#like there would be times where all we had was 5 bucks and bought packs of ramen

[rainbowloliofjustice]

Instagram and Pinterest (TM) aesthetics have gentrified healthy eating and cooking when you're broke/poor.

[staticscreenwriting]

Where the heart is // B. B.

Summary: Bucky and (Y/N) are getting a divorce because they are silly and both love the other so damn much. (Happy Ending!)

TW: Talk of divorce. Talk of potential pregnancy and babies.

A/N: Likes, reblogs, comments are all much appreciated. I am German. Sometimes I get the tense wrong or make mistakes. I am useless when it comes to punctuation. Go easy on me, please.] 

TAGLIST: Find the link to join my taglist in my bio. Will reblog this post with the taglist attached seperately. 

Waking up from this nightmare How's your life, what's it like there? Is it all what you want it to be? Does it hurt when you think about me? And how broken my heart is

The apartment is deadly quiet as Bucky steps inside, only the rattling of his keys echoing through the halls that once seemed so warm and inviting are now but a cold reminder of what used to be.

People never really talk about these moments. The after. The wreckage. The ruins of what used to be. Sure there are movies and books and countless songs but they take the feeling and they wrap it up in beautiful words and prose and make something beautiful of it.

There’s nothing beautiful in the way Bucky feels as his feet drag him towards what used to be his bedroom, which is now hers. There’s nothing beautiful in the way he feels as his eyes wander over to the closed door behind which lays an empty room. One that is empty not because of choice but because of the shitty cards life has dealt both him and her.

There is nothing beautiful about the way he feels. Only sadness. Only hurt.

When he turns the corner and steps into the bedroom, his heart drops for a second. He hadn’t expected her to be here, not with how quiet the place is. But sure enough, there she is. Sitting on the fluffy comforter they bought together, legs tucked underneath herself. She said that comforter was the exact same shade of blue as his eyes. Now she doesn’t even lift her head to look at him, focusing only on the box resting on the bed before her.

“Hey uh — I didn’t expect to run into you.”  

“ I live here. Sorry to disappoint.“

“ I know, that’s not what I meant. It’s just so quiet. “

She shrugs but still doesn’t look up. There’s so much resentment there, dripping from every word. He can’t fault her for it. Not even a little. If he was her, he’d hate himself too. Maybe this will make it easier for them. If she hates him, that’s a straight cut. Right? Hating is easy. It’s loving that’s hard.

“ It’s like that now. You here to get some of your stuff?” she asks, looking up at him for the first time. Her eyes are red and tired. Not like they were when he left, filled with tears and sorrow. Now they’re just infinitely sad and exhausted. Like all the life and all the warmth and all the passion that he fell so deeply in love with, has been sucked out of her. He hates knowing it’s partially his fault.

“ If that’s okay with you.”

“ sure. “

The movies and the poems and the books and the songs, they never talk about this. The after. The limbo. The “will you keep this or shall I take it?”

They don’t talk about the fact that you’re supposed to pack 5 years of relationship into a bunch of boxes and figure out what to do with it.

He quietly walks into the closet, as if making any noise would break whatever bubble is currently surrounding the two of them. Sometimes he wonders if things would be different had they been different people. Had they been able to express their feelings differently. Sometimes, in the most secret part of his heart, Bucky wishes there would’ve been screaming. Maybe screaming would’ve been helpful. Sure, it’s not the most eloquent way of communication but at least it is communication. But there was no screaming. Only silence. Only feelings swallowed up to never be spoken about. To suffocate them from the inside out.

Making as little noise as possible, Bucky grabs some of his clothes and stuffs them into the duffle bag Sam gave him. He had that look on his face, the pitiful one. The one that says “sorry, man”. There’s no reason to feel sorry for Bucky. This is his fault after all.

There’s a sound coming from behind him, and for a second he really believes it’s his mind playing tricks on him. But then he hears it again, louder this time, more clearly.

She’s laughing. Maybe not a full-on laugh but a chuckle. It’s been a while since he’s heard that sound.

“ What’s got you laughing like that ? “ Bucky asks as he turns back around only to be greeted by her smiling face. God how much he misses that smile.

She looks back down towards the box in front of her and the picture in her hand.

“ It’s uh — it’s a picture of the first time you stayed over. “

His legs carry him towards the bed as if they work on autopilot. As he sits down next to he can just about make out the scent of her shampoo. The one he bought for himself last week, not because he necessarily likes to use it. He bought it because he misses the scent. Because he misses her. And if he can keep her close like this, even for a small moment, he’ll buy an entire store's worth of shampoo.

Her fingers gently grip the picture so as to not rip or crumble it. He can’t hold back the smile that pulls at the corner of his lips as he recognizes the picture. It’s a slightly less gloomy version of him, in love and asleep. Curled up on her old tiny couch in her old tiny apartment with her dog Yoda sleeping soundly on his chest. He was so nervous to stay over at her place the first time he did. Nervous about so many different things but mostly about doing something to hurt her. Physically but also emotionally. To think that now his biggest fear came true, crushes his heart even further.

“ I miss Yoda. He was a good dog,” she says as she puts the photo back into the box. Truth be told, Bucky misses him too. He was grumpy and lazy and he didn’t ever really listen to them. But he was loyal and cuddly and all in all, he was the perfect dog for the two of them. And he had accepted Bucky into his and her life immediately. As if he knew that Bucky of all people needed nothing more than a chance to prove himself to be something other than a killer.

There are more pictures in the box, alongside other clutter that Bucky can’t quite make out. One of the other pictures he can see clearly, is one of the two of them on their first Halloween. The Halloween that Bucky didn’t want to dress up for. The one he promised himself he would spend curled up on his couch watching a scary movie and not open the door to anyone, Trick or Treaters or otherwise.

He ended up going out anyway. With her. FOR her. And it was one of the best nights of his life even if it meant he had to dress up like a skeleton.

“ What is all this? “ he asks though, by the way his heart starts beating faster, Bucky isn’t sure he even wants to know the answer to that question. “ You getting rid of our pictures? “

He doesn’t want it to sound so accusatory. They’re broken up. Separated. In the early process of a divorce. She has every right to get rid of their pictures. Get rid of him. Bury the memories. Just because he can’t let go doesn’t mean that she’s grieving in the same way.

“ No, “ she scoffs and pulls out a small scrap of paper, “ this is a memory box I started when we first got together. It’s things I didn’t know where to put but that I wanted to hold on to. I had planned to give it to you for our 10 year anniversary but … well “

She doesn’t have to say it. He knows.

“ Then after the — seperation I put some other stuff in there. Memories.” 

“ Can I see what else is in there? “ he asks “ since I won’t get to see it on our 10 year anniversary.”

Bucks isn’t quite sure why he adds that to the end of his sentence. It makes him sound spiteful and mean and he can tell, by the look on her face, that it hurts her. And he’s done enough of that in the past. Isn’t that exactly the reason they are here in the first place?

She considers it for a moment and Buck can only guess the different kinds of emotions running through her then. He feels them too. All of them. They are confusing and most of them are negative. She has no reason to let him see this, relish in sweet nostalgia with him as if everything is okay and they’re not getting a fucking divorce.

“ Sure, I guess. I —  yeah.”

She scoots more to the middle of the bed, making more space for Bucky to sit down properly. He’s perched on the side that was his. The side he fell asleep on and woke up on so many times. And she was there next to him. Always there and warm and soft. And she’d smile at him through sleepy eyes and a hazy mind and she’d rival the sun. And then she’d gently comb her fingers through his hair and say good morning and he knew it would be — a good morning.

He hasn’t had a good morning since he left.

She moves the box to sit between them on the bed and motions for Bucky to start digging in.

There’s a pile of what he realizes are old movie tickets. It's something they used to do when they first started dating. Thursdays were movie days. But while everyone went to see the new blockbusters, the two of them would pick the movies that sounded the weirdest and they’d buy a big bucket of popcorn and blue raspberry slushies and just relish in the grandeur that is bad cinema. Most of the time they were the only ones at the cinema. Sometimes things got — R rated.

“ Why did we stop doing this? “ she asks as Bucky looks up from the tickets “ going to the movies I mean. It was always my favorite day of the week. “

He tries to remember. Tries to pinpoint the moment when life changed and their Thursdays weren’t their Thursdays anymore. He can’t. He comes up empty.

Sometimes life changes in little ways, ones you don’t realize at that moment and they don’t seem significant either. It’s a broken tradition. A missed movie night. It’s slow and creeping but at some point, you stop and look at your life now and it doesn’t resemble your life then anymore. Everything has changed and you didn’t even notice. Not for one single second.

“ I have —  I have no idea. “ he has to confess.

“ Remember that movie with the killer florist ? “ she asks and her voice is laced with laughter. Something sparks up in his heart. A tiny flicker of something he’s missed. Something he hasn’t felt in a while. He can’t help but laugh along.

“ I do! Or the one where the woman fell in love with the Koi in her neighbor's pond? ”

“ Oh god! That was terrible. “

“ It was.”

She looks wistful for a moment as if her thoughts wander off to some long-forgotten memory.

“ What are you thinking about? “

He never usually had to ask her. He’d either know or she’d tell him on her own accord. It’s like there’s an invisible wall between them. One he wants to break down or climb over so badly. But does she want him there? After everything?

“ The day we saw that movie was the first time you said I love you. “

It’s true. Now that she mentions it he remembers it so clearly. It’s like he’s suddenly faced with a scene from a movie he’s forgotten about a long time ago but once someone mentions it, he remembers it in great detail. Knows every word. Every line.

“ I still don’t quite know what it was about that moment that made you say it but — “ she trails off, a smile playing on her lips.

Bucky knows. It wasn’t a groundbreaking realization back then. He’d been feeling it for months. Fell deeper in love with her with every glance, every smile, every silly movie he got to watch with her. They went to some dingy diner after the movie to grab a burger and some fries. The leather seats were old and the filling was spilling out, the air smelled of grease and air freshener, and the laminated menu cards were sticky with undefinable stains. All things considered, it should’ve been a bad date. It wasn’t though. Nothing was ever bad with her. She smiled. All she did was smile and hum along to some song Bucky didn’t know as it spilled from the jukebox. And it occurred to him then, that there was no need for a big gesture or a special moment. Every moment with her was special. Life couldn’t get any better than this. Existing was enough if only she was there.

“ Nothing. “

“ Hm? “

“ There was nothing special about that moment. I just realized that I would be okay with anything if only you are there. You — that’s all I need in life. “

She looks at him then and for a second he thinks that maybe she’ll kiss him. Tell him that they are making a mistake and ask him to come back. Tell him that she doesn’t blame him. That she forgives him. That she wants him anyway. Despite — everything. She doesn’t though. Just sighs and pulls another picture from the box.

It’s a picture of the two of them cuddled up on the couch with a tiny white ball of fluff resting on her chest.

“ Our first picture with Alpine. “

“ That was taken on the day we found him. Look, you can clearly see the scratches on my face from crawling around the dumpsters to rescue him. “ Bucky points out.

He had never thought of himself as a cat person. Really he wasn’t so much an anything-person anymore, after Hydra. But somehow that little cat had wormed his way into his heart and refused to leave.

“ Was worth it though! “

Bucky nods his head in agreement “ it was. “

“ You should — you should take him. He’s really more your cat than mine.”

“ He’s our cat.” he points out.

“ Bucky there won’t be an ours anymore. Soon.”

It breaks his heart. Over and over again. He just got used to being himself. The version he was when he was with her. How is he gonna deal with doing it all over again? He doesn’t want to be a version of himself after her.

“ I don’t have a place yet and Sam’s allergic. “

“ He can stay here until then, of course. I love him. “

There’s a lot of love there that’s being given up on, Bucky realizes. And he hates every part of it.

“ Shit, remember this? “ she chimes up again as her hand holds onto a thin receipt, the black ink bleached away and thinned out from years of being stuck in a box. From years of memories fading.

“ Is that from the —”

“ The tattoo place, yeah. “

The patch of skin on the inside of his arm grows hot as if he is suddenly aware of what is there. Something long forgotten. A small letter forever etched into his skin in black ink like the way she’s forever etched into his heart. Always there. Forever. Just like the delicate lines that write his own name onto her collar bone. James. Not Bucky. Not Winter Soldier. James.

“ Oh god, I can’t believe you kept these,” Buck exclaims as he picks a pair of bright blue knitted socks from the box. They’re made from scratchy wool and there are a million and one holes in them. It’s so her. So quintessentially her. To keep them. With their holes and their scratchy wool and all. Even if they’re a mess. Even if they’re broken. She holds onto things no matter how bad. No matter how lost and sad and broken and useless. She holds on tight and doesn’t let go. Unless you make her. Unless you force her to. Unless you break her heart.

“ Umm … you made them for me. Like you literally learned how to knit to make me a pair of socks to keep my feet warm. That is the most romantic thing anyone has ever done for me, Buck. Of course, I kept them. “

Bucky bashfully shrugs his shoulders, a tint of red dusting his cheeks. “ I’m glad you liked them. Even if they’re scratchy. “

“ I like you and Alpine and you guys are the scratchiest,” she points out. She’s not wrong.

“ Was I a good boyfriend? “ Bucky asks and while in the grand scheme of things it really doesn’t matter, he wants to know anyway. Wants to know he did something right.

“ You were the best boyfriend. “

“ I’m sorry I was a shit husband. “

She stays quiet for a moment and with every second that passes by he breaks more and more. He wonders how much of him is left at this point. How much there’s still to lose. Then again, what does it matter? He lost her and that’s all that really matters.

“ You weren’t a shit husband, Bucky. “

It’s like the world suddenly moves in slow motion as they both grab the 2 things left in the box.

Bucky holds onto the blue velvet box knowing exactly what’s inside. The last time he held it, got on his knees in front of her, put the ring on her finger, that was one of the best days of his life. A sign that the Winter Soldier was his past and that he could finally truly move on. They were younger, in love. Happy. Now he hardly remembers what happiness feels like.

“ I was so nervous to give this to you. Not because I thought you’d say no or anything. I just — I just wanted to be enough. The ring and the proposal and — me. “

“ You were always enough. “ she says and he can hear the tears in her voice. It’s thick and heavy and he knows that if he looks at her now, there will be tears in her eyes too.

But he doesn’t look at her then. His eyes fall onto the piece of fabric in her hands. It’s so small. Soft peached colored with a little bunny embroidered on the front. It’s tiny and cute and it belongs to no one. It’s tiny and it should’ve been theirs. But it isn’t.

“ No, I wasn’t. He says and shakes his head. You deserve more than I can give you. “

She throws the baby romper back into the box and gets off the bed as if someone has set it on fire.

“ What’s wrong? “ he asks as if he doesn’t know. Everything. Everything about this situation is wrong. They’re supposed to make love on this bed, not cry over memories long gone. Push away thoughts of their looming divorce.

“ I don’t know, Bucky. Maybe you can tell me. “ She calls out to him as she pulls the rest of his shirts from the closet and throws them into the bedroom. Colors of fabric flying through the air like wings of a bird flapping through the winds. Some of them she lops at him, passion and anger and wrath and sadness filling her eyes. “ Maybe you can tell me why the fuck we’re doing this. Why we’re putting ourselves through all this pain and suffering and this bullshit divorce. Maybe you can tell me why you left me to have a fucking breakdown every time I walk into my closet and see this goddamn dress, “ she cries while holding up the hanger over which her beautiful white wedding dress is draped. God, she looked so beautiful that day. Like a goddess. Like an angel. Like his redemption.

“ We were happy. We were trying to have a family. And then what — it doesn’t work and you leave? You just gave up. “

“ I didn’t give up. “

“ Yes, you fucking did! You gave up and you served me divorce papers and you didn’t even give me a fucking choice. “

“ You agreed! “

“ Because I love you and if you don’t want to be with me, then I am not keeping you. I love you enough to let you be happy even if it’s without me.”

Those words send a shock through his heart. Like an icicle. Cold and sharp and unforgiving.

“ You think I don’t love you? You think YOU are the reason?,” Bucky questions before grabbing the romper from the box and holding it up “ this is the reason. This is my fault and mine alone. It’s my fault that this belongs to no one. It’s my fault that there’s an empty room in this apartment that you can’t walk into because it hurts you too much to see it empty. You deserve to be a mother and clearly, I can’t give that to you. That’s the burden I carry but it’s not one that should be put on you. I can’t give you this but you deserve it and you should have it. So this is me letting you go so you can find someone that can give you a baby. Someone who isn’t broken. Someone who doesn't have a body that doesn’t work anymore. Not in the way it should. “

“ James, “ her words a but a whisper as his name tumbles from her lips and she lets her wedding dress fall to the floor to sit next to him and hold his face in between her hands. “ That wasn’t your fault and you are not broken. I want a family, yes. I want a child. But with you. I want a family with you and it doesn’t matter if it’s my blood or not. It’s our family whichever way we decide to do this. And if we — if we stay just us and Alpine that’s fine too. I just want you and whatever else we decide on. Together. I love you, James. I love you and I miss you and I don’t want a baby if it’s not with you. A family means nothing if it doesn’t include you. Whatever the consequences of the serum are, they are not your fault. You are not broken, James. You are you. You’re a hero. A husband. And maybe one day a father but above all, you are James Buchanan Barnes, a survivor and you are not broken.  “

He knows he should be saying so many things right then but all his thoughts get tangled up and won't find the way to his lips.

Instead, he says the only other thing he can think about right then.

“ You looked so beautiful in your wedding dress. “

She laughs through the flood of tears that leak from her eyes and trail down her face.

“ I mean you always look beautiful but that day. My god. I honestly couldn’t believe you said yes to me — of all people. 106 year old me. Wouldn’t believe it until the moment you walked down the aisle. Then I knew that this was really the start of my new life. Of my forever. “

“ I miss you Bucky. “

“ I miss you too. “

“ I don’t want to divorce you. I want to be your wife and I want you to be my husband.”

“ Even without the babies? “

“ Yes, “ she nods and brushes her fingers through his short hair. “ You are my family James and you are enough for me. Always”

“ I love you. “ he says because really, it’s the only thing he can think of. The thing he wants most. The only thing that matters.

Without another word, he pulls the ring from the box and delicately slips it back onto her finger. Where it belongs. Where it always belonged.

“ I’m sorry I was ever this stupid. I should’ve just talked to you “

“ Yeah you should have but right now can you — can you just kiss me? “

She doesn’t need to ask him twice. He kisses her once, then twice, then once again. It’s been a long long time since the last time he’s kissed her. Too long. Way too long.

He’s not gonna stop anytime soon. Never again. Never ever again.

“ Hey, “ he says “ how about you slip into your wedding dress I think for all my stupid decisions I owe you a dance. “

“ I think you might be right. “

And she’s smiling, so bright and radiant. Like the sun. Like all the stars. Like his own personal light in the darkness.

“ Don’t expect too much though. I just cried, my hair is a mess — I won’t look the way you remember me looking in this dress. “

“ You’ll look gorgeous.”

And he’s right. She looks breathtaking. She looks like a wonderful, wonderful dream. Like love captured in a person. Like a second chance. Like his home.

There are a lot of thoughts racing through Bucky’s mind as he pulls her close and they sway to the melodic tunes of their wedding song as it sounds from the speakers of her cellphone. But above all there’s love. And the knowledge that he is enough. That they are enough. Their tiny little family. Perfect and not broken or missing anything. It’s good as it is.

They don’t have to think about who gets to keep the decorative throw pillows, the records they used to collect together, the plates that were a wedding gift, the cat. Because it’s theirs. Together. Shared.

And forever.

[winchesterfanatic1967]

Picking Up The Pieces Part 1

Pairings: Dean AU x Reader

Word Count: 3,654 

Warnings- Hard times

You clutched your jacket around yourself a little bit tighter. It was the beginning of November and the weather was starting to get really cold in Lawrence Kansas. You were currently standing in line for a bed at the shelter. It was really long so there was a slim chance that you were going to get a slot tonight. Sure enough, after about 10 more people the man at the door said that was it for the night. You sighed and slowly turned walking to Donna’s Place. 

The diner didn’t have that many people in it, just a young teenage couple and an old guy at the counter sipping on his beer. You sat at the counter and the waitress approached you for something to drink, which you shook your head no. 

“I’m sorry, you have to order something to keep your seat.” She said with sympathy in her eyes. 

“I understand. I’ll just have some water please.” You say quietly. 

“Coming right up honey.”

While you waited for your water, you counted the few bills you had in your small wallet. You only had 23$ to your name. You’ve been in this predicament for quite some time now. When you turned eighteen your parents kicked you out because you didn’t want to be a doctor. Your family was all doctors and nurses, and they looked down on other people who didn’t have the same career. 

That was three years ago, and you were now 21. You had a job at Burger King for a while, but the bills were piling up and you didn’t have enough money for rent so the landlord kicked you out. All of your family disowned you, and you had nobody else. You slept at the shelter when you could, but most of the time it was packed with people. 

When you were able to stay you took your showers. Most of the time you took clothes out of the donation bins, and only bought granola bars or fruit so you wouldn’t run out of money. The money was getting low now, and you didn’t know what to do. You’ve been searching for jobs all over the place but nobody hired you. 

You sipped slowly on your water, and stared at your hands. You ran your fingers through your hair and cursed to yourself at how greasy it was becoming. This was the second night in a row you haven’t been able to grab a bed so you haven’t showered. 

You were aware that you probably smelt bad, and you sunk your head down, avoiding the stares of the two teenagers. The employees were staring at you like you were some kind of animal, and it was making you uncomfortable. The bell on the door indicated someone else was walking in. 

You turned to look, and it was four guys. They were attractive, and you quickly looked away. You felt disgusting, and went into the ladies room. You wiped cold water on your face and looked at your reflection ashamed. Your hair was definitely greasy, and you had dark bags underneath your eyes from lack of sleep. 

Your clothes looked wrinkly, and you tried to make yourself look a little bit presentable as you made your way back to your seat. The four guys were sitting in the booth closest to the counter, and you kept your head down trying to avoid eye contact. These four attractive guys didn’t need to see how ugly you were. You were hoping that they couldn’t smell you. 

You felt someone looking at you, and you shyly looked up to see the most attractive man you’ve ever laid eyes on. He had the greenest eyes you’ve ever seen. He had light brown hair and a small amount of stubble. He was looking at you, and he gave you a small smile. You returned it, your cheeks flushed and looked away quickly. 

You kept glancing over at him, and everytime you did he was looking at you. You couldn’t help but think he and his friends were making fun of you, and you tried to make yourself small. 

“I’m sorry guys, we’re closing up soon.”

“No problem sweetheart, we’ll be out soon.” The green eyed man said. 

“Okay.” You whispered quietly and she looked at you in sympathy again. 

“Is there someone I can call for you? Somewhere that you can go?”

You shook your head no, and slowly got up out of your chair. You wrapped your jacket tighter around yourself as you walked out of the diner, but before the door closed you noticed him looking at you again. 

You weren’t sure how long you were walking, but the low rumble sound of a car pulling up next to you broke your train of thought. You looked over to see a beautiful black car and sure enough the same man from the diner looking at you. 

“Hey sweetheart. Do you need a ride somewhere?” He asked kindly and you shook your head no. 

“No thank you, I’ll be home in five minutes.” You lie. 

“Let me take you home, you’ll be there in 1 minute instead of five.” He shrugged and you shook your head again. 

“That’s okay, but thank you so much.”

“I insist. My mother would slap me upside the head if she found out I let a beautiful young girl walk home at night. It’s dangerous out here sweetheart.”

He wasn’t letting up, and you sighed quietly before opening the passenger door, and sliding in quietly. He began to drive and asked where to go. You told him a random turn and luckily there was a motel there.

“Right there. Motel 99.” You say quietly. 

“Okay.” 

You looked in your wallet, and pulled out 5 dollars and tried to hand it to him. “This is for you.” But he shook his head rapidly. 

“No no no. I don’t think so.” He said gently and pushed the money towards you kindly. 

“Please take it. I insist.” You say quietly. 

“No. It’s no problem at all. I’m just glad I got you home safe and sound. My pleasure.” He said sweetly and you gave him a small smile. 

“Thank you, I appreciate it.” You reply kindly. 

“You’re welcome. Have a goodnight.” 

You walked into the motel, and there was a sketchy guy sitting at the front desk. “Hello miss thing. What can I do for you?”

“How much is it a night?” You ask. 

“100 bucks.” You winced and looked to the ground. 

“Thanks anyways.” You whisper and begin to walk outside. 

“I can knock it down to fifty if you repay me in favors.” He said cheekily and your face scrunched up in disgust. “No thanks.” You say in annoyance and continue your way outside. 

You walked along the dirt path, and you couldn’t help but let a tear slide down your cheek. You haven’t cried that much over your situation. You didn’t cry when your parents kicked you out and shunned you, you didn’t cry when your landlord kicked you out, you didn’t cry when you lost your job. 

But if you were being honest this entire thing was beginning to take a toll on you. It was cold outside now, and the money was beginning to run out. Nobody was hiring, and you cursed to yourself about not applying to Donna’s Place earlier. 

You were starving, and you desperately needed a shower. You were going to make it your mission to get a spot tomorrow night at the shelter. You arrived at a park, and took a seat on the bench. You were shivering, and you tugged your jacket close to your body. 

You tried to make yourself comfortable and laid down shutting your eyes. Sleep was failing you, and you sighed softly before sitting up again. You decided to head back to the shelter. They were most likely going to say no, but you had to try to get a proper bed tonight. 

You knocked softly on the door, and after a couple of minutes a man opened it up. “Can I help you?”

“H-Hi, I was wondering if you had any beds left.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t think we do tonight honey.”

“O-Okay, I understand.” You say with tears welling in your eyes. You began to walk away when he stopped you. 

“I can tell you’re going through a really rough time. Listen, go to Harvelle’s Roadhouse. My wife and I co own it, and she’s got a couple of beds in the back. I’ll call her and let her know you’re coming. We’ve got a bed, a shower and she can make you something to eat.” 

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure. It’s about a 10 minute walk, would you like me to drive you?”

“No, I got this. Thank you for everything.” You say quietly before walking in the direction he pointed you to. 

Harvelle’s Roadhouse was in bold letters on the front of the building. You sighed before knocking on the front door softly. A middle aged woman opened it up. “Can I help you sweetie?”

“Hi. Your husband told you I was coming here?”

“Yes. Of course, come on in.” 

You stepped inside, and she led you to the back. There was a small bedroom connected with a bathroom. 

“There’s shampoo and conditioner for guests in the shower already, and there’s a sealed toothbrush with some toothpaste in the vanity. I can lend you some of my daughters clothes and wash the ones you have on now if you would like.” She said and you nodded your head gratefully.

“Are you hungry? I can whip something up for you.” 

“Please.” You whispered.

“What can I make you?”

“Anything.” You whispered and she looked at you with sympathy. 

“Coming right up honey.”

You stood in the shower for a really long time, and you felt so much better when you got out. Your hair felt fresh, and you were able to shave parts of you that you haven’t been able to attend to in a while. 

You dried yourself off, and slid the sweatpants and tank top over your body. You were grateful to everyone who’s been nice to you tonight. Nobody has been this nice to you in such a long time. 

She entered the room with a bowl of soup and some crackers. “I figured you should take it easy on your stomach, it’s been a while since you’ve had a proper meal huh?” She asked and you looked away shameful. 

“Hey..my name is Ellen by the way. What’s yours?”

“Y/n.” 

“Beautiful name. Is there anyone I can call for you? Parents?” 

You shook your head no, and she looked at you with sympathy. 

“Well, I’ll let you eat your food, and then you need to get some rest.” She said gently and you nodded gratefully. 

“Thank you ma’am.” You say quietly and she smiled at you. 

“Call me Ellen, and you’re welcome sweetie. Sweet dreams.” She says as she leaves the room. 

You ate like you’ve never eaten before, and you were out like a light within minutes. You woke up the next morning and your eyes widened at the time. 5:00 in the afternoon!? 

Ellen folded your clean clothes on the bottom of the bed, and you quickly dressed yourself. You were about to run out the front door before she stopped you. 

“Hey, where are you going sweetie?”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to sleep all night and all afternoon here. Thank you so much for everything you and your husband did for me. I’ll be out of your hair in no time.”

“Wait wait wait, y/n you can stay, let me help you get back on your feet,-”

You cut her off but shaking your head. “I’ve been doing this for a long time. But thank you so much again.” 

Before she opened her mouth, you were out the door. You appreciated everything she did, but you felt like you overstayed your welcome. You decided you were going to apply to Donna’s Place as a waitress. You would sleep at the shelter at night, and you would save up until you could afford an apartment. 

The bell rang as you entered the diner, and it had a little more people than it did the night before. You looked to your left and the same four guys were sitting in the same spot. The green eyed man smiled widely, and you gave him a shy one back. 

“Hey sweetheart! C’mere!” He said and you felt your cheeks burn. 

You approached them slowly, and smiled shyly at the other three attractive men and they returned it with grins. 

“This is Benny, Cas, and this is my brother Sam. Guys, this is...I’m sorry I don’t think I caught your name.” He says sheepishly. 

“Y/n.” 

“The beautiful mystery girl you drove home last night?” Cas teased and you smiled softly and your cheeks turned pink. You were shocked to see that the tips of his ears turned pink. 

“Yes. This is her. I’m Dean. I’m sorry I didn’t formally introduce myself last night.” He said again and you shook your head.

“That’s okay.”

“Why don’t you have a seat with us?” He asked but you shook your head.

“Thank you, but I’m actually here to apply for a job.”

“Oh, that’s okay.” He said a little disappointed. 

“Hey, my wife said you took off this morning. You know you could’ve stayed as long as you needed to.” A voice said next to you and you looked up to see Bill staring at you. 

“U-Um yeah, I told her thanks but I’ll be okay.” You say quickly hoping he would change the subject. 

“If you want a spot tonight, I can arrange that for you.” He says kindly and you give him a small smile.

“I would appreciate that, thank you.”

He just nodded and walked away and you slowly turned to look at the four men with confused looks on their faces. 

“Y/n..Bill runs the homeless shelter.” Dean says and you could feel your face burn with embarrassment. “I thought I brought you home last night?”

“Well, not exactly.” You said hoping that the ground swallowed you up. “L-Look, I don’t want to talk about this. Enjoy your dinner. And thank you again for last night.” You say kindly and turn around walking to the counter. 

As you were filling out an application you felt a warm hand place itself on the small of your back. You looked up into Dean’s green eyes and he was looking at you filled with sympathy. 

“Listen, I know you don’t know me that well. Not at all actually. But I do know that you’re clearly going through a rough time, and if you ever need someone to vent to I’m here for you.” He says sweetly and you smile at him. 

“Thank you.”

 “They’re always hiring here. You should definitely get the job.”

“I hope so.” You say quietly. 

“So I really don’t mean to pry, but you don’t live at the motel?” He asks and you shook your head. 

“No. I’m sorry I lied to you. I was embarrassed.” You say. 

“Don’t be. I promise I’m not judging you.”

“I don’t have a home. I stay at Bill’s shelter whenever there is a free bed. The past two nights in a row I wasn’t able to get a bed and last night I felt at my lowest point and I was desperate. I stayed at Harvelle’s Roadhouse and Ellen was very nice to me. She offered me to stay there but I’m just trying to get a job so I can get back on my feet and find myself an apartment.”

“It’s okay to ask for help every once in a while you know.” He said quietly. 

“I know. But I’ve been on my own since I’ve been eighteen. I can handle it.”

“Listen, I know you don’t know me at all, and I know this sounds absolutely crazy..but stay with me.”

“What? No.” You say quickly. 

“It’s okay to ask for help y/n. You’re going through a hard time and I want to help you. Let me be your friend. Let me help you get back on your feet.”

“Dean..even if I said yes I don’t have a job. I can’t help you with rent. I can’t help with groceries.” 

“And that’s completely okay.”

“No, I can’t agree to that Dean.”

“Listen. If you get hired here, then stay with me. Save up a little bit, and if it means that much to you we can split everything. Okay?”

“Okay.” You say softly. 

The owner Donna was thrilled when you applied and your availability was anytime everyday. There was only her with three other waitresses. Claire, Alex, and Kaia. She said you could start right away, and all the tips you got were yours. Your first shift began at 10:00 tomorrow morning. 

You were embarrassed that you didn’t have anything to bring with you to Dean’s house. Just the clothes on your back. He could tell that you were ashamed, but he didn’t push you to talk. 

“Listen y/n..if you want I can bring you to the mall. Pick out whatever you want.” You shook your head. 

“I can’t do that Dean.”

“I insist sweetheart. Please.” 

“Alright…” You sigh and he gives you a small smile. 

“And then we can pick up bathroom stuff for you. I’m sure you don’t want to use my axe shampoo and cologne smelling deodorant and body wash.” He chuckled and you giggled quietly. 

“Okay Dean. Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome.”

At the end of it all, you felt terrible for how much Dean was spending on you. He bought you all the bathroom products you needed, along with a bunch of clothes. He even bought you makeup. 

He pulled into his small house, and you helped him carry everything inside. You placed everything on the kitchen counter and you looked up at him with tears welling in your eyes. 

“Thank you Dean.”

“Hey...stop it. Don’t you do that to me.” He said as he pulled you gently into his arms and you buried your face into his chest. It’s been a long time since somebody hugged you, let alone be this nice to you. 

He was rubbing his hand up and down your back. “Listen, I’m always here for you. I want to get to know you. You’ve been through tons of crap and I can’t even imagine. You deserve better than what the world has done to you. Let me be there for you. Let me take care of you. You deserve to be happy.”

“I’m crap Dean. You don’t know me. When you find out how shitty I am you’ll kick me out.” You sniffled.

“I highly doubt that, and you’re not crap. You need help, and there’s nothing wrong with receiving it. Now, I’m going to give you a tour, show you where the guest room is that’s now yours, and then you’re going to take a nice long hot shower, and I’m going to order us a pizza. You like pizza right?” You nodded against his shoulder. 

“Good. Now let me show you around.” 

He showed you around his small house, and for a guy it was neat and clean. Your room was really nice, and the walls were a nice beige color with a queen size bed in the middle. 

You gathered up all your bathroom stuff along with your pajamas and shut the bathroom door. You showered, thinking to yourself that you’ve never met anyone as nice as Dean. When you finished you went out into the living room. Dean was handing the pizza guy money, and he turned around and smiled when he looked at you. 

“Hey sweetheart. Do you feel better?”

“Yeah, much better.”

“Good. Want to watch tv?”

“Yeah sure.”

“Okay, make yourself comfortable on the couch and I’ll be right out.”

“Okay De.” You say softly. 

“Hey..you okay?” He asks in concern. 

“Yeah..yeah I think that everything is just sinking in you know?”

“Yeah..I understand.” 

You ate together in silence, with Friends playing in the background. You felt Dean glance over to you every few moments, but you pretended not to notice. 

“Are you excited for your first shift tomorrow?” He asked. 

“I’m a little nervous. It’s been a long time since I’ve had a job.”

“You’ll do great. I go there every night and it’s mainly the same people who eat there. Everyone is super nice to the staff and the ladies get good tips. I believe in you y/n.” 

“Thank you Dean.” You let out a small yawn. 

“Are you sleepy?”

“Getting there.” 

“Why don’t you head to bed? You need rest sweetheart.” 

“Yeah, I suppose you’re right.” 

“Here, I’ll walk you.” 

He trailed behind you, and you gently hugged him before entering your room. “Thank you for everything. You’ll never know how much I appreciate it.” You whisper to him and he held you tighter against his body. 

“You’re welcome y/n.” 

You crawled into bed, and moaned softly at the memory foam mattress. It was so soft, and you felt your eyelids droop instantly as you became more comfortable. 

After Dean finished another episode, he shut the tv off and locked up. Before he went into his room he quietly checked on you and he smiled at the sight of you snuggled into the mattress. You were wrapped up in the covers like a cocoon, and he felt his heart swell. 

You were such a sweet and beautiful girl. He wasn’t sure what happened to you for you to end up in the position you were in, but he was a patient man and he was going to be there for you and pick up the pieces. 

[writinggarbage007]

The Captain’s Assistant

Chapter 10

Steve Rogers x dark! reader, Avengers x dark! Reader

Summary: After 3 years as Cap's assistant and being treated like nothing, you are captured by Hydra and everything changes.

Warnings: swearing, dark themes, abduction, torture, cannon level violence, theft, bank robbery, manipulating people, bad intentions

Will update warnings on each chapter.

Slight AU

After lunch everyone went to pack their things and get ready for the trip back to the compound. You sat at the table finishing your drink, then moved to put your dishes in the sink before returning to your room.

You really didn't want to talk to these people but you knew at least a few of them were going to come by to tell you goodbye. You sat in your room with the tv playing in the background until you heard a knock.

Sam and Wanda. They both hugged you and told you to call them if you needed any. Right, like you weren't living with a billionaire who was also Iron Man. You barely restrained an eye roll.

Next was Clint. You always tried to get along with him for two reasons. Number one he saw the good in people even when it wasn't there. And two he was best friends with Nat. His good word could get her to ease off.

"We're heading back in about 30. You sure you don't want to go with us?" Clint asks.

"My therapy is here, hun. Also Tony and Pepper have been so supportive." You say, then hug him, because why not? He's got great arms." Natasha doesn't want me there Clint. She's been weird since I got back. I don't know what I did to her but she seems like she wants to shank me."

Clint lets out a little chuckle."She doesn't want to shank you." He says returning your hug. "She's worried about you."

Riiiight. Worried about you. He could be so clueless. You knew she didn't trust you. That woman was good at reading people.

"Give me some time. I might just show up one day." You tell him and step back when there's another knock on the door.

When you open it Steve's eyes go from you to Clint and you can almost see his mind working. So you smile at him and take his hand pulling him into the room.

"Clint is trying to get me to come to the compound." You tell Steve.

"I just thought you would like some company."Clint says, then turns to the door.

"Don't forget to stop by and see Lucy!" You tell him before he can leave and he shoots you a thumbs up and a smirk before closing the door.

"So…" Steve says looking at you with a grin." Who is Lucy?"

"She works at the bakery where I got those donuts Clint loves. She's cute and I think they would hit it off."

"You are trying to hook Clint up with a woman who can make donuts? He'll be training 8 hours a day if Nat finds out." He laughs and you join in, imagining Clint cursing as she makes him run laps.

"Are you going to be ok here?" Steve asks when his mirth dies down.

"I'm getting better every day. Like I told Clint, my therapist is here. I am training and testing with Tony and Bruce most days. I just need some time to get my head straight." You tell him and rub his arm. "Thanks for being concerned Cap, but I am working on myself."

He hesitates a moment then leans in and hugs you tight. He brushes a hand over you hair and you hold in the smirk that is about to break free. He's too easy.

"Just know we are here for you if you need us." He says leaning back to look at your face and you smile softly at him.

"I'll call if I need you Cap. Oh wait, I'll have Friday call. I still haven't gotten my phone back. I don't know what happened to it."

"We have it at the compound. It was left in the SUV after the crash." He says and you silently bless Tony for getting your purse but damn they went through your work phone. Good thing they didn't have your personal one.

"Can you have it send to me?" You ask.

"Of course." He says, then with a grin he says "Maybe you can change my contact name."

You look away sheepishly, and he puts a finger under your chin to make you look back. When you do he kisses your forehead and steps away. You sigh.

"I guess you need to go now." You say feigning regret.

"I'll be back. And I still want you to try to talk to Buck. But I'm not going to push. Seriously, call or have Tony call me if you need anything." He says as he steps towards the door.

"Steve," you say and trot over and hug him tightly. "I'm sorry for being rude. I'm trying to be ok but sometimes I just can't believe this is all real."

"Everything is going to be ok.' he says hugging you back and seems surprised when you kiss his cheek.

"Bye Steve"' you say as he opens the door.

Natasha does not stop by...shocked pikachu face. You know she is suspicious so you have been trying to get the rest of the team to see you as just fragile. And it seems to be working.

Two days later you are laying in bed playing a game on your newly delivered phone. The pillows on your bed feel harder. Probably because you had about $90 thousand dollars in the bottom three. You grin to yourself when you get a text from Steve.

Captain Asshole: Just checking in to make sure you have your phone.

You: I got it Cap. It's weird having it back.

Captain Asshole: Did you change my contact name?

You: Not yet, but we'll see how it goes 😏

Captain Asshole: Ok, text me to let me know you're alright.

You: I can't intrude on your life like that. I don't want to bother you with my problems

Captain Asshole: It is never a bother doll. Call or text me any time.

You: Thanks so much Steve. I have to go do training but I'll text you tomorrow.

Training was going well. You controlled yourself and learned to fight without powers. You continued your little side venture but you would have to stop that soon. You were running out of books to hollow out, and you had filled 4 pillows. Your total was somewhere around $300 thousand. Not bad to make an escape.

You were texting with Steve every day and sometimes talking on the phone late at night. You had formulated a risky plan and he seemed to be falling in line.

Late one night you decided to spring the trap. Packing all the money in a couple bags you snuck in you moved most of your things out without anyone knowing. Everything was safely stashed in a car you bought for cash from Craigslist. It only needed to get you out of the city, so you didn't even transfer the title.

You: are you awake?

Captain Asshole: I am now. Are you ok?

You: I had a nightmare and everything was gone.

Captain Asshole: I can be there in an hour if you need me.

You: please come

Captain Asshole: I'm going to the jet now

You got up from your bed and took a shower. You had been planning this for weeks, so you were buffed, polished and waxed to perfection. After smoothing on your favorite lotion you pulled on your tiny sleep shorts and skinny tank top in royal blue. Makeup would give away the game so you left your hair wet and went to siit in your dim bedroom to wait. He made it in 47 minutes….

5 Chapters to go.....

[kyber-crystal]

Set Up

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Words: ~3.3k

Summary: In which the Avengers are relentless in their attempts to get you and Steve together. If this means going great lengths such as sending you off on a mission-disguised romantic getaway to make you realize your feelings for one another, they’ll seize the chance at the very moment it’s presented to them.

Warnings: None. Just tooth-rotting fluff bc I’ve really been needing it ahaha

A/N: Set in an AU 2017 timeline in which they reunite a year after the whole Accords situation so that everyone’s happy :)

"Rogers. Parasite. Stop watching Brooklyn Nine-Nine and get up, you need to get to the meeting room ASAP," Tony stated.

"Says the one who leeches off my granola bar supply," you grumbled as you shot him a death glare. "You've been doing this to me since I was a toddler. A helpless, two-year old against a 16 year-old demon always hungry for everyone's food but his own."

"Still holding the Full House cereal incident against me? Geez, woman, do you ever release your grudges against anyone," he sighed, rolling his eyes. "Now come on, let's go."

Exchanging a confused look with Steve, you stood up and followed Tony down the hallway to the meeting room, where Fury was with the rest of the team, waiting.

"Captain Rogers, Agent Y/N," Fury nodded curtly. "I presume you know what's going on?"

"No, sir."

"I need you two to track down a group of mercenaries in downtown Tokyo. You'll be flown out commercially so you can maintain a low profile. The whole process should take no longer than ten days," he explained as Natasha handed him the printed out flight details. "Further information will be given to you upon arrival."

"If it's just the two of us, then why is everyone here?" you pointed out.

"Barton and Maximoff will be checking in with you regularly; and if backup is necessary, I will fly one of them out to meet you. If you don't have any more questions, this meeting is now dismissed. You'll be departing late tonight so if I were you, I'd get to packing right about now."

...

Soon enough you were all packed and ready to go. Because you were too lazy to reach back into your suitcase and grab a sweatshirt, you took Steve's Dodgers hoodie and slipped it on, along with a pair of your favorite sweatpants.

"See you in ten days, okay?" Natasha pulled you in for a tight hug. "Make sure to keep Rogers company, it's a long flight. This is also the perfect opportunity to grow closer...literally."

"Oh shut up, Nat," you scoffed. "We're not...you know."

"Sure you aren't."

"Tony, why don't you get some good rest for once," you turned to your brother, "alright?"

"As long as you admit you're in love with Capsicle," he whispered into your ear.

"I can't admit what's not true."

"Yeah yeah, I can't understand bullshit."

"Tony."

"Y/N," he mocked. "Anyway. Have a safe trip, don't die, yada yada yada."

"Yeah yeah, got it."

A few more rounds of goodbyes later, you and Steve were in the elevator with your luggage, heading down to where Phil was waiting to drive you to the airport.

Your flight was scheduled to take off at 1:45 in the morning, and it was close to 11 p.m when you arrived.

"Your tickets, please," the lady asked as you were about to board the plane. You took them out from your purse and handed them over to her. "Thank you."

"How long's the flight again?"

"Uh...about 14 hours. Pretty long," you replied, as you walked down the aisles, looking at the overhead letters for your seat. "24A, 24B...there we go. Wait, have you been to Japan before?"

"No, I haven't."

"You're gonna love it. They have the best, I tell you, best ramen, and curry, hands down. When Nat, Wanda, and I went on our girls' vacation last spring we wouldn't stop eating for two days straight. I know we're tracking down cold-blooded killers and all, but, it won't hurt to let loose a little, you know?"

"Yeah, definitely," Steve couldn't help but smile at how happy you looked while speaking. "You gotta be our tour guide. I'm trusting you'll lead us to the best ramen hotspots?"

"Oh yeah, I will."

After putting your things into the overhead bins, you settled into your seats. The armrest between you could be lifted convert the seats into a double bed, you quickly found out.

Shortly after taking off you felt yourself grow rather tired. Noticing your sleepiness, Steve raised the armrest and pressed the button to make the seats recline backwards, your head immediately falling against his broad chest. He smiled again, brushing stray hairs away from your forehead before pulling the blanket over your bodies and falling asleep as well.

Little did either one of you know, you were being sent off to Japan for a completely different reason that had absolutely nothing to deal with tracking down mercenaries.

...

The smell of food wakes you up several hours later. You stretched your arms up and ran a hand through your hair as you sat up, adjusting your neck pillow.

"Hey uh, how long were we out for?" you asked, voice still thick with sleep. Steve was already awake, in the middle of watching a movie on his TV.

"4 hours. You knocked out for 5. It's time for lunch...or dinner?"

You tapped your screen a few times to pull up the map of your flight's route. "Right now it's 7:30 p.m. in Tokyo. We're arriving at 4:45 in the morning, so I'd say dinner."

"You sleep okay?"

"Hm? Yeah," you yawned, rubbing your eyes and adjusting the sleeves of Steve's hoodie. "You make a good pillow."

"No problem," he chuckled. You then turned to the flight attendant, who handed you your meals.

"Fancy," you nodded in approval as you passed Steve's tray over to him. "First class sure has its perks...oh yes, miso soup."

You binged your way through several episodes of Pretty Little Liars, I Love Lucy, and Star Wars: A New Hope together. Afterwards, you purchased Wi-Fi so you could update the team on your status.

CHATROOM - AVENGERS ASSEMBLE

Natasha: Morning, lovebirds. You guys in the air already?

You: Yeah, we're eating dinner right now. What time is it back home?

Tony: 6:45 a.m. Pulled an all-nighter binge-watching The Office.

Bucky: Totally worth losing an entire night's worth of good sleep.

Y/N: But I still don't get why we couldn't take the Quinjet?

Steve: ^

Rhodey: Do we tell them now, or wait until they land in Haneda?

Wanda: I'd say now.

Pietro: NO NO NO MAKE IT A SURPRISE

Steve: ...What's going on?

Tony: There's no mission.

Y/N: Wait, what? Then what are we going to Tokyo for?

Tony: I purchased a romantic ten-day vacation package so that you two will hopefully realize your feelings for each other along the way. Thank me later.

Y/N: SCREW YOU

Tony: Enjoy eating all the ramen you want!

Natasha: We're so good at matchmaking.

Thor: May I suggest a virtual high-five?

Peter: VIRTUAL HIGH-FIVE :))

Thor: :))

Y/N has left the chat.

Steve has left the chat.

Tony: They're gonna thank me when they see the penthouse I bought.

Tony has left the chat.

"Well, guess we're going on vacation. At least there's more opportunities to eating good food," Steve shrugged.

"Yup." You felt your heartbeat pick up speed at the thought of being alone with him, for ten days, in a country that was considered both futuristic and romantic at the same time. "Plenty of time to eat ramen and sushi."

Deep down, he was glad that there wasn't any mission. And so were you.

You took an hour-long catnap before waking up again and playing a few rounds of Uno with him, then stayed up for the rest of the flight. You both knew you'd regret doing so because of the 13-hour time difference between NYC and Tokyo, but you were too excited to care at that moment.

You were dazed and still slightly tired when you disembarked the aircraft, so you didn't have any energy to question how you and Steve ended up with your fingers intertwined. Besides, you liked the way it felt.

At close to 5 in the morning, Haneda International was relatively quiet and not too busy, so immigration didn't take long. You didn't have to worry about being bombarded by fans, aside from the occasional foreign fan recognizing you two and asking for a quick autograph or picture.

Since you wanted to explore the airport a bit before taking the train downtown, you looked around at the various shops.

Being a former spy alongside Natasha before joining the Avengers, you were fluent in multiple languages, including Japanese, Russian, French, Spanish, and German. And despite having developed the habit of always preparing for what was to come, you were completely shocked hearing a perfect Japanese sentence roll out of Steve's mouth as he spoke to the cashier.

You practically swooned at how smooth his voice sounded.

"Kore wa ikuradesu ka?" He gestured to one of the kokeshi dolls on display dressed in a sapphire colored kimono with cherry blossom embroidery. (How much is this?)

"3500 yen," the lady replied, "Hatsubai-chū, 3000. Kōnyū shimasu ka?" (On sale, 3000. Would you like to buy it?)

"Hai, kōnyū shimasu." (Yes, I'd like to buy it.)

"Kanojo no tame ni?" (For her?)

"Hai." (Yes.)

She nodded, and Steve handed over several folded bills from his wallet after she finished bagging the item.

"Arigato, gokigen'yō," he thanked her. (Thank you, have a nice day)

"Anata modesu," she smiled warmly. (You too)

"Holy crap, you didn't tell me you were fluent in Japanese, Rogers," you gaped as you walked out of the store together. "When did you have the time to learn it?"

"Back during the Pearl Harbor bombing, Buck and I were sent off with the 107th to Hawaii. Figured it'd be useful if we learned a few phrases."

"Few?" you raised an eyebrow at him. "What you just did back there, that was not just a few phrases! That was fluency!"

"What can I say, I pick up on language quickly," he grinned, rubbing the back of his neck. He then handed you the bag with the doll inside. "Here, for you."

"You didn't have to—"

"Consider it my thank-you in advance for taking me to a good eatery," Steve explained.

After grabbing a quick breakfast of coffee and pastries, you took the elevator down to the train station.

You let out a sigh as you sat down, the cool air inside the train loosening the tension in your shoulders a bit. A short fifteen minutes later and you were back in one of your favorite cities in the world.

Steve took a picture of you as you were distracted from looking all around at the skyscrapers and people milling around, face lit up by all the bright and colorful signs, sending it to the chat.

Steve: Just arrived downtown. Got out of the airport half an hour ago.

Tony: Honeymooning Avengers, how cute

Sam: That's hot.

Steve: What time is it over there?

Wanda: We just finished eating lunch. You?

Steve: 7. Going to check into the penthouse. Talk to you guys later.

Wanda: Alright.

Sam: Have fun, lovebirdssssss

Steve has left the chat.

"So," he breathed out as he slipped his hand back into yours and you exited the station, "you ready to go check out where we're staying?"

"Yeah, definitely. You wanna take the subway again, or a taxi?"

"Subway. Actually..taxi. You sound nice when you speak in a foreign language."

"That's the only reason why you want to take a taxi?"

"Yeah, obviously," you scoffed. "I mean, why else?"

"Alright, if you insist," the super-soldier laughed.

A few minutes later, you'd called a taxi over and climbed into the backseat, strapping your seatbelts on.

"Ohayögozaimasu," (Good morning) the man greeted. "Ogenkidesuka?" (How are you) "Īdesu, anata wa?" Steve replied. (Good, and you?)

"Watashi mo jōzudesu. Doko ni ikitai?" (I am good, too. Where would you like to go?)

You looked at your phone, reading out the address of Tony's penthouse to the driver.

A few minutes passed in silence before he spoke up again. "Watashia wa anata-tachi o shitte imasu. Anata wa abenjãzudesu," the driver smiled, glancing at you two from the rearview mirror. (I know you two. You're the Avengers)

"Watashitachidesu," he returned his friendly grin. (We are!)

"Tōkyō ni kuru kikkake wa nanidesu ka?" (What made you come to Tokyo?)

"Chōdo kyūka no tame." (Just for vacation.)

"Nokori no taizai o o tanoshimi kudasai," he said as you were getting out of the car after paying. "Sayonara."

"Sayonara," you and Steve responded before closing the car door behind you.

"Wow," your jaw dropped as you took the elevator up, arriving at the top floor. "Tony actually bought...this...place?"

"Apparently," Steve shrugged, "we could come back and forth between here and the compound as often as we wanted."

The penthouse had a nice, dark aesthetic feel to it, with giant panoramic views of the entirety of Tokyo and modern furniture and spots of dimmed white lights in the ceiling to give off a relaxed vibe.

After unloading your things, you sat down at the giant couch together and decided to plan out the rest of your day.

"When CoCo Curry opens at 11, we can go eat there," you explained as you typed up the plan in a new note. "Tony also snagged us tickets to Tokyo Tower at 3 p.m, so we have a few hours to spare after lunch."

"We can explore the gardens,"  he suggested. "I know you love doing that. There's a botanical garden in Shinjuku we can go to."

"Oh, that one! I didn't have the chance to go last time, so that's perfect," you added 'Shinjuku Gardens' to your list.

Soon enough you had your entire day planned out, and were ready to head out once again.

CoCo Curry was a quaint, little restaurant that hit you with a wave of tantalizing scents as soon as you walked through the doors and sat down at the bar-style seating area where you could watch the chefs cook your food.

"Gonichiwa," you greeted the chef standing behind the counter.

"Gonichiwa," he smiled back. He asked for your orders, and since Steve wasn't sure what to get you had two orders of your favorite dish.

Besides another couple sitting a few seats away, the restaurant was empty so you got your food in under ten minutes. The steaming hot plates of curry rice were set in front of you, and you felt your mouth water as you inhaled the rich aroma.

"This is so good," Steve spoke in between bites. "I'm literally in love."

"Told you I knew my stuff."

You eventually finished eating, and after getting into a small argument with Steve over who would pay (He ended up winning). "It's payback for ordering me good eats," he explained.

"You said that when you bought me the kokeshi doll," you pointed out.

"Still."

This time you decided to go by foot instead of taking the taxi, as the gardens were only a half-hour or so walk from where you were.

"Right in the middle of cherry blossom season," you sighed as the sweet smell of cherries drifted through the air. "Perfect timing."

You walked around the entire place, stopping every so often to admire the various colorful plants or look up at the pastel pink cherry blossom trees, gravel crunching underfoot with each step you took.

The mid-April breeze lightly fanned your hair around your shoulders. Birds chirped out a delightful melody, flying around the cornflower-blue sky. It wasn't too hot or too cold, and that was one of the many things you loved about visiting Asia during the springtime; the weather was bearable, compared to New York City's below-freezing temperatures in winter. You vividly remembered visiting the botanical gardens in upstate New York on a school trip once, and from then on you'd grown attached.

In the centre of the garden was a large lake with flowering lily pads and on the other side of the bank stood a quaint little temple, with a wooden bridge across the middle so visitors could cross over and look at the koi below.

"It's beautiful here," Steve commented as you made your way down the sidewalk, "I wish they had places like this back home."

"Yeah it is, isn't it," you breathed out, unable to tear your eyes away from the lovely sights. "I could do this all day."

"Hey, that's my line," he joked. You chuckled quietly, slipping your hand into his. He laced your fingers together in response, and you felt the butterflies flutter around in your stomach again the longer he held on, and those butterflies turned into hummingbirds as you looked up to meet his piercing gaze.

You're not sure how long you stay like that, gazing into each others' eyes, but it's only when a little girl stops and asks to take a picture that you pull away.

"Captain America and Agent Y/N!" Judging by her looks, she seemed like she came from the US as well. "Can I get a picture with you guys?"

"Of course, sweetie," you smiled. You brushed off the weird feeling you got when your skin made contact with Steve's, and gestured for her to come closer.

Steve scooped the girl up into his arms as she held your hand, and the mother snapped a few quick pictures before he let her back down.

"Thank you!" she exclaimed before skipping away.

At 2:20 you decided to leave and head out to the Tokyo Tower early so you would be avoiding any possible long lines. You were up at the observation deck within twenty minutes.

"This is just....wow," you breathed out, in awe of the breathtaking view you got as you stared out the panoramic windows, the reflective walls casting thin rays of light onto your faces.

If you thought the view from your penthouse was nice, this was a hundred times better. You had almost nothing preventing you from being able to see the entire city in all directions. The sun was hanging high in the sky, the skyscrapers piercing the horizon like pins and needles.

Steve couldn't help but let his gaze linger on you, the way your face brightened up at the sight of Tokyo's stunning view, the way you laughed and smiled more than you ever did back home. It was a rare sight, and he wished he could see you in this state more often. Oh, the things he'd do to keep hearing your musical laugh and million-dollar smile.

...

The next day was jam-packed with activities. You took a two hour train ride down south to Osaka, exploring the cup noodles museum, shopping downtown in Dotonbori, and stuffing yourself with delicious pastries along the way. Before you headed back, you decided to stock up on groceries at the local market. 

You fell asleep almost as soon as your head hit the pillow that night, waking up to somehow finding yourself in Steve’s arms. You both woke up at the same time, confused as to how you had gotten yourselves into this position, but were too embarrassed and tired to ask. 

This time, you decided to stay within Tokyo, immersing yourselves in going to as many districts as you could and doing as much as possible. 

After a long day exploring the city, you were rather exhausted. With a cup of freshly brewed matcha in hand, you stayed quiet for a while as you soaked in the scenery, watching the city come alive late at night.

When Steve woke up from his nap a few hours later, he found you standing by the window. Smiling to himself, he got up, approaching you and wrapping his arms around your waist from behind, resting his chin atop your head.

"Hi," you greeted, setting your mug down on the coffee table besides you.

"Hey," he murmured into your ear. You closed your eyes and hummed quietly in response, letting your bodies rock back and forth to the rhythm of your steady heartbeats together.

"Watashi wa, anata o aishiteimasu," (I love you.)

A small smile tugged at the corners of your lips. "Watashi mo anata o aishitemasu, Cap." (I love you too, Cap.)

You stepped away so you could turn around to face him, and he pulled you back towards him and pressed his lips to yours.

He couldn't help but smile into the kiss, pulling you closer against him.

[stereksecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, nephilimeq!

For @nephilimeq :)

When Stiles can’t decide what to get for Derek’s Secret Santa present, he decides to give Derek himself. It doesn’t go quite like he thought it would.

Or, the one where Stiles expected sex, but got to help Derek with his computer virus instead (but still somehow ended up with a boyfriend for Christmas).

*****

A Gift to Unwrap

“I’m so glad we’re doing Secret Santa this year, I can’t afford to buy you all shit again,” Stiles said, lounging on Derek’s couch with his head off the side and his feet in the hair.

Lydia smacked his ankle when it got too close to her. “It’s not like you gave us all great gifts last year. You gave me pens.”

“What was wrong with pens? You like pens.”

“They were from the dollar store, Stiles.”

“Whatever,” Stiles flipped over, sitting properly. “I hope I get Derek, he appreciates my gifts.”

“Derek?” Allison looked over at him from her armchair, “he’s the worst to buy for, he isn’t happy with anything.”

“Hey, Derek loved the birthday present I got him!”

Allison and Lydia shared a confused look. It was just the three of them here, planning out secret santa as everyone else on the pack went for midnight wolf patrol. Stiles didn’t mind, he liked when team humans got to hang.

“Derek doesn’t celebrate his birthday…” Lydia finally said, turning back to him.

“Yeah, I know,” Stiles shrugged, “I just got him a photo album and filled it with all the family pictures of the Hales I could find. I dropped it off in the morning, we had some coffee, and I left. Derek didn’t have to celebrate, and I only had to spend like 5 bucks.”

They were both frowning now though. “How long did that take you?” Allison asked.

“Uh…” Stiles scratched his head, “a month or so?”

“A month or so?” Allison shook her head. “This year you gave me gum for my birthday!”

“Hey, you like gum!’

Lydia smirked, “don’t take it personally, Ally, Stiles only buys good presents for people he loves.”

“Woah- what? Who said - I don’t love anyone!”

Lydia laughed, “Stiles, you once bought me a TV! This year I got more dollar store pens. But Derek gets a whole photo album that you spent a month on? You’ve moved on from me and right on to him,” she grinned, “did you add little notes in it too?”

Stiles blushed, “no!… not that many! Shut up!”

“Relax, Derek likes you too,” she said. All nonchalant, like this wasn’t brand new information.

“What- what do you mean? Not that it - I don’t love him, or anything, but like what do you mean by that.”

“Okay,” Allison said, leaning back, “I can see it now.”

“Um, no? There’s nothing to see?”

“I guess we’ll find out next week,” Lydia said with a wink, “when you both get each other for Secret Santa.”

“You can’t just… cheat like that. Can you? Oh my God, what do you think he’ll get me?” They both laughed. Stiles was starting to see their point. “… not that it matters, what he gets me.”

“He’ll get you something sweet, I’m sure,” Lydia said. “You’ve kind of already outdone yourself with the photo album, but I’m sure you’ll think of something.”

“Aw, this is so sweet!” Allison said, smiling at Stiles blush. “Aw at New Years you two can kiss!”

Stiles didn’t even try to deny he liked that idea. And now that he was thinking about it, it was definitely not the first time he liked the idea of Derek kissing him.

Shit.

“Guys, I might like Derek…”

They looked at each other and laughed.

–

That weekend, when they pulled their Secret Santa names out of the hat, Stiles wasn’t surprised he pulled Derek’s name out. Lydia was a witch, she could do anything.

He watched carefully as Derek read his. He made no reaction, but Stiles noticed him glance towards him a minute later. Did you get Stiles’ name too? Was Lydia really doing this?

Was it normal to be this excited for Secret Santa?

Stiles wasn’t sure - but he didn’t care. He couldn’t wait for Christmas.

–

He realized as soon as he stepped into the mall, Lydia was right. He should have fucking waited to do the photo album for Christmas.

No one cared about their 26th birthday. It was a stupid age. Why did he go so big? Stiles had turned 22 this year, and Derek had just taken him out for dinner. He should have done that.

What the hell was he going to do now?

He had $20 he could spend and that was it. He walked past the dollar store but shook his head. Looked into H&M and scoffed. Derek would hate everything in this mall. Stiles wasn’t sure where he bought his ridiculously soft shirts, but it wasn’t here.

And they were probably more than $20s.

Cursing, Stiles back tracked. What could he do? He did the sentimental thing already, but maybe he could.. Add to that? Get… What, video recordings of his family?

No, that would just be creepy. He wasn’t fucking stalking the dead.

He could… draw him a picture? He was shit at art. He could… take him on a trip? At some point.. When neither of them were working.. And it was super cheap?

God he was doomed.

Stiles walked past La Senza and paused. The mannequin was dressed in a skimpy bra, but that wasn’t what he was looking at. It was also covered in bows, like the mannequin itself was the present.

Could… Stiles… be the present?

No, that was ridiculous.

Unless…?

No. Derek deserved a real present.

But maybe..?

Stiles bit his lip in thought. It would be better than dollar store pens at least.

He turned and made his way to the craft store. Time to spend his $20 on high end ribbon.

–

Stiles had on his tightest skinny jeans, the ones that Jackson said made his ass pop. He wore the shirt Lydia had given him, the one he thought had been a size too small but she insisted fit him better than anything else he owned.

Now, for the important layer. He pulled out the red ribbon.

He tied a loop around his chest, making a bow on his front. He tied another around his leg and made a bow on his thigh. He looped a ribbon down his left arm, starting from his shoulder and ending with a bow on his wrist.

He looked at himself in the mirror, a bit worried he had over done it.

“Well, my dad didn’t believe I was gay before, he should see me now.”

Although he and his dad had already had that talk. More than once, actually, after he caught Danny in his room in senior year. That had been awkward.

But they were good now. And Derek wouldn’t be such a surprise to him, he didn’t think…

You know, if Derek… actually liked him back. And wanted to date him. And be introduced to Stiles father as his boyfriend-

He was getting ahead of himself.

He took a deep breath. “Even if he doesn’t like me, the present is he has me for a full day. He can make me clean his windows if he wants.”

WIth that, Stiles pulled on his dad’s trench coat.

It was show time.

–

Stiles usually barged into Derek’s loft like he owned the place, but it felt weird to do that now, so he knocked.

It took a minute before Derek opened the door. He already looked confused, and his eyebrow rose up at the sight of him.

“Stiles.”

“Evening, Derek.”

“Why did you knock…. Why are you dressed like you’re going to flash me?”

Stiles felt his cheeks warm, “it’s, uh, for Secret Santa!”

“You’re going to flash me for Secret Santa?”

“No! I am,” he gestured at himself, “fully clothed underhere, I will have you know. But it is part of the present.”

Derek raised a brow, “the gift exchange is tomorrow.”

“Yeah, but… mine starts today.”

Derek shrugged, then stepped back to wave Stiles inside.

Palms sweating, Stiles stepped in and only hesitated a moment before he opened his coat. “Ta da!” He said, dropping the coat dramatically to the floor, “I am your present!”

Derek looked him up and down, eyes lingering on the bows, “okay.”

Stiles swallowed. He shouldn’t have worn his tightest clothes, could Derek see his sweat through his shirt already?

Fuck, could he smell it?

“And, uh, you can do whatever you want with me. For the next 24 hours.” Derek nodded, his eyes still on the bow on Stiles chest. Shit, maybe this was stupid. “Sorry, I thought… I’m kind of broke, and I - this was dumb-”

“No, it’s good,” Derek stepped toward him. Stiles’ heart started to race, he clenched his fists so they wouldn’t shake. This was the plan, right? This was the fucking point of the gift - make a big decleration and give himself to Derek, for a whole day, to do whatever.

But fuck, what if Derek was into weird shit? Stiles wasn’t a virgin, but he’d only been with two people before, and did that guy from college really count if all they did was handjobs? Stiles didn’t even remember his name. And fuck, what if this made Derek think all he wanted was sex? What if he was ruining a potentially amazing relationship because of one stupid -

All Derek did was reach behind him and close the door.

Of course.

Stiles cleared his throat.

“So, uh…”

“Come with me.”

Stiles obeyed, following Derek to the couch. Was Derek going to throw him on it? Ravish him?

He passed Stiles a laptop.

“You’re good at this stuff, right? I think I have a virus or something.”

“… what?”

“I have you for 24 hours, tonight you can help me with my laptop.”

“Oh, oh, okay, sure.” Stiles sat down, glancing down at the screen. He felt stupid for being relieved.

“After you figure out the virus thing, you can also help me get a netflix. And figure out how to get it on the TV? Lydia is refusing to set up pack movie nights anymore if we’re all going to complain about watching The Notebook everytime.”

“Alright,” Stiles leaned back on the couch, diving right in. By the state of Derek’s desktop, he had a feeling this might actually take him 24 hours.

–

Stiles slept over at Derek’s house that night, though it went very differently than he had imagined. He borrowed Derek’s sweats and a baggy T. He slept on the couch. He worked on his laptop until 2 am, and woke up to Derek making breakfast. Stiles joined him in the kitchen, making coffee beside him as he cracked eggs into a pan.

It was nice. Domestic.

Derek smiled at him as he passed over a mug of coffee, and Stiles smiled back.

This was way better than his original plan.

“So, your computer’s up and running, and can connect to the TV. What else do you need help with?”

“Cleaning.”

“… cleaning what?”

“The loft. The pack is coming over tonight for the Secret Santa exchange. Clean up, and when you’re done, help me make the Christmas cookies.”

Stiles shrugged, “okay.”

–

Cleaning wasn’t hard. Derek kept his place pretty impeccable anyway, so all Stiles had to do was some dusting and sweeping. Then he joined Derek in the kitchen, where he had already started baking.

The rest of the day went by so fast, Stiles ran out of time to go home. He changed back into the clothes he was wearing last night, minus the bows, and came back to find the pack already arriving.

He smiled at Derek as they passed out the food together. He imagined what it would be like if he really did live here, really did help Derek with every pack night. He thought they would make a good pair.

And when their shoulders brushed when they sat down together, Stiles didn’t feel nervous. In fact, he leaned into the touch a bit. And he didn’t miss the soft smile Derek sent his way when he did.

Yeah… he thought they would be great together.

The night went by in a blur, Stiles too focused on Derek’s warmth beside him to really pay attention to any of the presents everyone was opening.

He didn’t even notice people had started leaving until it was only him, Lydia and Allison left.

And Lydia and Allison were getting ready to go.

“Oh. I guess I should get ready to go too.”

“Aw, but you two look so cozy,” Allison said with a smirk.

Stiles flushed. Derek, thankfully, either didn’t notice her comment or ignored it. “I haven’t given you your gift yet,” he said. “You can’t leave.”

“Have fun getting your gift, Stiles,” Lydia said, winking, before she shut the door.

Stiles felt his face grow even hotter, but Derek still didn’t comment on it as he got up to get his present. Bless this man. Bless him and his new social tact.

Derek came back out with a present so big, Stiles felt a pang of regret for going with his stupid idea. He could have at least given him… socks, or something.

“Derek, you didn’t have to-”

“I did. After the photo album, I did.” He cleared his throat, “it’s not that big of a deal, I just didn’t know how to wrap it.”

Stiles didn’t believe him. The way Derek was carefully holding it, he didn’t think Derek fully believed it either.

When he ripped open the wrapping paper, he gasped, “Derek…”

It was a painting. A painting of him in his grad cap and gown, from his university graduation last summer. Beside him was his dad, in his suit, just like in their pictures, and on the other side…

“I tried to make her look a bit older, without changing her too much… your dad gave me a picture.”

“She’s beautiful,” Stiles whispered. His mother looked just like he remembered, he even knew the dress, but… there were wrinkles that he never got to see her have. A few gray hairs she never got to grow. His eyes started to burn, so he put the picture down on the table, taking a deep breath. “Derek, you really didn’t have to…”

“You didn’t have to give me the photo album.”

Stiles licked his lips. Derek leaned forward.

“I knew what you were doing. With your gift, I mean, I knew what you were trying to do.”

“You don’t - I shouldn’t have, I don’t want to force anything. It was stupid.”

“It wasn’t stupid, it was cute. I was just surprised. And you smelled really nervous, sweaty,” Stiles cursed himself, he knew Derek had smelled the sweat. “I didn’t want our first anything together to be with you under pressure. I want us to both want it.”

Stiles looked at Derek, how beautiful and sincere he was. He thought maybe he was already in love with this man.

“Do I smell nervous now?”

“No.”

They leaned forward at the same time, the kiss was soft. Perfect. Derek’s beard was smooth under his fingers.

When they pulled back, Derek grinned. “Can I unwrap my present now?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

The End <3  

[werealljustwinginit]

Tell us about what skincare ingredients and products you love!

Okay, so I LOVE TALKING SKINCARE. This is a huge topic for me and I often write up a blog post once a year where i recommend skin care products. So here is this year’s recommendation! An insanelyyyyy long and detailed post nobody asked for!! HERE WE GO: 

I am a long time skincare advocate...before it really blew up and people started really getting to know more about their products and ingredients. I’ve just always had very acne-prone skin so I’ve had to pay attention to what products and ingredients I was using and how their formulas worked for me. As a result, over the years I tried A SHIT TON of products. Many expensive, fancy, high end, etc. But now I have my skincare routine down to a much more manageable and quality ingredient list. Obviously everyone’s skin is different...but this is what I use on a regular basis these days:

Serums:

- Krave Beauty’s Great Barrier Relief Serum: Honestly, this is THE SHIT. My favorite moisturizing serum to really help balance your skins hydration barrier and stay hydrated. It’s thicker and almost feels like a moisturizer. It’s so great.  - The Ordinary’s Niacinamide 10% + Zinc 1% Drops: Niacinamide is an amazing ingredient for your skin and can help a tremendous amount with clearing the skin, resurfacing, fading scars, and more. This really does a good job helping with my acne, so i really recommend to anyone. And I am pretty sure it’s like $5 cause it’s from the ordinary.

Moisturizers:

- CeraVe Moisturizing Cream: It’s a very cheap drug store moisturizer that has good, clean ingredients. After using fancy moisturizers for years, I finally gave into my dermatologist’s recommended lotion. LOL. They do have a lotion that is lighter, but my skin tends to be dryer, especially in the winter so I use the cream not the lotion. It’s thicker. (For high end junkies--it’s like comparing Drunk Elephant’s LaLa Retro to their Protini cream). I also sometimes throw in drops of a marula oil into this cream if I am really dry. Make myself a little face smoothie. 

Eye/Lip Creams:

- Mario Badescu Ceramide Herbal Eye Cream: Now honestly, I still haven’t found my perfect eye cream yet...but I have used this one for a few years now. It moisturizes well and is cheap to buy. It’s probs not the most effective but at least I am moisturizing my eye area. One day I will take on more eye creams that target certain things, but that is one day when I have money to spend lmao. -Glossier Bubblewrap Lip/Eye Cream: This is a very unique moisturizing product that is meant for sensitive skin like your eye area and lips. It does say it plumps a bit, which I don’t ever feel a plumping effect, but I do love to use it on my lips. It’s so moisturizing and is kind of like using a primer before you apply chapstick or lipstick. 

Exfoliators:

- Glossier Solution: The OG chemical exfoliant I tried and loved. These types of products aren’t great for everyone, and may have to be used less or more depending on skin type, but as an acne-prone human, I love a chemical exfoliant. This works and lasts a long while.

- Krave Beauty’s Kale-Lalu_AHA: Another chemical exfoliant. I recently tried this one because I do believe Krave Beauty uses better ingredients than Glossier Skin typically does (no shade tho). They were close in price, so I made the switch and have enjoyed the results so far. The packaging is also beautiful.

- Dr. Brant Microdermabrasion Exfoliant: This is NOT a chemical peel, this has aluminum oxyde crystals in it to polish the skin like a normal exfoliant would. It also has a lot of ingredients that help renew and refresh the skin while exfoliating. Now this product is HELLA expensive...I only have it because I once bought it for way cheaper when I had a subscription box. I don’t know if I would spend the full $80 bucks on it, but your skin does feel smooth.

- Tatcha The Deep Polish: This is an enzyme powder that you mix with water and exfoliate fro there. It is from when I used to buy the highest end products in hopes it would help my skin. It is pricey, but again does leave your skin feeling soft. So I rotate it in from time to time.

Masks: 

- The Ordinary’s AHA 30% BHA 2% Peeling Solution: AKA THE BLOOD MASK. Now hugely popular on social media, the “blood mask” is a chemical mask that peels off dead skin and essentially works to eliminate the top layers of your skin and begin rejuvenating a fresher layer for softer, healthier, plumper skin. I do this once a week and it is way cheap. I can compare it to Drunk Elephant’s Sukari Babyfacial and it definitely beats that expensive version.

- Glow Recipe’s Avocado Melt Sleeping Mask: This is an overnight moisturizing mask that you simply wash off in the morning. It really helps lock in moisture and feels nice on the skin. I use this when I am feeling really dry. 

- Aztec Secret Indian Healing Clay Mask: This one you have to mix the dry clay mixture with water and apple cider vinegar to create a goo that you can then let dry on your face. It may be intense for some, but I find it really helps dry out my acne spots and reduce redness in my skin. It’s always a fun one to do with other people too because you do have to prepare it. Good sleepover activity. 

- GlamGlow Bubble Sheet Mask:  This one is honestly more so used for when I am traveling and want to keep a mask on hand or when I am having a fun girls night or something. It’s a bubble mask--so to me that just means fun. I typically avoid sheet masks (unless I am traveling) because I think you end up throwing a way a lot of product you are paying for. But this one is fun, it’s cute, it’s different. I don’t notice a huge change in my skin tbh, but it is a fun activity for girls night. 

Honorable Mention/Random Products:

- Youth to the People’s Kale and Green Tea Superfood Cleanser: I stayed away from this one for a long time because it’s expensive and I could rationalize buying such an expensive cleanser, but I got a gift card to Sephora and finally decided to try it. And ya know what?? I guess I am fancy now because I really love it. It does not overly strip your skin at all, and for the first time in my life I really know what that means. It’s so great, it smells so good. Ugh. Can’t get enough of this bougie bitch of a face wash.

- The Inkey List Retinol Cream: A recent purchase, but I have enjoyed seeing the results. Everyone imo should be using an eye cream and a retinol. This is a nice introduction to retinol, so I recommend to those looking for one.

- Glossier Mint Balm Dot Com Chapstick: THIS AGAIN--IS THE SHIT. Many will say they would never spend more than two bucks but one tube of their’s is seven bucks and it is WORTH IT. I buy the three pack once a year and i’m good. This is the best chapstick you will literally ever use. Fucking buy it. If I could tell you only three products that are a must from this list this would be one of them. (the other two would be great barrier relief and the kale cleanser)

- Laneige Lip Sleeping Mask: I like this lip mask, it’s not needed everynight, but I do like to use a lip exfoliant (made or buy one, whatever) and then use this to really retextures my lips. 

- Bag Balm: Now this is a very unusual product to recommend lmaooo. Originally, bag balm is used for chapped cow udders on farms--which is how I discovered it. Farmers eventually noticed that it helped your skin retain moisture and repair cracked skin in their hands. So now it is known as a good thick ass cream for hands and feet. Now this shit is again--used on cows originally, so the formula feels thick and greasy. I like putting it on at night and letting it soak in for a while as I lay on my phone. It really works--I swear to you. 

- Sagely CBD Cream: I use their relief and recovery crea which smells like lavender and has a cooling effect when applied to the skin (kinda like biofreeze or icyhot would). This is only a 50mg CBD lotion, but I do like it. 

- Mad Ritual CBD Muscle Recovery Balm: Now this is thick and definitely a balm, not a cream. It is much higher strength though, so I break it out when needed and a little goes a long way. This one is 200mg of CBD. 

- Mario Badescu Drying Lotion: This drying lotion is now so popular but has been a staple of mine for at least a decade now. You leave it on over night and it really does dry up and reduce zit size. Helps a lot. There must be a reason why super models are told to use this shit before a runway show. 

- Tatcha The Essence: Essences are a new and kind of weird thing, kinda like priming the skin to allow for better absorption of a product. Now this product I received as a Christmas gift one year, but I am pretty sure it’s like $100...breaking the bank as always, tatcha. Anyway, it does allow for better absorption of products and feels light and refreshing on the skin. One bottle has lasted me two years now. I don’t know if I would recommend it, but I do use it somewhat regularly and it does make you feel like a bougie bitch. 

AND THAT IS THE END. Sorry that was soooo long. But like I said, I do a write up once a year of my skincare products anyway. So there you guys have it!! If you have any questions at all about your skin or skincare routine , honestly hit me up. Over the years I have slowly has friends come to me. Once I collect all of the I will have all of the infinity stones lmao. 

[lesswokemoresmoke]

Tips to being a stoner college student :

1.) make your own geeb (gravity bong).

- I slept on the homemade gravity bong for 3 out of my 5 years as a student. I don’t have many regrets in life, but this might be one...

- I simply used a larger Gatorade bottle and a smaller Gatorade bottle and an extra glass bowl from one of my water pipes. Super easy, super cheap, and you only have to use a pinch of greens and shit gets weird 👀... (good weird)

2.) Resist the blunt when possible.

- I understand this one is problematic, BUT hear me out... I went through WAY to many zips WAY to quickly when living in my friend apartment. The freedom tasted good and the L’s tasted even better..... my roommates and I kept 98% of the wrap packages we bought and calculated the cost of the wraps alone near the end of the school year and we had 226 packages, obviously most where .99 cents BUT that’s 226 dollars I don’t have now..... now I don’t REGRET this time I’m my life, BUT I recognize it is not realistic and/or a smart choice necessarily. (Also, this is not a flex, I have no doubt some of you could laugh at that number probably). Overall, we all love a good blunt, but when you are trying to ball on that college student budget it’s better to utilize geebs or joints when you are able to resist the L....

3.) do your very best to find multiple sources for supply, compare prices. There’s good weed for cheap, there’s also bad weed for cheap, there better weed for slightly high prices, as well as there can be crappy weed for high prices. This one is really trial and error unless you have a set up you are already please with LOL. Pretty self explanatory.

4.) when going out (parties, simple sheshing, any gathering really) don’t bring all you bud.... it could get stolen, you might end up smoking it all and regretting it, and again - IT COULD GET STOLEN.... pre role or pack your grinder full. It is much safer to travel light anyways if legality is an issue. Plus, at a certain point you might just stop getting any higher, so then you end up just wasting the rest of your stash.

5.) don’t spend over $40 for a gram of wax... just don’t... I mean, all you professional dabbers can fight this one, and perhaps it’s cause I’m more of a buddy to the bud but anything over 40 is not going to be anymore bang for your buck, if that makes sense.

6.) perchace a safe...

- lock that shit up. In the door? Most definitely lock that shit up. In a house or apartment?? Maybe not as worrisome but it will definitely bring peace of mind if you have one.

7.) don’t bring a bunch of glass pieces with you when you go to move in.... seems kinda silly but I have made this mistake time and time again... I’m reality, you are only gonna use one or two daily drivers. Pick your faves and leave the rest safely at home...

8.) you don’t have to cheap out on papers, find good ones and just enjoy them.

9.) consolidate your lighters to one location and do your best to not loose them when you use them.... this may still be unavoidable, but having a pile of them in one spot is helpful for a quick grab).

10.) Don’t buy carts, or always buy carts. This one is tricky because oil carts can be super handy for discreet self seshing. I would stay away from spending more then $40 on them, however. Also making sure the cart looks like good quality so you don’t get down w’ da sickness.... you know what I mean cart smokers.... if you only smoke carts ^ the last few sentences are for you. For the rest, I’d only get one once in a while and use it as needed when I don’t have bud or wax or need a quick sesh. Not a daily driver. Also feels a bit risky.

11.) did I mention making a gravity bong??

* if you follow one, two or more of the above, I promise you will find yourself saving some cash week to week. You don’t want to find yourself high and dry and no money left to buy bud or even normal necessities... (isn’t bud a normal necessity you ask??? I’m talking food.. snacks... items you NEED for survival) truthfully, there’s probably no wrong or right way to do it. Over the years I just find myself spending more money than I actually have available on stoner stuff and now that I am on my last year of schooling I am feeling a little down about it wishing I done it slightly different to help myself out in the long run.... the poor college student would love to believe that they have total freedom and can blow it all on fun stuff but in reality, you are gonna run out of fun stuff quick if you aren’t clever and end up with no money to buy MORE fun stuff... just a though tho.

Comment more tips and tricks if you have any!! I might actually need the advice!! Or if you wanna fight me on it that’s chill too, I can’t promise I will care all that much though. This is really just me procrastinating work and blogging my thoughts about my stoner life the past couple years as a student lol.

[jamie-leah]

War of Wolves (10)

Season 1 

Episode 10 - Steve’s Surprise

Bucky x Reader 

Summary: You have been on the streets for the past two years, ever since your accident that left you with the ability to tell if someone is lying. You work as an informant for the white wolf and his mob but you had never met him…until you overhear a phone call that leads you to saving his life. Now he wants you to work for him. Its an offer you couldn’t refuse…right?

Word count: 3374

Warnings: Swearing, I genuinely think there’s nothing else but fluff

A/N: Hey Lovelies, still don’t have internet so not updating as regular but I’ve met the love my life so I’m using his wi-fi to upload this part and I honestly cannot think of a better part to do it with. I hope you love the surprise as much as me when I reread it. Enjoy Lovelies! 

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War of Wolves Masterlist    Oneshot Masterlist   Series Masterlist 

Over the next couple of days Bucky made sure that you kept up with training. He got a bit paranoid after the meeting that went south. Since Bucky was busy today, he had Steve take your training and Sam just happened to tag along. 

As Steve was showing you where you had gone wrong in a move, Sam spoke, “so why do you think Bucky didn’t ask me to teach you instead of Steve?”. 

Steve looks over to him with a smirk, “because I’m the better fighter”. 

Sam scoffs and then looks over at you to see you agree with Steve, “hey! Why did you take his side? Its not like you’ve seen us fight”. 

You gesture to Steve and the mat, “by all means, prove me wrong”. 

Sam jumps up, eager to prove himself, but Steve has doubts. Sam doesn’t miss a beat, “that because you think I’m really the better fighter?”. 

Steve squares up with Sam, “no, I’m just scared of hurting you too badly”. It doesn’t take long for them to start sparring as you watch with an amused expression. 

They were quite evenly matched although you wondered if they were holding back with each other. You were sitting on the bench when Bucky walked in. The boys didn’t stop fighting as Bucky made his way over to you, “this is exactly why I only asked one of them to train you”. 

You laugh as you get up to give Bucky a kiss, “well, don’t worry, Steve taught me a lot before they decided to fight each other”. 

Bucky hugs you to him, “good, because you know I worry-“. 

You cut him off with your finger to his lips, “I know and its fine. I’m enjoying it actually”. 

That’s when Steve calls out before leaving, “we still on for tonight?”. 

You watch Bucky smile, “yes, we’ll be there for 5 was it?”. 

Steve nods, “you better be on time, you know what she’s like”. 

Bucky chuckles, “sure thing Steve”. 

You look up at Bucky confused, “what’s happening tonight?”. 

Bucky kisses you again, “I’m taking you somewhere and it’s a surprise”. 

You go to speak but Bucky cuts you off, “but first of all, I have another surprise I want you to see first”. His hand entwines with yours as he pulls you towards the exit. 

You stay quiet as Bucky takes you towards the back of the house. As he gets to the back doors and opens them he speaks again, “have you ever wondered where my nickname came from?”. 

He pulls you towards the kennels as you look at him confused, “Bucky? I thought you said it was your name”. 

He shakes his head but doesn’t expand as you near the entrance to the kennel. But he skips the main entrance and goes towards a block that’s on its own. He puts his hand on the door and then turns to you, “don’t make any sudden movements and don’t make a move towards him until he’s made first contact”. 

You don’t have time to question him as he pulls you inside. You can’t see anything to start with, but as soon as the door closes, and the daylight is blocked your eyes adjust to the room. In front of you, across the room, lays an actual wolf. 

You turn to Bucky and whisper, “white wolf”. 

He nods as the wolf stands and starts making his way over. Bucky walks over too, but you stay in place. Bucky squats down in front of the wolf and starts petting him, “hey boy”. You watch the white wolf yawn and lick Bucky’s face a few times. 

They enjoy each other for a few minutes and you watch, seeing another side to Bucky. Soon the wolf becomes too curious and starts to make his way towards you. You can feel Bucky watching you intensely, but you can’t take your eyes away from the wolf. 

As he gets closer you realise the size of him as he comes to just about your waist. You can feel your heart beating wildly as you hold your breath. He sniffs your clothes and your hands. He sniffs for a few minutes before you feel him lick your hand. 

You look up at Bucky to find him smiling. Bucky murmurs, “his name is Winter”. You reach your hand out slowly and then sink your fingers into his fur at the top of his head. You stroke him as you speak in light tones, “hi Winter. You’re gorgeous aren’t you boy?”. 

He starts to rub the side of his body into yours as your fingers trail down his spine. You hear Bucky say, “young wolves do that to form a bond with pack members”. 

“Young?”, you speak softly, your eyes still on Winter. 

Bucky makes his way over, “he’s only a year and a half. I rescued him when he was a pup”. 

As Bucky comes to stand next to you, Winter goes down on his front paws, his hind up in the air. Bucky’s voice becomes playful, “you wanna play now?”. Bucky darts to the side and Winter follows his movements still low to the floor. 

Bucky then mocks moving forward towards him and he leaps back, tail wagging. They play like that for a while, until Bucky looks at his watch. 

Bucky pats Winter on the head, “we better be going, but we’ll be back soon”. As Bucky makes his way to the door Winter brushes himself against you before making his way over to his water bowl. 

You follow Bucky out of the kennel, “I can’t believe you have a wolf”. 

Bucky laughs, “yep”. 

You make your way back to the house, “how often do you visit him?”. 

Bucky looks at you, “I try to see him every day”. 

You shake your head, “I can’t believe I never noticed”. 

You’re quiet for a while, until you get back inside, “can I go and visit him?”. 

Bucky nods, “of course, I’d love you to. Nobody else likes to go in there and spend time with him”. 

Bucky pulls you in for a kiss, “go and get changed out of your gym clothes but keep casual. I have a few more phones calls, but I’ll meet you outside in twenty minutes”. 

You had been in the car for ten minutes and you couldn’t stop fidgeting. Bucky was driving, and the obvious place was the passenger seat, so you bit the bullet and sat in the front with him. But with having a clear view of the road in front made you nervous. 

It wasn’t long before you felt Bucky lay his hand on your thigh. He squeezes it as you let out a breath, “it’s a short drive Doll. Promise. You’re doing great though”. 

True to his word, it was only another ten minutes in the car before Bucky started slowing down. He made a sharp turn onto a dirt road. A turning you would have missed if you didn’t know it was there. Bucky drives slowly so you don’t mind as much. 

Soon a cosy house comes into view. You look over at Bucky about to ask him, but he just smiles and shakes his head. When he pulls up, you both get out at the same time. He steps up onto the porch and then holds his hand out to you. 

You take it as he leads you to the door. Curiosity is burning a hole in your chest, but you remain quiet. Bucky walks straight in, shouting, “we’re here!”. He takes his shoes off at the front of the house and you follow suit. 

You see stairs up ahead in the hallway and you hear small footsteps run upstairs and then make their way down the stairs. The unmistakable sound of children shouts, “Uncle Buck! Uncle Buck!”. Bucky stands at the end of the stairs waiting. 

You watch as a small girl and boy come into view. They get so far onto the stairs before they both jump on Bucky. Bucky catches the pair with either arm and sits them on either side of his hips. He looks at the both as he says, “and how are my favourite twins today?”. 

They both start talking at the same time. The girl saying, “Daddy bought me a new inflatable castle and it’s so big!”. 

The boy says, “He bought me a new sword because I broke my last one”. 

Bucky nods as the pair still talk at the same time. They only stop when the boy looks in your direction, points his sister to look and then he whispers to Bucky, “who’s she?”. 

Bucky whispers back like it’s a secret, “if I tell you, promise you’ll keep it a secret?”. 

They both nod vigorously as Bucky whispers again, “she’s my girlfriend”. Their heads whip to look at each other before they push out of Bucky’s arms. They rush over to you on their little legs. 

The boy tugs on your top in a gesture for you to squat down. Once you do, he whispers, “are you really Bucky’s girlfriend?”. 

You chuckle, “yes, I am”. 

The girl speaks next, “what’s your name?”. 

You smile, “I’m Y/N, what’s your name?”. 

“I’m Sarah and this is my twin Joseph”, she points to him and he waves. 

“How old are you guys?”. 

Joseph answers, “we’re five, but we’re nearly six!”. 

Sarah adds straightaway, “I’m older though”. 

Joseph looks offended at his sister, “only by two minutes”. 

It looks like a fight is about to break out when you hear Steve’s voice from somewhere in the house, “knock it off you two”. 

At the sound of their father’s voice they seem to get an idea at the same time. Smiles wide on their faces, they each take one of your hands and pulls you through the house with them. You’re aware that Bucky is trailing behind you, but the kids are running to get you into the kitchen. 

“Mummy! Daddy! Did you know that Uncle Buck has a girlfriend and that he’s brought her for dinner!”, they somehow say the same words at the same time. They’re still holding a hand each as you stop in the kitchen. 

Steve is reaching for plates in a cupboard as a woman with brown curly hair stirs one of the pots on the stove. She turns to glance at you, excitement on her face as she looks at Steve, “stir the pot for me Sweetheart”. 

You can hear the British accent from across the room. As she turns around you see her stomach sticking out, round and rather full looking. She beams at you as she rounds the dining table, arms outstretched. 

She pulls you in for a hug, “don’t mind the bump darling”. As she pulls back she keeps her hands on your shoulders to have a good look at you. Her smile never dims, “you must be Y/N. Steve has told me all about you. I’m Peggy, Steve’s wife”. 

You return her smile, “I hope he told you all good things”. 

She nods, “so much good that I was starting to think you weren’t real”. 

You laugh as she starts to make her way back to the food. She calls behind you, “I hope you like spaghetti Bolognese”.  

“That sounds lovely, thank you”. You watch Steve and Peggy work together for a few moments, wondering how on earth you didn’t know he had a wife and kids. 

You get pulled from your thoughts when you hear Bucky say to the kids, “well thanks for keeping a secret, guys”. They just giggle. 

Joseph tries to pull Bucky out of the room, “lets go and play!”. 

But Peggy’s voice comes fast and stern, “no. I want you both to go wash up for dinner and be back in five minutes. Dinner will be ready in ten”. 

They run off without argument as Bucky comes over to you. You poke him in the stomach, “I can’t believe I didn’t know about any of this. Steve has a wife! And kids! And another one on the way!”. 

Bucky chuckles, before becoming serious, “It wasn’t my secret to tell. Steve wanted to see how things would go with you and us and he then discussed it with Peggy and they decided to tell you now”. 

You nod, “does anyone else know?”. 

Bucky shakes his head, “just Sam. It’s one of the best kept secrets we have. Steve wanted to keep Peggy a secret for obvious reasons”. 

You nod as Steve sets the table he shoots you a smile, “I can’t believe you’re a married man Steve”. 

He laughs, “she’s beautiful, isn’t she?”. 

Peggy puts the pots in the table, “oh stop it Stevie”. 

He comes behind her, wrapping his arms around her so that his hands rest on her protruding stomach. You can’t help but watch them together, never seeing Steve quite like this back at the estate. 

They break away when you hear the kids start to run down the stairs. Peggy and Steve go back into action as Steve tells Peggy to just sit down so that he can do it all. But of course, she refuses and gets the kids settled into their seats. 

Bucky pulls you over to a seat and then he sits next to you. Once everyone settles down, dinner goes by quickly. It was delicious food and it was great getting to know Peggy and the kids. 

It didn’t take long for the kids to finish their food. Sarah gets her parents attention, “can we go and play now?”. 

Steve looks at them, “you sure you’re finished?”, they nod in unison, “go on then, but keep the noise down”. 

They get down from their seats and then come over to you. Joseph grabs your hand and starts to pull on it. But Peggy has an eagle eye, “don’t be so rude kids. Y/N could still be eating”. 

They mumble an apology as you smile at them and then at Peggy, “its okay, honestly, I’m done. It was lovely, thank you so much Peggy”. 

Joseph starts pulling on your hand again and you get up to follow them. Peggy says, “you don’t have to play with them if you don’t want to”. 

You wave her off, “I’d love to. You guys catch up for five and have a rest”. You follow the kids up to their designated playroom. Toys are scattered everywhere, and they argue for a few minutes on what you should play. 

Sarah pouts, “no Jo. It has to be something we can all play!”. 

You decide to step in, “how about we play the princess and the knight?”. 

They turn to you at the same time, “what’s that?”. 

You point to Sarah, “you would be the princess”, you then point to Joseph, “and you would be the knight. The knight’s main job is to protect the princess and you’re both meant to hide from…”, you whisper the next part, “the monster”. 

They lean towards you as they whisper, “who is the monster?”. 

You look around the room and then back at them. You catch them off guard, “me!”. You go to grab them, but they run away squealing. You call after them, “I’ll give you ten seconds to hide”. 

You can hear them giggling from a different room. You count aloud for them to hear and once you’re done, you make sure your footsteps can be heard by them. 

You walk slowly into what looks like Joseph’s room. You can hear them under his bed, but you make a point of walking passed it, “hmm, I can’t see them…but I’m sure I can hear them”. 

You hear shuffling behind you. You wait a few moments before turning around. You find Joseph holding a plastic sword and Sarah by the door. You growl like a monster and Joseph pretends to strike you with the sword. 

You fall back dramatically as you hear them run down the stairs breathless, “quick before she gets back up”. 

You can’t help but smile as you make your way slowly down the stairs. You hear them in the living room and step in the room to find Steve and Peggy sitting next to each other on the couch and Bucky sitting on a single sofa. 

You flash them quick smiles before going back to finding the kids. You see an abnormally large shape under the curtains in the living room and you see it move now and then. You make your way over to it as you hear them ‘shh’ each other. 

You reach out and touch the moving shapes under the curtains, “this is weird, but I don’t think this is them”. 

You hear them giggling like mad until Joseph pushes Sarah out, “run Sarah”. 

She escapes your grasp, but you manage to catch Joseph. You pick him up and tickle him as he breathlessly wheezes, “Sarah! Help!”. 

Sarah looks at you helplessly, “but I’m just a princess”. 

You give her a smile, “even princesses can be brave and save the day”. 

She looks around then and grabs a pillow from the sofa. She throws it at you. It glances off your shoulder, but you release Joseph like it worked and they run away squealing. You start to go after, “I’m gonna get you this time!”. 

But just as you get to the doorway you feel arms come around your waist. You know straightaway that its Bucky as he traps you against his chest he shouts, “run kids! I’ve got her for now!”. 

You gasp, “Bucky! You traitor!”. 

The kids run up the stairs and as soon as they’re out of sight Bucky twists you around and steals a kiss. As soon as the kiss ends his phone starts ringing. He rolls his eyes as he answers it. That’s when you hear shouting at the other side. 

Bucky tries to concentrate, “slow down, say that again?”. 

You hear mumbling on the other side and watch as Bucky’s face darkens. His jaw clenches until he finally speaks through clenched teeth, “stay there. I’m on my way”. 

You look at him worried, “what’s going on? Is everything alright?”. 

Steve then comes out followed by Peggy. Bucky shakes his head, “I’ll explain later. I’m sorry Peggy but I have to go, this is serious”. 

Peggy waves him off, “go, I’m just glad you stayed for dinner. You go too Stevie”. 

Bucky starts shaking his head, but Steve cuts him off, “you said it was serious, so let’s go”. 

Steve and Peggy say their goodbyes as Bucky turns to you, “I’m sorry-“. 

You give him a quick kiss, “don’t be. Come back for me whenever, I’ll just stay with Peggy. Be safe”. 

Once they were gone Peggy sighs, “time to put them to bed”. 

You stop her gently, “I’ll go put them to bed”. 

“Oh don’t be silly-“, she starts to move forward again. 

But you cut her off, “I would love to do it. You just go relax and have some time to yourself”. 

She thinks about it for a second before giving you a hug, “they’ll know where their pyjamas are. They usually sleep in Joseph’s double bed since they watch a film before bed”. 

You smile, “no problem”. 

You make your way upstairs and tell them it’s time for bed. To your surprise they don’t make much fuss as they get changed into their pyjamas. You then help them brush their teeth and then usher them into Joseph’s room. 

They tell you to put the Lion King on the DVD player and you switch the lights out. Just before you leave you hear Sarah say, “can you stay with us? It’ll be like a sleepover!”. 

You think about it for a few seconds before saying, “I’ll stay, but you have to be quiet and try and sleep okay?”. 

They nod and so you climb over them and lie behind them on top of the covers. You lie on your side and they do the same towards the film and then they scoot into you. Sarah grabs your arm and brings it to lay across her and Joseph so you’re spooning the pair of them as Sarah spoons Joseph. You end up falling asleep with them.  

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[dontshootmespence]

The Most Natural Thing In The World

Part 16

Summary: An experienced Dom and a virgin meet in a bar. Can he introduce her to a world she’s always imagined but never known before? Is it everything she wanted?

Words: 1,895

Warnings: Fucking machine, multiple orgasms, dildos, masturbation, p in v, anal sex, slight oral sex, cream pie.

A/N: My next entry for @cm-kinkbingo​ run by my beautiful girlfriend @heycasbutt. This fills my fucking machine square.

A/N 2: This is the penultimate chapter! Last one coming soon!

Anticipation sweeps through the stairwell as you hurry up to your apartment, ready for your no-interruptions weekend with Spencer. Work had been kicking both of your asses for weeks, but you’d both somehow managed to get the same weekend off to spend some quality time together.

Spencer sped through his paperwork from the last case to get home before you, leaving you to wonder what he was planning. For the last two hours, he’d been dropping hints, but you couldn’t figure it out. 

As you knock on the door, cracking it open a bit, you call inside to make sure you aren’t interrupting anything. “Spence?”

“Come in!”

Placing your bag down, you call to him again, his voice returning from the bedroom. Legs like jelly, you walk toward your bedroom to find Spencer proudly laying across your newly made bed. But there’s one stark difference. At the end of the bed stands a machine the likes of which you’ve never seen - in porn, yes. But not in real life. “Oh my god,” you say, a subby smile spreading across your face. “You didn’t.”

“I did,” he replies, barely containing a scrunched up smile. “After much thought and even more research, I went out and bought this collapsible, stand-up fucking machine with six settings, a remote for me, not for you,” he says touching your nose, “Interchangeable dildos and a little mirror so that can see yourself being fucked. Sound like fun?”

Cheeks burning, you nod. “Yes, Sir.”

“Good.” He kisses the top of your head and stands tall, indicating that play time is about to start. “Strip.”

Without any grace, too excited for whatever Spencer has in store, you peel your clothes off, throwing them in his direction and watching as his cock pushes against the confines of his flannel pajama pants. “What position would you like me in, Sir?”

“Just lie down on your back. Spread your legs.”

You do as he commands and sink into the mattress, reveling in the feel of clean and still slightly warm sheets. The desire to touch yourself is overwhelming, but Spencer hasn’t given you permission and your decisions are his right now. 

Taking a deep breath, you steady your ‘itchy fingers,’ lacing them above your head as you wait for Spencer’s instructions. You hear him stand up before he quickly pulls your body to the edge of the bed. “Pick a number between 1 and 5.”

“Three, Sir.”

He slaps your pussy playfully and places the machine near your body, the dildo touching your entrance. “That’s how many orgasms you’ll have before I touch you.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

“You’re welcome, my love. Bring your knees up and hold them unless I say otherwise.”

Sliding your hands over your knees, you pull them up and shiver when the machine begins to stir. The dildo pushes at your entrance; it’s thick, but your slick is already allowing for easy entrance. You can tell he has it on the lowest setting, the veiny shaft gently rubbing against your walls, your body dripping like honey at the insistent pressure building up inside you. “How is that?” He asks.

“Very good, Sir. Not as good as you, but I like that you’re watching me.”

“That’s my good girl. Now relax.”

He turns up the speed on the machine and inhales sharply as the dildo slips in to the hilt, making you gasp, your legs tightening and heightening the sensation.   In quick succession, he ups the levels to three and then four, standing up from his seat to disrobe. You imagine he’s touching himself, roughly grabbing his cock as he watches the instrument fuck you, knowing it’s he who controls it. 

Bouncing gently on the bed, you buck into the machine and try to silence your mind, allowing the rhythmic whirrs of the machine and the soft sounds of Spencer’s hand massaging his cock to wash over you. “May I speak, Sir?”

“Yes, what is it, love?” His voice breaks slightly and you smile to yourself. Despite his position, you have the power to bring him to his knees. 

“Are you touching yourself, Sir?” Knowing full well the answer.

“Yes, I am.” The words get caught in his throat as he pushes the machine to level 5 of 6. “I’m glad you only picked three and not four or five,” he replies, his voice getting closer to you. You imagine him leaning forward, eyes glued to your dripping sex. “I don’t think I’d have the willpower to watch you that many times without touching you.”

“Are you imagining it’s my hand around your cock? The other cupping your balls?”

Groaning, he pushes the machine to its max, ordering you to come as your body shakes, skin prickling with heat. The machine is powerful but nearly silently, allowing the sound of Spencer’s grunts and your cries to fill your ears. “Fuck, Sir. I don’t know if I can handle two more of those.”

“Who said it would only be two?” He asks cockily. “I said two before I touch you.”

The thought is overwhelming. If it weren’t for the fact that he cut the machine back down to level one, you would’ve come again right then and there. He quickly switches out the dildos, showing it to you first. It’s shorter in length than the last one but around the same width and smoother than the first. 

As you bit your lip, he pushes down on your thighs and says to keep them open, spread wide for his viewing pleasure. “And stop biting your lip. You know what it does to me.”

Giggling, you gasp as he kicks up the machine again. He doesn’t start at the first level; you can’t quite place which one he’s on, you just know it’s not the relaxing pulsing of the first one. 

You mewl as your body grinds against the soft blankets, chasing orgasms like the waves chase the shoreline. “Can I touch myself, Sir?”

“No,” he says sharply. “But look up toward me.”

He points down at the mirror on the machine. Your eyes are transfixed as you watch the smooth dildo slid in and out of your pussy. The act of watching is somehow even more erotic than what’s actually happening. Your walls constrict around the device and your head falls back. 

“Did I say you could lie back?”

Your head shoots back up to watch and out of the corner of your eyes you can see Spencer touching himself again. When you’re about to come for the second time, he tells you to open your mouth and thrusts his cock into your mouth, coming down your throat with a soft grunt. 

For the third and final solo orgasm, Spencer flips you over, molding your body to his will until you’re on your hands and knees with the machine fucking you from behind. “For this one, be as loud as you want and move however you want. But no touching yourself.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

As the machine turns on again, you buck back into the machine, fucking yourself on it and turning your head to watch Spencer watching you. He’s practically willing you to come a third time so he can finally touch you without breaking his own rules. 

Your arms begin to shake as it crests again, leaving you weak as your top half falls into the mattress. In order to keep from touching yourself, you slide your hands in your hair and tug lightly, bouncing your ass up and down for Spencer’s amusement. You almost want him to break, to push the machine aside and fuck you senseless until you’re quaking in his arms, but your body tenses up and you cry out, pulling yourself off the machine and collapsing into the bed. “Please, Sir. I need you.”

He doesn’t need any permission. He removes the rest of his clothes and lifts you up, lying down on the bed where you once were before tapping his thighs. It’s your permission to ride him. Crawling on top of him, you grasp his cock and slide down onto it, gasping as he pulls you flush against him and reaches down to place the dildo, already slick with your arousal, at the entrance of your ass. 

With the remote in hand, he returns to the first level and holds you steady as the  device pushes passed the tight ring of muscle. Between the machine and him, you feel remarkably full and your mouth drops open in pleasure. He steals a kiss and begins to move in tandem with the machine, driving his cock up into you. “Sir, I’m not going to last long. Do I need permission to come?”

“No,” he whispers against you, biting down on your earlobe. “You may come whenever you want, but I want to see it.”

He wants to watch everything. As he plunges into you, he gently wraps his hand around your throat and steadies your gaze on his. Your body is in a constant state of shaking, unable to control your muscles as the machine and his body bring you over the edge for the fourth time. 

Trembling, you mold into him, dripping over him like silk as he continues to pump into you in search of his own release. When his voice catches in his throat again, you kiss him, swallowing his growl as he comes inside you. “Oh, fuck,” he says on a laugh. “I needed that.”

“Me too,” you say, grasping his cheek in your hand and pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “How much did you spend on that thing?” 

“$500.”

“Worth it,” you giggle.

Removing the machine from you, he sits up and places you back down on the bed before pulling out, leaving you sated and subby. In silence, you watch as he cleans up you, himself and the machine before packing it away for another day. “What do you have planned for the rest of the weekend?”

Spencer climbs onto the bed and pulls you close, covering you both with the comforter. “Dinner in a little while? Then maybe sitting around all weekend naked and either watching tv or having sex? Come up with a plan?”

“A plan for what?” You laugh, kissing the underside of his chin. 

As you lay your head on his chest, he reaches over to the bedside drawer and shows you a red velvet box. “When we want to get married. Where.” His voice is steady but there’s a note of anticipation as you stare down at the rose gold solitaire diamond ring. “Y/N, there is no one else. I want you and only you for the rest of my life. Right now. Twenty years from now. When we’re old and gray. It’s you. Will you marry me?”

A tear falls from your eye as you kiss him like your life depends on it. “Yes! Oh my god, yes!”

His hand shakes as he slips the ring onto your finger and it’s then that you see he is crying too. “I never in my life thought I’d find someone like you. That I would deserve someone like you. But I have and I believe it and I never want to let you go.”

“You’ll never have to,” you sigh happily, resting your head in the crook of his neck, excited for what the future holds.

[mor-beck-more-problems]

The Best Little Pit-Stops in Texas || Morgan & Deirdre

TIMING: Current

PARTIES: @deathduty & @mor-beck-more-problems

SUMMARY: Morgan shows Deirdre her old haunts in Houston. You really can’t go home again, but sometimes you leave good behind.

CONTAINS: Houston vibes, softness

When the El Real Mexican Restaurant built itself out of an old two screen movie house, they’d kept the neon marquis intact, equal parts nostalgia and kitsch. In college, when Morgan was wringing out a day’s worth of food from $10 tacos al carbon and endless chips, she had enjoyed making a point of admiring the puns and jokes posted under the neon lights: We’re jalapeno these spicy tostadas! We’re nacho kidding, $5 margs when you order new loaded nachos! When Morgan brought Deirdre there on their second night in town, it read: In Queso You Didn’t Know: Closing Dec 26. We’ll cilantro you again someday. Guess you really couldn’t go home again. “And here I thought it was packed because it’s a local institution,” she mumbled.

They parked across the street between a Half Price Books and a Jack in the Box. Houston was still twilight blue at six o’clock, and she could see the shift changes at the local eateries: aprons going up, textbooks and phones coming out. In the other parking lots in sight and on the eating patios of other restaurants, clubbers strolling for a bite to coat their stomachs before hitting the streets and rainbow flags dangling limp and content from shop windows. Morgan slid into Deirdre’s side as they picked their way along the crawling traffic. She had envied those young people so much, almost in tears with how badly she wanted to be a part of them. She would never know what it was like to be that young and alive and free. But with the woman she loved pressed close, she felt a piece of what she had been aching for. It wasn’t their stuff, or even their numbers, though she did miss knowing that she had enough people who cared about her to fill a room. It was something else, something like the love they grew between each other, but not quite. “I would bring girls out here and get them to buy me entrees I could take home to refrigerate. Even if nothing came of it besides a kiss or an hour fumbling around, it was nice to have a hot dinner I wouldn’t have to cook later. And we were pretty safe out here. Girls didn’t get the same kinds of looks as guys, and this part of town is designated as the gayborhood. As long as you weren’t walking alone and looking obvious, it was fine for me. I’d cover the cheap drinks, obviously. Sometimes with magic counterfeit money but--” she put her finger to her lips. “And if things were going really bad, I could pretend to be really riveted by whatever they were screening up on the wall.” Morgan pointed, in case the projection was getting lost in the organized chaos of evening rush. “Besides having the best tacos for your buck, it was a good spot my dad liked to take me to. Not when it was like this, but when the place first opened and the lunch special had everything even cheaper and we could pass by all the fancy shopping centers on the way home. We can too, it’s really close to the hotel, actually. This time of year everything is decked out in the most incredible lights. It’s like something out of a movie. Anyways--” she smiled thin, not sure what she was trying to get at with all this local geography discourse, “It’s only fair I bring my actual best girl here, while it still exists.” She did feel a little hollow, knowing this would be the only time they were going to be here. None of her childhood homes were still standing, and the apartments she had lived in weren’t worth driving to as far as she could reckon. What else was left of the place she’d been bound to for most of her life but these transient commercial spaces? Morgan frowned as they were seated and the chip bowl was put in front of them. Despite not feeling the November warmth, she had been too preoccupied with her family drama to brood over her life being over completely. Here or anywhere else. What was she planning on doing here besides playing tour guide to her old shadows? Morgan reached for Deirdre’s hand, trying to get a read for how she felt about being here. “How are you doing…?” She asked.

Deirdre’s eyes raked over a labyrinth of people. She didn’t like crowds, usually; noisy, chaotic things. It was a sea to get lost in, a force to feel small under. But there was one tiny delight in that. She could watch the humans flutter about their lives; she would know them, their fear, and happiness and anger, and they would never notice her. All her life, she had been stuck as the observer. Though it was not a role she chose, it was one that suited her. For all the charm that rolled naturally off her tongue, there sat her own fears and insecurities, inscrutable to the fellow watcher. Things changed when she met Morgan, and she wasn’t so much a shell floating through the lives around her as she was someone living for once. “I’ve never really been to a Mexican restaurant before,” she explained on the walk there, “I’ve never really been anywhere, I suppose.” And she hoped that in the quiet of her voice, Morgan would realize just how much she’d given her. It was in that way, that despite the loss that rattled in her chest, she could summon warm smiles and enthusiastic bouts of affection. Her life began with Morgan, after all. She would not let her girlfriend’s end with old, bitter memories. For every reminder of them she could find, she held Morgan closer, kissed her longer, gripped her tighter.

The restaurant’s closing date, announced brightly with a joke in neon lights, wasn’t something she could love away.

She pressed herself firmly to Morgan. It was one part imminent closing, another part restaurant. They never visited any after Morgan’s death; Morgan couldn’t taste anything and Deirdre never ate much to begin with. And though days of stealing fries off Morgan’s plate were replaced with longer walks and frequent picnics, Deirdre wasn’t so oblivious that she didn’t know what this meant for them. What it meant for Morgan now, entering a restaurant she loved, and couldn’t enjoy fully before it would be gone forever. Though Deirdre was caught up in the spectacle of the crowd and the interior, her mind wouldn’t drift from what must have been plaguing her love. The lights above were warm-tinted, strung delicately across the old ceiling, just one scream away from littering the heads of everyone below. “Well, now I’m offended I’m not the only girl you bought drinks for with counterfeit money,” Deirdre feigned a huff, chuckling as her eyes followed where Morgan was pointing. Sure enough there was a movie playing, one she couldn’t recognize or hear, but she was mesmerized by the moving shapes beyond her anyways. Action she didn’t know the plot to, logic she had yet to unravel. There was something odd about stumbling into a movie halfway, played as a backdrop, that she couldn’t put her finger on. By the time they got their table, she still hadn’t quite figured it out. Morgan cut across the table, hand against hers, and Deirdre snapped from her daze. “How am I…” She breathed, incredulous. Then she softened, turning her hand so their fingers could intertwine. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that…?” She smiled gently. “This place is special to you, uneventful dates for free dinner aside...or perhaps, even with those. A place you came to with your father. And it’s…” Deirdre glanced around, then back at the entrance. “I could buy it back, from whoever they sold it to. I could make them keep it open. I’ve tried it before…” She turned back to Morgan. “That old antique store in my town. The place I saved up my allowance for, the place between all the pubs and houses? I tried to---well, it doesn’t matter now, I suppose. It closed. But I could save this place, if you wanted that.”

Morgan heard the quiet notes in Deirdre’s voice, a shy admittance she didn’t know how to read. Would it be better if they had some perfunctory appetizers and left? Was she overwhelmed, or unhappy? Morgan pressed Deirdre’s knuckles to her lips and scooted her chair close so they met nearly side to side in the corner. “I’m...a lot of things, but mostly fine.” She hadn’t been thinking about what it would be like to be here when she called ahead for a table, only that it was already by the Menil Art museum and the Rothko Chapel she’d shown Deirdre earlier and that whenever she thought of the Montrose area, all cramped and flourishing and safe, she always tasted the char of perfectly seasoned chicken fajita meat and the sour tang of tequila on her tongue. From here. It had seemed essential, and she’d never had a bad time there, even when she and her dad guiltily brought Ruth along for their early lunches a few times. Why wouldn’t she make room for something that had always been reliable and good? But now they were here, and Deirdre didn’t like crowds, and Morgan didn’t get anything out of the tortilla chips except crunchiness and pointy ends poking the roof of her mouth. The inside was just like she’d remembered. Rainbows of margaritas, salsas, and November ‘winter wear’ spilled all through the open eating space. The usual cowboy movies and Bonanza specials had been traded in for Christmas-y movies, even though it wasn’t even Thanksgiving yet. Morgan recognized Jimmy Stuart in The Shop Around the Corner at once. He was one of Ruth’s favorites, and this was one of the few films they had been able to agree on. It should have felt like she was falling back into old, comforting steps.

But all the workers would be out of work after Christmas. The red and green paper garland would be thrown away or sold. The building would become something else. Everyone eating here would funnel into other places, some to boring franchises, some to mom and pop places still surviving under the radar. And all the energy Morgan had shed in this place on dates and lunches and lonely comfort outings would be cut loose and aimless, a ghost of their own. And Morgan couldn’t taste anything or smell the full potency of the steaming skillets passing by or even tell how much hotter it was inside. She didn’t know who she felt more sorry for, the El Real or herself.

“You didn’t answer my question, babe,” she said gently. “If this wasn’t such a great idea in practice, there’s plenty of other places we can go and ways we can spend our evening. Or if I can do something-- I’m just checking in, and I don’t want all of this to be about me.” If not out of kindness, then for this: the more she lingered on herself, the more she felt like a ghost herself.

She softened at Deridre’s half-told story, releasing what little determined resolve she’d been holding onto. “You don’t have to do that,” she murmured. “That would be...I mean what would we even do with the place, except give it back to the old owners, I guess…” Which was a thought that did make her happy for a moment, enough that she couldn’t hide it. “I could never ask that, and it’s not like we’d get to enjoy it often…” But that wasn’t the point. The point was to let Morgan get to keep something, some place that had mattered to her. Even the schools she’d gone to were no longer standing as they once were. Was keeping it something she wanted? “Tell me more about that place of yours. I want to know, even if I can never see it. Especially because I can’t see it.”

“I’m worried about you, my love.” Deirdre replied easily, sighing with relief as Morgan scooted next to her. As soon as she could, she took Morgan’s hands in hers, firm and steady. “We haven’t really been to any restaurants since…” As her sentence trailed away, she offered a small smile, her brows furrowed with worry. “Maybe I’m just thinking about it too much. Tell me if I am, but I know how much you’ve lost in your life, and how hard things are now and I just...worry, I guess.” And it was frustrating, that they had to be seated in two separate chairs, half-blocked by a table. Al’s had booths, at least. And pie. “I’m okay. More than okay, really. I get to spend time with you, in your home, and all the places you love. I get to fill and color my understanding of you, and that’s magical to me. Knowing you always is. I’ll be okay, no matter where we go or what we do. But if I can do something for you, Morgan….” Her eyes drifted to the movie again; the action had shifted, new actors showed their faces. She knew less than she did before, and the strange, unnamed feeling crept back into her stomach. She slumped and turned back. “This doesn’t have to be about you, if you don’t want that. You know I like you…” Deirdre grinend and nudged her. “And you know I like hearing about you, but if you just want to eat some tacos and have fun, we can do that.”

In a show of good faith, Deirdre reached across and plucked a chip from the table. And then she ate it, slowly, as if it might bite her. There were a lot of things she had never tried before, and she was embarrassed that tortilla chips existed somewhere on that list. Not drenched in nacho toppings, at least. Though nachos themselves were something she only just tried this year. “These don’t taste like potato crisps, I suppose.” She swallowed, trying to dust the salt from her fingers. “We could give it to someone who wants to run it,” she offered, debating on another chip. “We could talk to the owners, talk to other people. And it isn’t really about visiting it…” Deirdre turned her attention away from the so-called “endless” chips, which seemed like they really did have an end to her, several, in fact, and looked to her girlfriend. She knew that she understood, and so she didn’t elaborate on metaphors and symbolism. “If you want that,” she whispered, “change is inevitable, I know. But sometimes you can keep something just as you knew it, just as you loved it. There’s nothing wrong with wanting that.” The story of her little store, a world of its own mysticism, was one of less hope. “It’s not interesting,” she began, “I-I told you about the old books I bought, haven’t I? The ones my mother burned. I got them from there. It was...well, I wasn’t allowed out, much or at all. But this store wasn’t so far from the farm, and yet not too close either. And the few times I had errands, I had just enough time to spare to duck inside and get lost among the trinkets. The owner never complained about seeing me there, or letting me stay.” She knew some kids who were yelled at for accused stealing, more that turned up their noses at the dust and smell. But the old man never paid her much attention, and that, she figured, was a kindness. “I never visited it much when I started highschool, but I passed it one day and noticed a sign and...I-I thought it was money problems. I stole some cash from the family--they never noticed it was gone anyway--and left it inside for the owner.” Deirdre shook her head, “he just used it to retire. Now there’s a bookstore there. It’s not a...thrilling story. Or one I like.”

Morgan bowed her head. She couldn’t bring herself to lie to Deirdre, and she wasn’t ready to say, no, I’m sad, because restaurants make me sad now, because there’s nothing for me in them and I feel awful goading you into ordering enough to make the effort of going out feel worth it. But Deirdre already knew. Maybe it was just common sense or maybe it was some deeper sense she had discovered from spending so much time with her, but Morgan was certain even hiding her face wasn’t going to fool Deirdre for a second. “Since I stopped being able to taste anything I used to, yeah,” she mumbled. Was she spoiling the evening? Was there a version of them that was already laughing and cuddling and making the most out of the tortilla chips? Watching Deirdre try one for herself almost made Morgan cry. She was trying, even with what she was carrying from the past month and a half, she was trying for her. Couldn’t Morgan try a little more too?

“You might...be right,” she admitted. “I wasn’t really thinking practically when I got the idea. And I’ve missed this place ever since I left so maybe I wasn’t even really thinking at all with my new normal brain. I’ve wanted you to see it for yourself way before I… I could’ve been more thoughtful, more careful about this.” A waiter passed by balancing three cast iron fajita skillets on his tray and Morgan imagined her mother’s disappointed face behind her, shaking her head. You know better.

She kept her fingers locked in Deirdre’s as she told her story. She didn’t speak much about her teenage years, Morgan only knew the story of the boy and his dog, her first kill, and that she took her vows at fifteen and only after was she allowed to go back to school. It seemed to Morgan like those years didn’t really exist, but had been corded and knotted around steps and demands and expectations, and Deirdre herself was tucked away somewhere, too numb and hurt to come out. But of course it wasn’t that simple. Of course she had summoned the will to be kind for someone else as long as it was a secret. She had tried, even then. “Oh, my love,” Morgan whispered. “It was still kind and worthwhile, you know that, right? You know--”

Their waiter appeared, holding his pad awkwardly, clearly torn between interrupting a moment and having to do his job. Morgan flashed him a perfunctory smile and ordered a white chocolate pina colada, the shrimp street tacos, and 2 tamales a la carte, rattling off some alterations that would make it safer for Deirdre. Then she asked for the check to be brought as soon as he had the time, even if that happened to be before the food was ready.

When he was gone, Morgan slid her arms around her girlfriend. “I’m coming up with a plan and I want to know what you think,” she said into her shoulder. “You tell me what else is bothering you, because I know there’s something. And we talk it out or we put it aside, and you tell me what you think about how everything tastes, and we don’t even have to finish if you don’t want to. And then…” She hesitated. “I know nothing is ever going to be the same for either of us, we can’t get those places or those feelings back all the way. But there is a place I had that was like yours. One that we can actually share equally. It’s a little more of a drive, but I want to show you, and be a part of it with you,  if you’re still up to it. But you tell me what’s making you sad or worry besides me first. I’m just gonna wonder anyway. How does that sound?”

“No, it’s not like that--” Deirdre groaned in annoyance at the space between them. Swiftly, she  pushed their chairs together, wooden bottoms clashing and finger pinched between them. She hissed in pain, drawing her purple fingertip to her mouth as her other hand settled for resting on Morgan’s thigh. “It’s not like that,” Deirdre repeated. “I don’t care about practical thinking or--Fates, Morgan, I was just worried about you. Of course I want to visit all the places you love, even if we can’t enjoy them together just the same as we would have some months ago. I’ve just been worried about you.” She swallowed thickly, fraught with concern. Was she thinking about it too much? Maybe it hadn’t even crossed Morgan’s mind until she brought it up. But, no, she knew her girlfriend well enough, she hoped. And how could she ignore small frowns or wilted sentences? Wasn’t this whole town just one big reminder of everything Morgan had lost? Was she okay with playing the tour guide, or did she muster the energy to walk just because Deirdre wanted to see everything? Or was it her mother; the meeting still stuck in her mind? Deirdre swallowed, and remembered that she didn’t need to be the silent thinker anymore, tasked with finding her own answers, she could ask. But the story of the stupid antique store lodged in her throat, her questions jammed under. “Probably not. He didn’t care as much about that store as I did, and he didn’t recognize me when I asked. It was a pointless endeavor and I spent months sick with guilt and worry about the money.” It would have been better if she left it, and slowly, the thought occurred to her about her questions too. Maybe Morgan didn’t want to talk about it or---

How long had that server been standing there? Deirdre shifted in her seat, she hadn’t even looked at the menu. It was by miracle, or the power of how well they knew each other, that Morgan ordered for her. Better, because she both didn’t know how to pronounce anything and didn’t know what she would be mispronouncing in the first place. As she’d learned recently, it wasn’t just acceptable to ask for the best thing on the menu, accompanied by their most expensive drinks. As he left, her eyes fell back on to the movie--in a new place, someone was crying now. Deirdre reached across and popped another chip into her mouth, shocked again by the crunch. She considered Morgan’s plan as she tried to chew respectably. “If you’d like me there, I’d love to go,” she turned to her girlfriend with a small smile, “but it’s not like that. Not for me. It doesn’t matter that I can’t steal the food off your plate while you’re gone to the toilet, or that we don’t do breakfast at Al’s anymore. That doesn’t---I miss it, in a way. But not like that. Not like you’re saying it. It’s not gone for me, it’s not lost. Time spent with you, my love, is always the most precious thing to me. It’s never so much mattered where or what we were doing, as long as you were happy, and I’m with you.” Her attention shifted back to the damned movie, and she frowned as she searched for the words to explain it better. “It’s worse for you, because you know what’s missing. Like a...movie met halfway. There’s dialogue and story and characters and I only know half of it. I’ll only ever know half of it. And the people…” She glanced around the crowd, caught in their own worlds, as humans so often were. “...don’t really care about the movie on the wall. Which is a shame, I bet they’d really get it if they watched it all the way through.” Deirdre sighed, slumped against her chair. “There is something on my mind, but it’s about you. And we don’t have to talk about you if that’s not what you want; if it’s too hard. We don’t have to do that. And it’s not like you’re making me sad, nothing like that at all. It’s just how badly I wish I could...fix it all for you.” She sniffled, suddenly aware that her eyes had begun to water and leak and she turned away to blink it gone. “Sometimes, I love you so much I cry about it, I guess.” Her laugh was shaky, and her humor weak. “Sorry, I’ll just, uh---”

“No, it was. It was still kind. It says nothing about you that it didn’t take, and everything about him, the part that’s wonderful is that you tried…” Morgan whispered, her words coming all out in a rush, slipping in before the subject closed. She fixated on Deirdre, letting everything else fade. The world released itself from her so fast, like it was always waiting to. She followed her gaze and listened to the crunch of more tortilla chips (so addictive, no matter what mood you were in), completely absorbed. Deirdre wasn’t far off and Morgan didn’t know if she was pained or relieved that the wrinkle knot on her forehead was because of her and not some cursed memory or dreadful epiphany. She was sniffing and blinking back tears of her own by the time Deirdre was doing the same. She untangled herself so she could wipe her cheek and the corner of her eyes.

“We don’t have to pretend. It’s okay,” she said softly. “And you’re right. It’s...I used to be in the movie. I was part of the story and everything was loud and close and intense, or, at least that’s how I understood it was supposed to be. Because I didn’t let myself act like anything more than a second string player in my own life because I was so cured and afraid. But even second string people get to have coffee and look at their special someone for a coat because they’re cold, and I’m just...not a part of that anymore. And that’s been true for the last—almost seven months now? But I was getting used to that in White Crest and I at least have people I’m a part of. Well, a couple, maybe—” Her mouth pulled into a grimace as she thought of Remmy and Nell. She pushed them away, this was hard enough already. “But everyone I used to have here died. The places I lived in are gone. Hell, my first elementary school is Costco now! I barely had an existence here, and yet that sad hopeful life seems so far and so much better than whatever it is I’m doing here right now. But it’s not just that. That would be easy. I could just tell you I made a stupid, terrible mistake and I want to go home. But I can’t, because I really do want you to have this. I don’t have a lot of anything, but what I do have feels special, because it’s mine, and I love you, of course I want to give you whatever I can offer. And you have been so deprived and shut away from the world, and look at you now, in the fourth largest city in America!”

The waiter returned with the drink and the food, and flourished out the check. Morgan caught it before it met the table and slid in her card, urging the young man to wrap things up.

“And you’re finally having tacos! Real Tex-mex tacos! And Christmas tamales, I don’t even know why they’re a December tradition, but they are! People look forward to getting bags of these like they look forward to those red Starbucks cups. You’re not just having everyday Houston nonsense, but something seasonal and special too. And I want you to be a part of it and I want to make it good. I didn’t really get to find out where all the good things are in the world when I was alive, but I know these places, I know when my lonely, miserable life was just a little better for having something hot and nice, and being surrounded by tables so crowded or just the right kind of sparse that I could trick myself into feeling like I belonged somewhere for an hour. I just—” She cut herself off and waited for her body to still, for her voice to loosen up again. She wouldn’t pretend to be okay when she wasn’t, but she wouldn’t make them a point of interest in a busy restaurant either. She waited, tears coming loose from her eyes. She waited some more, taking Deirdre’s hand into her lap. At last, with all the control she could muster, she confessed, “I don’t know how to explain the way I want to share all of my good here with you. I want you to be in the movie too, and I want to know where it’s the same and where it’s different, so it all becomes new. I feel like you understand what it’s like to be stuck on the outside, in the audience, a beat behind everyone else. And I want to show you something more and better than that. We deserve that, especially with how much shit is following us back home, if there’s anything left in me that can work my will into the world, I will show you that we can have more than watching from the fringes. And I need to be able to work my will somehow. I was born a witch and I need to know what I want counts for something and what I want is that. But I can’t share something I’m not a part of. And as horrible and selfish as it is, I hate feeling left behind. It shouldn’t even be possible, to be left behind in your own hometown, in a place you love. But I am dead to at least half of my tiny slice of world here, and that’s just what’s still standing. And I hate it. I’m finally brave enough to embrace everything there was around me and now it’s...it’s something I can only get through a screen and I hate it.” She paused again. Waited again. “But there might be something we can save, and share, and someone who would appreciate it. And when you were telling me that story, I just thought, if I can’t be alive or make this as good as I wanted, maybe I can at least save something with you. Something I can almost be a part of.” Her voice lilted up, watery with hope. “I like the idea that doing something outrageous and kind is something that we could do together.” She sniffled and smiled through her tears. “I don’t mean to be such a baby. We can talk about what’s on your mind, whatever you want to tell me or ask me. But you um, you should tell me if you like how anything tastes.”

Deirdre’s brows knit together with concern, brown eyes glistening at the mercy of new tears. She listened, and she nodded, and she opened and shut her mouth like a fish out of water as she tried to find the magic words to send the pain away. How was it, that for as powerful as a declaration of love was, the words ‘I love you’ could be so meager? Love was all she had, and yet, not enough. Her food had arrived, and their check taken care of, but Deirdre’s attention did not stir. She held Morgan’s hand tight, pressed the back of her knuckles to her cheek to take care of any tears, and paid no mind to her own crying. She shifted her fingers and cupped Morgan’s cheek; suddenly, the bustling world around them dissolved in her senses. She didn’t say she loved her, she didn’t want to interrupt, but she spoke it clearly with her body—from the warm gaze of her eyes right down to her legs, twitching to entangle with Morgan. “Houston is the fourth largest city in America?” She said eventually, lamely. And embarrassed by her inability to find the magic words, the restaurant rushed back into feeling and she turned to her food. She needed two hands to eat, just another way this restaurant foiled her; first the chairs, now the fork and knife. She took up the respective utensils in her hands and started cutting into the yellow rectangle on her plate. “I love you,” she looked back at Morgan as she swayed her food, “so much. A lot. The most. More than I know how to say, more than I can fathom. More than you can. Just—“ She sighed with helplessness, giving up on the food. “So, so, much. It means everything to me that you’re here, that you try, that you want to.” She dropped down the fork and knife, and wrapped her arms around Morgan, where they much preferred to be. “I wish I could do more for you.” Deirdre buried her face into her neck. “I wish I could go back in time and pluck you away from all that terribleness. I wish I could fix it now, with just the right words. I wish I could do more than love you. And I know that means a lot already, I know because your love means the world to me, but I just wish there was more I could do for you. I could feel it, when you were showing me around. It was like only a part of you was there, and the other was some place too far to reach—a place I can’t go. And all that time I just kept wishing I could do more, and none of that is your fault, and I promise I don’t blame you in the slightest, but by Death, I just wish so badly.” She sniffled. “You gave me life, Morgan.” And lifted her head up to meet her girlfriend’s eyes. “A real one. A good one. One I’m proud of, one I look forward to, one I can tell people about. And you’re right, I’m not in the audience anymore, I haven’t been for some time now—long before we ever landed here, and even right now. And I owe it all to you, my love. The world is so alive to me, for once. And it means something to me now. And that’s you, you did that.” She breathed with happiness, fluttering a wet laugh. “Is it bad that I almost wish it was half-dead to me too? I don’t want to be any place you’re not, even the world of feeling.”

Loss was inevitable. Deirdre knew Morgan’s life didn’t have to be ruled by it, but it would be stained. An immortal, she would lose everything all over again, all the time. And Deirdre was pained to think about it, as if her own heart had been thrust out. “I’m sorry,” she swallowed, “about everything. I love you. I want everything to be better for you, and this feeling isn’t new. When you were alive and cursed I wanted it so badly I...Fates, even if you were normal, whatever that means, I’d worry about splinters. Curse all the wood, it attacks my girlfriend, doesn’t it know she hurts?” She laughed shakily, pressing her forehead to Morgan’s. “You make everything good, my love. Always. I know your life has been unkind to you, and I don’t know how to make it all better, but we’ll figure it out together. One day at a time. Whatever we can do today that’s good, we can give whatever you want. Do whatever. I love you.” And so she kissed her, fierce and desperate and stopped only when she remembered where they were. Chased by another quick kiss, she turned back to her food and resumed her sawing.

“I know I say it all the time, but just being with you is perfect for me; more than, even. I’m so thankful that you want to share this with me, and I’m so excited for it, but just in case you don’t feel like it...or if you’ve felt like you’re doing a bad job or something...I just wanted to make sure you know the truth: I love you. Any moment with you is good and perfect, and everything I could want and more. All of this has been amazing, every second. That’s that. And, actually, if you won’t think me too dramatic to say it, there was something on my mind—“ Deirdre frowned, interrupting herself. “Why is this so hard to cut?” Bite finally freed, she stabbed it with her fork, astonished at the strangely tough exterior. “I suppose I should taste this first.”

Morgan melted into all of Deirdre’s words and touches so readily she had to stop herself from mewling out loud and climbing into her girlfriend’s lap so they could be as close as she wanted. “I don’t want you to miss out on anything, I want to feel things with you and be...alive. Somehow, just a little more. I don’t want to be where you’re not either, I just don’t know how,” she whispered, clinging to Deirdre as much as she could. If she squeezed enough, she could get the right sense of Deirdre’s back and shoulders, she could press back enough to feel her forehead. “But I am so happy that you are here, and your world is alive. I can’t tell you how much I’ve been wanting that for you, my love. It doesn’t feel like it’s as much as you deserve, I want you to have more, I am so happy that you have this.” She had just hoped that they would be able to inhabit that world together. When Deirdre kissed her she returned with even more fire and longing. She could at least pull and suck and pinch hard enough to be brought a little closer to life. “I love you too, with all I am,” she whispered, feeling lightheaded as they parted.

She was so entranced by Deirdre’s face, the gentleness in her eyes, the devotion in her smile. There was no doubting her sincerity, not after the year they’d had and the honesty they nurtured between each other, but it still seemed like a strange violation of universal order that this love in all its tender, articulate wonder could be hers. So entranced, in fact, that she didn’t realize that Deirdre was about to put the tamale into her mouth, corn husk and all, until she asked. “Oh!” Morgan startled herself out of her crying. “Babe, no, let me help.” She took the fork and prised off the shredded husk and popped the piece into her mouth. The texture was soft and familiar, even hot, still, despite how long they’d spent talking and crying and gathering interested stares. Morgan unwrapped the rest of the tamale from the husk and laid it out. “The husk is just part of how it’s cooked and served. You don’t eat it, babe. Although you could re-wrap the  tamale in it and inch it down as you eat, but that’s more trouble than what it’s worth.” She leaned over and kissed the corner of Deirdre’s mouth, right where she smiled. “But when you try the shrimp tacos, I’m gonna have to insist that you eat them with your hands the way the good mother of earth intended.”

She watched as Morgan unwrapped the food, staring at the revealed insides. That would make more sense, she figured, and chewed the piece Morgan offered her. The flavour was new, but the texture was nice, pie-like, even. “I’ve never had food that required stripping first. It seems like a—“ Deirdre was going to call it a hassle. But then she chewed. Wordlessly, she cut another bite off and brought it to her mouth. She chewed, and swallowed, and went in for another again. “This is good,” she breathed. She hadn’t been expecting bad food, but she hadn’t really been hoping for much at all. She swallowed another bite, eventually putting down her utensils—as if they got in the way of her explanation. “No, this is really good. I—“ Her eyes drifted to the tacos; Morgan had made those a few times, and so she was no real stranger to them. But she had always tried to eat them with a fork and knife. It was how her family had raised her to eat; her mother didn’t like using her hands to eat, she said it was barbarian, like the humans. There was some superiority woven into using a knife to cut into toast, instead of doing what was logical and grabbing it with her hands. But that was her mother, of course. And she wasn’t here. “Right. With my hands. Like how you’re supposed to eat it.” But she’d only just gotten used to eating pizza with her hands. Deirdre contorted her hand awkwardly above the plate, alternating between various claw shapes as she tried to guess at what would be the best way to pick one up without spilling everything inside. “The only thing I’ve really eaten with my hands is fruit, and then only because I plucked it off branches, and it’d be odd to bring a fork outside. But meals, real meals, were always a fork thing. My family enjoys their etiquette.” Which, though she had explained to Morgan once before in less words, she felt like it might absolve her from embarrassment at her display of confusion at the taco. “Which was weird—“ she gave up and turned to the drink instead. “Because all other fae I knew were a lot more wild in their dining habits; they lived in the forest. It’s like my family wanted to be better than everyone, even their own community.” The piña colada was good, naturally. And bolstered by its sweet flavour, she finally picked up a taco and bit into it. “This is also good.” By the time she finished it, her smile had doubled in size.

“What I was trying to say…” Deirdre began, eager to get the words out before the food distracted her again, and it was very distracting food. “...was that I don’t want to be something else for you to lose. I know I can’t help it in some regards but...as long as you want me, Morgan. I imagine I can do that. Even if that’s more than 500 years, I could find a way to stay. If you wanted me to.” And no longer able to ignore the call of tacos and tamales, she dug back into the food.

Morgan dabbed at her eyes as Deirdre went on, occasionally shooting a wave or a thumbs up at a spectator from the surrounding tables. The attention always made them self conscious, and by the time Deirdre had her first proper bite of a taco, the world had rendered them invisible once again.

She itched to take her banshee into her arms and kiss her greasy fingers and carry her off to bed, but the surprising joy in Deirdre’s smile stopped her. Deirdre’s smile was always a little mischievous, whether it was tender or impish, there was a little curve in the corner that hid just how wide it might stretch, like a delicious secret. Even when Morgan made her laugh by surprise, that curve stayed coiled up. But now Deirdre’s smile spread like it had an appetite of its own. Looking at Deirdre enjoy her plate was like seeing her face new. “I guess this means we’ll have to make our own table rules and split the difference,” Morgan said. “I wouldn’t mind picking fruit with you sometime. You must know all the best spots back home.”

Morgan couldn’t help but reach for her banshee as she gave her reassurances. Even more than five hundred years. Even as long as Morgan might last on the face of the earth, Deirdre would wait until they might be together. When Deirdre paused to wipe her mouth between bites, Morgan took her face between her hands instead and kissed her, firm and steady as a promise. “I won’t hold you to that, if only because there’s a chance I’ll never stop wanting you, however many years I last. But thank you.” Kissed her again. “Thank you, my love. Now come with me. I know just the place I want to save with you.”

The bookstore was an hour away from midtown. Morgan cruised through the eight lane freeway with ease, slipping off and taking the quieter back roads when she sensed traffic getting heavy without distress or comment. The night sky blazed orange with light. Even when they’d left the construction zones and the sentinel lines of streetlights on 290, every grocery store, shopping center, and movie-plex had its own cluster of lamps blasting away the shadows. The commercial strip Morgan took them to was small, with no lights save for the ones inside and two flickering orange poles from the city. The names of the shops were all painted on the windows and awning, personal and to the point: Kelly’s Tea Room, Macey Family Fitness, Acre Wood Hunting Supply. The one Morgan parked in front of was named Twice Told Tales.

Like any good second hand bookstore, the charm of Twice Told Tales was in the mess. Wooden shelves, clumsily constructed, bowed and slumped against the walls, their over-stuffed shelves dribbling paperbacks out the middle. They looked like sleeping old men whose shirts had come loose. Toys from the children’s section at the back corner littered the floor: plush dolls and generic blocks from the dollar store, mostly, with the occasional donated Disney princess or superhero action figure, fists raised, ready to light up as soon as you stepped on them. There was an old fashioned bell rigged to the door, chiming happily as they entered. Morgan laced her fingers through Deirdre’s hand and started weaving through the shelves on her old route, fiction first, then fantasy and science fiction, then romance, then the children’s corner, and back up through science, math, and then art and art history. There was no one else shopping and the woman who ran the store was nowhere to be seen, probably doing office work in the back, but Morgan kept her voice hushed all the same, as if she might shatter the place if she spoke too loudly.

“See, my family had this idea to conserve the energy we put out into the world as a family as much as possible. I thought it was because they valued being intentional with your actions, a lot, but it was probably just a way of trying to minimize the curse. Like, how much can you suffer if you don’t have that much going for or against you, right? The answer turned out to be ‘still a lot’, but they tried. And, anyway, the part that affected me was no buying books new. Or many books in the first place. Fortunately inter-library loans are a thing so I wasn’t completely deprived or anything, but getting to have a book I got to love and keep for as long as possible was a…stars, ‘treat’ doesn’t cover how excited I was. Yes, it was a special occasion, only a few times in the year. Birthday and Yule, and maybe one more time if I could prove and argue that I had been really, really good and had earned it and swore up and down not to let it become too much of a distraction.” Morgan sighed, her eyes reflecting the streetlamps like tiny stars full of wishes. “One of the books was Anne of Green Gables, I remember it because the copy was leather bound and there was this incredible, full color illustration of Avonlea inside and it was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen, and I’d bring the book to bed with me just to look at the picture and imagine being there. Literally falling asleep with my head on the cover. And I got that one, and any other books from that period of time here and… Frankie!” A young looking tabby, about Moira’s size, leapt down from its roost on a shelf and presented itself for them. Meowing so calmly, it seemed to be offering customer service. “It’s not the same Frankie I knew, obviously, but the lady here just keeps adopting tabby’s and naming them the same.” She looked up at Deirdre, giving her hand a squeeze. Was she really here with her? Did she feel how special this place was? Did she like it?

“I’d like it if you never stopped wanting me, I hope you won’t. Because there’s a good chance I won’t stop wanting you either.” Deirdre smiled softly. The food was done, delicious to the late bite, and she welcomed the Houston night air into her lungs. She didn’t know where they were going, she never really did. But it wouldn’t have mattered if she knew the place by heart or in casual passing, her excitement bubbled and overflowed like milk in a pot. Her version of simmering down was trying to read road signs as they blurred past. Morgan drove like she was going home, even in White Crest there was still some double-checking of street names, trying to decide if it was a left or right turn. She peeled off the giant freeway into an exit Deirdre hadn’t even noticed, though she had occupied herself with softly commenting every odd observation—some witty, some nonsensical, some common sense. She wasn’t so much talking to Morgan as she was letting her brain run loose. Beyond them, her pot continued to boil.

For all that she imagined of the place, their destination was better. Their destination was always better. Her eyes danced over every book spine, every dusty shelf. She almost wanted to tell Morgan to walk slower, she needed to commit it all to memory first. She needed to think about where Morgan stood before, what books she touched, and if they were still here for her to run her fingers over. In her awe and excitement, she hadn’t even remembered the name of the establishment. They should go back out, and come back in, let her revel in the chime of the door. How many times did it jingle for Morgan? Could she know? The store was cramped, every inch filled with something. She thought of the massive freeway, and tried to figure how many of these stores could fit in there. Then she listened. She looked to Morgan, and then back around the store. Between the shelves, did a younger Morgan skip with excitement through the sections? Did she look up, brows furrowed in concentration as she tried to pick out the perfect book—the best book. If she only got just one, it had to be good, didn’t it? But how could she pick, faced with options that literally fell off the shelves for her. Deirdre imagined Ruth in the corner, impatiently tapping her foot. Or maybe it was Hector, as excited as his daughter. Did he pick titles off the shelves that he thought his daughter would like? Did he marvel at how something so simple, so inconsequential, sparked such innocent excitement in her? Did he feel guilty? Deirdre turned back to Morgan, just quick enough to catch the expression on her face. Guilt, she decided. He could have made a world where she made that face all the time. Deirdre felt herself wanting to herself, she couldn’t imagine anyone feeling any different. What monsters those creatures must be, that would ever deny Morgan this.

Frankie interrupted them, which was all the better for Deirdre, who knew her eyes were watering. She laughed shakily, turning her head to hide a sniffle. “You’re so happy,” she sniffled again, trying to cover this one up with a cough as she met Morgan’s eyes. “It’s the most beautiful sight.” She greeted it with a kiss, as if thanking her lips for smiling. And another kiss to her temple; for her eyes, which glittered with brilliance. And then another, to her lips again, simply because she enjoyed kissing Morgan and wanted one more. She reached out slowly to the orange cat with a soft smile, letting it sniff her fingers. “I like Frankie,” she proclaimed, the cat hadn’t done anything in particular to earn such praise, but Deirdre had long since forgotten that she wasn’t supposed to like animals. Whatever happened in White Crest, whoever she was there, whatever she was under the thumb of rules, it was as if that woman’s skin had been lifted off her shoulders. She felt free, happy. “So I have Anne of the Green Gables to thank for the fact you’ve read the same old books I have.” Though Morgan had read more, obviously. “How did you pick books out?” She asked finally, pulling one off the shelf for herself, knowing she’d never be able to stuff that thing back in. She flipped through its slightly worn pages; someone had dog-eared a passage, and Deirdre stopped to look at it, wanting to know what someone thought was special there. “There’s so many books,” she continued, “how did you pick? Was it the prettiest cover? Did you read a couple of pages tucked away in the corner?” Show me, she was asking, in much more words. She wanted to know. She wanted the place where Morgan was happy, and the only problem she had was picking a good book, she wanted that world to be the one they knew best—like a full-color illustration of Avonlea. She wanted the gentle strokes, the soft greens, the wide fields and the old-fashioned house that always looked warm and cozy. She wanted to say they could have that. “My mother always thought second-hand books were tacky. Like the humans didn’t even care enough to keep them in the first place. The books I got from that antique store were all previously owned, just like everything else in there. That, itself, was a story. When it was replaced with a bookstore, even if I spent my time there, I never wanted to take a book home.” For various reasons, some that included an angry mother, hateful of personal possessions, others that could be summed up by the dog-eared corner that she pointed to. “People do care, don’t they?”

Morgan wiped Deirdre’s cheek and took her hands once again. “I am unspeakably, dangerously happy,” she said. Laughter bounced on the edge of her lips as she kissed her back. “It’s this place. And maybe a little bit you. Or a lot a bit you.” Frankie padded over to them and brushed against Deirdre’s legs, giving them a polite meow of inquiry again. Morgan scratched the cat’s ears and let it get a sniff of her, beaming as it purred and asked the same as Deirdre. “Frankie likes you too, I think. There’s something about bookstore cats, they just know how to develop an excellent sense of character. Maybe it’s the place.This is a room where things that are lost or unwanted go to belong together and find new homes. It feels nice because anything can have a space here, even people, just by turning up. I think people who don’t get that are just missing out. People do care, yeah…” Her voice trailed off in a whisper, awed and thrilled by the wonder bubbling up in Deirdre. The emptiness and the drab fluorescent lights and the cheap peeling tile under their feet transformed themselves just by being reflected in her face.

Morgan came back to herself with a sheepish grin. “If I can tear you away from your new best friend Frankie, I’d like to show you how I picked out my books….” She reeled her tight into her side and laid their hands against one another, hers on top, guiding it toward the spines. She walked them back to the front of her path, in generic fiction and literature, and hopped onto her toes to steal another kiss. “So, it may be shallow, but I did, to a certain extent, look at their covers. But I also--don’t laugh--tried to feel them. Their textures, their softness, but also their energy. I’d look, and I’d brush my fingers along the spines, up and down and zig-zagging to make sure I got the ones turned sideways too.” She guided Deirdre’s hand as she spoke, teaching her fingertips how to glide over the different shapes and sizes. “I knew I had something promising when my eyes and my hands aligned. Like when you look at someone you love, when you spark inside. If the energy is right, it feels like that, but quiet, it’s just a possibility of that, there’s something inside that wants to become a part of you, but you don’t know if you want it back yet. So then, and only then, I’d pick it out and read a few pages.” She looked at the shelves around them and the steady path of Deirdre’s fingers, and back to her love again. “What feels good to you, Deirdre?”

Deirdre put her book down, she felt guilty for not slipping it back in its place for a moment before her worries—big and small—were swept away by Morgan. “Oh, my love,” she laughed, kneeling down to give Frankie better attention. She was rewarded with the cat weaving between her legs. “You said that about the shelter cats too.” She glanced up, beaming. “And those strays that followed us around that one day. And, just about any animal we come across together.” It occurred to her then that Morgan had never really been speaking to the wisdom of the animals, but of Deirdre’s character. She flushed, and continued to dote on the taby. “But maybe it’s this place. I like this place.” It smelt questionable, like dust and books and something kind of like mold—maybe a byproduct of the Houston humidity. It looked like it’d been robbed; upturned, downturned, spread out like a sloppy storage room. The walls, shelves and floor were as worn as the books. And yet, charming. It wasn’t carelessness that led this store to its current state. It was worn by touch and love, claimed by time, plagued by too many treasures to fit between its shelves. It did need a little saving, a little fixing up, then it’d be just right.

“Mm, I don’t know. Frankie and I are getting along so great.” Her lips curled with mischief, easily awash with eagerness at Morgan’s offer. Even she couldn’t keep up her teasing under the promise to be shown—led—into Morgan’s world. “Okay,” she brushed herself off and stood up. “Show me.” Deirdre smiled and listened. “I’m no witch though. The only energies I feel are death, and I’m not so sure I want to pick a haunted book…” Now, one with a bone stuck between the pages would be nice, but human bookstores usually didn’t offer that. Though she didn’t think it would work for her, she followed Morgan’s steps. She imagined herself as the little girl, beyond excited to have something of her own. What would she pick? Her fingers brushed over the spines of dozens of books; soft, smooth, wrinkled. Some with indented titles, carved into their covers. Others with the embossed kind, some with glitter. All of them wanted attention from her, not unlike the threads of death she could feel at a cemetery. The glory of stories was that she could tug on any one, and be led into something new and exciting—a different world. Books and visions had that in common. So, she waited, she ran her fingers carefully along more books, considering each one. What feels good to you, Deirdre? She paused, fingers pressed to the spine of a humble book. Its title was not long or flashy, not indented or embossed. The book was not thick, though not so small it got lost sandwiched between larger company. What stood out to her most was where her fingers had landed: they obscured the rest of the title, leaving only a red M. There was only ever one thing that felt good to her, every time, without fail. The book was unassuming, but Deirdre grinned as though she found treasure. She pulled the book from its place, flipping it over in her hands so she could look at the cover. From there, she knew she’d chosen the right one. “She looks like you,” Deirdre commented, tilting the book to show Morgan the little girl on the cover. She had brown hair, a blue dress and stack of books, sitting as though she knew more about the world than she ought to—possessed of great, Morgan-esque quality. “Matilda,” Deirdre read. “This one feels good.” Good felt like Morgan, after all.

Morgan squeezed Deirdre as she picked out her treasure and melted with delight just looking at it. “She looks like you,” Morgan said. “Straight hair, dark eyes, and so rapturous and intense in her expression. It’s kinda like your face right now.” She brushed her fingers over Deirdre’s features as she spoke, caressing each corresponding piece of evidence to her argument. Confident she’d made her point, she jumped up to kiss her girlfriend’s cheek again. “Matilda had to hide her books from her parents too, you know. They didn’t appreciate how kind or thoughtful she was, so she--” Morgan caught herself, biting her lip. “If you don’t know the story yet, I won’t steal the satisfaction of the ending from you. But it’s good. My copy was a lot more heavily used than this one, practically falling apart, but it was one of my favorite books growing up. I actually committed myself to learning levitation spells because I wanted to be just like her. And you know--” she brushed her hands over the book cover. “I can feel the good vibes from this book too, even like this. Come on.” She rushed them to the counter and rang the service bell, fighting back delighted giggles. “Hello! Mrs. Benson!”

The woman who came out the back was decidedly not Mrs. Benson. She was around Morgan’s age, with a suburban mom bob and clear frame glasses. “Can I help you?”

“O-oh.” Morgan’s smile fractured and she thanked the universe for her lack of blood flow. “I just um...we’re ready to check out, if that’s okay. I’m sorry I yelled I just, I used to come here a lot. I didn’t know Mrs. Benson super well, and I guess she had to retire eventually, but she was a really nice old lady and I was just hoping to say hi or something.”

The woman’s face broke into a laugh. “Morgan the Gorgon! I’m sorry, that’s so inappropriate of me, but it’s you, right? It’s me, Shelley! We had Chem together!”

While Morgan remembered that name being chanted at her as she was chased down the stairwell and pelted with cans and paper balls, she didn’t remember Shelley, exactly. Was she and academic rival? Had she been someone Morgan had tried to impress with tarot readings and custom crystals? The high school girls blurred together, and the innocence of that time mingled with the pain, like indigestion flaring up in your throat after swallowing a cheesecake. “Hey!” She said. “How--wild! Seeing you here! What made you pick up the torch for this old place?”

“Well, my mother, bless her heart, doesn’t have a head for business, but the last thing Memaw wanted was for the only used book place out here to get bought up or disappear. Lucky for me, I managed to learn a thing or two from her before she passed.”

“I’m so sorry for your loss,” Morgan murmured.

Shelley scoffed. “She’s smiling down from heaven at us. I mean look at us. Look at you! That’s a high fallutent city girl if I ever saw one. Both of you!” She reached out to take Deirdre’s hand and shake it, reintroducing herself as if the last minute didn’t count on account of not being personable enough. “Memaw would be so pleased,” she went on. “You were her favorite of all the regular kids.” Shelley nodded towards an exposed wooden post filled with polaroids and printed pictures of smiling children through the ages. Only two had managed to get frames on them, one that was clearly a younger shelley, posing with her grandmother, and one that made Morgan gasp: unmistakably her. She clutched Deirdre’s arm tight. The girl in the picture was so cringingly embarrassed, not just at the occasion (The Best Reader of the Year award, which amounted to a cheaply printed certificate from Office Max and a free book) but at her own happiness. The promise of a free book, a gift that had been earned in the structure of rules and work had filled her with so much excitement. It was as certain as a spell. Better, even, because she hadn’t even needed to believe, she just had to max out her library card reading more than the other kids and report everything to Mrs. Benson. It didn’t occur to her until she saw the apathetic faces in the gathering that this wasn’t a very enviable achievement. But by then it was too late, and however much she tried to stay aloof as the other eleven and twelve year olds, she failed, miserably. “That’s me,” she whispered. “Deirdre, it’s me.”

“Simpler times, huh?”

Morgan nodded, her attention still stuck on the picture. The attempts to make a slightly oversize shirt look cool, the sweatshirt tied around her waist, the permanent stains on her thrift store jeans. It was all so wrong and brought her so much trouble then, but from here, she just looked like a child. A girl still growing, twisting herself crooked trying to get something right.

“Would you like this gift wrapped or anything, ladies?” Shelley asked.

“But that sounds like you,” Deirdre argued with a soft whine. She eyed the cover again, unable to see anyone but Morgan, with her books, underappreciated for all the intelligence and kindness that existed within her. But Deirdre’s argument leapt out of her in a yelp before it had formed, swept away by Morgan. She laughed her surprise, placing the book on the counter. Though she’d been reading more with Morgan around, she had never felt excited to read a book she picked out since she was a child. She ran her fingers along the fraying edges and thumbed the pages. In a different world, she might have been embarrassed to be reading a children’s book. In this one, she was thrilled. Deirdre bounced on her heels, grinning as she waited.

Her smile gave way to one more tense, more confused. No one told her what a Memaw was, but she managed to put it together herself. She shook Shelley’s hand, momentarily considering snapping a finger for her revisiting of a clearly tasteless nickname, and introduced herself quickly. “Deirdre,” she managed, before Shelley was off to the next thing. Her eyes followed Morgan’s, and Deirdre nearly forgave her for mentioning the gorgon thing. “It’s you,” she whispered back, reaching up to pluck the picture off its nail. Matilda was fine in her cartoon form with her long hair and book pile, but this was the real Morgan. Deirdre’s grin grew back. “Can we get a copy of this?” She asked, interrupting Shelley. “Or keep it, I suppose.” She turned to Morgan, asking silently for her opinion. “It’d be nice if Morgan could be up on that wall forever, reigning over all the other children. But original photos have a particular charm.” She continued to smile at her girlfriend, held close to her. “What do you think?” She whispered, exhibiting great restraint in simply squeezing her arm instead of kissing her like she wanted. There was another question, about how much exactly Shelley should know about their relationship, or if Deirdre should make it a point that she came out of this interaction thinking they were just really good friends. “Don’t worry about gift wrapping it,” she finally addressed Shelley’s question, leaning across the counter. “I did want to ask something about, hm, donations.” Her eyes trailed over the peeling tile, the chipping paint, the books overflowing into disorganized stacks. Then it settled on the emptiness; book stores were not the most popular visit during the night, but she could almost reason it wasn’t the most popular visit full stop. “For the store.” She offered Shelley a bright, winning smile. “If Morgan wanted to put something forth, in her name. She could do that, couldn’t she?”

“If you want it it’s yours!” Shelley said. “All the kids in those pictures are old like us or moved away. Not much to appreciate. And I’m running out of room for the new kids…” Shelley went on longer, explaining who these children were and how often they came and what her ideas were for posting their pictures, but Morgan didn’t hear. She picked up the framed photograph, fingers brushing over her frizzy hair and her sloppy oversize shirt tucked into her stiff jeans. She didn’t wear grunge well, but at least the 90’s were kind to her Goodwill wardrobe.

“Thank you, Shelley,” she said. She tucked herself close to Deirdre, leaning her head on her arm as she broached the subject of donations. “We would,” Morgan tacked on. “It could be anonymous, of course, but what my girlfriend is trying to say is that we would like to give you something toward keeping this place open for another generation or two, and maybe even a facelift, or a more advantageous location?”

Shelley’s eyes widened at the mention of girlfriend, but Morgan forgave her when she didn’t comment. Shelley gestured to a donation jar, admirably half full but not exactly promising for the long term. “We’re always accepting donations at Twice Told Tales. Check is fine, if you, uh, ladies are feeling extra generous.”

“Perfect!” Morgan said. “But what would it take, do you think? Would sixty thousand help you guys out? Or a hundred thousand?”

Shelley blanched, trying to figure out if Morgan was being serious. “Are you...Well, it would certainly go a long way, a very...if mean, if you’re serious, then...I could check the books and give you a more comprehensive estimate, but I couldn’t possibly…”

“We’ll start with the book--” Morgan fished seven dollars out of her wallet and handed it to the woman. “Keep the change. And I’ll set you up with a hundred thousand now, and you can email me about what’s best for the store.” Morgan happily wrote out a check and stuffed it into the jar. “And, well,” Morgan looked hesitantly at Deirdre, trying to ask for her approval in advance, “If you don’t mind, babe, I’d like a plaque or something, with both our names on it. You can call us donors or patrons, I don’t really care, but I want people who come in here to think of Deirdre too when they think of this place.” She stuffed the check in the jar. “Can we make it a deal? A little extra funding for the store in exchange for its continued upkeep and care, along with a little recognition?” Her eyes flitted to Deirdre again, adding emphasis on the deal. They could make this different. They could make this one good thing stick, and for once, a legacy didn’t have to be something shrouded in pain and suffering.

“We?” Deirdre blinked, eyeing Morgan. She didn’t correct her, or argue, but in her silence she asked if that was okay, if Morgan was sure. This place was special to her, and it would be kept alive through her kindness. Deirdre thought herself an accessory, at best. But when Morgan didn’t correct herself, Deirdre stood up straighter and nodded. “We would,” she repeated, and pressed a kiss to Morgan’s temple as she so desired. If Shelley had any real issue with it, she certainly couldn’t after their hefty donations—and maybe that was a justice of its own sort. “Think of…” her voice caught, and she looked at Morgan for the second time with confusion. “A-a plaque would be nice,” she swallowed. Nervous not because she disagreed, but because the generosity of it, the thoughtfulness, had made her heart warm in a way that always startled her. “If that’s good to you, Shelley.” She smiled, “it sounds perfect to me.” All she had on her was a few hundred she planned on paying for the food with, and so she simply stuffed that into the jar, careful to avoid the cheque. Her gaze fluttered to the different places their plaque could lay; on the wall where the picture once was, by the door, in the corner where people would wander to read. They would know this place was special, if they didn’t get that already. They would know two women cared deeply about it. This place was good already, it didn’t need their money for that. But it would be better because of them, and it wouldn’t face financial struggle in a way so many other businesses fell victim. They could leave good in their wake. “You know, Shelley the smelly—” Deirdre grinned; and maybe some petty revenge too. “Did they ever call you that in highschool? Terrible name, really. Anyways, I know you have a lot of great ideas for this store. So why don’t you figure out how much they all cost and we’d be glad to finance them. The next time you visit your grandmother, will you put some extra flowers in for us too? Tell her we said thank you? I know she’s already been able to rest easy with her store in such good hands.” Her gaze raked one last time over the tiles, the walls, the shelves and the messy books; whenever they returned, there was no telling what this place would look like. Her heart throbbed for the scenery to be lost, but not all loss was bad. Some of it was merely change—like the tides of life and death.

Deirdre pulled closer to Morgan. They could save something, they could make it good, and she kissed her girlfriend, free. She repeated, “do we have a deal, Shelley?”

Shelly nodded, stammering out her agreement. She was so stunned, the dig at her name didn’t even phase her. “Yes, that’s, sounds great. Deal!” She didn’t have any sense for the magic threads wrapping around her words or the delight that burned through Morgan as the agreement was sealed.

“You’re a good woman, Shelley,” Morgan said. “Thank you for letting us help. You take care now, alright?” Her voice drawled softly as she picked up the old parlance of her childhood. She spared Shelley one more smile, more than a little satisfied with her own magnanimousness. She left on Deirdre’s arm, keeping her cool sense of superiority until they got back to the car. When they were safely inside, Morgan took Deirdre’s face in her hands and kissed her hard. “I love you. Thank you for doing that with me. I know it’s just one little store, but it’s part of my home now it’s a little bit mine and a little bit yours too. Something good is ours.  Not the worst way to end the night, right? How do you feel…?”

“Thank you for sharing it with me,” Deirdre breathed as they parted. “You didn’t have to, but I’m so glad you did. It’s a special place, it really is.” She reached for Morgan’s hands, eager to take them in her own, tight in her grip. “I feel happy,” she confessed, unafraid of what it meant. To them, happiness was a dangerous thing, even as often as they felt it. They knew how easily it could be taken from them, how the robbing of it could come disguised as righteousness. But there, right then, Deirdre was happy despite it all. If Ruth was somewhere, scowling at her daughter for such flagrant displays of selfish delight, Deirdre hoped she could see how much they didn’t care. “Thank you,” she repeated, “for everything, for all of tonight. For bringing me to the restaurant, for showing me this store...for letting me come along for this trip, even. I’ve loved seeing your home, Morgan.” She grinned, reluctant to part but aware that at some point, they really had to get back to their hotel. Not for rest, but because there was love she simply couldn’t share stuffed at the front of their rental. “Fates, I’d be fine if you had more planned, but I’d really like to take you back to the hotel…” She leaned across and kissed Morgan earnestly, in a way she thought might make Shelley blush if they were still inside. Parted, she grinned with a tease. “...to do some chaste reading.” She waved their new-old copy of Matilda around. “And to make love to you, either-or.” Deirdre leaned back into her seat, gripping Morgan’s hand. Whatever laid beyond them, and back home in White Crest, they’d done good here. And with luck, they could do good elsewhere. A legacy that was more than loss and pain was suddenly something Deirdre wanted, and something else she felt like she could have. She had Morgan to thank for that, she had Morgan to thank for a lot of things. “I love you,” she smiled; for now, those three words would have to carry the weight of it.

[what-is-your-plan-today]

Stark Spangled Forever- Utter Nonsense Drabble... 40 Questions!

Yeah so don’t ask me where this came  from, but I saw these floating around and for some reason decided it would be funny if Steve and Katie answered  some of them instead of me...

I think the original post was from @odaatlover​  and I think I was taggeed by @sweater-daddiesdumbdork​. Anyway, I took my favourite ones and this was the result...enjoy!

1. What’s one animal you wish you could have as a pet but can’t?

Katie: I’d kinda like a tiger. They’re so graceful and  pretty but pack a mean bite and you wouldn’t mess with one would you?

Steve: Who does that remind you of?

2. Favorite thing to wear to sleep?

Steve: (grinning) Nothing.

Katie : I can confirm that is also my favourite thing he sleeps in...

3. What song really gets you going?

Katie: In what way? If it’s to dance and just act like a crazy fool to then its always going to be “Back in Black” because it reminds me a lot of Tony and happy times growing up. But if its one to spark memories then its our wedding song.

Steve: “The Only One In Color” by Trapt. I also kinda like the John Legend song  “You and I” because it reminds me of her, you know, the bit aout trying on every damned out fit she ownes before we can go out.

Katie: I don’t do that.

Steve looks at Katie, eyebrow raising.

Katie: Ok, maybe I can be a little incecisive....but tha wasn’t really the point of the...you know what, never mind. Next...

4. Where do you usually eat your meals?

Steve: It depends. If its breakfast or lunch dring the week then it’s usual eaten on the go whilst we’re getting the kids sorted or I’m in between classes...but dinner, well we always try and sit down. And at weekends we always eat at the table with the kids. 

5. Favorite meal: breakfast, lunch, or dinner?

Katie: Dinner. During the week Steve and I eat a little bit later than the kids so we have that time to ourselves just to decompress and talk about our day, have a bit of us time...and at weekend we’re al together so I love it.

Steve: I love it for all those reasons, and also because she’s the best damned cook on the planet.

6. Most embarrassing habit?

Katie: Erm...

Steve: It’s pretty embarassing when you throw a Brat tantrum about something.. Katie: I don’t do that in public.

Steve: Bullshit. I refer you to the whole car purchasing situation a few years ago.

Katie: Jamie was only a baby...I was hormonal.

Steve: Hormonal my ass, you were being a brat.

Katie:  Whatever.  Yours is definately the need to stand with your hands on your hips and give someone your Captain look, especially when it’s someone you have never met before but they just happen to be doing something to piss you off.

Steve:  I make no apologies for this.  People can be idiots.

7. Chocolate or fruity candy?

Both at same time: Chocolate.

Steve: Preferably British.  Cadbury’s to be specific. I got a taste for it when I was in London during the war.

Katie: He has a secret stash he hides from the kids...it’s great to blackmail him with.

8. Soft or hard tacos?

Steve: Soft

Katie: Hard

Steve: Although hard ones always remind me of when you went into labour with Jamie.  We were making them for lunch and you had a contraction and crushed one...

Katie: Oh yeah, maybe soft in that case...because that was painful.  And then I went throguh that another 3 times.Which is your fault.

Steve: I take full responsibility, yes. 

9. Worst way to break up a fight?

Katie: Walk into the middle of it and say “Prove it, put the hamer down...” Steve: sighs, That was one time.

Katie: And it levelled a forest.

Steve: Did it work?

Katie: Hmmm, suppose so.

Steve: There you go ...but if its a fight between us, the I can think of the best way to break it up...

Katie : grinning, yeah...that’ s pretty funny. Or the worst one is telling you you’re in the spare room.

Steve: Yeah...that sucks.

10. Best thing to say in an elevator of strangers?

Katie: Putting on deep voice “Before we get started, does anyone wanna get out?”

Steve: Sighing  I wish I had some smart reply to that bu I don’t...

Katie: No, you just threw us out the side of the damned thing from 14 storeys up

Steve: 19

Katie: That’s...that’s not better Steve.

11. Any hidden talents?

Steve: Not so much hidden really but I’m not a bad artist and Katie’s singing and piano playing is off the scale.

Katie: Steve’s really good at DIY. Like, brilliantly good.  And also pretty savvy with technology all things considered...

Steve: When you say all things considered you mean because I’m like 112

Katie: Actually, you’re like 127 if you count the 15 years you spent back in time after putting the stones back.

Steve: hesitates I thought you said they didn’t count because I didn’t spend them with you.

Katie: They don’t, but they still happened.

12. Socks or bare feet around the house?

Steve: Socks

Katie: Bare feet

Steve: Neither of those protect you from standing on lego, which for the record, I reckon has to be a pain worse than chilbirth.

Katie:  Seriously? You’re going there?

Steve: Ok, maybe that’s a slight exaggeration but it still hurts like hell.

13: Favorite board game?

Katie: Monopoly. Its funny to watch Emmy and Jamie getting really agitated and annoyed. The younger 3 don’t really get it, Rori just likes to help Steve by sorting all his money into piles and suggesting things he can spend it on.

Steve: Namely tutus and tap shoes...she still wants to be chorus girl.

14:Heat on or keep it cold with lots of layers?

Katie: Oh my God. Steve is a nightmare as he runs hotter than any of us, so whilst we want the fire or heat on he’s complaining he’s boiling hot all the time. Our bedroom is like an ice block.

Steve: Doll, I’ve been in an ice block. Trust me, our bedroom is like a furnace in comparison.

Katie: It si nice though, like sleeping with a big hot  water bottle.

15: At what age did you first have alcohol?

Katie: I’m sure Tony gave me beer when I was 15 or something but the first time I ever got drunk was aged 17. I went to a keg party at one of my friends and I was aboslutely shit faced. Tony held my hair back whilst i puked my guts upt for a good hour once I was home. I had the hangover to end all hangovers the next day and he cracked JARVIS up to maximum volume just to teach me a lesson.

Steve:  I think I was 18. Me and Buck drank a bottle of his dad’s home made hooch...yeah, it didn’t take me much to get me drunk back then and I was very, very illl. Ma thought I had a fever. Mr Barnes thought it was hilarious, but still gave us both a slap upside th head...

16. What’s the most amount of money you’ve spent on a single item of clothing?

Katie: I would say my wedding dress, but Tony bought that for me, so it would probably the the dress I wore to the  SIP Launch for The Color Of Revenge...that cost...well it was in the tens of thousands

Steve:  Blinking How much?

Katie: You don’t need to know.

17. What do you typically wear to formal events?

Steve: Whatever my gal tells me to.

Katie: And you always look great Soldier.

18. Favorite memory?

Steve: Oooh, other than when we adopted Emmy or the kids were born, I’d have to say when Katie agreed to be my wife. I’ll never forget that day as long as I live.

Katie: Me neither, not least becase I got my camero...

Steve: rolls eyes.

Katie:  Joking aside, yeah the engagement sticks in my mind but I think it was when you finally kissed me for the first time. I knew then that I was never gonna let you go.

Steve: yeah...that...ok you know what this is an impossible question after being together for so long.

19. Favorite shoes?

Katie: I have a pair of sparkly gold Jimmy Choo stilettoes that I’ve had for ages. They’re gorgeous, with ankle straps and pointed toes. I’ve had them for almost  17 years but they’re amazin.

Steve: grins. Yeah, they’re my favourite shoes too...

Katie: Pervert.

Steve: I’m not even gonna deny it. Those shoes ALWAYS stay on if I can help it.

20. Most dangerous thing you’ve ever done?

Both start to laugh hysterically.

Steve: Where do we start?

Katie: New York, Washington, Sokovia, Lagos, Leipzig, Siberia, Wakanda, Upstate and proablly a whole load of other places in between could be good places Stevie.

Steve: Yeah, this...I can’t answer this. 

21. Most embarrassing thing your parents have caught you doing?

Katie: I was 7 when my parents died but taking Tony as surrogate, I reckon him catching us in the kitchen when we were...you know, and he didn’t actually know about us has got to be up there.

Steve: Yeah, that was pretty bad... although my Ma once caught me and Bucky measuring our... looks down.

Katie: splutters What? You never told me this?

Steve: Well its not exactly somethign that crops up in conersation sweethheart? “Oh by the way, once when we were 16 me and Buck compared sizes...” Katie: Blinks. Boys are strange. So who had the biggest...

Steve: Next question...

22. Last time you had an orgasm?

Both grin.

Steve: Last night 

Katie: I can confrim this...there’s not many nights to be fair where we don’t...

23: Celebrity Crushes?

Katie: grins. Does Bucky Barnes count?

Steve: Fuck you.

24: Makeup or natural?

Katie: Normally I just wear a bit of tinted moisturiser and mascara, now I have the kids anyway. I don’t have time to really do my face in a morning. I’ll make the effort when we go out though...

Steve: You don’t need it honey.

Katie: Awww thanks baby.

Steve: Although that red lipstick you wear, the bright red..yeah...I like that... grins wickedly and winks It smears well...

Katie flushes: dirt bag

25. Favorite season?

Katie: Summer. Growing up in Malibu I like the sun and warmth.

Steve: Fall. It’s an artists dream...the colours and textures are amazing to work with

Katie: Fall is rubbish. Everything dies and it’s a bit shit.

Steve: But you make apple pie and get to snuggle in my sweaters.

Katie: literally the only 2 things good about it. 

26. Are you a competitive person?

Katie snorts and looks at Steve

Steve: I’m not even going to deny it. 

Katie: He even refuses to let the kids win a games sometimes.

Steve: Important life lessons, Doll. 

27. First pet you’ve ever owned?

Katie: My goldfish Flounder, the one that Tony replaced about 8 times. Other than that it was my Turkey Marv, he was ace.

Steve: I didn’t have any growing up so mine would be Lucky. He was a great dog. 

28. Favorite pasta dish?

Steve: Mac and Cheese, specifically Katie’s. It’s amazing.

Katie smiling: Yeah  I like Mac and Cheese, but I also enjoy carbonara.

29. Favorite kind of pizza?

Both: Pepperoni.

Steve: New York Style.

Katie: I like Deepdish every now and then.

Steve: It’s not the same...

Katie: well dur, that’s the point.

Steve: Yeah, not convinced. 

30. Lots of acquaintances or a handful of close friends?

Katie: Handful of close friends, without a doubt. They become an extension of your family, you know. All of us in the Avengers were close and when you have that bond, you’ll do anything for one another.

Steve: Agree completely. When you’re close like we all are then it makes everything that little bit easier, knowing that whatever you’re facing you’ve got each others 6.

31: Something that ruins your appetite?

Katie: Narrows eyes Whenver I see Ross on Tv. Makes me want to puke.

Steve: You really should let that go you know?

Katie: Never. I hold a grudge very well.

Steve: Don’t I know it.

32. Night out with a bunch of friends in public or night in with one friend having deep conversations?

Steve: I’ve never been one for big nights out. I enjoy the odd one now and then but, I’d much rather curl up on the sofa or round the firepit with Katie or Sam or Bucky with a beer and some decent talk.

Katie: Yeah, at one time I would have said night out hands down, but certianly since having the kids, or even since we started dating, it’s definately change my ideas a little. Some of the nicest nights we’ve had have been spent on the sofa.

Steve grins: yeah...

Katie: And not just because of that....

33. Have you ever told someone you loved them first?

Steve: I’ve only ever told one girl I loved them and she’s sat right here, and I said it first that night...

Katie: smiling Yeah, yeah you did. I wasn’t far behind though, like 3 seconds or something.

34. Have you ever had sex on the first date?

Katie: Does a one night stand count as a first date? Because if so then yes...

Steve: Same.

Katie: Lottie?

Steve: Storm?

Both look at one another,  teasingly.

Katie: Ok next question...

35. Heroes or villains?

Steve: Some people might say there’s a fine line between the two. Katie: Oh here he goes, getting all Captain Philosophical again...look, everyone knows we were suposedly the heroes Steve, and to be fair we saved the world a fair few times, we were even fighting in the shadows during the Nomad years.

Steve: I know, I know...

36. How many plates can you eat at a buffet?

Steve: You know I’ve never actually counted.

Katie: You did 20 at the last brunch we went to.

Steve: 20...that’s...impressive.

Katie: smirking Bucky did 22

Steve: sighs Of course he did...

37: Favorite dessert?

Steve: Apple pie, preferably Katie’s

Katie: Pecan pie. Hands down. 

38 Would you rather watch a TV show or a movie?

Steve: Ooh, that’s..i suppose it depends. I do like a good TV series, especially if we can curl up and binge watch once the kids are going to bed but I do have fond memories of us working through the films on my list...

Katie: smiling, yeah we had a lot of fun. Still

39. What’s your favorite compliment to give?

Steve: I love telling Katie how beautiful she is, and what a wonderful mother she is...all of which is true.

Katie: I like to remind Steve that he’s my Steve Rogers, not Captain America...because he is. And he’s the most amazing man on the planet, with or withouth that serum coursing through his veins. Which is what makes him the best dad the kids could wish for.

40. What’s the luckiest thing that’s ever happened to you?

Steve: smiling,  she’s sat right next to me.

Katie: smiling , back at ya soldier.

[brightbeautifulthings]

MAYHEM BY ESTELLE LAURE BLOG TOUR & CHAPTER EXCERPT

The Lost Boys meets Wilder Girls in this supernatural feminist YA novel.

Available July 14th, 2020

It's 1987 and unfortunately it's not all Madonna and cherry lip balm. Mayhem Brayburn has always known there was something off about her and her mother, Roxy. Maybe it has to do with Roxy's constant physical pain, or maybe with Mayhem's own irresistible pull to water. Either way, she knows they aren't like everyone else.

But when May's stepfather finally goes too far, Roxy and Mayhem flee to Santa Maria, California, the coastal beach town that holds the answers to all of Mayhem's questions about who her mother is, her estranged family, and the mysteries of her own self. There she meets the kids who live with her aunt, and it opens the door to the magic that runs through the female lineage in her family, the very magic Mayhem is next in line to inherit and which will change her life for good.

But when she gets wrapped up in the search for the man who has been kidnapping girls from the beach, her life takes another dangerous turn and she is forced to face the price of vigilante justice and to ask herself whether revenge is worth the cost.

From the acclaimed author of This Raging Light and But Then I Came Back, Estelle Laure offers a riveting and complex story with magical elements about a family of women contending with what appears to be an irreversible destiny, taking control and saying when enough is enough.

About the Author:

Estelle Laure, the author of This Raging Light and But Then I Came Back believes in love, magic, and the power of facing hard truths. She has a BA in Theatre Arts and an MFA from Vermont College of Fine Arts in Writing for Children and Young Adults, and she lives in Taos, New Mexico, with her family. Her work is translated widely around the world. 

Twitter | Instagram | Get Your Copy

Read on for a special chapter excerpt of Mayhem!

three Santa Maria

“Trouble,” Roxy says. She arches a brow at the kids by the van through the bug-spattered windshield, the ghost of a half-smile rippling across her face.

“You would know,” I shoot.

“So would you,” she snaps.

Maybe we’re a little on edge. We’ve been in the car so long the pattern on the vinyl seats is tattooed on the back of my thighs.

The kids my mother is talking about, the ones sitting on the white picket fence, look like they slithered up the hill out of the ocean, covered in seaweed, like the carnival music we heard coming from the boardwalk as we were driving into town plays in the air around them at all times. Two crows are on the posts beside them like they’re standing guard, and they caw at each other loudly as we come to a stop. I love every- thing about this place immediately and I think, ridiculously, that I am no longer alone.

The older girl, white but tan, curvaceous, and lean, has her arms around the boy and is lovely with her smudged eye makeup and her ripped clothes. The younger one pops some- thing made of bright colors into her mouth and watches us come up the drive. She is in a military-style jacket with a ton of buttons, her frizzy blond hair reaching in all directions, freckles slapped across her cheeks. And the boy? Thin, brown, hungry-looking. Not hungry in his stomach. Hungry with his eyes. He has a green bandana tied across his forehead and holes in the knees of his jeans. There’s an A in a circle drawn in marker across the front of his T-shirt.

Anarchy.

“Look!” Roxy points to the gas gauge. It’s just above the E. “You owe me five bucks, Cookie. I told you to trust we would make it, and see what happened? You should listen to your mama every once in a while.”

“Yeah, well, can I borrow the five bucks to pay you for the bet? I’m fresh out of cash at the moment.”

“Very funny.”

Roxy cranes out the window and wipes the sweat off her upper lip, careful not to smudge her red lipstick. She’s been having real bad aches the last two days, even aside from her bruises, and her appetite’s been worse than ever. The only thing she ever wants is sugar. After having been in the car for so long, you’d think we’d be falling all over each other to get out, but we’re still sitting in the car. In here we’re still us.

She sighs for the thousandth time and clutches at her belly. “I don’t know about this, May.”

California can’t be that different from West Texas.

I watch TV. I know how to say gag me with a spoon and grody to the max.

I fling open the door.

Roxy gathers her cigarettes and lighter, and drops them in- side her purse with a snap.

“Goddammit, Elle,” she mutters to herself, eyes flickering toward the kids again. Roxy looks at me over the rims of her sunglasses before shoving them back on her nose. “Mayhem, I’m counting on you to keep your head together here. Those kids are not the usual—”

“I know! You told me they’re foster kids.” 

“No, not that,” she says, but doesn’t clarify. “Okay, I guess.”

“I mean it. No more of that wild-child business.”

“I will keep my head together!” I’m so tired of her saying this. I never had any friends, never a boyfriend—all I have is what Grandmother calls my nasty mouth and the hair Lyle always said was ugly and whorish. And once or twice I might’ve got drunk on the roof, but it’s not like I ever did anything. Besides, no kid my age has ever liked me even once. I’m not the wild child in the family.

“Well, all right then.” Roxy messes with her hair in the rear- view mirror, then sprays herself with a cloud of Chanel No. 5 and runs her fingers over her gold necklace. It’s of a bird, not unlike the ones making a fuss by the house. She’s had it as long as I can remember, and over time it’s been worn smooth by her worrying fingers. It’s like she uses it to calm herself when she’s upset about something, and she’s been upset the whole way here, practically. Usually, she’d be good and buzzed by this time of day, but since she’s had to drive some, she’s only nipped from the tiny bottle of wine in her purse a few times and only taken a couple pills since we left Taylor. The with- drawal has turned her into a bit of a she-demon.

I try to look through her eyes, to see what she sees. Roxy hasn’t been back here since I was three years old, and in that time, her mother has died, her father has died, and like she said when she got the card with the picture enclosed that her twin sister, Elle, sent last Christmas, Everybody got old. After that, she spent a lot of time staring in the mirror, pinching at her neck skin. When I was younger, she passed long nights telling me about Santa Maria and the Brayburn Farm, about how it was good and evil in equal measure, about how it had desires that had to be satisfied.

Brayburns, she would say. In my town, we were the legends. 

These were the mumbled stories of my childhood, and they made everything about this place loom large. Now that we’re here, I realize I expected the house to have a gaping maw filled with spitty, frothy teeth, as much as I figured there would be fairies flitting around with wands granting wishes. I don’t want to take her vision away from her, but this place looks pretty normal to me, if run-down compared to our new house in Taylor, where there’s no dust anywhere, ever, and Lyle prac- tically keeps the cans of soup in alphabetical order. Maybe what’s not so normal is that this place was built by Brayburns, and here Brayburns matter. I know because the whole road is named after us and because flowers and ribbons and baskets of fruit sat at the entrance, gifts from the people in town, Roxy said. They leave offerings. She said it like it’s normal to be treated like some kind of low-rent goddess.

Other than the van and the kids, there are trees here, rose- bushes, an old black Mercedes, and some bikes leaning against the porch that’s attached to the house. It’s splashed with fresh white paint that doesn’t quite cover up its wrinkles and scars. It’s three stories, so it cuts the sunset when I look up, and plants drape down to touch the dirt.

The front door swings open and a woman in bare feet races past the rosebushes toward us. It is those feet and the reckless way they pound against the earth that tells me this is my aunt Elle before her face does. My stomach gallops and there are bumps all over my arms, and I am more awake than I’ve been since.

I thought Roxy might do a lot of things when she saw her twin sister. Like she might get super quiet or chain-smoke, or maybe even get biting like she can when she’s feeling wrong about something. The last thing I would have ever imagined was them running toward each other and colliding in the driveway, Roxy wrapping her legs around Elle’s waist, and them twirling like that. 

This seems like something I shouldn’t be seeing, some- thing wounded and private that fills up my throat. I flip my- self around in my seat and start picking through the things we brought and chide myself yet again for the miserable packing job I did. Since I was basically out of my mind trying to get out of the house, I took a whole package of toothbrushes, an armful of books, my River Phoenix poster, plus I emptied out my underwear drawer, but totally forgot to pack any shoes, so all I have are some flip-flops I bought at the truck stop outside of Las Cruces after that man came to the window, slurring, You got nice legs. Tap, tap tap. You got such nice legs.

My flip-flops are covered in Cheeto dust from a bag that got upended. I slip them on anyway, watching Roxy take her sunglasses off and prop them on her head.

“Son of a bitch!” my aunt says, her voice tinny as she catches sight of Roxy’s eye. “Oh my God, that’s really bad, Rox. You made it sound like nothing. That’s not nothing.”

“Ellie,” Roxy says, trying to put laughter in her voice. “I’m here now. We’re here now.”

There’s a pause.

“You look the same,” Elle says. “Except the hair. You went full Marilyn Monroe.”

“What about you?” Roxy says, fussing at her platinum waves with her palm. “You go full granola warrior? When’s the last time you ate a burger?”

“You know I don’t do that. It’s no good for us. Definitely no good for the poor cows.”

“It’s fine for me.” Roxy lifts Elle’s arm and puckers her nose. “What’s going on with your armpits? May not eat meat but you got animals under there, looks like.”

“Shaving is subjugation.”

“Shaving is a mercy for all mankind.” 

They erupt into laughter and hug each other again.

“Well, where is she, my little baby niece?” Elle swings the car door open. “Oh, Mayhem.” She scoops me out with two strong arms. Right then I realize just how truly tired I am. She seems to know, squeezes extra hard for a second before letting me go. She smells like the sandalwood soap Roxy buys sometimes. “My baby girl,” Elle says, “you have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to see you. How much I’ve missed you.”

Roxy circles her ear with a finger where Elle can’t see her.

Crazy, she mouths. I almost giggle.

[fiiore-blogs]

( lorenzo zurzolo , 20 , cismale ) i  just  bumped  into  fiore  gattuso  the  other  day  while  walking  down  north  kingsboro , where  he  lives . i  hear  they  can  be  charming  and  narcissistic , but  when  i  think  of  them  i  immediately  think  of  bloodshot  baby  blue  eyes , luxury  brands , an  enchanting  smile ( ari , 21 , she / her , est ) 

tw : homophobia , abuse

full  name : fiore emiliano luca gattuso ( first name pronounced fee-oh-reh, also see here! )

nicknames : fifi, emmy ( by people who know his middle name ), some people might say… flower boy ( fiore literally means flower in italian ) 😳

gender : cismale

height :  5 ′ 8

age : 20

birthday : may 30 , 2000

zodiac : gemini ( aries moon, libra ascendant )

right  handed  or  left  handed : left  handed

eye  color : baby blue

hair  color : basically dark blonde / light brown

piercing  &  tattoos : the gemini symbol on his left wrist, a cartilage piercing on his right ear

languages  spoken : italian  ( native  tongue ), english, spanish, pretty decent sicilian

sexuality : bisexual / biromantic

place  of  birth : livorno , tuscany , italy

last  3  songs  listened  to : dimmi che mi ami by dj matrix, almeno stavolta by nek, west coast by lana del rey

character  inspo : kat hernandez from euphoria ( huge muse ! ), adam groff from sex education ( think season 2 adam ), alyssa foley from the end of the fucking world, maeby funke from arrested development, lucrecia montesinos from elite

♡ so fiore was born to a spanish mother named martina & a fully italian father named gian gattuso in tuscany, but they later moved to rome when he was around four years old. his mother is a very well known politician & his father is a billionaire, heir of several gas, water & electric companies all over europe. besides that, he is also a preacher and very involved in church. both his parents are very well off financially

♡ fiore grew up with anything he’s ever wanted ( materialistically, of course ). besides that, his parents genuinely weren’t the best of people. his mother stole millions from the so called campaigns she ran & was a very corrupt politician, his father treated his employees like shit & was a pretty hateful person altogether

♡ they were people who expected a lot out of their only son, which made fiore feel an insane amount of pressure from the very start. at a very young age, he showed characteristics lots of boys his age didn’t show. he did things like peeing while sitting down instead of standing up, preferred to play with dolls instead of ‘boy toys’, favored the color pink, got along better with girls, preferred to watch shows that were considered ‘girly’, etc etc.

♡ they were very harmless things honestly, things that most parents would laugh about & turn a blind eye. however, fiore really wasn’t that lucky when it came to them any time he would do anything they claimed a ‘normal boy wouldn’t do’, he would get a huge lecture & a beating to go with it. needless to say, he learned to hide a lot of who he really was from a very young age

♡ he did a lot of things to seek the approval of his parents. he wasn’t smart academically ( dumb boi 101 tbh ), but he tried to make them happy in other ways. fiore was never fond of sports at all, but he started playing tennis when he was five, because it made his parents happy. truth be told, he hated tennis with every fiber of his being, but again, he did this, simply because it satisfied his parents

♡ he grew up trying to be the perfect son, often times putting himself in situations he didn’t want to be in or felt uncomfortable doing because he wanted them to be proud, but honestly? it was like? never enough. it was all smiles for the pictures, but behind closed doors, he really was pretty damn miserable

♡ simply put, he has always known that he likes boys. he likes girls too, don’t get him wrong, but he knew, literally since he could remember, that he also had a thing for guys too. of course, he was aware that this wouldn’t settle well at all with his extremely strict & unfortunately, very close minded parents, so he buried his feelings incredibly deep

♡ he has a lot of charm & wit & found himself getting into relationships quicker than most of his friends. he briefly dated a girl when he was fourteen, but it was when he was sixteen that things really began getting pretty #spicy

♡ there was a romanian boy new to his very #elite school & if you guessed it, they began to date! his first boyfriend at sixteen years old. fiore was basically living two lives at this point, sneaking around with a guy behind his parents’ back, but when he got home, the facade began. the way he would switch up as soon as he entered the front door to his house was honestly shockingly scary

♡ he really felt himself falling in love with this boy even though they were both fairly young. they snuck around forever. when no one was home, he would sneak him into his room to have sex, sneak out of his house when his parents were asleep, all that fun stuff. their relationship was forbidden ( at least to fiore’s parents ), but things go downhill pretty fast

♡ so one day, fiore & him get really really drunk & honestly? video record themselves having sex fjkgnfv they didn’t do this to post it anywhere or show anyone or anything, they really just did it for themselves. they made a few copies ( stupid boys, i know rip ), but they really felt like they would get married & all that gooey lovey dovey shit so they did it because yolo i guess? this was a pretty big mistake though

♡ one day fiore & him are walking back from his tennis practice. this is a time where fiore knows no one is home & no one is coming home for a while, so when they get to his house & see his father’s car parked outside, he lowkey panics a little. of course he makes the guy leave & goes inside to see what’s going on

♡ his father asks him to come upstairs & surprisingly, leads him into his room. this is when fiore’s entire life practically changes forever. his father turns on his tv & legit starts playing his sex tape with his boyfriend. just picture this though; your extremely homophobic, close minded & hateful father & you sitting on your bed, watching your gay sex tape with your boyfriend

♡ obviously, this news isn’t well taken by his father. to make a long story short, he gets his ass beat. like, literally almost dies type shit. when this happened, he was eighteen and had just recently graduated school, with plans to travel. he knew if his relationship was ever discovered by his parents, it wouldn’t go well, but he really didn’t think them discovering his sexuality would be that brutal

♡ his parents basically disown him at that moment. they bought him a ticket to new york & told him they never wanna see him again. it’s sad, but he packed his things & left in two days to go live with his cousin 

♡ it doesn’t really take an expert to figure out that fiore did not take this move well at all. for months, he was really depressed. he wouldn’t go out & would just lay in bed for the longest time. he was really hurt by everything that happened & it took him a while to recover. he has also lived in italy his whole life & wasn’t really used to life in america at all, but after like the fourth month of just feeling sorry for himself, it was his cousin who snapped him back to reality

♡ he began putting himself out there. at first, he began working at a pizza place, but fiore slowly began to realize how much he despised working. his entire life, he received everything on a golden plater with pure solid gold spoons, he’s always had everything he’s ever wanted without working for it, so this? he was for sure not used to it at all. again, his life completely changed. he went from living in a three story mansion in the most prestigious part of rome to living in a very shitty part of new york, broke almost always, & working a job he hated with everything he had, splitting rent with his cousin

♡ fiore did not want this at all for himself. it wasn’t until he went out clubbing ( fake id & all ), that one his friends showed him the wonders of conning people. they walked into the bar with twenty bucks and left with four thousand dollars

♡ quickly, fiore began to learn his friends’ ways. his looks, personality & his thick italian accent helped him tremendously; it was like people literally couldn’t get enough of him. soon enough, he was conning & finessing the fuck out of older men & women for their money. he once walked into a casino with five dollars and walked out with over 12k

♡ finessing people became a huge hobby of his. he’s also very very lowkey done some camboy stuff, but with a mask on because he’s sneaky af ( legit think kat from euphoria ) like, these super lonely old men or even women are just sending him money for being hot? amazing! it was with all this money that he bought himself a luxury car & jump started his model & influencer career. it was also with this money that him & his cousin ditched the crap show that is south kingsboro & moved into a much better apartment up north. with his looks & persona, he gained followers like crazy & posted videos on youtube as well, getting sponsorships & recognition easier than he expected. he honestly makes a shit ton of money off social media & modeling, like, he’s basically living off his looks, personality & the content he post? we love to see it

♡ there is still a part of fiore that has a lot of issues & trauma. honestly mommy & daddy issues af, but he doesn’t talk about this at all. he literally refuses to talk about anything that happened to him before he was eighteen. no one really knows how he came up or where his family is & he keeps it this way, dodging questions about his personal life as much as he can

♡ in a way, he is kind of relieved with everything that happened with his parents because now, he’s completely free to be himself & do whatever the fuck he wants, knowing very well they can’t really touch him anymore. of course, it still left a mark that he’s never going to be able to erase or forget ( both in his heart & on his body too ), but he feels free for once in his life & he’s honestly kind of happier now, but also, low key needs therapy tbh 🥴

♡ relationship wise, he really doesn’t commit to anyone. after practically being forced to leave his now ex boyfriend, he kind of feels like he doesn’t deserve love? it’s really fucked up but he’s genuinely convinced that no one is ever going to really love him or want to be with him so he just avoids any romantic relationship of any kind, usually just hooking up with people & then leaving as soon as it’s over, or just stealing money from them and ghosting. the truth is that he really does want to be loved, accepted & cared for by someone he loves, accepts & cares for as well, but will it ever happen if he continues pushing people away? probably not tbh

♡ he is a fucking drinker & hella pot smoker!! legit give him some alcohol & weed he’s happy. he always has either one on him, or both tbh. he’s secretly a hella good cook too but this is something almost nobody knows really. he can make food or desserts, and he’s also taught himself to make weed edibles which is honestly iconic kvnfjvc even though he keeps this part of himself hidden

♡ he can be really sneaky & deceiving when he has to be, like, he’ll legit have 0 reason to lie but he’ll lie anyways? it’s like a defense mechanism lmfao

♡ very much conceited boy, honestly in love with his looks but it goes deeper than that. he feels like he has nothing to offer besides being hot so he dwells on looking good always, pretty sure he would rather die than wear sweatpants like vjkdfsvnfs literally always looks a1

♡ is actually? secretly blind af ndjvdfnv one of his many secrets tbh. has a vision of 20/50, nearly 20/60, but hasn’t worn glasses since he was seven, pretty much doing everything with contacts. he just thinks glasses look unattractive on him & honestly refuses to let anyone see him with them on. the only person who even knows he has vision as bad as he does is his cousin who is a npc sooo 🤡

♡ this is all that’s coming to mind rn but hmu for plots pretty pls jkfnvjnfv, this is his birthchart for some extra #tea

[sunmoonandeddie]

feelings are fatal (5/24)

pairing: bucky barnes x reader, past steve rogers x reader

word count: 4,255

summary: After the events of Endgame, you struggle to come to terms with what you’ve lost, though you’re learning that you still have something to gain.

chapter warnings: swearing, unwanted flirting, anxiety attack

masterlist

a/n: Let me know what you think!

“You can’t be serious.”

Rolling your eyes, you put one hand on your hip as it cocked to the side.  “What makes you think I’m not, Sam?” You asked as you glared daggers at the two men in front of you.

Bucky just smirked as he watched the two of you going at it.  He wasn’t about to get into the middle of the two of you, even though he was also wearing a blue and orange jersey just like his best friend.  His favorite team had left New York ages ago and taken up residency in Los Angeles.  It was a sad, sad day when he’d found out that the Brooklyn Dodgers were no more.

Sam gestured to you, waving his hands all over the place.  “You’re… You’re wearing a Cardinals jersey!”

“And?  It’s a Cardinals game, dumb ass.”

“It’s a Mets game!  And we live in New York!  We’re supposed to support the home team!”

You raised your eyebrows.  “I am.  My dad was from the Midwest—St. Louis, specifically—so this is my home team.”

He sputtered, staring at you in disbelief.  “You don’t even remember St. Louis!”

“And?”

He narrowed his eyes at you as he crossed his arms over his chest.  Sam was quickly realizing that he couldn’t win this fight.  He couldn’t even force you into the Mets jersey he had been planning on letting you borrow until he found you in a red and white jersey with a fucking bird on it.  “Bucky’s sitting in the middle at the stadium,” he said before turning on his heel and marching towards the garage.

“Shall we?” Bucky asked as he held out his arm for you to take.  There was a soft smile still lingering on his lips.

“Depends,” you said, even though you looped your arm with his anyway.  “Are you going to give me shit for my jersey choices, too?”

He barked out a laugh, shaking his head.  “My team left Brooklyn in 1958 and I didn’t find out about it until I came out of my programming.  I only took this jersey because Sam threw it at me.”

“I’m sorry it’s not the Dodgers,” you said quietly, gnawing on your bottom lip absentmindedly.  You had heard that the super soldier was a baseball fan before the war, and when you found out that the Major League Baseball was starting up again, you’d immediately bought tickets for the first game in New York City.  It was also a little weird, to have a season starting in mid-June, but whatever.  The MLB had resigned itself to a super short season this year.  Anything to get up and going again.  You’d had to pull a few strings to get good tickets—aka, using the Avengers card—since it seemed like everyone was dying to see a game.  

They didn’t call it America’s Favorite Pastime for nothing.

It had actually been a coincidence that they were playing the Cardinals, but you hadn’t hesitated to order a jersey once you saw it. It was a little thing to connect you to your parents, even though you didn’t remember them.

“Hey,” Bucky said, nudging you so you’d look up at him. “I don’t care if it’s the Dodgers or not.  I haven’t been to a game since before I got drafted.”  He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, letting it linger for what was a little longer than necessary.  “This means the world to me, sugar.”

You closed your eyes as you felt his soft lips against your skin, relishing in the contact before he pulled away.  “I’m sorry that I invited bird brain,” you said with a giggle. “I didn’t know he’d get so upset over me wearing a jersey.”

“We’ll just have to spend the entire game annoying him then, won’t we?”

“I heard that!” Sam shouted from where he stood beside the driver’s side of one of Tony’s cars.  Your and Bucky’s laughter bounced around the huge garage as you headed for him.  “You two are gonna be the death of me, I swear.”

The drive to Citi Field somehow didn’t end in a murder. You had dozed off in the backseat about fifteen minutes in, due to the late night before.  Morgan had been having nightmares and you’d stayed up with her even after she fell asleep.  Pepper had been losing sleep over her little girl and since she’d been going back to being the CEO—and now owner—of Stark Industries, she needed all the sleep she could get.

“She stay up with Mo again last night?” Sam asked, glancing up at you in the rearview mirror.  Your cheek was smashed against the window, your phone hanging loosely from your fingers.

Bucky’s sea blue eyes were already on you, and he was feeling rather warm as he watched the way your shoulders gently rose and fell with each breath.  “She was still awake when I went to check on her at three.”

The other man smirked as he watched the road.  “You check on her, huh?”

He already knew where this was going, and he fought off an eye roll.  “Don’t even go there.”

“I’m not going anywhere.  I just think that it’s a little strange for a friend to—”

“Y/N checks in on Pepper all the time,” Buck retorted, staring out his side window.  He could ignore Sam and also watch you in the mirror.  A win-win all around.

“That’s because she’s a good person.”

The super soldier reached over and shoved him, though not hard enough to make him swerve.  He might’ve if they were alone, but there was precious cargo in the backseat, and he wasn’t risking it.  “Are you saying I’m not?”

Sam shrugged, glancing over at his friend. The city was coming into view up ahead. “I’m just saying that you check on her because you’re in love with her.  She checks on Pepper because she wants to make sure that she’s taking care of herself and sleeping.  Same reason she stays up with Morgan and doesn’t let her wake up her mom.”

“Thank you, by the way,” Bucky said as he stared at the upcoming skyline.  “When you got her angry.  She’s gotten a little better the past few days.”  He paused, nose scrunching.  “Well, I don’t know if ‘better’ is the right word.  But she’s not as numb anymore.”

“When my mom died, I didn’t even cry at the funeral,” he said tentatively.  His eyes flicked up to the rearview mirror, making sure you were still asleep.  “I didn’t cry for four months.  Then, I dropped her favorite coffee mug one morning and it shattered.  And I just… I broke down.  Everything I’d been ignoring and pushing away came to the surface.” He sighed, his knuckles white from his grip on the steering wheel.  “I know it was unconventional, but anything is better than being numb and ignoring what’s going on.  Anything.”

The game ended up being packed, completely sold out. Any other day, the crowds would be cranky.  The parking was awful—cars still had to be towed from where they’d been dumped after the Snap—and the lines were outrageous.  The food and drinks were still over-priced and Bucky says something that starts with, “Back in my day,” but no one cares.

Because for the first time in five years, there’s a baseball game.  There’s a baseball game and everyone is just so grateful that they get to experience it.

The three of you end up in the first row behind the Mets dugout, right along the aisle.  Sam was still adamant that Bucky sits in the middle, but you didn’t really mind. His hand was resting on his leg as he was turned, talking to Sam about something you didn’t care to know.

I wonder what it’d be like to hold his hand, you thought.  Your cheeks flooded with color as you shook your head, immediately dismissing the thought. What the hell was that?

“Hey, aren’t you one of the Avengers?”

You blinked slowly, coming back to the present before turning to see one of the baseball players staring up at you.  He was one of the older ones, probably around thirty.  The number seventeen was printed on his jersey.  You didn’t recognize him, but that was to be expected.  You weren’t exactly a big fan of baseball before or after the Snap.  “What?”

He grinned, and it struck you that it was a little flirtier than a normal smile.  “They had that press conference for you years ago.  You were—what?  Twenty?”

“Eighteen,” you said, thinking back to that first press conference when it’d been announced that you were officially an Avenger.  It’d only been three months after Natasha had recruited you, getting you out of the grasp of the Red Room and HYDRA.

The baseball player whistled, shaking his head. “Eighteen.  I was still playing college ball back then.”  He shot you a wink that made your skin crawl.  “You were cute.  Still are.”

You were vaguely aware that the conversation between Bucky and Sam had stopped, that the super soldier beside you had tensed up.  The hand that you had just been thinking about holding was clenched into a tight fist.  “Uh, thank you.”

“Pity you’re a Cards fan,” he said with a nod towards your shirt.  He clearly wasn’t getting the signals that said that you absolutely did not want to talk.

And it wasn’t even that he wasn’t attractive. He was actually kind of alright looking. It was just that you were there to spend time with Bucky and Sam, not get hit on.

“Oh, uh…”  You looked down at the red and white fabric, grabbing it for a moment.  You weren’t exactly sure how to respond so you just shrugged.  “My dad’s from St. Louis.”

“Maybe I can convert you.”

You must’ve suddenly turned into a guppy, because your mouth kept opening and closing like a fish as you tried to think of something to say that would tell him—very clearly—that you weren’t interested.  But he had a stupid smirk on his lips that made your skin crawl and you knew that there were cameras somewhere on you and—

“Sugar, is he bothering you?” Bucky asked, glaring daggers at the guy.  He protectively wrapped his left arm around you, pulling you a little closer.  The metal digits of his hand stroked your shoulder protectively over the thick fabric of your jersey.

Seventeen’s eyes widened as he took in the man beside you. He’d clearly been so enamored with you that he hadn’t noticed the two other Avengers sitting in the next two seats. “Uh—”

Sam was sitting on the edge of his seat as he leaned forward, his elbows on his knees.  “If I were you, I’d turn around and pay attention to the game.  Maybe then you wouldn’t be losing.”

The man’s eyes flickered between all three of you, clearly trying to decide whether it was worth it.  After a moment of hesitation, he turned away and made his way deeper into the dugout.  He was clearly pouting, but you really didn’t care.

“Thank you,” you breathed as you felt the tension in your shoulders dissipate.  You didn’t move from Bucky’s embrace, though, choosing instead to curl up closer against him in case the man came back.  Plus, the metal arm was a nice respite to the late June heat.

“Of course,” he breathed, though his eyes stayed locked on the game.  He was sure that if he turned to look at you, he wouldn’t be able to stop.  He’d spend way too long gazing at you, memorizing your features even more than he already had.  But it was so rare for him to be able to look at you this closely.  If he just turned his head slightly, he’d be able to count your eyelashes, see the little flecks in your e/c eyes.

He could feel the way your eyes kept flicking back over to him as you curled further into his side.  It hadn’t hit you just how truly touch-starved you were until this moment.  Sure, you’d held Morgan and things like that, but nothing like this.  It was… nice.  “I wasn’t sure how to tell him no,” you said with a faint laugh, trying to play it off even though you’d been pretty uncomfortable.  “I know that the press would have a field day if they got a story about an Avenger turning down a baseball player.  They’d take it out of context and make it seem like I’m a heartless bitch.”

“Well, fuck them,” he said, his jaw clenching. It pissed him the fuck off that you were scared to tell a man no because of how the media would portray you.  “Right?  Fuck the press.  You have every right to turn him down.  Avenger or not.”

Sam suddenly came into your field of vision as he leaned over, a playful grin on his lips.  “I can kick his ass for you if you want.”

“No, that’s—”

You were suddenly caught off by the large screen lighting up, bright red letters saying ‘Kiss Cam!’ flashing on it as a bunch of hearts floated around it.  Your eyes were locked on the couples that flashed across the screen, a soft grin on your face.  It was nice to know that love was still a thing that existed.  It kind of reminded you of that picture from the end of World War II, with the sailor dipping a girl and kissing her in the middle of Times Square.

But you didn’t notice the camera crew that had crouched in front of you and Bucky until you saw yourself on the screen, his metal arm still wrapped around you as your head rested on his shoulder.  It looked so coupley that it made sense that the camera crew would’ve chosen you.  You were Avengers who appeared to be dating.  The heroes of the century.  Of course they’d want you on their big screen.

Your heart pounded against your rib cage as you sat up in your seat.  His arm fell off you as waves of panic began to radiate from your body.  What could you do?  You were going to have to kiss him.  You were going to have to kiss Bucky, and even though that wasn’t a repulsive, your mind immediately went to Steve.  You knew that you shouldn’t be worried about what he’d think, that you shouldn’t worry that you’d be betraying him, but you couldn’t help it.

The crowd was beginning to chant, clearly getting impatient.  All the noise around you was just adding to your anxiety.  The man behind you clapped a hand on your shoulder and pushed you towards the super soldier harshly.

The man beside you whirled around, opening his mouth to chew out the man, but before he could say anything, Sam—who was in the shot—dragged him over to him and smacked a big kiss on his cheek.  The crowd didn’t seem very happy, but the camera crew moved on after they realized that they weren’t going to get a smooch between you and Buck.

Sam said, “You’re welcome,” even though you didn’t hear it.  You could hear the blood pounding in your ears.  Everything felt like it was closing in, which was ridiculous because you were in an open air stadium.  The former assassin beside you was currently turned around, sharing sharp words with the man who had pushed you, but you didn’t hear any of it.  Your hands trembled where they rested on your lap.

“Hey, Steve?”

“Yeah, doll?”

You stared up at the ceiling of the shitty motel room, your lip worn from being bitten so much.  Your hands were fiddling with the stiff white sheet covering the two of you.  “Have you ever thought about our future?”

The super soldier rolled onto his side, so he was facing you, his brows furrowed. The look on his face was serious—but then again, it always was.  You honestly couldn’t remember the last time your boyfriend of two years had laughed, though you’re sure it was before you went on the run.  “Where’s this coming from?” He asked.

You moved to face him, close enough that you could feel his warm breath on your face.  “I don’t know.  I just…” Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath.  You knew that this was reaching into territory that he didn’t like.  “I miss the rest of our family.”

“Y/N—”

“And I know,” you said, sitting up suddenly, “that you and Tony aren’t… good. And you know that I agree with you on the Accords.”  You were growing flustered as you ran your fingers through your hair.  Steve’s t-shirt hung off your shoulders as your hands moved with your words.  “Signing them would mean that we would’ve become nothing more than brainless pawns.”  He watched quietly as you deflated, picking at the bedsheet underneath you.  A sign of just how anxious you were.  “I miss them.”

Steve sat up, reaching out to brush your hair away from your face.  “I miss them, too, doll,” he said, his voice cracking.

You were shocked to find tears rimming his eyes.  Your hand reached up to cover his where it rested on your cheek. “I want to go home,” you croaked. A laugh wrenched itself from your throat as his forehead leaned against yours.  For a moment, it was just you two.  Nothing else outside mattered, and you could pretend that you were just young lovers spending the night in a foreign country.  You could pretend that you weren’t considered criminals.  “We’re a mess,” you giggled as he wiped at your tears.

“But I’m your mess,” he said teasingly, his fingers reaching out to grab at your sides.  All seriousness was lost as he tickled you, straddling you so that you couldn’t get away.  His laughter bounced around the hotel room, and it was so warm and so good that you didn’t even mind that he still hadn’t given up on tickling you.

When he finally stopped, collapsing beside you, the two of you just laid there. Your heavy breathing was the only sound in the otherwise silent room.  Turning on your side, you were surprised to find him already frowning again.  “Hey, hey now,” you said as you moved to curl up into his side.  “We’re having a good time, don’t go all Mister Serious on me now.”

A small smile cracked across his face.  “Mister Serious.”

Your finger traced small shapes on his bare chest.  The feeling of his steady breathing always helped to ground you. It had gotten so bad that you weren’t able to sleep without the sound of him beside you.  “I haven’t heard you laugh in a long time,” you murmured, barely audible.

“I wish I could give you more than this.”

“What?”

His baby blue eyes were locked on the ceiling, a tension in his jaw that hadn’t been there before.  “You deserve someone who can give you a future.”  His hand reached up to grab yours, squeezing you softly.  “I’m always in the past, trying to catch up on everything I’ve missed.  Trying to find where I belong.”

“I don’t mind,” you said timidly, trying to gauge exactly where he was going with this.  If this was an attempt to break up with him, you might have to have words with him on leaving his girlfriend right after fucking her while they’re on the run because she became a criminal for him.  His eyes slid over to you and you intertwined your fingers with his.  “I was never one for a white picket fence, you know.  The idea of being a soccer mom with a minivan isn’t very appealing.”

You’re rewarded with a snort as the hand that isn’t in yours gently runs through your hair.  You can’t help but wince as he catches a few knots, but he doesn’t seem to notice.  “Sometimes I think I never should’ve been Captain America,” he said, and you felt the rumble of his voice in his chest more than you heard it.

“Why’s that?”

“I still feel like I don’t belong in the twenty-first century,” he admitted. There was a lump in his throat that he was fighting to speak around.  “Sure, times were rough back then and it really sucked being sick all the time, but at least I understood the world around me.  Here…”  You had gone completely silent, letting him get all of it out and wondering how long he’d felt like this.  “I always feel out of place.  Like I’m a step behind everyone else and I’ll never catch up.”  The weight of his hand in yours disappeared as he wiped at his eyes. “I’m sorry.  I’m sorry.  I didn’t want to—”  He sat up, rubbing both of his eyes as he tried to hide from you, curling in on himself. “I don’t want to make you think that I don’t love you, because I do.  But sometimes—”

“Hey, it’s okay,” you said as you tenderly wrapped your arms around him.  Resting your head on his shoulder blade, you gently began to rock him back and forth.  “You’re okay.  We’re okay.  I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

“Bucky,” Sam said as he watched you.  He could see the panic that still resided in you, even though it’d calmed considerably when he’d kissed him.

“—dare you touch her like that.”

“Bucky.”

“I have half a mind to—”

“BUCKY!”

The man in question finally turned, his eyes narrowed darkly as he stared at Sam.  “What?” He snapped.  He clearly wasn’t done chewing out the older gentleman.

“We need to get her home,” he said, nodding at you.

You were still staring into space, your chest heaving with the shallow breaths you were taking.  It was too much.  Too much. The cameras on you, the chanting of the crowd.  The feeling of unfamiliar hands shoving you.

Bucky reached for you, gently getting you to stand. “Come on, sugar,” he said, his voice dropping to a gentle whisper.  All the anger that had been in his eyes just moments before was gone.  “Come on.  Let’s go home.”

When you got back to the compound, you were still shaken, though you were starting to come out of it.  Your heart wasn’t about to beat out of your chest, at least.  The car ride home had been completely silent other than the soft whirring of the air conditioner.

Someone—Wanda, maybe—guided you to the couch and pressed a mug of chamomile tea into your hands, but you couldn’t be sure. Everything still felt a little fuzzy.

When everything came to, you found Bucky sitting on the other side of the couch.  He had his nose buried in a book and was completely entranced.  “James?” You said.  The sound that came out of your throat was raspy and choked, as though you’d been gargling gravel.

His eyes went to you immediately and he dropped the book, scooting a little closer to you.  He was more than a little surprised that you used his actual name, but he didn’t mind.  Rather, he enjoyed it.  He liked the way that it rolled off your tongue like the sweetest honey.  “Hey, sugar.  How are you feeling?”

You knew that he was trying to give you space, clearly unsure how close you were comfortable with him being.  So you took it upon yourself and tucked yourself into his side.  “I’m sorry.”

“What on earth are you sorry for?”  He tugged you closer so that you were half-sitting on his lap, his arms wrapping around you like a cocoon.

“We were supposed to have a good day, and then we left before the bottom of the fourth because of me,” you said, your lower lip quivering.

“Hey, we still had a good time,” he reassured you as he rested his chin on your forehead.  “It’s not your fault that there were a bunch of douche bags there.”

“Still, I—”

He squeezed you a little tighter, rocking you a bit. “No, no, no.  ‘Still’ nothing.  It’s not your fault.”  He kissed a forehead.  And he could admit that he wanted to kiss you.  He wanted to kiss you more than anything in the world—and probably had since your days in the Red Room—but that wasn’t the right moment.  You were still grieving the loss of your relationship, for one, and he wasn’t about to have your first kiss be broadcast to thousands of people.

Even though you still felt like a bit of a disaster, it wasn’t so bad knowing that your friends weren’t angry with you.  Hell, you’d spent over half the car ride back convinced that they were going to be pissed that you all had left before the game was half over just because you couldn’t get a handle on your emotions.  You giggled softly, burrowing into his chest.  “Did you really say ‘douche bags?’”

And Bucky grinned as his fingers flew to your sides, tickling you mercilessly.  “And so what if I did, huh?  What if I did?”

You burst into laughter, squirming as you tried to get away.  “J-James! Stop it!”

And it felt like a little bit of déjà vu, but you didn’t care.  Because there was a feeling in your chest that told you that the brunet with startling blue eyes was here to stay.

[chlorue]

her two favorite people

let’s get emotional, emotional

Pairing: Fiona Gallagher & Ian Gallagher & Lip Gallagher

Description:  They ended up sleeping close together that night. Holding each other. Fiona snuggling Ian and Phillip like they were her favorite stuffed animals. They were woken up by the sound of things being thrown. Yelling. Screaming. Then nothing. Then a slam. Ian clung to Fiona and Philip took her hand. She made her way to the bedroom door. Creaking it open, she called out into the house. “Mommy? Daddy?” No one answered her so she guessed the slam was them leaving to head to a bar. She turned to her brothers and nodded. Phillip sighed with some relief. Ian didn’t really know what was happening. Fiona hoisted the three year old onto her hip and they all made their way downstairs

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The first time Fiona woke up to her brothers crying was when she was 8. She woke to the sound of Ian crying from the next room. She rushed out of her bed. They were alone in that dark house. Their mommy and daddy were off buying drugs. Fiona walked a small ways down the dark hallway to the room he shared with Phillip. She cracked the door open to see the small ginger three year clinging to the five year old Phillip. “Hello?” She said in the smallest voice possible. They didn’t need to be quiet. No one was there but the three of them. But Fiona was scared of startling the small child. 

“Fiona?” Phillip’s small voice came through. Ian was sniffing and trying to calm himself down. Fiona pushed the door wider. The light was dim and yellow. There was the same tiny bed she had tucked Ian into just 3 hours ago. She rushed to her brothers. She pulled them both into her embrace. 

“What’s wrong with him?” Fiona pulled her smaller brother into her lap, brushing his head as he cried in her shoulder. 

“I think he’s scared, I don’t really know?” Phillip sighed. Fiona may have been eight but her protective self had instantly kicked in. She held Ian tighter, whispering and shushing him, telling him it would be okay. She felt him clutch her brown curls. 

“Are you okay?” She grabbed the blonde's hand. She felt angry and hurt. She was let down by mommy and daddy again. Her friends in her grade would talk about how their parents would hold them when they were scared. Mommy wouldn’t wake up sometimes if Ian slipped or Phillip cut himself. Fiona was there to help. She didn’t want to tell them about the fact the mommy and daddy were probably passed out in the living room. They needed Fiona. And she needs them. 

“I don’t know? I’m scared.” Phillip sniffed. In the dim light she could see the tears starting to fall. Fiona leaned against the wall, pulling Phillip to her other shoulder. Ian had calmed down a little bit. Fiona felt safe. She was scared of what tomorrow would bring. Would she be walking Phillip to school with Ian in a stroller? Or would Daddy help? Would she go downstairs to see Mommy’s pills and bottles scattered across the coffee table? No one knew. But she knew one thing. Her two younger brothers were her main focus. Keeping them close to her was one thing she always knew. They were her favorite things. She remembers seeing both Phillip and Ian for the first time. She had never wanted to protect something more as a four year old.

They ended up sleeping close together that night. Holding each other. Fiona snuggling Ian and Phillip like they were her favorite stuffed animals. They were woken up by the sound of things being thrown. Yelling. Screaming. Then nothing. Then a slam. Ian clung to Fiona and Philip took her hand. She made her way to the bedroom door. Creaking it open, she called out into the house. “Mommy? Daddy?” No one answered her so she guessed the slam was them leaving to head to a bar. She turned to her brothers and nodded. Phillip sighed with some relief. Ian didn’t really know what was happening. Fiona hoisted the three year old onto her hip and they all made their way downstairs.

It was a mess and she was used to it. Beer bottles were everywhere and the coffee table was covered in cigarette butts and mommy’s empty pill bottles. She knew that Ian couldn’t be around this all day. That’s why on her way to taking herself and Phillip to school she would drop him off at Mrs. Conrad's house and she would babysit him till she got home. And when she got home she would help Phillip learn his numbers and ABCs while Ian sat in her lap playing with her bracelets.

-

The next time she feels protective of Lip and Ian, she is 12. They were sitting at the kitchen table helping each other with their homework while Debbie was sound asleep in a Pack-and-Play next to them. Ian was having trouble with his math and Lip was having a little trouble with reading comprehension. She looked up from her book to see Ian trying to balance a pencil on his nose. His hair was dark red now and his face was covered in freckles. She smiled and reached across to swat him. “Hey! Pay attention!” 

Ian laughed and put his focus back on the worksheet in front of him. “So Fiona, if I just do this, will I get the right answer?” Ian asked, pushing his paper towards her. His handwriting was pretty okay for a seven year old. It was messy, but she could still read it. He was trying to solve a simple problem. 6 plus 8. She had told him a simple strategy to help him. She smiled at the work he was trying to do. He was already on the right track. 

“Okay, if you do that, what do you think the answer is?” Fiona asked. Ian looked to be doing math in his head. Lip started to lean over. “Lip! No helping, he has to figure it out!” She swatted her other brother. He laughed and pulled away.

“Is the answer 14?” Ian said after counting on his fingers. Fiona nodded and his face lit up. That always brightened her mood. If she was having a crappy day, and they were sitting with each other, Ian’s face would light up at the slightest thing and would make Fiona’s day so much better. He high fived Lip and did the same with Fiona.

“And your rewards for finishing your homework is this chocolate bar I bought with a few bucks from Monica’s wallet.” She smirked and slid a Snickers across the table. The two boys broke into it immediately. She giggled as she watched them fight over who got the bigger half. They were always like this. They were brothers. The two were inseparable. 

The moment was ruined as fast as it started. The front clicked as two stumbling voices broke the laughs coming from the kids. Frank and Monica were home, and they were drunk. Fiona realizes what’s going to happen and heads straight for Debbie. Fiona knew Monica had been off her meds for a few weeks. She knew what was happening with her. She was acting crazy and had so much energy. She almost dropped Debbie the other day. Frank was probably drunk and high. They were laughing as they stumbled into the kitchen.

Fiona was sitting in her chair again. Slowly, she rocked Debbie so she wouldn’t wake to the sounds. They didn’t seem to see the kids for 5 minutes. Fiona watched as they stumbled around trying to get food and shit from the kitchen. Frank kept asking Monica where she had some money. Finally, Monica noticed them. “Hi kids! We missed you!” Her words were slurred together. Frank groaned when he caught sight of them. “Say, Fiona, do you happen to have any money?” Monica leaned over the counter and smiled at her daughter. Fiona shook her head. Monica sighed and pointed her direction to Ian. “Ian, baby? You have a few bucks for mommy? I promise to use it wisely.” She tried to make puppy eyes to fool him. Fiona wasn’t having it.

“He’s seven! Lip is nine! We don’t have jobs, we don’t have a source of income, that’s what you guys are for. But No! You spend whatever job money you get on drugs. And not even the ones to help you! What kind of parent asks their seven year old kid for money. Honestly, it’s like you don’t even see us. You see wallets! We can’t help you. Sorry that we’re only kids without jobs.” Fiona let it all out on her. She had so many feelings. She stomped up the stairs and up to her and Debbie's room.

She wasn’t in there for long when her door flung open. She was engulfed in the warm embrace of Lip. Ian soon joined in. She sobbed a little into her brother's shoulder. “Are you okay?” Lip pulled away. She nodded and wiped her tears. Monica never stays for too long. She comes to mooch on whatever she can. She took whatever she could. Fiona recalled the last time she left. Fiona was 5, Ian had just been born, and Lip was too young to remember. She remembered asking Daddy where mommy was. Frank never told her because he never cared about her feelings. 

“Do you think she’ll stay?” Ian asked in his soft voice. Fiona wasn’t going to start lying to her two favorite people in the world. Fiona shook her head and took Ian and Lip's hands. “We’ll stay with you.” Ian gave her a small smile. 

She gave a wet laugh and smiled. “Thanks. You guys are the best. I love you.” Fiona pulled them into another hug and they both clung to her as if the world was ending. Monica left again that morning. But that didn’t matter to her, Ian and Lip mattered to her.

-

The next time, she felt protected by her brothers. She was 17 and had just dropped out of high school. She had to. She had to raise Debbie, Carl, and Liam. She knew she couldn’t do that and juggle school, even with Ian and Lip’s help. She was sitting in her room, hugging her pillow close and looking at her old journals. The door slid open to reveal the 12 year Ian holding a beer in his hands. “Wanna share?” He smiled. The smile made everything seem better. She nodded and he made his way into the room. 

She snaked her arm around him as he sat down next to her. “How you doin’ sweetface? Feelin’ better?” She asked, starting to feel Ian’s forehead. He had been a little sick the past few days. She had been hanging out with him everyday, trying to make her feel better. He nodded and laid his head on her shoulders. He sighed and focused his sight on the journals. 

“Woah, Craig Heisner?” He exclaimed when he spotted the heart doddle with his name in it. Fiona flustered up and slammed the journal close causing Ian to start laughing. “No! Tell me about it!” He teased her. She pushed his head away and chuckled. 

“Shut the fuck up, ass.” Fiona sighed. “He was just a guy who was way out of league.” She smiled and laid her head on his shoulder. He rested his jaw on her head, slowly twisting the curls in his hands. 

“Nah, you were  out of his league.” He kissed her head. Ian was always Fiona’s biggest fan and the same went for her.  He always supported things she did. He was on board for her dropping out, even if Lip wasn’t. “But he sounds like a dick, and you deserve way better.” He rubbed her arm. They had become very close in the last few years. Ian was her rock. A person she could talk to. She knows he’s a little closer to Lip, but she just feels safe around him. 

“Thanks.” She kissed his temple when pulling herself up. She knew that if Ian had come in when he did, she’d be sitting there for hours regretting her decision and crying about her big fight with Lip. They sat there for a few minutes in the silence trading the beer between them. Then the door opened again. It was Lip.

“Hey, I wanted to apologize.” Lip scooted himself into the room. “I yelled at you, and that was a shitty thing for me to do. You’re just trying to help the family, and I shouldn’t be mad at that.” He looked at her waiting for an ‘I forgive you’, Fiona smiled wide.

“Get in here!” Was her forgiveness. Lip smiled and threw himself into the bed. He crawled into Fiona's other arm and settled in pretty quickly.

“Hey, did you know Fi had a crush on Craig Heisner?” Ian leaned over to Lip.

Fiona lightly swatted his head. “Ian!” He pulled back and laughed. They all did. She was sitting here with the two people who got her the best. Her two most favorite things in the world. 

-

Fiona sat in her New York apartment looking at her phone. She was on her daily call with Ian and Lip. They had agreed to do this after Ian got out of prison. They all lived in separate houses so they had a set time to call each other. Ian was rambling about something cute Franny did with Mickey, Lip was setting in his own stories with Fred. She sat on the top of her counter eating some toast and scrolling through her camera roll. She came across a picture from a Halloween party when she was 25. Ian and Lip’s heads were on her shoulders making funny faces and she was looking off into the distance. 

The picture was taken before they all started fighting. They fought out of love. Siblings always fight, especially when they know each other so well. Fiona was so relieved when Ian didn’t punch her when she went to visit him. He comforted her, like he always did. She was happy Lip and her left each other on good terms. He would text her and make sure she got to a meeting that day. She would call him whenever she felt like a drink and then they’d end up talking for hours, sometimes annoying Ian who was trying to hang out with his husband. Fiona smiled at the picture and sent to their groupchat with a simple good night and I love you and hung up with phone. 

Her two favorite people, in the whole fucking world. 

-

word count: 2331