to the basement where he saw the two teens smiling as they butcher ‘We Wish You A Merry Christmas’. It reminded him of when they were children, that smile was quickly wiped away as an off-note screeched through the air. “ALRIGHT, ALRIGHT! Don’t start this again!” Han startled them. “Come on upstairs, no more concerts.” He told them and waited for them to follow him. As the three of them made upstairs, they saw Luke, Mr. Kenobi, and Mr. L/N getting up. “Oh did you lose money that fast?” Han joked. “My wife just called, they need me at the hospital.” Rey’s father said. “I’m broke.” Luke shrugged. “Sounds like my daughter has caused enough trouble down there so, we should be going.” Your father said. You waved goodbye to the men in the kitchen and the ones in the hallway. “Tell your mom I said bye, Benji.” You wrapped your small arms around his middle as he pulled you into him closer, cherishing this moment. You pulled back and tugged on his hair. “OW!”  “You need a haircut.” You teased. “Thank you, kid. I’ve been telling him that.” Han joked. Kylo watched as his dad let everyone out before his attention was on him. “Come hang with us in the kitchen.” Han dropped his arm around his son.

With his hands in his pocket, Kylo went along with his father. “Where is Mom?” He questioned. “She went to get us some cakes from Dex’s, join us before she scolds you for not cleaning.” He patted his son’s shoulder. Kylo dropped both recorders on the table and just stared at them. Lando began to deal the cards. “You alright there kid?” He asked. “Yeah.” Kylo nodded. The silence set in once more as they looked at their cards. His Uncle Chewie was the first time to initiate the conversation. “So Rey is your girlfriend, right?” Ben nodded. “And Y/N is your friend.” “Best friend.” Kylo corrected. Chewie just shook his head. “How long have you two been together?” Chewie asked. “All my life.” Kylo mumbled. The three men looked at each other knowing that, that was not the girl they were asking about. “How’d you two meet?” Lando asked. “We went to preschool together. She was my first friend, my only friend.” He picked up the top card from the deck. “Do you remember how you met her?” Chewie asked. “No…she’s just been there for as long as I could remember.” The corner of his lips tugged up. “She almost drowned,” Han said. Kylo’s eyes looked up at his father. “What?” “They asked how you met, she almost drowned, you met Rey because you saved her from drowning,” Han said as everyone’s eyes were on the boy. It was in that moment he finally realized, they weren’t talking about you.

“Ben,” He turned to his left to look at him. “Do you want to start from the beginning or just all the recent stuff?” Uncle Chewie inquired. Soft brown eyes looked at the man in front of him, his father, for a right answer. Han nodded. So Kylo spilled everything, from every little fight with Rey to all the big ones with you; he talked about homecoming, Juney, the party, Thanksgiving, everything! The game was long forgotten as the men listened to him. “Sounds to me like your mind’s made up,”Chewie said. “Loud and clear.” Lando squeaked. “You’re in love with Y/N.” Kylo looked up with unconvincing eyes as he shook his head no. “Yes!” Chewie and Lando said in unison. He looked down before asking the inevitable. “What do I do?” His lips were bright pink as he bit back the tears that threatened to fall. And of course, his gaze fell on Han. “Well, I think it’s time everyone goes home.” Han stood up collecting the poker supplies. Lando and Chewie groaned because they knew the conversation was only going to get serious once they left. Sending Kylo good luck, they left. Kylo just remained in his seat as his father silently cleaned up.

“If you’re going to yell at me, I’m not in the mood,” Kylo spoke bluntly. Han froze giving his son a look, he wanted to scold him but seeing those now bloodshot eyes and how the situation affected him, he couldn’t. “I can’t tell you what to do.” Han sighed. “Next year, you’ll be in college and a job, you’ll be a man. And the only thing I can do is prepare for you to be a good one.” Kylo watched as his father leaned against the counter. “You know you’re the only guy I know that liked someone for almost the same amount of time they’ve been living?” Han joked to lighten the mood, but it didn’t work. “Look, kid, I know I’m hard on you when it comes to her but I didn’t think of it as something…this serious. Right now, you’re in the worst position because of Rey. It’s been a year and you two have been so steady and since the arrival of Y/N I don’t see or hear about Rey from you at all.” Han told Kylo. “We aren’t the same.” Kylo shook his head. “I thought being with her would make me better, the person everyone wanted me to be because everyone hates who I’ve become. Rey is constantly trying to get me to be someone I’m not! And then there is Y/N who just makes me feel like I don’t have to be anyone but myself. Her and Juney are so real with each other, they take each other and all flaws. And I-I just want that, I want something real and I want it with her!” The tears streamed down Kylo’s reddening face. Han rubbed circles on his son’s back. “Well, there’s no winning in this. You can either keep hurting yourself and stay quiet, or speak up, but others might get hurt too.” Kylo looked up at his dad. Footsteps could be heard approaching before Leia appeared. “Where did everybody go?” She held the layered chocolate cake in her hand and then gave Han the evil eye. “Why’d you make my big boy cry?!”

P.S.: Can you tell I’m growing into someone who isn’t affected by past relationships?

[stillthewordgirl]

LOT/CC fic: Secret Santa, part 3 (of 4)

Len really isn't the "Secret Santa" type. Hell, he's not really the Christmas type. But when Sara challenges him...well. Maybe this could be fun, after all...

I'm sorry this was delayed. But in return, you get a chapter that's longer than the two preceding it combined! Things took a bit of a turn toward actual plot. Many thanks to @larielromeniel for helping catch all my late-night writing typos and getting some things straightened out.

Can also be read here at FF.net or here at AO3. (Recommended, ‘cause this is LONG.)

Happy New Year, everyone! 

The '20s in Chicago are about as fun as Len thought they'd be. He's quite fond of the dapper blue suit Gideon helps him create in the fabrication room, actually, and even Mick—who isn't fond of "playin' dress-up," as he calls it—seems to like his own smoke-gray one.

Of course, Len's so distracted by the sight of Sara spinning around in her very, very short, sparkling flapper's dress that Hunter gives them one of his patented pity-the-poor-captain looks and pointedly tells Kendra and Mick to make sure someone's paying attention to the mission. The very fact that he includes Mick in that order shows just how much things have changed over the past year, both with Mick and with Hunter's view of him. Of all of them, really.

Kendra, in her own sparkly flapper dress that's not quite so short, laughs, and Mick, popping his fedora onto his head, snorts, but they do listen. And Leonard and Sara aren't quite so distracted that they'd fudge a serious mission because of it. The four of them, with the others ready as backup at the ship (much to Raymond's disappointment), handily filch the futuristic weapons a very small-time mobster had obtained from time pirates, with only a few small stops and side trips to obtain some authentic Prohibition-era moonshine—and perhaps a few other small items.

And one slight delay when Sara'd decided to distract guards in a speakeasy by dancing. Len's pretty sure that's a vision that's going to haunt his dreams for the foreseeable future. (Especially since she'd followed it up by delivering quite the ass kicking onto the same guards.)

She's not, however, quite so fond of the reward for said ass kicking.

"This is even worse than that swill they were serving back in Salvation," Sara comments, wrinkling her nose after just one sip. She's sitting in the galley with Len, Mick and Kendra after their return, trying out their stolen 'shine as they rehash the mission. Kendra, who'd declined to even take one drink, shakes her head, pushing over the box of chocolates she'd found left in her room by her Secret Santa. She's guarded them zealously enough that Len's actually somewhat touched by her willingness to share them now.

And he's a sucker for the peppermint ones.

"It's not so bad." Mick takes another drink, but even he's not putting the booze away as quickly as he has in the past. "Just…um…distinctive. Is that what they call it?"

"Yes. It is," Len informs him, drily, setting down his glass. "Both, actually. But I don't think 'distinctive' is necessarily a good thing."

"More for me."

"And welcome to it," Sara tells him, pushing the glass away and taking a chocolate. "I think we've established I can drink you under the table, big guy. I've got nothing to prove. Especially not with that stuff. I have better taste."

Mick's eyes brighten at that line, though, and he quickly glances at Leonard, who glares at him as he tries to think of a good way to head off what's coming. It's Kendra, to his surprise, who comes to his rescue.

"Taste is relative," the former hawk goddess says smoothly. "Did you know the ancient Egyptians were the first ones to perfect the brewing of beer? It didn't taste much like today's, though. I wonder what you'd make of it."

Mick is successfully distracted, although something in the smile he turns on the dark-haired woman says that he's allowing himself to be. "Yeah? And you remember that?"

"Oddly enough…"

Leonard snorts, then glances at Sara, who shakes her head in amusement. Then, against his better judgment, he leans a little closer.

"So," he drawls, "figure out who gave you that excellent gift?"

Sara'd found a whetstone waiting for her on her desk when they'd returned from Chicago, one of a unique make even she'd never seen before. But it worked like a dream, and she was so pleased with it that Leonard rather wished he'd had the idea first.

Her eyes sparkled as she leaned forward just a little too. "Like I'd tell you if I did." A look from under lowered lashes. "Or are you saying that it was you?"

Yes, he wishes he'd had the idea first. "I'm not giving anything away, birdie."

"You give away plenty, Len."

Now, what does she mean by that? "Oh?" he asks, just a little cautiously. "Do tell…"

But Mick interrupts them with a snort, and they both glance up to see both him and Kendra watching them with particularly amused, if world-weary, expressions. But Mick doesn't comment this time, just shakes his head and pushes his chair back, getting to his feet.

"Told the nerd squad I'd meet 'em to hash over some more rescue ideas," he mutters. "Think I'll take a few glasses of the 'shine, since no one here likes it. Haircut gets real creative with the science-y stuff when you get some liquor into him, and maybe it'll help."

Kendra rises too, as he does. "How are you doing?" she asks curiously. "With the plans. Everyone was so optimistic at first, but lately…"

"But lately, not so much." Mick shakes his head, pouring a few glasses before turning for the door and then glancing back.

"Time Bastards, they were smarter than they looked. Even with their damned gadget…" He nods to Snart, who nods back … damn right he'll take credit for destroying the Oculus. "…they made it real hard to undo their bullshit. Fuckers."

Well, Leonard can't argue with that. He opens his mouth to ask another question, but Mick anticipates it.

"Ain't saying any more," the big man says with a grunt as he turns back for the door. "I hate remembering it, what they did…well. Only reason I'm doing it is 'cause of Rip's kid. S'got a dad who loves him. He should…"

Len gets Mick's issues with that as well as anyone ever will. "Yeah," he cuts in. "Good luck."

Mick leaves without another backward glance. Kendra does glance at him, but she leaves, too.

Leonard reaches over and reclaims his glass of moonshine, taking another sip even as he winces at the taste. He can feel Sara's eyes on him, but she doesn't say anything. Instead, she reaches over and takes his glass, stealing a sip herself.

Len glances over after a moment, meets her eyes.

Understanding.

Nothing more. But also, nothing less.

He watches her another minute. Then, "So. Do you want to finish the movie?"

Sara's startled into a laugh. They'd started watching "The Untouchables" right before the ship's foray to Chicago, after she'd told Len while sparring that she'd never seen it. ("That was the year I was born, old man!") So, he, of course, had insisted she had to. Before visiting actual Prohibition-era Chicago, of course.

Merely a bonus if it meant a few more hours in her company.

They'd only made it halfway through before they'd both started nodding off, though, and Len didn't have quite the nerve to let her fall asleep with her head on his shoulder (or to let himself drift off with his chin against her hair). So, using the excuse that she'd have a hell of a crick in her neck if she stayed like that (and resisting the urge to suggest they both get more comfortable), he'd woken her gently and watched as she left with an apology and a sleepy mumble.

And spent the next hour staring at the ceiling and regretting the choice.

"Well, now that we've seen the real thing, it might not be as much fun…but yes," Sara said, decisively, bringing him back to the here and now as she pushed back her chair and got to her feet. "I have some things to do right now. Later. Tomorrow? I'm all screwed up with that stop…what's ship's time, Gideon?"

"8:19 p.m., Ms. Lance," the AU said promptly. "It is not surprising your internal clock is, as you say, 'all screwed up.' You left Chicago at 11 p.m. local time, after spending approximately six hours there, and that was two-and-a-half hours ago in the time stream. Your body cannot decide if it's 1:30 a.m. or mid-evening." Gideon's tone takes on a slightly lecturing note. "I keep telling Captain Hunter that none of you have had the training in such readjustments that he has, but…"

"…but we are pretty used to weird hours. Some of us, anyway. The assassins and thieves." Sara winks at Leonard. "It evens out."

"But…"

"It's OK, Gideon. See you later, Len."

Leonard watches her go, then picks up the bottle of 'shine, swirling the liquid around and watching it. The raw burn of it hadn't been to his taste, but he can see the lure of the quick oblivion it promises, especially in the mean streets of the city they'd just left.

Not for him, though. He'd blown up the Time Masters in part because he hated the idea of someone else pulling his strings. He'll be damned if he lets the booze do it.

"Mr. Snart?"

Gideon's voice is tentative. Len smiles to himself, sitting the bottle down, pretty sure of what the AI has to say.

"Gideon, after all this time," he drawls, tipping his chair backward, "don't you think you can call me 'Leonard?' "

A pause.

"Mr. Snart," the AI repeats with emphasis, "such familiarity would be against my programming."

"And you always have to go with your programming."

"It is in my nature."

Not quite a confirmation. "Well, it's in my nature to hate the idea of programming. Which I'm pretty sure you know." Leonard brings the front two legs of the chair back to the floor. "What's up?"

Another pause.

"Captain Hunter, he was quite pleased by the first gift," Gideon says finally. "Have you thoughts on a second?"

Through her sensors, he's pretty sure Gideon can see him, but he conceals his smile anyway. "Not as of yet," he points out. "Any ideas yourself?"

The AI is quiet for a few moments. "Not…particularly," she says then, tone uncharacteristically hesitant. "It is true that Captain Hunter only truly wants one thing right now. Two things. And anything else I can think of is likely to rely too much, perhaps, on nostalgia. Not that that is a bad thing, but…"

"But a random crook is probably not the best to invoke it."

But Gideon has a comeback to that immediately. "On the contrary, Mr. Snart. You and Captain Hunter are more alike than either one of you is ever likely to care to admit." A little asperity, there? Even amusement? "Still, it would take something specific, and I have no particular thoughts on that. Not as of yet."

"Well," he retorts, just a bit unsettled by her words. "Keep thinking."

"As long as you do the same, Mr. Snart."

He and Hunter are not alike.

He's a far better planner, for one, Leonard thinks grumpily as he stalks the halls of the Waverider a bit later, unwilling to admit that his sleeping patterns are off, after all, thanks to time travel. He's a better leader. Better looking.

Petty? Oh, a tad. But no one ever said Leonard Snart couldn't be petty. He's pretty good at that, too.

Slowing to a stop as he nears Hunter's study, he sighs, acknowledging that, at least. And also that Gideon had a point. About a couple of things.

As far as he knows, Mick's still with the others. Well, he's feeling just petty enough to barge in. Maybe another look at the study will give him some ideas…

And that's when the door slides open, the captain himself rushing out and stumbling to a stop before hitting the team thief.

For a moment, the two men just stare at each other. Len, recovering quickly and pasting on his usual smirk, notes the slightly reddened eyes, the stress and the grief in the Brit's features before the man recovers enough to slap his own typically harried expression on.

"Mr. Snart," Hunter clips out before sidestepping him. "Excuse me." Then he raises his voice and his eyes. "Gideon, set a course for the Refuge. I…have a few inquiries to make there. And I promised Mother that I'd look in; I've been sadly remiss in that."

"Now?" Leonard inquires pointedly, turning to look at him. "Kinda late. Pretty sure a good portion of your team is asleep or exhausted."

Hunter's eyes narrow, but Gideon cuts in smoothly at that point, as Mick and Raymond follow Hunter out of the study. "Captain, I hate to say this, but Mr. Snart is correct." She continues as Len mutters, "Gee, thanks, Gideon." "I can set the course, but I would recommend actually making the jump in the morning, ship's time. That will also give you time to…consider what you hope to achieve."

Hunter runs a hand over his face, then shakes his head. "Yes…yes, of course, Gideon." He fixes Len and the others with a look. "So. Rest is in order, people. We jump in the morning."

With that, he strides off toward the captain's quarter. Leonard shakes his head as Mick joins him.

"Not going well, I take it?"

"Nah…"

"He says we…well, he…created a 'time knot.' " Raymond's voice is concerned, and Len decides to leave off antagonizing the man for the time being…to better obtain information, of course. "When he recruited us, when you…" He motions vaguely at Len, who raises his eyebrows. "…um, blew up the Time Masters, when we killed Savage. We made it so there's no way to save his wife and son, because if they don't die, he doesn't recruit us and none of that happens and…"

"Breathe, Raymond." Len turns to look at Mick. "And this is news?

The bigger man shrugs. "Well, there's usually wriggle room. The Time Masters, they operate…operated…in that wriggle room, those little spaces between events. You know, like…" He ponders a moment. "…well, uh…oh, hell. The thing with the time pirates. The Time Masters, they grabbed me in the time after you left, before you could even possibly come back." He waves a hand as Leonard starts to respond. "Don't say it again, I was an ass, you didn't have a choice, yadda yadda. Water under the bridge. Anyway, we figured we'd find something here. But…really seems to be tied up tight. We've been going over it and going over it." He shrugs as Raymond nods. "Can't find nothing."

"So, why the Refuge?"

"Honestly, Snart, I ain't got the foggiest idea."

The place looks the same as it had the last time they were there, before the Vanishing Point and the Oculus and Savage. Len feels a prickle run up his spine as he follows Hunter and the others down the path toward the stately home, slowing so that he can study the place.

Nothing unusual. He knows they're at…what was Hunter's phrase? A secret location in time and space…but there's nothing to clue anyone into that fact. Not unless he can count that unnerving prickle…not Alexa, no, not quite…that just won't go away.

He's so engrossed in thought that it takes him a moment to notice that Sara's dropped back to walk next to him.

"Penny for your thoughts?" she murmurs, watching him.

"Nah. Gotta be at least a quarter," he shoots back, then sighs, hanging back a little more while she slows with him. "Wishing that I knew more about this place," he says in a low tone. "Do you... feel that?"

Sara lifts an eyebrow at him, but apparently decides against innuendo. "No? Feel what? It seems the same."

"There's like…this electricity in the air." Ill at ease, he pauses instead of following the others up the steps. "Do you think we're still…"

"Our younger selves? No. Rip said he was bringing us to a point after that. You were too busy trading barbs with Stein to hear him." She taps him on the shoulder and he finds himself leaning into the contact, then stops. Sara doesn't comment, but she does turn around and walk backward a few moments, studying him thoughtfully.

He studies her in return, noticing something. "That new?"

"The jersey?" The corner of her mouth rises and she nods, turning to let her jacket slip off her shoulders just enough to show the "Lance" on the back. "Uh huh. Starling City Rockets. My 'Santa' worked fast. And paid attention. I used to go to games with my dad. It's even the old name."

"Nice." He means it.

"Very." Sara shrugs the jacket back on and slows even more, although the others are in the house at this point. "Stein's worked fast too. Got him this gorgeous crystal menorah that's made to be extra-stable and spill-proof. A plus for the Waverider."

"Heh. No one tell Mick. He's still annoyed Gideon won't let him have candles."

Sara starts to retort, but at that moment, they both feel eyes on them. They stop in their tracks, Sara's hand going reflexively to her sleeve and Len's to a cold gun that isn't there, and look up.

A tall woman stands on the Refuge's porch, watching them. No, watching him. She looks no older than before, and no younger, very much the same. Her expression is very, very serious and her eyes are…cold? No, judging. Maybe both?

Len feels the prickle down his spine intensify, and shuffles uneasily where he stands. For the first time, he remembers…Mary Xavier was all about protecting her children.

Who were to be become Time Masters.

And he…

But after a moment, a moment that probably felt longer to him than it actually was, she shakes her head. Her eyes flick to Sara, then back to him, an actual smile touches her lips…and she turns and goes back inside the house. Len lets out a breath and feels the tension subside, a little.

But not completely.

"That was a little creepy," Sara says under her breath. She relaxes her stance, and Leonard's warmed, a little, by the realization that she'd been ready to back him up.

"Yeah." He hesitates. "I can't say I really blame her, if you think…"

But Sara's been following his line of thought, apparently. She glares at him before he can get the words out. "No. We didn't have much of a choice. Not if we wanted to break their control, get back our free will and save the world. And you…you nearly died…"

There's something in her voice, there, and he glances over, startled, seeing her mouth set in a firm line and her eyes directed at where Xavier had vanished. That's the most she's said about his near-miss with death since they'd dragged him out of the time stream, and even then, she'd just threatened to kill him if he ever did anything that stupid again.

"Sara…"

"A-hem."

They both look up to see Hunter, standing on the porch with his arms folded and a stern look on his face. He apparently isn't so lost in distraction and grief that he's failed to notice that two of his wayward team members were unaccounted for on the property, and given which two, it's not so surprising he'd come looking.

And the moment's gone.

Inside, the team's split up. Kendra's already sitting in a rocking chair, contentedly rocking one of the littlest residents of the Refuge, and after a moment, Sara goes to join her. Mick and Jax have headed for the kitchens, unsurprisingly, and Raymond and Stein for one of the several libraries—also unsurprisingly.

Len drifts after that last pair, undecided. The ladies' conversation runs too much of a risk of drifting toward his adorable infant self, and that's just a touch unnerving. (He thinks they do it on purpose.) He's not hungry. And the lure of books is strong…

The sound of a footfall, though, makes him turn to the left. He skulks down a corridor, catching a flicker of Hunter's coat as the man heads up a staircase that's nearly concealed around a corner. There's a murmur of voices and as far as Leonard knows, there's only one other adult at the Refuge…

After a moment, he follows them, silent as a lifelong thief can be.

The staircase is narrow and curving; the passageway it ends in, just as close. He trails the voices to a door that's just a crack ajar, then, after a moment and some reflection, moves quickly to the other side so he can peer in the even smaller crack there.

Hunter is pacing; he can see the motion. It's a familiar sight, generally paired with a lecture that he (and Sara, and Mick) usually tunes out…

"…giving up…"

Frowning, Len concentrates on the words.

"You and I both know, Michael, that what the Time Masters call a 'time knot' usually meant 'we don't want to change it, so we'll find a 'reason' why we can't." Mary Xavier's tone is both sympathetic and slightly lecturing. "You're not one to give up. Not usually. And what did I say about wallowing?"

"Is it truly wallowing if…" Hunter's tone drops enough that Leonard can't hear him, but after a moment, his voice rises again. "…if there is truly no hope, it is one thing, but every instinct I have says there is, despite how it seems. Am I fooling myself?

The woman sighs. "Michael," she says fondly, "you came here today to have me tell you what you already know yourself. That if hope remains, you must follow it. Anything else would be a betrayal of who you are."

Len can hear Hunter's sigh. "Well," the other man says after a moment, a thread of humor back in his tone, "I came to check in, too. I said I would."

"You have said many things over the years." Her tone is stern, but then she laughs a little. "Thank you. We…continue. And we wait."

For? Leonard frowns.

"I don't know if I can do what you want me to do." Hunter's voice is uneasy, and he starts to pace again.

"What you must do. And you already have. At least, you've started."

Their listener wants to hear more along that line, but the captain apparently prefers to avoid it. He's silent for a long moment, moving around the room, and Leonard scans it as best he can through the crack, realizing that they're in another library.

Then he hears a volume being removed from a bookshelf and the sigh Hunter makes as he sees it.

" 'A Wrinkle in Time,'" the captain reads from the cover, then makes a thoughtful noise "I remember reading, and rereading, this copy. Oh, countless times. There's the mended tear in the back corner, where Daniel took it from me that time, and the fold from when Gabrielle borrowed it. I couldn't find it as I got older; thought it just got lost, or someone took it with them." He carefully replaces it on the shelf as Len watches. "I never got my own copy. Meant to read it with Jonas, but, well…"

He sighs again. "I'm going to go consult the science and history libraries; I have before, but you never know. I think the others are enjoying being off the ship, so…we'll stay for dinner, with your permission?"

At her assent, Hunter leaves, never looking back into the corridor and the crook watching from the shadows. Leonard stands a moment, digesting what he's heard, then looks at the door.

After a moment, he sighs…and enters.

Mary Xavier, he's pretty sure, has been waiting for him.

The mistress of the Refuge is sitting behind a desk in the room, which has wide windows letting in the morning sunshine and is, indeed, lined with bookshelves. These aren't the mostly big, leather-bound and serious-looking tones of the other libraries he's seen here, but an eclectic mix: worn paperbacks, colorful picture books, thick novels. Leonard barely gives them a glance, though, however tempted he may be.

Instead, trying for his typical insouciance, he parks his hip against a low table and folds his arms, waiting. Mary regards him for a long moment, then nods.

"Ah," she says, a satisfied sound. "The beautiful baby boy with the big blue eyes." She pauses. "The baby who grew up to destroy the Time Masters."

The words put his hackles up, even though he'd been expecting them. "Not going to apologize…"

But the older woman holds up a hand, shaking her head. "I do not expect you to, Mr. Snart. Yes, you were the one to pull the trigger, as it were, and you nearly paid for that with your life. I do not think you understand just how close that was." She watches him calmly, something uncanny in her own blue gaze. "But the ultimate instrument of their demise was the device they themselves created to control time, and time…does not like to be controlled."

After a moment, she rises from the desk and Leonard, despite himself, takes a step back. There's something that formidable about her. But Mary doesn't approach him. Instead, she leans on her desk, almost matching his own posture, and continues to watch him.

"Perhaps Michael has told you these words; he always liked them," she says. "Time wants to happen. The hand of Time is on you, Leonard Snart. You did its will and you have nearly drowned in its currents—but you survived. Not many can say that."

The words make the feeling of electricity in the air, which had faded, worse. Leonard, unsettled, responds as he often does to discomfort: by attacking. "You're saying something else pulled my strings. Time itself? You expect me to believe that?"

She ignores the adversarial tone "Hmm. Not…quite. What you did, you did because you are you. You acted according to your nature, as Michael does his…as everyone does, really."

"That seems to be a theme, lately," he mutters, which, oddly enough, makes her smile.

"Does it now?" Mary muses. "Something to pay attention to, then. I've learned that when such things seem to reoccur, there's usually reason."

So has he, actually. Len frowns as he watches her, thinking about the conversation he'd overheard.

"You want Hunter to recreate the Time Masters," he says suddenly. "That's what you're waiting for."

She doesn't even bat an eyelash. "Yes. They…something like them…are needed. And there are always children, like the ones here, who will need and suit such an avocation."

The woman before him seems to care for her charges, but knowing what'd recently become of some of them—at his own hand—makes Leonard uneasy with the matter. "You'd have him keep kidnapping kids to turn into…"

But Mary draws herself up and regards him, and her expression's intimidating enough that even Leonard Snart is silenced.

"Really, Mr. Snart? You can think of no reason, no reason at all, why a child might be willing, eager even, to be plucked from his or her life and brought here, where there is plentiful food and warmth, safety and learning?" She spreads her hands to indicate the Refuge, nodding at his expression. "Such it was with all the young ones here."

Lowering her hands, she smiles again. "Who knows? In another timeline, another world, you and your sister might have been Time Masters."

Now, that's a discomforting notion. Mary lets him struggle with it a moment, then shakes her head.

"But," she says, "you're needed where you are, being what you are. Someone who…pays attention. Who listens…" An arch look. "…and learns. And puts odd pieces together." With a sigh, she glances at the door through which her foster son had departed. "Michael thinks like a Time Master now. He probably always will. Dr. Palmer thinks like a scientist, as does Dr. Stein." A slight smirk. "And even Mr. Rory…he's a little more, well, 'out of the box,' as they say, but he's not a plotter, not a planner."

She takes a step closer to Leonard, who shifts uneasily under her steady gaze.

"You…now, you are," she says quietly. "Remember. Perhaps…perhaps they need someone who thinks like a thief. And Michael has apparently forgotten that. They need you."

Her smile, then, turns sad. "And in another timeline, you wouldn't even be here."

He does not like the sound of that. "What do you mean?"

But Mary has turned away already, studying the shelves around them, the ones he'd been so intrigued by. "Do you know what these books are? Books and movies; I rather like the formats that let me keep them in physical copies rather than digital." She glances back at him, but barely waits for an answer. "They're stories. Tales of the myriad of ways human beings have conceived of and imagined traveling in and changing time. I keep them so the children know how their kind look at such things, about who knows? They may even get some good ideas."

Pausing, she runs a fingertip over some titles. " 'A Swiftly Tilting Planet,' " she reads. " 'Kindred.' 'The Doomsday Book.' 'The Time-Traveler's Wife.' "

Then, turning, she moves her hand to what appears to be a shelf in a bookcase full of Blu-ray discs. " 'Quantum Leap.' All the various Star Treks. 'Timeless.' 'Doctor Who.' " That one gets a certain mysterious smile, as she looks over her shoulder at him. "Ah. 'Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure.' A fine film, in its quirky way. 'About Time.' 'It's a Wonderful Life.' "

Len's started to retort that that's not quite time travel when the woman lets her hand drop to her side and shakes her head.

" 'Strange, isn't it?'" she quotes, watching him. " 'Each man's life touches so many other lives. When he isn't around, he leaves an awful hole, doesn't he?' "

The silence stretches…and Leonard, suddenly, fervently decides that he doesn't really want to know.

And it hasn't escaped his notice that Mary had said "how their kind."

"So," he drawls, straightening from his lean, "keep paying attention? I can do that."

Mary Xavier, smiling faintly, returns to her desk, taking a seat and watching him. "Excellent. I will see you and your cohorts at dinner. Do try not to get the children too riled up."

Leonard takes a step toward the door, then pauses. Glancing back and thinking, he then turns and walks quickly over to the bookshelf where Hunter had paused earlier. Where…ah.

Sliding the battered copy of "A Wrinkle in Time" from its place, he slips the book into his jacket and looks up.

Mary beams at him.

"Now, that, Mr. Snart," she says, sounding pleased, "is precisely what I was talking about."

Sara and Kendra are, Jax tells him, giving a group of small girls self-defense lessons out on the Refuge's lawn. Leonard strolls slowly toward then, unable to hide a smile as he sees Sara hunkered down and talking earnestly to a pale-haired mite who might have been her 25 years ago.

She sees him and grins as the kid runs off to the others, then makes a show of looking him up and down.

"You know," she tells him, "we're showing them how to take down a bigger opponent. Even a grown man. You'd make an excellent practice dummy."

Len winces. "Given that I have a pretty good idea how you're showing them to do that, I think I'll pass," he drawls, looking over her shoulder. "Kinda wish there'd been someone to show Lisa how to do that sort of thing. I taught her to fight dirty, but you could have taught her a lot better as a kid." He shrugs at the momentary sympathy in her eyes. "Having fun?"

"Yes, actually." She looks thoughtful, turning to follow his gaze. "This is something I could see myself doing someday. Owning a dojo, I mean, and teaching women and kids how to defend themselves. When time travel gets old. In the future."

…what the future might hold for me…and you…and…

"Yeah, I could see that in the future. Not for me. For you," he adds as she glances up at him. "I mean, you're good at it. Not that you're not good at time travel…I…"

Damn it, I sound like Allen…

"Leonard Snart, flustered. Cute." Len takes a step back and looks up to see Kendra watching them and tossing a staff from hand to hand. A smile hovers around her lips, and he's suddenly downright frightened of what she'll say, what insight she'll point out that he's not quite ready to acknowledge. He takes a quick breath, readying something snarky to cut her off, and…

There's a very distinctive brooch on Kendra's sweater, something unique that catches his eye not only because of that distinctiveness…but because he's seen it before.

"What's that?"

The dark-haired woman blinks at him, then looks down at her lapel and smiles, a fond and gentle expression.

"From my Secret Santa, apparently. It was in my room after I got breakfast this morning," she says. "It's appropriate, isn't it?"

"Very." There much be something off about his tone, because both women look at him a little suspiciously. Leonard takes a hasty step back. "Have fun with the little assassins. See you later."

He thinks he hears a giggle as he beats a hasty retreat. He doesn't stop to find out.

Mick is, completely unsurprisingly, in the kitchen. He is also, somewhat surprisingly, reading. And very surprisingly, wearing the reading glasses that no one else on the Waverider has ever seen. Len ducks his head to steal a look at the title of the book, then barks out a laugh. It's the second half of the Doyle Sherlock Holmes stories.

Mick rolls his eyes at his friend's amusement. "Yeah, yeah. You were right. They're good."

"Told you." Len reaches out and drags up a chair, turning it around backward and perching on it. "Maybe now you'll listen to me about..."

"Don' push yer luck."

Len lets it go. "Ol' Saint Nick get you that?"

"Nah. Found it in the library." He peers over the rims of his glasses. "You think they'd let me borrow it?"

"Was a day you'd just steal it."

"Nah. My luck, all the books in this creepy-ass place'd be cursed."

"Still," Len drawls, leaning back, "I see you made a really nice pick-up in Chicago."

After a moment, Mick peers at him again, then tucks a (clean, Len hopes) napkin in the book's pages and sits it down, leaning back himself. "Seemed right."

"Indeed."

"You got some sorta problem with it, Snart? Didn't get caught."

"Not at all. Like I said…new pick-up. Right from the coat belonging to Capone's mistress? Sweet." Len inspects his nails with studied thoughtfulness. "Carnelian scarab, enamel wings—hawk wings?-marcasite and glass. At an educated guess. Excellent example of the Egyptian Revival pieces of the 1920s."

At another long moment, Mick grunts. "Just thought it suited her."

"Oh, it does." Len tilts his head to the side. "What's going on there, Mick? You pick her in this Santa thing, or was it just a whim?"

"Oh, I did. But I'da taken it for her anyway." The bigger man eyes his friend. "What's it yer business, anyway?"

"Just curious. What's going on with you two?"

Unexpectedly, Mick snorts. "Why? What's goin' on with you and Blondie?"

It's unexpected, from that source, and Len recoils. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me."

"I…we're friends." There was a time he wouldn't have admitted to having anything so vulnerable as a "friend."

"Friend, eh? Well. So are we." He shrugs at Len's expression. "We talk."

"Seriously?" He barely knows Kendra, really. Of all the denizens of the Waverider, he probably knows her the least. After all the mess with Savage and the thing with Carter—and Raymond, for that matter-he'd been slightly nonplussed when she'd seen the so-called "Hawkman" settled in 2017 and come back to the Waverider, explaining that she needed to have a life—at least one-as something other than someone's mate.

Len respected that decision, although it'd led to some awkwardness on the ship, at least in the beginning. He's not a fan of Raymond, though he's come to grudgingly respect the man (not that he'll ever admit that out loud). They're too different. But Kendra's phrasing had made even him wince in sympathy. After a few weeks of puppy eyes around her, though, the inventor had apparently decided to be cheerfully upbeat about the whole thing, and if anyone suspected he felt otherwise, they allowed him the illusion.

"Yeah." Mick gives him a flat glare, then sighs. He looks, for a moment, like he's pondering his words, and that's rare enough that Len remains silent, letting him think.

After a moment, he nods to himself, then looks directly at his oldest friend.

"She gets it," he says finally. "Look, Snart. She gets somethin' you never will. Not 'cause you wouldn't try, not 'cause you're dumb or anything like that." His lips twitch as Leonard snorts.

"But…I got millennia in my head, Snart. And yeah, I know I don't talk about it much anymore. But…it happened. It's there, all those years. An' Kendra, she gets that. She's got 'em too."

He's silent while Leonard digests that, turning it over. Acknowledging its truth.

"OK," Len says, finally. "I get that. Best I can, anyway. Not that it's my business…"

"It ain't."

"…but…you two a thing? I mean…all that soulmate crap…and Raymond…"

That gets another snort from Mick, but this one's rueful.

"Don't know that it's like that," the big man says after a minute. "But if it is, if it goes there…it ain't some big, serious thing, like she had with Haircut. It's nothin' that's gotta end with broken hearts or dead bodies, like she was told. Might just be a bit of fun, an we'd keep it real quiet. Ain't nothin' wrong with that."

"True."

Mick eyes him a moment, then nods. "We good? Done with this?"

"Fine by me."

"OK, then. And you and Blondie?"

A pause. "Don't, Mick."

"Boss…"

"Don't."

The rest of their brief stay at the Refuge passes quickly. Len avoids Mary Xavier, but every time he hazards a quick glance her way, she's seemingly uninterested in him, talking earnestly with Rip or Raymond or, at one time, a wide smile on her face, Mick.

Still, he's the first one back on the Waverider, breathing a sigh of relief as he sets foot on the deck, and he breathes another sigh as they take off and enter the time stream. He feels Sara's eyes on him, considering, and even Mick's, but he doesn't comment. He wouldn't be sure what to say anyway.

Rip finds "A Wrinkle in Time," neatly wrapped, in his quarters the next morning, and scans his team's faces with an air of pleased bewilderment before settling in to read.

Over the next few days, Jax gets a sheaf of manuals and diagrams for various timeship varieties, and starts happily going through them and talking to Gideon about possible upgrades. Kendra requests, fervently, a few more bathrooms, and winks at Len when she sees him watching.

Raymond gets a Star Trek script signed by George Roddenberry—it's personalized, and Len eyes the only one on the ship who could have obtained that-and gleefully tries to drag everyone into a Star Trek marathon.

Mick gets a bottle of wine, a particularly fine cabernet, and Len laughs out loud when he realizes it's from Rip's collection. (Stein smirks at him.) Mick, not a wine person at all, is skeptical, but only until Stein, waxing eloquent about the vintage, pops the cork and pours them both a glass.

The wine in the collection starts disappearing faster after that.

And Len finds a package in his own room and, cautiously, unwraps it.

It takes him a moment to realize the rectangular item is a picture frame, folded so that the two photographs in it are face to face. He opens it, and stares in silence at what it contains.

Lisa. Age 9 or thereabouts, he'd guess, right about the age she'd been on the Waverider, when the Pilgrim had threatened and they'd been forced to rescue their loved ones, an event that'd been hard on everyone, but some more than others.

Jax and Raymond, he's pretty sure, had it the worst. But Lisa…she'd been so young, and still had so much, for better or for worse, ahead of her….

She's laughing, right out loud, in the left photo, an expression of joy that he can't remember seeing, ever. Captured on one of Gideon's cameras, so far as he can tell, no fear or trepidation in her face.

He has no photographs of her at that age; when he left the house on Hadley Avenue, he'd taken almost nothing with him, and he'd never gone back.

Correction: He'd gone back once.

The opposing photo is a larger, better copy of a tattered snapshot he'd had tucked in his desk, grown Lisa and grown Len, glancing at each other, their expressions showing, if not affection, than at least a form of camaraderie. Mick had taken it, almost by accident, trying to figure out how to use a camera they'd needed for a job, and Len had found it when developing the film.

Keeping it, bringing it, had been sentiment. Something that, until fairly recently, he'd tried to banish from his life.

Only two people besides himself have ever seen that photo.

"Gideon…"

"Yes, Mr. Snart."

"…never mind."

Notes:

1. Kendra’s brooch: 

https://www.langantiques.com/egyptian-revival-sterling-silver-scarab-brooch.html

2. Mary Xavier is totally a Time Lord. (Fight me.)

3. I’m SO tempted to write an AU in which the Snart siblings were taken to the Refuge when young!

[cecilspeaks]

Episode 104 - The Hierarchy of Angels

I know you are, but what am I? What am I? What am I?

What. Am. I?

Welcome to Night Vale.

I should start today with something happy. In his speech yesterday honoring the life of Old Woman Josie, Larry Leroy out on the edge of town, and Josie’s closest neighbor, told a story about his pickup breaking down a few years ago. Josie had stopped on the roadside to help him push the old Chevy the mile or so to his house. In the last few hundred feet, the truck picked up momentum on the sloped road, and it rolled out of their control into a large cactus. They heard a surprised yelp, and saw Telly the Barber wide-eyed and sweating, holding a pair of shears. Josie and Larry laughed and laughed. Even the surprised Telly laughed. Larry then asked Telly why he was cutting that cactus’ hair. Telly gulped and ran away, still laughing and sweating profusely.

Larry told the gathered mourners that he didn’t have many friends in town, but Old Woman Josie was always kind to him. Always a smile, always happy to help. Always good for a giggle when she caught Telly giving cacti haircuts.

 The services were beautiful, you know that. You were all there. We were all there. I know I said gathered mourners but in a way, we were gathered celebrants, extolling the great life of a great woman, now gone. Today is the scattering of her ashes and the city is working to fulfil Josie’s wishes. They are joined in this endeavour by several beings claiming to be angels. The city is trying to ignore the angels’ request to help because it is illegal to acknowledge the existence of angels, so… we’ll see how this goes.

The dozens of five-headed dragons, who came to our world after the botched, yet partially successful execution of fellow dragon Hiram McDaniels, are still in town. Hiram’s sister, Hadassah, had promised vengeance for the wrongful murder of Hiram’s violet head. But after several weeks of setting fire to local businesses, and devouring a few of the more muscular human citizens, the dragons have gone mostly silent. Their aggression’s now limited to some blatant jaywalking and loitering. There has been one report of an unidentified five-headed dragon hurling a crumpled Fresca can basketball-style at a trash bin, missing the trash bin wildly, and then picking the soda can up and gently tossing it into the bin, only to have it clumsily fall out and back onto the ground. Onlookers were shocked to see that the dragon did not even attempt a third put-back, and the can is still lying on the ground this very moment. The can is still. On the ground. Mayor Cardinal has called on the Sheriff for stricter enforcement of minor offenses, so they do not escalate into more sinister crimes. Plus, she added, if we do not clean litter from our curbs, the street cleaners might show up, and we simply cannot afford the loss of innocent lives that would cause. More on this as it develops.

Josie’s daughter Alondra Ortiz, who came to town last year to be with her ailing mother until Josie passed away, is now sorting through Josie’s estate and documents. Alondra said she found no will in Josie’s files, only a piece of paper that said: “It all belongs to the angels.” But Alondra noted the handwriting was written shakily in thick Magic Marker, and every word but “it” and “the” was misspelled. She believes the beings who claim to be angels wrote this, not her mother. The angels responded, “nuh-uh”, and then nervously wiped their brows with clearly ink-stained hands. Alondra hired in an estate lawyer to help sort out liquidation of her mother’s assets. Alondra said she just wants to be done with all this and go back home. When asked where home was, Alondra responded, “I don’t remember. Why can’t I remember? That’s not important, I mean it’s super-important but not to this discussion. Oh god, what is wrong with me, with this town?” A single-engine plane then flew across the horizon behind her, trailing a banner that read, “Ooooh! I found some teeth!”

Listeners, some of you have asked about our intern, Kareem. He’s been at the station for so long, about 16 months, much longer than any other intern in recent memory. Well, I’m sorry to report he’s no longer with us. He was a good intern and he will be missed. Kareem changed majors from communications to Earth sciences and no longer needs this radio internship. He is taking classes with Professor Simone Rigideau at Night Vale Community College. Simone is not actually employed by NVCC, and in one of Kareem’s last journalistic endeavours here at the station, he even found a copy of her death certificate, dated 1983, although she does not show any signs of being a ghost. But apparently her knowledge of Earth sciences intrigued Kareem enough that he wanted to change career trajectories. Kareem told me on his last day, which was today, like five minutes before I started my broadcast is when I find out about this. He told me Simone knows what happened to Night Vale, why Kareem’s family doesn’t know him anymore, and why he can’t find Mitchigan, or whatever is home state is, on a map. I’m just happy Kareem is pursuing his dreams, even if he’s gonna lose alll those journalism credits! And today’s filing will have to be done by an overworked radio host before he gets to go home to his husband. Gonna be a looong path to that degree, Kareem! I’m sure you’ll do great. 

Listeners, I’d like to caution you away from driving near downtown. Road crews have shut down all streets in all directions, as a construction team is building a series of elaborate rollercoasters and amusement park rides, many of which do dives and loops around, under, and through the surrounding buildings and even roads. It’s complete gridlock all over downtown, with cars unable to drive into or out of the jam. On the plus side, there’s a pretty cool looking Aquaman ride that does a double-twisting loop through a large pool of water that is elevated more than 50 feet off the ground. Mayor Cardinal is on the scene arguing with the construction team about their lack of development permits. The construction crew, who are all tall glowing beings with wings, showed the Mayor a piece of paper that said, “This is all totally fine, Josie said we can build this, OK? Signed, City”, written in a Magic Marker and nearly every word misspelled.

Allondra Ortiz’ lawyer, Emilio Tavarez, filed an injunction to halt the work, saying that the funds used toward the construction of these rollercoasters were part of Josie’s estate, and were being misappropriated by the so-called angels. There is no documentation showing Josie wished her money to be spent this way, Tavarez explained. The construction team then mumbled, “A dummy says what?” And Tavarez said, “What?” and they all laughed, including the Mayor who then added, “Yeah but yeah seriously, you need building permits, even if you are fulfilling the elaborate wishes of the deceased.” We’ll have more on this soon, but first, a quick break.

Hi, this is Cecil. Leave a message! 

Steve Carlsberg: Hello, Cecil? It’s Steve. OK, I’m not sure if you’re there or not. Last few times I called, you said to leave a message at the tone, and then halfway into my message you interrupted me and said, [Cecil impersonation] “Ha ha, Steve. You fell for it again.” So I’m just making sure you’re actually there this time. I have something I wanted to tell you so you could report it on your show. Are you there, Cecil? I don’t wanna fall for your trick again.

OK. Well. I was getting some coffee over at the Spiky Hammer, and I held the door for this woman I didn’t recognize. She just stared at me, didn’t say thank you or anything. I mean, I don’t hold doors for approval, it’s just a nice thing to do, but she efforted to not thank me, you know? And then when I stood in line, she stood right next to me, her face just inches from mine, staring at me. I tried not to look, it’s not nice to stare. She didn’t say anything for the longest time, but right as I placed my order, a large crab legs macchiato with (quad shot) and whipped cream, she started whispering loudly in my ear! I couldn’t understand what she was saying, and it made it difficult to talk to the barista. And then, when I turned to ask her politely if she wanted me to get her something, she was gone. Oh I wish I could remember what the woman said. Oh gosh. It was something like, hmmmmmmmmmm..

[voice distorts] The Woman from Italy has come back to town. Nothing can stop her from tearing it down! She lives for your screams, makes meals of your tears. She revels in chaos and deals in your fears. 

We all huddle and hide from the pain yet to come, huddled hidden with loved ones, perhaps she’ll spare some.

She brings the torture, the trouble, the stress, so can you order for her a double espresso?

[normal voice] Well I don’t remember what she said. If I think of it, I’ll call you back. Anyway, sorry I missed you Cecil!

 Cecil: I’m here, Steve! You totally fell for it.

 Steve: Oh, oh! Oh-ho-ho-ho, you got me!

 Cecil: Basic stuff, Steve.

Steve: Sure is! Wow, you got me good! [chuckles]

Cecil: I tease you because I love you, Steve.

Steve: Aww, Cecil. I love you too, big brother!

Cecil: Just kidding, I’m not here! Please leave your message after the tone. [beep]

Steve: Hello? Cecil, I’m not sure what just happened. I guess I’ll try again later.

--

Sorry of the interruption. Oh, looks like I got a voicemail. Oh, it’s from Steve Carlsberg. Well, never mind, there’s breaking news right now.

Stay far away from downtown, listeners. The traffic jam caused by the halted construction project is in great danger. The cars are honking noisily, people are abandoning their vehicles, but the Sheriff is asking everyone to seek immediate shelter. Several dragons are converging on the scene. The dragons have everyone in the congested area completely surrounded. They are walking – no, stomping toward the helpless citizens trapped in traffic. Night Vale, do not go out on the roads. The dragons have us exactly where they want us. What a disastrous trap! Be safe.

And as I try to find out more on what’s happening in downtown, please hear this important weather report. 

[“Qualified” by Sammus feat. Open Mike Eagle, sammusmusic.bandcamp.com]

Here is the secret hierarchy of angels.

Deceased humans can become angels, but few humans do. Angels are immortal beings, but not all of them are former human souls. Some are animals, some plants. Some outdated electronics.

They are all named Erika with a K. All angels are equal to all other angels. They share all memories and all physical sensations. They experience everything simultaneously. Their minds are overwhelmed with enlightenment and pain.

They have no centralized leadership, but they do have committees, lots of committees. These committees do not have titles nor objectives. The committees simply emerge as needed. 

Angels are wealthy, but do not understand currency. They will often ask to borrow 10 bucks.

Angels have no bodies, only visual projections of winged, barely humanoid forms. These forms are dreamed up by those who see and acknowledge them, and may vary based on the viewer.

The secret hierarchy of angels is an ethereal mass of feelings and thoughts made manifest by necessity. They’re only individual beings because we imagine them so, but they are collectively beings.

It is illegal to speak of or acknowledge in any way the secret hierarchy of angels. But. I. will. Acknowledge it. here, on the radio. I’m an objective journalist, which does not mean I have no morals or opinions, just that I can be self-aware of my biases and emotions, yet still report a story transparently to you. You may not agree with my point of view, but I will do. My. Best. To give you the information you need to decide that on your own.

In the case of the angels, I acknowledge them. I see them! And because Josie always said such, I too believe that they are real beings, and are entitled to Josie’s estate. So does five-headed dragon Miriam Adelman. She’s a lawyer, and the angels hired her to represent their case for management of Josie’s will.

Oh, the dragons did not do any harm to those in traffic today. They were simply the legal team coming to help facilitate Josie’s final wish, which was to build a Night Vale sculpture garden, complete with the usual rollercoasters and tilt-a-whirls, and an enormous ferris wheel. 

Josie wanted to have her ashes scattered underneath (Jacobo Manzu’s) [0:22:17] famous sculpture, “Top Thrill Dragster”, which is a 400-foot drop and reaches over 120 miles per hour. Adelman and her legal team managed to push through the sculpture garden construction, which is now complete, and Josie’s ashes have finally been honored in the way she wanted. Alondra ceded this ground because she understood how important this town was to Josie. But she added, “My mother’s home, her belongings, her money, her legacy – these are all I have of my family. I have no siblings, no cousins, and no parents. I am the only Ortiz left. I do not know or understand Night Vale,” Alondra said. “I do not believe in angels, nor dragons for that matter, I just want what is left of my mother’s memory, and then I want to go home, wherever that is.” The city has declined to hear further arguments about estate ownership from Adelman or her angel clients, as the dragons are not licensed to practice law anywhere on this Earth, and their clients, the angels, don’t legally exist.

The secret hierarchy of angels is a cloud of knowledge, formed from the collected experiences of the deceased. Josie might be among them now, or she might know. All I know is that Josie loved Night Vale and we loved her.

I am going to go to the sculpture garden today to pay my respects. Carlos and I will hold hands and lay flowers at the ash-strewn base of (Manzu’s) towering masterpiece of contemporary sculpture. And then, we will purchase a souvenir photo of ourselves screaming in joy and sorrow, while engaged in a 120-mile per hour freefall, demonstrating our fervent arts adovacy, exactly as Josie would have wanted.

I hope all of you will join me in honoring not only the life of Josefina Ortiz, but the lives of the angels who loved her too.

Stay tuned next for hosts Josh and Chuck and their wildly popular show, “Stuff You Shouldn’t Know”, which as usual will be an unbroken reduction beep for 30 straight minutes. No one has ever heard Josh or Chuck speak.

And as always, good night, Night Vale.

Josie was beautiful and angels are real!

Good night.

[junker-town]

THIS WEEK IN SCHADENFREUDE, where Oklahoma State fans call for Mike Gundy’s mullet’s job

Also in the weekly roundup of post-Saturday internet angst: a dying man wishes for Arkansas to fire Bret Bielema, and Florida State fans want their .800-winning-percentage coach gone.

College football’s Week 4 was busy. It didn’t have any colossal upsets, but it had some surprises and a few brushes with chaos. Here’s how the internet responded, seen through the lens of five defeated fanbases whose online scenes I’ve toured.

Oklahoma State

Lost to TCU, 44-31, in a home upset. Someone proposed drastic consequences: the cleaving of head coach Mike Gundy’s immaculate mullet, a fixture since last year.

Let’s begin at the OrangePower.com message boards.

Thread: Time To Cut The Mullet, Coach

Okay. We get it. The Mullet took started as a joke, then took on a life of it's own.

That's great marketing --- when you're undefeated and riding the crest of a popularity wave.

But now you've gotten you a** kicked on national tv. You were beotch-slapped by a better game day coach that took you and your team to the woodshed.

The score was closer, but the game was a disaster.

But this isn’t strictly punitive. The poster thinks Gundy could stand to focus more on other things more productive to OSU’s mission if he gets rid of the haircut:

So, it's time to take a new focus -- one on the team not on your current media popular hairstyle.

Trim the mullet. Put the attention on improving the defense instead of your hair and lifestyle. The public loves it when you're winning, but when you're losing -- it doesn't care.

It was fun while it lasted, but now it's time to cut the damn thing.

This suggestion was met with widespread agreement. One poster couldn’t believe Gundy had lost to “a stupid visor wearing mf’er” like TCU coach Gary Patterson.

Someone sums it up:

Time to be business in the front, and back.

Another Pokes fan thinks Gundy needs to stop hunting turtles.

We’ve known for a while that Gundy hunts rattlesnakes:

Rattlesnake hunt in Okeene, OK with Todd and Wild Bill. http://pic.twitter.com/0SqWb9LxFk

— Mike Gundy (@CoachGundy) March 17, 2017

But a few weeks back, Gundy said he likes hunting turtles, too.

“They’re really good. When they know you get around them, they jump in the water,” Gundy said. “And so you got to kind of sneak up on them a little bit. At my place, we have quite a few of those off-road vehicles, called Gators. And so they’re accustomed to the sound of the Gator. So if you drive a Gator by, they won’t move. They’ll stay there. But if you walk up on them, you can’t very close to them because they’re too smart. They’ll jump in the water. So we used the Gators as our friend and try to keep as many turtles as we can out of the ponds because they eat your fish.”

Thread: How about a little less turtle hunting

and a lot more team preparation.

I wanna circle back to the mullet thing. So many OSU fans are directly reaching out to Gundy to tell him it’s time to get a haircut.

Cut the mullet @CoachGundy

— Emily Falkenberg (@Emilypfalk) September 23, 2017

Time to cut the mullet @CoachGundy #osuvstcu #ridiculousgame

— Jill Kimbrough (@jillkimbrough) September 23, 2017

Here’s Gundy getting told off by a couple of fans after tweeting appreciation for a group that brings seriously ill children to sporting events:

Cut the mullet

— Shane Wilde (@noShandlebars) September 24, 2017

Time the let the mullet go. Business in the front & back!

— Manscape & Massage (@ManscapeMassage) September 24, 2017

Cut your hair and donate half your salary back to Oklahoma teachers. Be a man. You are over paid

— My Info (@shirlmatlock56) September 24, 2017

“Be a man,” on the 10-year anniversary week of the “I’m a man” rant, no less.

Florida State

Lost 27-21 to NC State, falling to 0-2 and out of the AP Poll while the other team’s best player stopped to drop a loogie on the Noles’ logo.

The loss dropped Jimbo Fisher to a measly 78-19 at FSU, and he still just has one national title in eight-plus seasons, and there might be one, two, or even three coaches in the country slightly better than him.

Let’s see how Noles fans responded!

Here’s a gentleman screaming that Fisher’s overpaid and that his defensive coordinator, Charles Kelly, should be fired:

Can we fire jimbo fisher please! @FSUFootball

— Jonah Pate (@PateJonah) September 23, 2017

Jimbo Fisher is garbage . Fire him @FSUFootball

— Brad Dozier (@b_dozz) September 23, 2017

Let’s scoot on over to the message boards at Noles247.

Thread: Fire them all

Thread: Jimbo is a JOKE

So soft..not a Bowden bone in him.He’s just becoming noise.When u have more talent just play ball.why does he think he can win games 17-14 with this OL,DC and his play calling??...u just get tired watching this.

Thread: Fisher and whole staff need to be fired.

Totally inept and we will never be back to Playoffs with him. Only way to retain him is if he does what Dabo does, go get great coordinators, and then get out if their way and just be a cheerleader and recruiter. But, dumbo is to stubborn to do that,

FSU has made one of the three Playoffs that have ever been played. It’ll miss this year’s, which will drop Fisher to a mere .250 all-time Playoff participation rate.

Some people had a more pensive, chill attitude about everything.

Thread: I Don't know why Everyone's So Pissed Off That We Suck

So we suck. Who cares? Grow up.

Same:

Thread: I'm just here for the meltdown.

Love reading all the meltdown threads. My favorite part is when another team has a meltdown and everyone is so quick to point and laugh like it's beneath them. Who should we fire today fellas??? Maybe even shut program down at this point.

Boise State

Lost at home to Virginia, 42-23. Virginia! 42-23!

How does the commentariat feel about head coach Bryan Harsin, an alum who’s now fallen all the way to 40-16 all-time as the Broncos’ head coach?

To Boise’s Scout.com message board we go.

Thread: What does the buyout look like

Thread: Is this the darkest moment.........

for Boise State football in the 21st century or has it been worse? I am just not accustomed to seeing what I am seeing.

One message board poster, screen name zagco, had a specific demand.

Thread: Fire Brian Harsin!

Zagco is going to start a website!

Merely a half-hour after that plea, zagco said zagco was signing off altogether.

Thread: Goodbye BroncoCountry

Zagco is totally done with Boise State football until Harsin is gone. No more posts.

A short while later, another board poster was offering to buy the domain name firebryanharsin.com (for 25 percent off!) if someone else on the forum agreed to help manage the page. But another poster suggested a simpler solution:

Just create a fire Bryan Harsin Facebook page. It's free

To which the solicitor replied, “Good call.”

The Fire Harsin Facebook page doesn’t appear to be active yet. But!

(function(d, s, id) { var js, fjs = d.getElementsByTagName(s)[0]; if (d.getElementById(id)) return; js = d.createElement(s); js.id = id; js.src = "//connect.facebook.net/en_US/sdk.js#xfbml=1&version=v2.10"; fjs.parentNode.insertBefore(js, fjs); }(document, 'script', 'facebook-jssdk'));

Fire Bryan Harsin! Hire Les Miles!! Boise State so not the same

Posted by Nick Olsen on Friday, 22 September 2017

That is, if they can keep Les Miles away from the Nebraska AD job.

Kentucky

Lost 28-27 to Florida when its defense literally forgot to cover a receiver. That made 31 consecutive losses to UF, many of them in painful fashion.

But was this crushing to the program?

On the one hand, there’s a thread on UK’s Rivals board that’s titled, “Last Night Not Crushing to the Program.”

On the other, there’s another thread that’s titled, “Hard to overstate how crushing this is to the program.”

Here’s an exceptionally dark metaphor about Kentucky football in general.

Thread: Kentucky Football Reminds Me Of

The fable of the turtle and the scorpion. The gist of it is the scorpion wanted to ride the turtle across the river and promised he wouldn't sting the turtle if he gave him a ride. The turtle reluctantly agreed to take the scorpion. Halfway across the river the scorpion stings the turtle. The turtle asks, "why did you do that? Now we will both drown." The scorpion replies, "it's just my nature."

The Kentucky football fans are the turtle. The football team is the scorpion. No matter how much you expect something bad to happen, you reluctantly believe everything will be fine. So you go along for the ride and get your hopes up only to have it sting you and you sink to the bottom. That is how Kentucky football feels to me.

Here’s a Reddit thread I just figured I’d drop in full.

Slightly NSFW:

Arkansas

Lost to Texas A&M in overtime, like it does every year.

One fan says his near-death grandfather wants Bret Bielema fired before he dies.

@ClayTravis From Arkansas message board.. Amazing #hogs http://pic.twitter.com/nWzdQioLzM

— Jared Roll (@jroll918) September 23, 2017

Arkansas fans are less than stoked about their head coach and athletic director.

Let’s peruse Hogville.net for a few minutes.

Thread: Economical Solution to Our Problem

Replace AD Jeff Long with Wisconsin’s Barry Alvarez, who has worked nowhere other than Wisconsin since 1990. It’s an airtight plan.

Fire Long. Hire Barry Alvarez. Alvarez is making $1.125 million at Wisconsin. BB can be Alvarez's boy again, do as he is told, and regain his former level of highish mediocrity.

Thread: Go away BB

BB please go away. You are the worst coach we have ever had. Our program and state deserves better and Ws matter.

Also, there are multiple people worried that Arkansas will lose next weekend to New Mexico State. Yet another overtime loss to Aggies?

Is there a GoFundMe to pay Bielema’s massive buyout, currently north of $15 million?

Hell yeah there is.

The fundraiser, Austin Johnson, writes:

It's safe to say that Bret's time here should be over, however, Jeff Long has made this difficult with the lucrative 15.5 mil buyout, let's end this misery ourselves

Does the GoFundMe have any actual donations?

No, of course not.

So, any other solutions to make Arkansas competitive in the SEC West?

None better than this:

@jefflongUA How about Jimmy Johnson! Played for Razorbacks, won National Championship and also Super Bowls.

— Todd Naccarato (@todd_naccarato) September 24, 2017

[mikethemod]

Canterbury 10

I had a recovery week last week, covering just 20 miles including the Canterbury 10 mile race yesterday. This was a substantial drop from weeks of running 50, 50 and 42 miles. I would love to tell you it was part of my Master Plan but the truth was a combination of sore Achilles, a raised heart rate and an upcoming race. 

The sore Achilles was my own fault - a touch of overuse.  Averaging 30 miles a week throughout December, I started the New Year with marathon fever and substituted the 10% increase rule for 50%. A few nights on a foam roller, a week of Ibuprofen, some rest and some KT Tape across the actual tendon certainly helped. 

Not sure what raised the heart rate. For those of you who may be unaware of the significance of this, it’s a very simple way of monitoring your body’s reaction to the load you are placing on it - whether you run or not! Take your resting heart rate when you first wake up each morning. Mine is normally 52 beats per minute but last Tuesday morning my heart was was 56. Firstly, I should say that if you get into the rhythm of monitoring your resting heart rate you will find it to be very stable. I wake up, watch my alarm clock and count how many beats over 30 seconds, multiply by two and that’s my number. So, are four extra beats a minute important? Well four extra beats per minute are 240 extra beats per hour and 5,760 extra beats per day! WOWZER. So your little old heart is suddenly beating nearly 6,000 times a day more for some reason! Maybe you are tired from marathon training and the heart is working harder to help your body repair all those micro-tears caused by the long runs. Maybe you have a cold coming and your heart is beating faster to send in armies of good antibodies to fight off the baddies. Whatever the reason, it’s a very simple signal that you may need to ease off the training and monitor the effect. 

My last reason for resting was the upcoming race. I was impressed when a fellow Petts Wood Runner told me he was running this particular race at ‘marathon pace’. I questioned this as it seemed too early in the year and I felt he was in a great shape to run a good 10 mile time. The response was very positive, “This year is all about my marathon”. For someone who has run some very good times, but probably not fulfilled his potential due to getting caught up in races other years, I am hoping that this new initiative works for him. I will come back to the race later but I should say here that, as he glided past me before even mile one was up, I thought to myself “He’s going too fast already”, only to find that he was spot on at the finish.

So, my last blog was about Thursday track night. God it was sooo cold, in fact bloody freezing! The session was 15 min tempo followed by 5x1k, although for any runners slower than 27 min for 5k I got them to run 5x800m. The reason I did this was because these runners have amazing potential for improvement and what could be holding them back is simply a lack of confidence to run fast. Luckily for me it was a success, with a couple of 35 min park runners completing their 800m in 5 min, which is 10 min mile pace - 31 min Parkrun pace. So the seed has been sown in their minds that this time is totally achievable. 

As the week had gone by without the appearance of my new Nike Pegasus, I needed to decide whether I would race on Sunday. By Saturday my heart rate was back to normal and my Achilles were feeling ok, although I had not tested them. So, to get me in the right headspace for a race, I took mikethemod to Mr Snips in Petts Wood for a race day haircut. To boost my fundraising efforts, I have been raising mikethemod’s social profile with some short videos of him and his eco-friendly leg-powered Lambretta preparing for his marathons. 

I donned my Parka, my Teenage Cancer Trust cycling shirt (very Mod), a pair of Levis 501s and a pair Desert Boots and climbed inside my Lambretta for a short run to Petts Wood High Street. I had been growing my hair for the video, so my Suedehead had become more French Crop. I asked Martin Moss of Mr Snips for a “race day skinhead cut” (number 2 all over) and pressed record on my video camera. Martin put up a mikethemod poster in his shop and Teenage Cancer Trust and Demelza Hospice Care for Children collection boxes on his desk. It was a funny half hour...... although I was mortified when I realised I had climbed back into my scooter and run away without paying him.

At 7.45am on Sunday we boarded a 52 seater coach and headed off to the Canterbury 10 mile race - part of the PWR Grand Prix. I had entered for the last two years, registering 68 mins in 2015 and 72 mins in 2016. It was freezing, as it had been for whole of the last week, but the sky was clear and the sun was shining so we settled down for our journey. As we passed Maidstone, however, the fog descended - and that was the last we saw of any clear blue sky until we got home that evening. 

Freezing fog met us as we left the coach for the short walk to Race HQ. It was clear that the sports hall was going to be busy, so I grabbed my number and walked into Canterbury town centre with my son Scott. We found a Wetherspoons Pub, The Thomas Ingoldsby, and made the most of a black coffee and a warm room. We then made our way back to the start and bang on 10am we were off. 

I was hoping for sub 70 mins! It sounded strong, but my training run of 14 miles  two weeks ago finishing with a 6 min 30 sec mile had left me feeling I was in good condition. My first mile was 7 min 10 sec, so spot on really. I was freezing cold though, my hands were already hurting and I was breathing far heavier than I should be given that I still had 9 miles to go. 7 min 10 sec again and then 6 min 50 sec and 6 min 50 sec. I was still breathing too hard and it felt like a tempo run, but the times were what i wanted and I hoped I would soon warm up and feel comfortable. 

We passed through Bridge Village (running there much quicker than our later coach journey would take). At mile five I reached the only major hill on the course, I hate hills, Just keep the tempo up, I kept saying to myself, shorten the stride, but pace dropped significantly and my fifth mile was 7 min 50 sec, leaving me 36 min at halfway. I hate that, when you shave 10 secs off mile after mile - just to give it all back in one bad one. I guess that’s how your average golfer feels. 

I suddenly got passed by three PWRs; Rory, then Emma, then Stephen. I was still cold and now my head had gone. Why was I here? What was I doing? Had I gone off too fast? More importantly, how far behind me was Paul? I knew this next section was downhill, so I tried to drive on. The freezing fog reduced visibility so much it felt like I was the only runner in the race - until I passed someone or someone passed me, the latter happening all too often. 

With two miles to go I had got into a rhythm and suddenly saw Emma just in front of me. I pushed hard with a 6 min 58 sec and almost got to touching distance of Em, although she would have been blissfully unaware. The last mile marker obviously gave her a boost and, even though I finished with a 6 min 50 sec, Emma finished a good 20 seconds ahead of me, even beating Stephen on the mat ( I hear). 

My fingers were painful and I felt quite sick as I sat down in the hall. A hot cup of tea revived me. As a club we did brilliantly with new club records, a winning team and Janine running a great personal best (she has worked incredibly hard on her running form at the track). Once we were all back on the coach we made our way to The White Horse Inn in Bridge for a well-deserved Sunday lunch (an old friend and colleague of mine, Elliot Blair, is a co-owner). 

http://www.whitehorsebridge.co.uk/about-us/

We actually ran past The White Horse Inn during the race. Elliot was in a bit of a panic as the trophy presentation had held us up, but 52 roast lunches all arrived fresh and hot and the large coal fire and pints of Kentish Ale refreshed the parts other races could not reach. I got home just in time to lay on the sofa in front of the TV and watch the Blues win.