#sorry i just read the notes on that starbucks post and it's like have none of u ever worked quick service

[froggierboy]

like once every six months the whole internet finds out abt a new fast food chain that is using prepackaged products and reusing dishes etc etc and it's like hmm perhaps some of u have no critical thinking skills

[deancas-fanfiction]

A Daydream Away

Chapter 1/?

Summary: After multiple couples go missing from a resort in northern Minnesota, Dean and Cas are forced to pose as a couple to investigate the mysterious entity. As Dean and Cas navigate their fake relationship, it leaves Dean questioning what's real and forces him to confront his feelings for Cas.

A story in which Cas is human, Dean is sometimes an idiot, and Sam acts as matchmaker.

Pairing: Castiel/Dean Winchester

Tags: fake relationship, case fic, sharing a bed, human!cas, Sam ships Dean and Cas, fluff, eventual smut

available on ao3 Read Ch. 2 Here

“I think I found us a case,” Sam announced, entering the Dean Cave with his nose buried in his laptop.

Dean sighed in irritation, pausing the movie he and Cas were in the middle of watching. “This better be good, if you’re interrupting our movie night. You know we’re in the middle of Half Blood Prince, and Cas hasn’t seen it.”

“Metatron did upload the movie content into my –” Cas argued, but stilled at Dean’s murderous glare.

“Being told what happens and actually experiencing it are two very different things, Cas. You have to experience it firsthand.”

Cas opened his mouth to argue but didn’t get the chance, as Sam interrupted him by loudly clearing his throat.

“Are you two done?” Sam looked at the two of them in irritation and Dean had to stifle a laugh at the almost stern expression on his face.

“Sorry, Sammy. The floor is yours. Tell us about your case.”

“Okay, so get this. There’s this resort called Grand View Lodge in Nisswa, Minnesota where couples have reportedly gone missing. In the past month, three couples have disappeared without a trace. No evidence of foul play and all of their personal belongings were left behind as were their vehicles. None of the other guests saw or heard anything.”

“That does sound suspicious,” Cas agreed. “Did the missing persons have anything in common?”

“All I can ascertain from the articles and social media posts is that the couples were very happily in love and were staying there on their honeymoon. But there isn’t a lot of information out there. I think we need to check it out, but we’ll need to pose as a couple if we want to gather information and attempt to lure whatever entity this is.”

“Go for it,” Dean shrugged. “When are you and Eileen leaving?” Dean noted the sudden look of discomfort on Sam’s face as he awkwardly shifted the laptop to his other hand.

“So that’s the thing…”

Dean groaned. “Of course.  It’s never that simple.”

“Eileen is on a hunt in Ohio right now. She just got there, so she won’t be back in time.”

“What about Jody? Or Donna?”

Sam shook his head. “Neither can get off work. Claire and Kaia are both out on a hunt, too. That leaves just the three of us.”

“So…?”

“So, that means you and Cas will need to pose as newlyweds, and I can come as backup. The resort is looking for temporary help for the holiday season so I can work at the front desk and interview the employees for information, while you guys can lure the entity and interview the guests.”

Dean choked on his beer and barely managed to sputter out a response. “You want me…and Cas… to pose as a couple? Are you serious?”

“Fine.” He shrugged.  “Me and Cas will pose as a couple then, and you can get a job there. I just thought you’d prefer not to work at a customer service desk.”

Dean felt a flash of irritation surge through him at Sam’s suggestion. The idea of Sam and Cas posing as a couple left a bitter taste in his mouth. Imagining them holding hands or having a romantic dinner just the two of them caused him to involuntarily clench his teeth and form a fist. He wasn’t jealous. No really, he wasn’t. It just – wasn’t right, okay? Sam and Cas probably wouldn’t be able to even pull off posing as a couple. So really, for the sake of the case, Dean should agree to pair up with Cas. All for the sake of the case. That’s all.

Suddenly Deans thoughts consisted of posing as a couple with Cas. Well, not just a couple, but Cas’ husband. Dean’s mouth went dry and oh. Okay. That scenario suddenly seemed a lot more pleasant. They’d have to hold hands, but really, that wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe add a few lingering touches and cutesy nicknames into the mix. But that shouldn’t be too bad, he’s used to Cas being in his personal space. In fact, he’s sort of grown accustomed to it at this point. Cas has always gravitated towards Dean’s personal space. While it was a mild irritation at first, it evolved into a comfort as it was something so expected. Besides, since Cas became human with the help of Jack, they’ve spent much more time together. Movie nights were nearly a nightly occurrence at this point. Their thighs always pressed against each other as they fight over the shared bowl of popcorn. Or in the mornings, when Dean rests his hand on Cas’ lower back for balance so he can reach a mug from the top shelf. Or when Dean tries to teach Cas how to properly play pool by standing behind him, helping him aim the cue. Really, the list goes on. So, pretending to be married shouldn’t be that much different than their current dynamic.

Huh. That’s a new revelation. Before that thought can cause too much panic, he buries it deep inside and ignores the way it made his stomach swoop. “No, no. You’re right.” Dean cleared his throat in an attempt to hide the way his voice sounded borderline frantic. “I would be a terrible employee. I would probably be fired for flirting with the guests or yelling at my boss.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Okay, great. So, you and Cas can pose as newlyweds, just as I suggested. I’ll book the cabin and we’ll head out early in the morning.” He stomped out of the room and Dean mirrored his brother, rolling his eyes in return.

Cas wordlessly grabbed the remote and pressed play, leaning back into Dean as the movie resumed.

---

The next morning, they were on the road much too early, in both Dean and Cas' opinion. They stayed up later than was probably wise to finish their movie. Then Cas had questions, to which Dean had to patiently answer and suddenly it was nearly two in the morning. Meanwhile, Sam was bright eyed and happily sipping his thermos of coffee as he lowered himself into the Impala.

"Dean, if you wanted to keep sleeping I could --"

"Don't you dare." Dean warned. "I'm driving, now shut your mouth." He heard Sam sigh in response and turned the key, feeling the car rumble beneath him. He pulled out of the garage and turned onto the road, getting a start on the nine-hour drive to Nisswa.

The first hour of the drive was nearly silent. The radio played quietly in the background as all three occupants took the time to fully wake up. Every now and then Cas would nudge Dean's arm from the backseat, his silent way of asking for Dean's coffee. Dean would roll his eyes, but nevertheless pass him the thermos with a smile tugging at his lips.

The silence wasn't broken until Cas complained that Dean finished the coffee. This, of course, prompted into an argument over who was entitled to the last sip of the coffee, only to be broken by Sam's frustrated interjection.

"Guys. Cut it out. You can get more coffee when we stop for gas."

"Gas station coffee is not the same as bunker coffee."

"Yeah, they don't have almond milk at gas stations, Sam."

"See? Not the same." Dean chirped, enjoying teaming up with Cas against Sam.

Sam rolled his eyes at his brother's antics and changed the subject. "We should probably discuss the case in more detail before we arrive."

"What's left to discuss? Couples went missing while banging on their honeymoon. Probably a routine salt and burn of some pissed off ghost."

"Delicately put, jackass." Sam scoffed. "I was thinking, we should discuss your relationship with Cas."

"My what?" Dean's pulse quickened and he internally cursed his body for betraying him.

"Your relationship with Cas. You know, for the case. We need to come up with a back story so that way if someone asks how you met, Cas won't say 'I gripped him tight and raised him from perdition.'"

"That is how we met, though." Cas insisted.

"Dude, you can't just tell people that!"

"We just need to think of a way to twist it, so it sounds normal." Sam explained. "So, for example, Dean could say he met Cas during a bad time in his life and Cas saved him."

"That's putting it lightly," Dean commented. "Cas? Does that work with you?"

"Fine."

"You're grumpy today." Dean observed, meeting Cas' eyes in the rearview mirror.

"I'm not grumpy. I'm tired. And I didn't get my full amount of coffee."

"You drank your whole thermos and half of mine. How much do you normally drink?"

"More than that."

"You have a caffeine addiction, you know that?"

"Well, at least you two already have the bickering of a married couple down." Sam half joked.

Dean rolled his eyes and focused back on the road; lips drawn into a straight line.

"What else do we need to cover?" Cas resigned, breaking the silence that once again settled over the car.

"Length of relationship."

"Ten years." Cas answered easily.

Sam pursed his lips. "Why don't we say you've been together for 5 years, and friends for the first 5. That will make you fit the same profile as the other missing couples a little more closely."

"Jesus, Sam. We'll be fine, we've been in situations like this before."

"I just don't want your cover blown. We have no one else to fill in. We need to discuss what your wedding was like, who proposed, how long you were engaged --"

Dean cut him off with a sharp look. "The wedding was small, just close family and friends. No one proposed, we both talked about it and together we agreed to get married. The engagement was short, less than a year. How's that for our cover?"

"That's great. Cas, did you get all that?"

"Yes. Can we stop and get more coffee now?"

"I thought gas station coffee wasn't good enough for you?"

"It's not. There's a Starbucks at this next exit. I saw a sign."

"Cas, we're not even halfway there yet. Dean's not going to stop yet."

But sure enough, Dean was already turning towards the exit, cataloguing the way Cas' lips turned up at the corner.

The remaining hours of the trip passed rather quickly. Dean drummed his fingers on the steering wheel in tune to his Zeppelin tape, Sam read lore in preparation of the case, and Cas happily watched the passing snow-clad landscape while sipping on his venti coffee.

As they neared the town of Nisswa, the scenery gave way from a frozen landscape with nothing but bare trees and the occasional truck stop to boutique shops, rustic restaurants, and log-cabin-like structures that served as hotels and cafes. As they neared their turn off the highway, Sam requested to be dropped off in town so he could secure a car rental and check into his own hotel. Sam would be interviewing for the seasonal front desk position early the next morning, so he couldn't be seen arriving with Dean and Cas.

"Oh! Before I forget --" Sam paused after stepping out of the Impala and dug around in his bag. He retrieved two gold bands and handed one to Dean and Cas. "Your wedding rings."

Dean slipped his on and scowled at his brother. "Where did you get these?"

"A pawn shop," Sam said sheepishly. "I grabbed them when I went out on a supply run last night. Don't lose them - I'm pretty sure they're actually gold."

"It's probably a knock off and will turn our fingers green."

"No, Sam is right," Cas observed. He held the ring close to his face, carefully scrutinizing it. "It's 24k gold. It's actually quite good quality."

"Thank you, Cas." Sam said pointedly. "You two better get going and check in. I made your reservation under "Smith." I'll be at the resort tomorrow morning for my interview. I made a very persuasive resume so I should be hired no problem. Just keep your phones on you and check in with me occasionally, yeah?"

"I know how to do my job, Sam. Cas and I will get settled in then we'll talk to some of the guests at breakfast tomorrow morning. Don't worry about us. Worry about your interview," Dean said with a wink. "Cas, you've been upgraded to shotgun, let's go."

With that, Sam stepped away from the car, making room for Cas to climb in. "Be careful, guys."

"Yeah, you too," Dean replied. Cas then shut the door and Dean pulled out of the parking lot and turned onto the highway. "You ready for this?"

Cas nodded, fidgeting with the gold band on his finger. "We met 10 years ago and started dating 5 years ago. A few months ago, we decided to get married and we had a small wedding with our closest family and friends. Now we're on our honeymoon."

"Yeah, that - that's good."

Dean cautiously glanced over at Cas. His hair was tousled from leaning against the window, with the left side matted down and the right side sticking straight out. He had an air of contentment radiating from him, no doubt from the dangerously high levels of caffeine racing through him. Since becoming human, Cas formed a very dependent relationship with both coffee and sleep. Sleeping became his favorite pastime as he was finally able to experience dreams. However, that meant he would often sleep for the better part of the morning, only begrudgingly getting out of bed when Dean would pound on his door to inform him breakfast, and more importantly coffee, was ready. Even then, Cas would be grumpy until he was halfway through his second cup of coffee.

Dean would never admit it to anyone, but he always enjoyed his morning routine with Cas. Cas would silently sit at the table, watching Dean dish up breakfast. Dean would slide a fully loaded plate of eggs and bacon towards him and watch as he took his first bite. Cas would always groan in appreciation (which okay, maybe Dean enjoyed that part a little too much, but he would never admit to that either) and then Dean would refill Cas's mug. At that point Sam would enter the kitchen, just back from his run and openly making a disgusted face at the heaping pile of bacon on Dean's plate. Ignoring him, Dean would sit next to Cas, and Cas would scoot closer to Dean, soaking in his body heat due to the endless cold draft in the bunker. That's the only reason Dean would lean back into him. No other reason, whatsoever, regardless of the knowing look on Sam's face.

Dean ended his train of thought there and signaled for the coming turn which featured a large stone sign with "Grand View Lodge" neatly printed on it. The road was illuminated by string lights and lanterns along it and Dean could see cabins in the trees along the road, with warm yellow lights illuminating the darkness around them. The Impala's headlights shone on a sign directing them towards the main lodge for check-in. The resort grounds seemed beautiful and very quiet. Dean could understand why it was a popular destination for newlyweds. The cold winter air made the glowing cabins seem all the cozier. He could imagine the resort in the summer, filled with families and children running towards the lake with sunscreen and beach towels in tow. It would be quite the opposite than it is now, in mid-December with below zero temps and not a single person in sight.

The first sign of life they saw was the dozen cars parked outside of the main lodge for check in, otherwise no one was out of their cabins. "It's going to be hard to talk to the guests when it's this cold. No one will want to leave their cabin." Dean frowned.

"Sam said there's an optional itinerary over the weekend for all of the guests. We'll have to sign up for some activities so we can interview them."

Dean sighed. "As long as it involves free food, I'm in." He put the car in park and traded the warmth for the frigid cold. It was a sharp cold that hurts your lungs as you breathe it in. It was the kind of cold that you don't spend time in unless you have to. Dean pulled the jacket tight against him and motioned for Cas to follow him inside.

The main lodge was beautiful. There was no other way to describe it. The interior was covered in dark wood, with large leather couches set in front of a roaring stone fireplace. A small gift shop was off to the side and there were large rustic chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. Dean could hear silverware clattering and subdued conversation which hinted to the presence of a restaurant down the hall. The front desk was near the doors and they quickly approached to check in.

"Good evening," The receptionist beamed. Her name tag identified her as Brenda. "Welcome to Grand View Lodge. Have either of you stayed with us before?"

"No, Ma'am," Dean responded, leaning against the desk.

"Well, welcome!" She said cheerfully. Dean could already anticipate that she and Sam will get along perfectly once he’s hired. "Here's a map of the resort grounds for your reference. It shows all of our cabins and the four restaurants we have on site. You can dine in or order room service. All of that information is on the back of the map. Now, can I get the name your reservation is under?"

"Dean Smith."

Brenda typed in the name and clicked a few times then looked up at Dean and Cas grinning. "You should have mentioned you were on your Honeymoon! Congratulations, love birds!" Dean felt his face heat up and avoided eye contact with Cas. 'Minnesota Nice' was very real and it was making Dean very uncomfortable.

"Thank you," Dean choked out. "Could we get our keys now? We just had a really long drive and we're tired."

"Oh, of course! I don't want to delay your honeymoon activities," she stated not-so-subtly. She opened a drawer and handed Dean two key cards. Then she grabbed their resort map and circled their cabin number.

"Do you have a list of activities you offer?" Cas questioned.

"Oh! Yes! This weekend we offer both wine and bourbon tasting, depending on your preferences. We also offer couples' cooking classes, and our spa is open for couples' massages. I see you’re staying for a week so here's a pamphlet of all the activities we're offering this month," She explained as she handed over a brochure. "We also have an ice rink which is open until 8pm and free to all guests."

Cas opened his mouth to assumingely ask a question that would only drag out the check-in process, so Dean interrupted him.

"Great, thank you. We appreciate your help," He then grabbed Cas by the hand and pulled him back into the cold.

"She seemed nice," Cas observed.

"Too chipper. Sam will love her."

Cas laughed at that. It was the kind of laugh that shows his perfectly white teeth and makes his eyes slightly crinkle. It was the kind of laugh that was Dean's absolute favorite.

Dean glanced at the map, noting where to drive to get to their cabin. It appeared to be a short drive from the main lodge. He started the car and turned back onto the gravel road they entered on. Following the signs, they were led along a winding road towards the south end of the grounds, where the now frozen lake is located. The trees were dense, and the cabins were growing sparser as they continued along the road. At last, they pulled up to a quaint log cabin that matched the number on their keys. The cabin had large windows and a wrap-around porch that would be perfect to utilize in the summer and fall. The porch light was on, illuminating the front yard which was littered with large pine trees.

He put the Impala in park, and they grabbed their bags out of the backseat. The night was still and silent. There were no lights except for those on the porch. A large expanse of stars and sky nearly took Dean’s breath away. Growing up, Dean would always take solace in the night sky littered with millions of stars. With the ever-constant change of living on the road, the stars were always there. When John would drink too much or be gone too long on a hunt thereby forcing Dean to parent Sam, he would step outside of their usual run-down motel and take a deep breath, taking in the stars. As they got older and Sam’s nerd tendencies began to develop, he would tell Dean all about the constellation. They’d sit on the sidewalk with their backs against the brick motel and Sam would just talk. He’d point out the shapes in the stars and talk about the history and the namesakes behind each one. It was a most welcoming distraction from the constant shit in Dean’s life.

Even now, as he looks up at the brilliant set of stars unhindered by city lights, Dean can’t help but feel grateful for where his life is. Sure, his kid is basically God. And he’s helplessly in love with his best friend who was an angel but is now a human and probably doesn’t feel the same way about him and now he has to pretend to be his husband at a romantic resort, which can only go poorly. Then there’s the fact that his mom was dead, then she was alive, and then she was dead again. Really, just piles and piles of trauma that he’s had to deal with. But God, Dean still feels lucky. Because he has a family. He has Sam, Cas, Jack, Eileen, Jody and the girls. During those years growing up he always assumed he’d be dead before living a life like this.

A gust of wind whips across the yard, stinging all exposed skin which pulls Dean out of his spiraling thoughts. Cas is mirroring Dean from moments ago, also gazing up at the night sky. “I’ve been alive for so long yet the beauty and wonders of this life will never cease to amaze me.” Cas simply states, as if that wasn’t the most poetic shit to ever come out of someone’s mouth.

At a loss for words, Dean clasps Cas’ shoulder and leads him through the snow and into the cabin. He unlocks the door and welcomes the immediate warmth radiating from inside the cabin. The cabin is incredibly cozy. The walls are a dark wood, with leather sofas next to a large electric fireplace and a big fluffy rug. The kitchen is off of the living room, which on a normal occasion would be perfect to cook some proper meals. Then there is a beautiful wooden table in the dining room with dim lighting that would be perfect for a romantic meal. Dean cut off that dangerous train of thought before it went anywhere that made this situation even more complicated.

Speaking of complicated, Cas was no longer by Dean’s side. Frowning, he walked down the hallway that led towards the bathroom and bedroom. It was in the bedroom that he found Cas hovering in the doorway and oh.

Oh.

There was a king size bed in the center of the room with rose petals scattered over it. An ice bucket with a bottle of champagne rested in the center of the bed with a box of chocolate next to it.

“I’m going to kill him.”

Cas looked at Dean questioningly. “Who?”

“Sam. He told them it was our honeymoon! Then this happened.” He gestured at the array of items in the room.

“I see no problem with this behavior. They needed to know we were on our honeymoon for the sake of the case. And we got free champagne and sweets. Usually, you’re all about the free stuff.”

Dean sighed. “No, you’re right. It’s just – never mind. It’s late and I’ve been driving all day. Guess I’m tired.” Cas just nodded and set his bag down. “So, uh –” Dean started, rubbing his hand over his face. “Want me to take the couch tonight? We can switch off every night or something.”

“Dean,” He sighed. ”You said yourself that you’re getting too old to be sleeping on couches and pull outs. Hence, the memory foam in the bunker. Besides, we’re playing the role of a newlywed couple this weekend. We should probably keep up with appearances and not make it seem like we’re already sleeping in separate beds like unhappy middle-aged couples who are too stubborn to admit they need a divorce.”

Dean barked out a surprised laugh. He loves when Cas goes on his weird tangents. “Yeah, okay Cas. That bed is huge, so it shouldn’t be a problem anyway.”

Cas just nodded and began digging around in his duffel bag. Meanwhile, Dean removed the ice bucket with champagne from the bed and set it on the dresser. Then he brushed off as many rose petals as he could, determined to clear the bed of any romantic connotation. When he was satisfied, he began stripping out of his jeans and flannel. It was a long day of driving and his body was no longer accustomed to sitting for so long, so he was ready for bed at this point.

Dean stopped mid-action, catching sight of Cas doing the same. Cas removed his jeans and then lifted his shirt over his head. Dean swallowed, trying to

tear his eyes away from his best friend’s body but holy shit – Cas is toned. As he bent over to put his discarded clothes back in his bag, the muscles in his back and legs jumped out. His golden skin was completely on display and as a result Dean’s brain was short circuiting. Panicking, he grabbed his toothbrush and locked himself in the bathroom as an attempt to get his breathing and body back under control.

So much for uncomplicated.

[writingforyourpleasure]

ON THE ROAD AGAIN

Characters: GERARD WAY x Reader

Link to chapter two :   https://writingforyourpleasure.tumblr.com/post/613879271149223936/on-the-road-again

Warnings : None

Author’s note: HO BOY ! I can not believe I wrote so much in only one night.

3.      “ Text it Away “

The knot down your stomach was tightening with anxiety. 

You and your mother were at the grocery store , you were pushing around the shopping cart while your mother was talking to you , well at lest she pretend , but she just loves hearing herself talk , really. It seemed like a lot of families got the same idea than you, the mall was pretty crowded today. You were staring at your phone for the last ten minutes, wanting to text Gerard but had no idea how to start the conversation.

“Y/N are you even listening to me ?”

Your mom was staring at you disappointed.

“I’m sorry , you were saying?”

“We don’t get to spent much time together these days , could you even try to care ?”

You looked at your mom with a blank expression .

“So which book should I buy?” said your mom after a few seconds.

You realized that you were in the book section next to the music one.

“I don’t know . I don’t read that much.”

“And it’s a shame!”

You sighed , looking around you to set your eyes on the music section . You realized that next to the shelves of album was a life size cutout of Gerard . You started to laugh uncontrollably under the questioning look of your mom.

You asked your mom to take a picture of you in front of it doing the same posture that he did. You mom executed your request with a questioning look. After that both of you continued your shopping around the mall. You followed your mom , still hesitating on how to approach him. It was silly really, you were a grown up woman and you didn’t even knew how to write to one of your friends.

“Mom I’ll help pack the groceries to the car but meanwhile I think I’m gonna go get a coffee if that’s okay with you?”

Your mother sighed, her arms crossed over her chest.

“You may go. It’s not like you were paying attention to me anyway.” She said kind of tired.

You brushed it off and walked up to the exit of the market to land in the center of the huge mall. You put your headphone over your head not to hear any sounds . It was a special sounds blocking headphone often used to play drums. Your had a little smile on your lips finally tasting some calm after all this irritable noisy crowd. You took a hallway on your right already seeing the green neon of the Starbucks coffee . You weren’t a fan of them for a lot of reasons, but unfortunately it was the only coffee shop to provide a decent coffee in this mall.  You were listening to “The Regrettes” when you remembered you didn’t send the picture from earlier to Gerard.

You took your hands somewhat a little nervously , you suffered from social anxiety even though you knew how to hide it pretty well and appeared as an extrovert most of the time, but somehow being in your hometown didn’t help your anxiety .

-Hey look who I ran into today at the mall!

You texted to Gerard , making you cringe a little bit coz’ you sounded like a stereotypical mom who just texted her son on her way to her book literature club. But it’ll have to do right now.

You glanced at the window double checking, if anyone you knew from high school was there, when you checked that the perimeter was clear your phone buzzed .

It was Gerard

-Ho no … it’s so uncomfortable haha I didn’t even knew we had new ones installed in stores. Can you burn it alive for me pls ?

You smirk reading his text.

-No way , I think we’re becoming besties me and him . I will buy you one  , don’t worry, it’s on me , I know of much you wanted one . 😉

You breath out through your nose , laughing silently to yourself.

-You’re aware that if you do buy it , I’ll throw it in the garbage can , right?

A slight smile played on your lips while sipping on your coffee before it got cold.

-You mean your bed ?

As you waited his answer you glanced around the Starbucks to find it much more full of people . Most of them around your age . Sure where else were they gonna buy coffee from? I mean they probably don’t even know how to cook an egg , so a coffee must be a little too ambitious. An echo of a buzz made itself known before you even realized it .

-That’s low, even coming from you.

-Well I mean you understood it all , Way. Into your bunk you have breakfast and dessert reunited , it’s a win-win situation you got there , you can jerk off, sleep and eat in the same place , sounds pretty magical to me!

“Would you look at that ! L/N in bones and flesh! So what as you come back piggy ?”

You were so into your discussion with Gerard that you didn’t pay attention to your surroundings . Just your luck, Tyrell decided to take a fucking coffee at the same time than you , you hoped the gang wasn’t here , you didn’t want to have to staple a fake smile on your face for over thirty minutes.

“Tyrell hi. Can you not call me piggy please?” You breathed out trying to contain yourself and stay calm.

“Ho but babe it suits you so perfectly.” He said starting to take a seat in front of you.

Anxiety at this point wasn’t even enough to describe your mental state.

“Okay once and for all don’t call me piggy,babe,honey or any nicknames. You know living in the past can’t do you any good” You sat down the cup you just finished, looking him dead in the eyes.

“Well highschool’s not so long ago since you still look the same . So you haven’t given up music ? I mean you should think about doing a stable job now, you can’t dream all your life Y/N.” He said cockily .

“And remind me … What is your job ? Dealer right ?”

He chuckled a little, his arrogance radiating from him.

“I’m a lawyer student now.”

“Sweet o’ sweet irony.” At this your phone buzzed.

He glanced toward your phone , curiosity getting the best of you, you looked down at your phone.

-You should take notes ;p I could teach you my secret.

Gerard. You had forgotten you were texting him in the first place, since Mr.Dickhead had judge wise to come annoying you.

-Don’t even take credit for it , pretty sure it’s Frank fault . He’s the one with the magic. Maybe it should’ve been him on the life size cutout ?

You sighed remembering Tyrell was in front of you. Starring. Like a creep.

“Well it was an incredible thing to see you , but I actually have a thousand things better to do than talking to you.”

You took your cup ready to leave before he got the chance to talk back.

“Y/N !!!” A sudden voice called you. Ho no. The gang is here.

Your old group of friends were facing you and Tyrell , before you could do any move , you were wrapped up in a big hug by the girl who literally just yelled your name across the coffee.

“Hey what’s up Y/N ?” said the boy to the left side of the girl . Mallon .

“Well I’ll be better if Julia here would stop trying to hug the life out of me.”

Julia at your words stopped hugging you pouting like a child.

“You never give us news about you so it’s only fair .” replied Robert who was standing on the right of Julia.

“Not sure having me be dead would give you more new-“Your phone cut you off buzzing once again.

-Hey I help making the magic happen ! Next time you should come give us a hand 😉 And I’ll give him my place any time haha

Your cheek took a deep shade of red at the proposition. You chuckled a little to yourself at that. Replying immediately.

-You should have asked sooner , it’s always a pleasure to help a friend in need ! I hope when you’ll find one of my crumbs , you’ll think of me . And maybe you’re helping Frank in putting crumbs in your bunk but let’s be honest here … you’re just Frank’s assistant , he’s the real superstar here.

“Who’s Gerald?” Surprised you Julian creeping over your shoulder way too close . When did she even came all the way around you ?

“Could you respect something called personal space?” You replied a little harshly . But still , she did creep out looking at your texts.

She took a step back mumbling a tiny ‘sorry’ before asking the same question.

“Sooo…Who’s Gerald?”

“It’s Gerard for one and-“

“Is it Gerard Way?” Asked Mallon bluntly. You raised an eyebrow at him a little taken aback .

“Isn’t he in my Chemical Romance ?!” Added Julia a little too excited for it to be not without any expectations .

“Yeah… It’s like ….The lead singer or something right?” Asked Robert , much more calmly with a blank expression. Tyrell was looking way too interested in the matter . Now all four eyes of your ancient friends were on you.

“Huh Yeah he is . Mall how the hell do you even know who’s Gerard , I’m texting to ? Could be any other Gerard really!”

“Well, aren’t you like working with him?” Said Mallon before taking a large gulp of his drink.

“Haha ! So I was right your just useless in the music industry ! What even is your job ? Your in charge of bringing them refill of water bottles and shit?” Said with a vicious expression Tyrell, crossing both of his arms across his chest.

“No dude! She’s like the opening band of My chem.” Said Robert still with a blank expression . But with a little bit of venom in his tone. You and Robert used to be close, so you weren’t all that surprised to have him take your side.

“C’mon let’s sit guys, Y/N what about another free drink on me ?” He added , while the others were sitting in the seats . Before you could respond anything he took by the arm and lead you to the queue leading to the counter.

“You didn’t even let me-“ you started before being cut off for what felt like the dozen time this day.

“Were you really gonna say no to a free drink ? Even with you touring along a band like my chemical romance I can tell it doesn’t pays all that much.”

“What makes you so sure about yourself young men?” You said sounding somewhat a little flirty . Shit. He raised an eyebrow at that. But you brushed it off acting as if it always was your goal to come off as flirty.

“Well…What you seem to forget is that I actually know you Ms./N unlike the three idiots back there. If you’re in our sweet old hometown it isn’t to pay us a visit . Not when your mom’s home… We’ve crossed paths on our way down here.” He said giving you a glimpse of a smile , pointing his thumb in his back in direction of Julia, Mallon and Tyrell. You stared at them thinking.

Julia was small and curvy with cherry hair color and was dressed entirely in black with a yellow tote bag on her left shoulder . A plugging V neck black T-shirt associated with a black skinny jeans and classic vans. She had her cherry hair in a ponytail and was wearing a deep shade of read on her lips with liner and mascara to compliment her brown eyes . Tyrell still had his classic brown frizzy hair a perfect tan and brown eyes. He was wearing a jean jacket covered in pins a white shirt and black jeans with deep red docs. Mallon on his side had changed his hair color opting for a neon orange , he had curly hair just like Julia’s, wore glasses and was a little chubby. He wore a leather jacket with a forest green sweatshirt and black skinny jeans with massive new rocks.

You glanced up at Robert who was rolling a cigarette . He had still the same straight blond hair in a buzzcut, lip piercing. He was wearing a large dark shirt with cuts in random places , grey skinny jean, black converses, black fingernails and a large silver chain around his neck. The only thing that seemed new were tattoos sleeves on both arms and not entirely complete. It was somewhat comforting to know he hadn’t change all that much.

Your phone buzzed.

-          Ho man, He always was, was he? Maybe I should just give up the place of lead singer to him, and let him the superstar he always was…

A huge smile was stretching across your lips.

-          Hell no, it’ll be chaotic to have you as rhythm guitarist or guitarist, period! Just stick to the basis, love. Or else your band would be over before you can even play a live show.

You returned your attention to Robert who still was waiting a response. You truly wanted to prove him wrong but you knew, it would be stupid , to try denying it to him.

“Yeah… Well at least I have a job Ro’. “ You exhaled dramatically at him.

“ Yeahhhh well I also ben happening to have a job Y/N/N”

“What ? Wait, really? You dropped out of college ? What’s your job? “

“Yeah design school wasn’t what I thought y’know? The people there were all so fake. Didn’t like it too much like high school , and I didn’t graduated to end up in a working place with the same mindset. I’m a security guard for now but I’m taking part-time classes in a marketing school. I want to open my own music label someday.”

“Woaw… Man that’s huge . I mean it’s like awesome if that’s your dream I’m just surprised . But I guess I shouldn’t be since you’re here and your design school was in London so it makes sense I guess.”

Your phone buzzed.

-          Ho really now ? Is that why you’re starring, every time, I’m playing guitar? Is it because I’m such an painful sight to the human eye , now?

Your face grew hotter once again as you typed your response before embarrassing yourself further.

-          Yeah it’s so awful that I’ve been trying to subtly tell you to never play guitar again for the past months . Guess you never took the hint.

You drew back your attention at Robert .

“By the way Ro’ , what are you even doing with them? I though we’ve left the band at the same time…?”

He looked unsure of what to say next .

“We did Y/N, we did… I just. I came back , and you were gone y’know? All of my other friends were gone too. I was all by myself and it seemed to be the only people to have stick ‘round so I’ve just started to hang out with them again.”

The waitress asked what you both wanted to have before you were able to think of a sentence. She gave an unhappy glance at Ro’s cigarette tucked unlit on the corner of his pinched pink lips.

“Your names please?”

You shared a knowing look with Ro’ before saying yours first.

“Kurt” She wrote as you said on the empty cup.

“Cobain” finished your friend with a shitty grin plastered over his face as the waitress rolled her eyes.

Once you both had your cups in hand you headed toward the exit of the Starbucks , Ro’s explaining to the other that he wanted to take a smoke. You headed for the parking lot.

“Tyrell’s still mad at me though.”

“What , seriously? God, I whish I didn’t slept with him at this party . Seriously I was just so drunk plus it was so long ago. He’s just jealous. He called me piggy again.”

“Well I’m not complaining , was worth it. Yeah I know that’s just his shitty jealousy , I mean after all , I get it, he had slept with you one night. I ,on the other side , had been with you for two years so I clearly won over this asshole.”

“You sure did haha.” Comfortable Silence filled your conversation .

Your phone buzzed. Right. Gerard. You’ll check later .

“Can I have a shot on yours?” You said glancing at his cigarette.

He handed you the end.

“Y/N it was nice to see ya . I’m gonna join them, take care.” He said kissing you on both cheeks .

“Huh Yeah , you too dude.” You watched him getting further away as you were ending his cigarette , before smashing it against the cold pavement.

“HEY RO’! LET’S HANG OUT BEFORE I GO ?” You asked yelling across the parking lot. You smiled happily as he raised a thumb up.

Once he disappeared into the mall , you took a look at your texts.

-          Ho was it now? Yeah , right I’m probably getting’ ideas. Well Frank’ll have to stick as the rhythm guitarist then. Oh man, he’s gonna be so disappointed . Guess I’ll be the one to break the news to him, he’s gonna be so disappointed not the be the next superstar of the band.

You laughed a little, taking the path leading to your mom’s car , texting your response .

-          Don’t fool yourself he still is the superstar .

-          Well , how come he isn’t he the one on the cutouts then?

-          Coz’ he’s one generous motherfucker. And It’s because your music label’s been distributing cutouts of you all across the country as a joke for your second album. But then they realized you believe it for real and they haven’t had the heart to break your dreams so they stick to it making you believe it was real and everybody’s been playing along since then. The fans are being paid to make you believe they cheer for you when they usually cheer for Frank obviously.

Your mom was just done putting away the groceries in the back of the car when you opened the passenger’s door.

-          Gotta to admit sounds like him haha. And what about Ray and Mikey in all of that ? And I don’t want to rain on your parade but I’m pretty sure they sometimes cheer for me along with Mikey and Ray.

Your mom started the car.

“Oh guess who I came across in the mall? Robert! I mean he was also with a girl and a boy but I didn’t knew them.”

Your mom never met them, because of her job. She wasn’t around long enough to meet most of your friends.

“You and Robert were the cutest I remember! Such a polite young man and good looking too! Aren’t you getting lonely always on the road like this? I hope you’ll meet someone, you know it shouldn’t stop you from looking for a boyfriend or a girlfriend-

You sunk down on your seat , turning to face the window, looking down at your phone drowning the rambling of your mom .

Your phone buzzed.

-          What about you?

You frowned at your screen .

-          What about me ?

-          Well are you getting paid to cheer for me?

-          I’m the most paid one coz’ I have to put up with your bullshit after the show too.

-          Right so you’re some kind of a creepie groupie then.

-          You wish . I don’t think you can call me a groupie if I’m paid for faking it , call me a talented actress.

-          You mean a infamous one since you’re so desperate for work you accepted to be paid to pretend to like a band in which you don’t even like the lead singer.

-          Touché…

-          Unless you actually like the lead singer you pretend to hate ?

[221bshrlocked]

Security Check (1)

Security Check Masterlist

Pairing: Bucky X Reader

Words: 1814

Warnings: None yet. Some swearing.

A/N: Because we all know I will not make a move on the man due to me being a chicken and, as a friend put it, refusing to ‘play’ around before marriage. Here is me writing out my frustrations. I wish yall could see him. He’s so fucking perfect. And in case you have no idea what I’m talking about, refer to this post. As military slang goes, I’m fubar.

Next Part

Walking through the glass doors, you nodded towards the student guard standing at the corner of the Assyrian exhibit, telling him to put his phone away and pay attention to the visitors of the museum. You shook your head and looked back to your clipboard, silently judging the kid because although the students needed the work-study money, you wished they would stick to the fucking rules for once.

Walking from one poster to another, you made sure there were no spelling errors before moving along to the colossal sculpture of the lamassu, standing in front of it longer than intended. You’ve worked here for so many years but it still made you feel emotional when you looked at it. Such a marvelous creation existed as a small part of the king’s court and here it was. You were looking at a part of history that you could only dream of.

Snapping out of your haze, you walked around and proceeded to go behind the sculpture to turn on the lights when suddenly, you heard someone yelling and running at you. You had just turned on the lights but froze and dropped your clipboard when he came around.

“You’re not supposed to go near the sculptures. Please step out slowly and don’t touch anything.” The man ordered you like a child and your heart was beating rapidly, not sure if it was because of his dominant persona and military-like voice or because of how drop dead gorgeous he was.

Your hands were shaking violently, eyes blinking at him as you scattered away. You kept your hands raised even after he told you to put them down.

“Oh my god Dr. Y/L/N, I am so sorry he doesn’t know. Please accept my sincerest apologies I- god I don’t even know where to begin.” You looked at the assistant manager your friend hired to take care of the schedule along with other things, swallowing the lump in your throat before you slowly placed your hands down.

You turned and stared at the man that pretty much caused your soul to leave your body and excused yourself, walking the opposite way and out of the museum. You realized you should have said something but you couldn’t trust your voice, going straight to your office on the second floor and shutting the door behind you before you sat down on your chair. A few minutes passed and you decided to go to your friend’s office one room over. She smiled when you walked in but her expression changed when she saw you.

“Is everything okay?” She set her stuff down and walked around the table, wanting to approach you but choosing against it when she saw you pacing.

“I am the author of seven award-winning books, professor of numerous Ancient languages, world-known Egyptian Archaeologist and the head of the Dendera project and someone literally just talked down to me like a fucking toddler! Like I didn’t discover more shit in my PhD years than anyone else during their entire fucking career. You need to make sure your assistants get their shit together Emelie or I swear to Horus I will lose my shit.” She said nothing and you stopped before sitting down on the chair near her and looking up apologetically. She smiled down at you and you felt bad for the tone you used with her, getting up and giving her a hug before returning to your seat again.

“I’m sorry that was so uncalled for. You didn’t deserve this.”

“It’s ok Y/N it’s just this stupid gala. You got a lot on your plate and you still think you’re not ready even though I think you are. Hence the assistant which I guess I should probably call and ask about what happened.” She sat opposite you and took her phone out to give him call.

“No no it’s not his fault. I’m sorry. Maybe I need coffee. Yeah that’s probably what it is. I’ll just go get coffee.” You stood up and told her to not call him again, refusing to say any of what happened before leaving.

As soon as you opened the door, there he was.

“Dr. Y/L/N let me start off b-”

“Paul please. It’s just Y/N. And...nevermind.” You were about to say something but saw the man who scolded you walking down the hallway. Patting Paul on the back, you walked down the hallway in attempts to make it to your office before he approached you. He held out his hand to try and stop you but you refused to acknowledge him, unlocking your door and walking in before slamming it harshly. Maybe you were overdoing it.

You groaned when you realized why he was trying to stop you. The clipboard. The fucking clipboard.

Oh well, you could get it later.

You distracted yourself with random shit, knowing there was no way you’d get any work done on the gala today after that fiasco. Well, what you thought of as a fiasco at least. It has been well over a decade since someone addressed you in such a way. Usually, you were the one putting people in their places but it felt like your graduate years all over again when your advisor would purposely put you on blast to thicken your skin.

Looking at your watch, you sighed and logged off your computer, knowing lunch was definitely needed. Walking out of your office, you shut the door behind you and descended the stairs, praying to whatever higher power was listening to you that what’s his face wouldn’t be here. You were about to exit the museum when the man at the front desk called for you.

“Yes?”

“A man asked me to give this to you. I believe you forgot it when you were making the rounds in the morning.”

“Thanks Vince.” You took the clipboard and walked out, heading to the starbucks on campus to get something to eat. You ordered your food and waited on a table, looking down and seeing a small green post-it note at the bottom.

Sorry!

You laughed at the poor excuse of an apology before crumbling it and throwing it away. “Dickhead.” You whispered to yourself before grabbing the coffee and sandwich.

Thirty minutes later, you were making your way back into the museum when you saw Paul and the man emerging from the security room inside the main exhibit. Taking out your headphones, you plugged them into your phone and clicked on the pencil, walking to the sculpture again and making sure the lights were working before going to the opposite side. You jotted some quick notes down before turning off the lights and moving onto the next part of the museum.

You could feel a pair of eyes following you and you know who they belonged to but you couldn’t care less, reading the new posters again. An hour and a half later, you were in the last part of the new exhibit, eyes trailing the transliteration of one of the spells of the Book of the Dead when you noticed a typo and sighed. You marked down where it was on your little paper and finished reading the rest of the spell exiting the museum.

“Vince, when Dinah comes in, tell her to come to my office. There is something I need to discuss with her.”

“Sure thing.”

“Thank you.” You smiled and went up the stairs, looking at your phone as you made your way down the hallway. Setting your stuff on the table, you left the door open for Dinah and went around your large bookcase to bring out the copies of the Book of the Dead you needed to look into.

As you went around back to your desk, you saw a figure standing at the doorway and jumped up, almost dropping the books in your hand. Eyebrows raised, your jaws clenched when he gave you an apologetic smile and blinked at you.

“I-”

“I’m very busy at the moment. I’m sure Paul can help you out with whatever it is you need help with.”

“Oh...I, that’s not why I’m here.” He murmured, rubbing his hands together before daring to look at you.

“No? Then you’re probably just trying to scare me half to death again right? Or maybe leave another shitty apology on my notebook?” You replied sarcastically, putting your books down and walking around your desk. You couldn’t care less about how rude you were coming off but you were still fuming from the morning. Call it your pride or hating how men thought they could treat women in this world but you weren’t having any of it. Not now, or in your office of all places.

“I...no, I just wanted to- well, I’ve been looking for you all day long to apologize about the morning. It was an honest mistake ma’am and I feel horrible for how I came off. Paul was just explaining to me that visitors are allowed to walk behind the sculpture and I didn’t know. And I felt like an idiot when he told me who you were and…I’m- crap this isn’t going how I practiced at all. I just wanted to say I’m sorry and- and that...I didn’t mean to frighten you. I was just preparing for my job and that doesn’t excuse how I spoke to you but it’s all that I can say. Again, I’m sorry and I’ll just leave.” He smiled again and for some odd reason, your heart clenched at the small gesture. You were utterly surprised by how genuine he was and couldn’t respond. He combed his hair back and nodded towards you before shutting the door behind him.

You didn’t think it was possible to feel shittier than the morning but here you were, eyes wide and brain running a million miles a minute because not only was his apology so fucking genuine, he was just doing his job. Or preparing to at least is what he said.

“Oh fuck me!”

[fizzyxcustard]

A Rose At Twilight (2)

Chapter 1

Masterlist here

Read the most up to date version on AO3 here

Summary: From the series 'Imagine your Thorin poster coming to life at night'. You notice that someone has been visiting you at night; things have moved and roses start appearing on your dresser. Your nightly visits with none other than Thorin Oakenshield start becoming more intense, passionate, and he is eager for you to return to Middle-earth and be his Queen. However, your abusive boyfriend Ryan stands in your way, intent on making your life hell. Will you and Thorin overcome all the obstacles to begin your new life together as King and Queen? And is your past with an abusive boyfriend the only challenge you now face in a new world? Your new friends and family help you uncover all your strength that you never realised you had. But will it be enough to fight away your past and the rising opposition of you becoming the Queen of Erebor?

Warnings: Domestic violence, emotional abuse, mental abuse, physical abuse, smut, oral sex, fluff, anxiety, depression, reference to suicide, poisoning, hospitalisation, strangulation, nightmares, character death.

Pairings: Thorin Oakenshield x Fem!Reader, Fem!Reader/Original Male Character 

Comments/Notes: Originally posted last year on fizzy-custard under the imagine title ‘Imagine your Thorin poster coming to life’. This fic is now 20 chapters long over on AO3, so if you want to skip ahead, the link is above and also in my blog header. If you wish to be added to any series, character or fandom tag list, message me or send an ask. 

Follow Forever tag list: @himoverflowers @shikin83@theincaprincess@deepestfirefun @nowiloveandwilllove@houseofrahl@mynameisnoneya1991 @blankdblank @captainrainbowpanda@cd1242 @c-s-stars@thorins-magnificent-ass @patanghill17 @trees-and-ink@inumorph @leah-halliwell92 @greendragonette @msjava1972 @thequeenoferebor@bespectacled-bunny @ghostlyandee @raindancer2004 @dottiechan @captain-almighty@hobbitlover23 @catthefearless @epicallychrissy @nelswp@adaliamalfoy@spn-obsession

Thorin Oakenshield tag list: @exhausted-human-being​ @samara-marty-art

Hobbit tag list: @fentah @hails270105 @princess-of-erebor1992@mechromancing-cinnamon-roll @online-imagines-reader

A Rose at Twilight tag list: @obnoxious-in-pink 

The rest of the day and you tried your hardest to put your mind away from the thoughts of what had happened the night previously. You served customers at your job in the local music and film shop, forcing a smile and trying to keep awake with non-stop coffee on breaks during stock checks.

By the end of your shift and you were drained in every sense, physically, emotionally and mentally.

As you got to your door and pulled out your key, your neighbour, a middle aged man from the maisonette flat next door, greeted you. “Is everything alright?” he asked, his hands full of bags of grocery shopping.

You looked at him, confused. “How do you mean? I’m fine.”

“I heard you arguing with your boyfriend last night. It was fairly late, around half one. I thought about coming round and knocking on your door.”

You froze. “Erm, yeah, everything’s fine. You know, lover’s tiff and all that. Thanks though, Terry.”

You opened your door as quick as you could and slammed it behind you.

Thorin must have been real. Your next door neighbour had heard you telling him to go away as you had battled with your own sanity, but also must have heard Thorin’s voice.

After slamming the door behind yourself, you quickly dashed back out into the damp air of the autumn evening. “Terry?” you called. Your neighbour was just about to close his front door and reappeared.

“Yeah?”

“What exactly did you hear last night?”

“Well, I couldn’t hear the exact argument but I could definitely hear your voice and a man’s. It was quite a deep voice, and to be honest, I wasn’t sure if it was your boyfriend’s. It sounded deeper than his, but it’s not my business to ask.”

“Okay,” you said softly. “Thanks.”

Thorin was real. How in the name of hell was he real?

You ran back into your flat and raced through into your bedroom. For a few seconds you stared at the poster on your wall. Was this where he had been coming from? “How can you be real?” you whispered, looking up at the image. “I believe you are, but how?”

***

For three nights you remained vigilant, hoping and praying that Thorin would come back to you. But your words of telling him to be gone must have sealed his resolution to not come back. During the nights you kept waking every hour and would call his name into the darkness, your heart pounding in excitement and anticipation at hearing his voice again.

Nothing.

On the afternoon of the fourth day since you had met Thorin, Ryan came to visit you. He brought a four pack of lager with him, but you could see he was already fairly intoxicated when he walked into the flat. He was staggering, his eyes heavy and his speech slurred.

“You’re drunk, Ry. Go home,” you told him as he followed you into the flat.

“Fuck that. I’m staying here...”

The look in Ryan’s eyes began to scare you as he came closer. “You stink of beer,” you hissed and shoved him away.

He grabbed you tight at your hip and pulled you against him and then kissed you, his wet lips sliding against yours.

“Get off me!” you shouted, shoving him away.

Ryan raised his hand and slapped you hard down the left hand side of your face, almost knocking you off your feet. Pain stripped through your face and you rocked backwards, only to then feel him grab your breast perversely. “Come on, babe. You like playing rough.”

Anger rose in you and you shoved him as hard as you could, pushing him completely to the ground. He looked up at you, shocked by your outburst and sudden retaliation.

“Get the fuck out!” you growled. “And don’t you dare come near me again.”

Ryan left your flat, dazed and silent. As your front door slammed shut, you fell backwards into a dining room chair and wept again. Where had that sudden surge in strength come from? Everything of late was becoming overwhelming, and you felt that intense need to get away wash over you again.

***

Two days later and you received a call from one of your mutual friends of Ryan. He was an ex colleague of yours who had introduced you to Ryan about a year previously. Your friend’s voice came down the phone line at you quickly and almost frantic. “Ryan has been attacked and is in hospital.”

“Hospital?” you asked. You looked around to see if anyone else was close enough to hear you as you sat in a local Starbucks drinking a coffee. “What happened?” You felt genuine concern for Ryan, wanting to know how severe his injuries were. “Is he alright?”

“He’s got concussion, a broken nose and missing a couple of teeth, but doctors say he’ll be okay. Do you know anyone who could have done this to him? He was on his way back from the pub around midnight when someone jumped him just outside his flat. The only description that Ry could give was it was a short bloke with long hair. And the strangest thing was, he had a sword on him.”

Immediately you sat bolt upright in your chair and felt shivers race down your spine, freezing cold. Short man with long hair, carrying a sword?

***

After work you raced home, running for the bus and then running again to your flat. Your whole world was spiralling out of control, but the bottom line was, you liked it. Someone had defended you, attacking your now ex-boyfriend for his disrespect and abuse. The thought of it all made you shiver from head to foot and smile at the same time.

By now it was dark as the autumn night closed in. The roads were shining with a fresh gleam of rain, and in the air a fine mist was beginning to descend.

You ran into your flat and straight into your bedroom, switching on the light.

“Thorin, I don’t know if you can hear me,” you said, slightly breathless, and feeling stupid for talking to nothing but thin air and a piece of paper on your wall. “I’m sorry for telling you to go away. I know what you did for me. You attacked Ryan. Please, come to me tonight.”

You waited.

Every slight bump or knock and you felt your heart leap. You remained on high alert to every sound. When you showered, you rushed to get dry and back into your room. You then fetched yourself a cup of tea, rushing around the kitchen to get back in your room.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered as you lay yourself down for the light, switching off your bedside lamp. By now the excitement of everything swirling around you became overwhelming and you dozed, swaying into a light sleep.

Until suddenly you jolted awake, gasping.

“Thorin?” you called out, praying with everything inside you that he would answer. “Please be there. Please.”

You reached out and turned on your lamp, letting light illuminate the room.

Tears fell down your cheeks as you looked upon your room and Thorin was nowhere in sight. “Why are you hiding from me?” you asked. “I’m sorry for what I said.

However, as you looked at the poster on your wall, you gasped again. His image was not there; the paper was only coloured by a blue background.

“Who said I was hiding?” a voice came, and your bedroom door slowly creaked open.

You felt your whole body freeze as you admired his form. He walked towards you, a smirk curling his lips upwards. “However could I stay away?” he asked, standing before you at the side of your bed. His blue eyes studied you, those beautiful eyes which held sadness and a sense of something longed for.

“You attacked Ryan?” you asked.

Thorin’s eyes grew darkened by his frustration and hatred for the man who had disrespected you. “No one dishonours you,” Thorin hissed. “Most of all the one who should love you and defend you.”

Complete silence overtook you. How could you answer such a statement? Was he declaring love to you? How could he love you?

Thorin sat down beside you, turning his upper body to face you. “I have watched over you for some time now; I’ve seen your tears, heard your laughter, and you have the spirit and heart of a Queen.”

You looked down, trying to comprehend his words and this whole situation. For a few seconds you forced your eyes shut and then looked up at him, smiling sadly. “You don’t know me as well as you think you do,” you said. “You talk as though I’m strong and fierce, and I’m not.”

Thorin moved towards you. “You do not see yourself as I do. I heard you defend yourself against that oaf you have called your lover. There is strength in you, and you must believe in it.”

“That wasn’t strength. That was me trying to imagine being you.”

“Never be ashamed of yourself. Never,” Thorin insisted as he watched you hang your head. “Be proud of who you are, because I know I’m proud of you.”

You looked at Thorin as he sat beside you on the bed and smiled weakly at him. “If only things were that easy. You’ve got to be careful here. Attacking someone is a serious offence, and you can be arrested for it. Ryan described you as his attacked and I knew straight away that it was you.”

Thorin scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Then he should not have dared touch you the way he did. Vile, disgusting piece of filth. No honour, no respect...”

You reached forward and touched Thorin’s hand. “Just be careful, please. I’m not worth getting yourself arrested for and thrown in prison. And, anyway, how have you become so good at sneaking about?”

“I may have borrowed your key,” Thorin said and then smirked. “I know that you leave your bag next to your bed, and after I heard your altercation, I could not allow him to get away with his actions.”

“So, you can see me even during the day time?” you asked.

“I can see you, but I cannot move into your world until the sun has set,” Thorin replied.

“I can only imagine the weird crap you’ve had to watch and hear,” you giggled.

Thorin looked at you, shifting so he could turn himself towards you. “Watching you and being able to sit beside you as you have slept has lightened by heart greatly, dear one. I am glad that at present the nights are longer. It means I have more time to spend with you.”

In that moment you decided not to ask any more questions, and just allow the situation to unfold naturally as it was meant to. There was some supernatural force at play here; you had no idea what it was, but you said a silent prayer in your heart, thanking whoever was responsible for giving you this chance to find a connection with someone who genuinely cared for you. If this was indeed the Thorin you had always admired, then you knew he was kind, honourable, steadfast and would do anything in his power to protect you, as long as your intentions to him remained true.

You leaned against Thorin, your cheek being tickled by the fur on his pelt. “Thank you,” you whispered. “For caring.”

Thorin kissed your head and drew his arm around you. “I not only care for you, my dearest, I love you.”

He loved you? You had been having suspicions since you first met him that his feelings for you ran deep, but the words actually being said hit you hard. You swallowed hard and your heart jumped as a pleasurable shiver wound its way down your body. This man was prepared to fight for you, attacking anyone who disrespected you and that made you yearn for him, as well as the lust in his eyes, the beautiful words he spoke and his gentle touch.

Your eyes remained locked for a few more seconds until you leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss against his lips. You felt his beard tickle your chin and you smiled beneath the kiss. And then you felt his hand brush up your cheek, cupping it and caressing your skin.

The kiss grew deeper until you both lost your breaths and the heat mounted to such a plateau that you found yourself straddling him, your hips rocking against his. His right arm was holding your body tight to him, and his left hand was still in your hair. Thorin groaned, the sound becoming lost between your locked lips, until he began nuzzling and sucking your neck.

“My love,” he moaned loudly against you.

You had never felt so loved, treasured and worshipped as you did in those moments with Thorin.

The excitement of having Thorin beside you only kept you awake for so long, until fatigue began to get the better of you. The Dwarf King held you in his arms as you both lay down on your bed, warm beneath the covers and encased in each other.

You breathed in deep, savouring Thorin’s unique aroma. It was so unlike anything you had smelled before; leather mixed with musk, with the slightest touch of tobacco and earth.

“You must rest now,” he told you, his deep voice resonating from within his chest and throat, then vibrating through you. That voice was enough to send you over the edge with delight.

Thorin began to hum against you and kissed your hair, holding you tight. However, the realisation that you wouldn't wake up next to him began to unfold and you turned around in his arms. He smiled as you faced him, and you suddenly had the urge to kiss his long nose. Thorin chuckled at the impact of your lips tickling his nose and held you even tighter.

“I want to wake up next to you but you’ll be gone in the morning,” you said sadly.

“Do not think on it just now,” Thorin told you. “Allow yourself to sleep. I will always be with you in spirit.”

[dearlytea]

A Photographer’s Excuse

Pairings: Barista!Namjoon x Photographer!Reader

Genre: Fluff 

Word Count: 1.7 K

Warnings: None

Summary: You can’t believe it worked.

A/N: Okay so for starters this drabble was not my idea. The idea is from an old one shot that I loved wayyy back before I even touched Tumblr. Now before you come into my inbox telling me I’m plagiarizing let me tell you this, I got the original author’s permission. Meaning I asked them personally myself if I could use this idea and re-write it myself with a different character. They gave me the okay and I began writing. If you don’t believe me, here's the screenshot of my message. (I blocked out my DeviantArt name for privacy reasons)

A big thank you to the original author who allowed me to re-write this adorable fic. idea into my own version, you can find the original here 

Anyways enjoy and thanks for being patient with me :) I’ll be sure to post longer fics asap once they are finished.

“Enjoy the rest of your day!” Namjoon calls out to the woman who is midway through the exit. She waves back then leaves the shop, giving Namjoon the chance to let out an exhausted sigh, another day done.

Namjoon hated working in the summer, he dreads it. He could be outside relaxing under the shade of the tree catching up on series he missed or hang out with his friends, but sadly as a broke college student, he needs to work. Luckily his job isn’t as bad as most part-time jobs.

He works in a little cafe not far from his University, a good 15-minute walk or a few bus stops away. Despite it being so close not a lot of student or even people come by, just same old regulars Namjoon would meet during his shifts. Yet even with the lack of customers, he definitely preferred it over Starbucks drinkers who would bring in a list of precise ingredients for their drinks, why would he want to work somewhere that would only stress him out even more?

“Joon!” A voice calls out to him from behind, looking back he sees his boss out of his usual uniform but with a rather cleaner get up, he knew instantly what he was called for.

‘I swear to god if he fucking asks to me to clos-

“I’m heading out early today for Rosa’s birthday. Can you close up today?” His boss asks, not aware of the boy’s annoyance.

‘And there's the winning million dollar question.’ He thought to himself. 

As much as he wanted to decline the request, he simply nods flaring a fake smile his way. He hates closing up but he hates not having money even more. “Of course Sir.” He answers formally.

“You’re a good man Joon,” he says while patting his back. “I’ll see you on Wednesday.”

Namjoon swears he just makes up excuses to leave early just to leave him to do his dirty work, it would make sense. Watching his Boss leave through the back door he grumbles out a threat then sighs, if only he could get paid more, maybe then he wouldn’t be annoyed with closing the shop almost every time. Taking the broom that's leaning against the wall he starts to sweep away the dust in hopes to also sweep away his annoyance.

Midway through sweeping a thought reminded him to lock the doors in order to avoid dealing with customers minutes before closing. Quickly he speed walks to the door, keys in hand, hoping his luck wouldn’t go against him, but sadly it did as the sound of doorbell rings.

He mentally groans. “Sorry,” he says while slowing down. “We are clos- Wait ____?”

There you are, in front of the door hunching forward, hands on your knees out of breathe.  You weakly held your hand up silently telling him to wait, he gets your message and stays silent.

While you’re in the middle of regaining your composure Namjoon’s heart is racing at the sight of you here, at his work, with no one else around, just you and him. The thought of being with you alone intimidated him, but it did also make him happy. Why? Cause he’s the reason why you wanted to see him, there is no other reason… Right?

As you slowly start to straighten out your posture he notices the new camera you raved about last month dangling by a black strap around your neck, he smiles fondly. You were an avid photographer, always going the extra mile for the perfect shot, collections upon collections of captured candids and even started making a career out of it. It was something you loved doing, a hobby you picked up during middle school, a passion that no one can understand but you.

Namjoon found it adorable, one of the sole reasons why he finds you so… perfect. Despite being so finicky about the perfect shot and mourning for hours about losing the opportunity to take pictures of something ethereal you were someone Namjoon admired. A person driven with so much passion with no care about what others thought about them. You did what mattered the most, doing what you love, and he found that so damn attractive.

He comes back from his thoughts after hearing you letting out a heavy relieved sigh. You finally meet eye to eye with him, bringing back the fast-paced beating of his heart. “Sorry, I really need your help Joonie,” you start off not aware of what effect you had on his poor heart.

Joonie, the nickname that he so long despises anyone else saying it but love every time it rolls off your tongue. “W-What is it?” He tries to ask normally but comes out in a stutter.

“I forgot to take a picture of someone for my monthly assignment, can you be my model?”

Fuck.

His lip tightens unsure what to say. As much as he wants to help you out, the inner conflicting insecurity he has with being in front of the camera seems to dictate his answer to your issue. “I don’t know….I-I’m not good at modeling,” he lamely answered.

You frown. “Come on Joonie, you just need to pose for me.”

Biting onto the inner part of his cheek he quickly lists out the pros and cons of both of his decisions. Even though he hated being the main focus when being in front of the camera, he hated the idea of upsetting you even more. If he were to decline he would for sure feel guilty about it later. After all, you sprinted here out of desperation for him and him only. “Alright, I’ll do it.”

Your once frowning lips slowly morphs into a bright smile causing your eyes to crease ever so slightly. The once lingering nervousness he had about agreeing disappeared for a mere few seconds at the sight of you being happy, god he was so whipped for you. Without a warning, you slam yourself onto his figure in order to squeeze him into a hug. He quickly prays to whoever controls faith that you wouldn’t hear his sudden accelerated heartbeat, it’s already nerve-wracking enough having you here alone with him, though it’s not bad if he has to admit.

You pull back from the hug, but only to beeline past him. Looking back he sees you scanning the place, probably just to find the right spot to take the picture. Your head stops at a table beside the window. A small corner in front of the fake plants with enough shade to filter out the sun’s blaring light, it was perfect.

“Joonie, over here!” You say pointing towards the spot, he nods then follow pursuit with what you wanted.

Once he gets behind the table he warily stands there confused. “Um…. How should I pose?”

“You can just stand there behind the chair and smile,” you explain getting your camera ready.

He nods placing his hand on the backrest. Moving the camera up to your eye your index finger hovers over the button readying the capture. Namjoon stands there silently, waiting patiently for you to take it, but to his demise, you put your camera down with a frown, and sadly he knows why.

“I-Is there something wrong?” He asks hoping he was wrong.

“Well…. “ You start off biting onto your bottom lip. “I feel like I’m Medusa and I just turned you into stone,” you deadpan, he chuckles a bit from your comment, feeling a little less stiff. “Come on relax a bit okay? I’m not going to judge your modeling skills.”

He slowly nods. As if you could read his mind you send him a soft smile causing his heart to erupt with pure joy and bliss, dear god he fucking loves your smiles. He smiles back feeling reassured by your kind gesture. Slowly his shoulders begin to ease back to normal along with the rest of his body, his tight posture is now relaxed settling into a comfortable professional pose, looking as if he owns the shop.

“Perfect! Now hold still…” You say steadily getting back into the previous position. Your finger hovers over the button for a few seconds before… 

Click!

The light of the flash goes off with the sound of lens following behind a second later, Namjoon flinches a bit then prays in his head hoping it didn’t ruin the shot. He sees you looking down at the camera taking the time to examine your picture, to his luck you look back at him with a smile. Before he could ask how the picture was you beeline towards him and engulf him into a hug.

“Thfaks youf Joonfie,” you mumble out into his chest.

You completely stunned the man, along with raising the chances of him getting a heart attack, by now you could for sure feel the beat of his heart. Not wanting to seem like an idiot, he quickly hugs you back, enjoying the warmth you gave off in this small embrace. “Y-You’re welcome.”

Once you pulled back you quickly went on your tippy toes to plant a small peck onto his cheek. “Thanks for the help Joonie, I’ll see you later.”

With that you rush out to take your exit, not giving the boy a chance to say anything. Though Namjoon was grateful you left. Otherwise, you would have witnessed his cherry-red cheeks embarrassing the boy even more. Placing a finger over the lingering spot he smiles softly completely love-struck.

After standing there for a few minutes, letting the dust settle in, he finally decides to go back to work. Instead of feeling the gnawing annoyance he had previously, he felt fuzzy and warm inside and out, both from helping you and for the little gift you left on his cheek.

Oh, the effects you had on him.

On another note, you are a few feet away from the Cafe, far enough away from the Cafe’s windows. Your body leans against the brick wall with your face squished into the palm of your hands. Lifting your head up you take a deep breathe in then exhale out in hopes to stop the beating of your own heart. The second it starts to calm down you waste no time taking your camera out wanting to see the picture again before you head off.

Pulling the picture out, you feel the racing beat of your heart again at the sight of his soft signature dimpled smile, it was beyond adorable. “If only you weren’t so shy in front of the camera...” You whisper out to yourself, feeling your cheeks glow from embarrassment.

“I can’t believe Taehyung’s creepy idea worked….”

[scriptureofashes]

Can I make a prompt request? Peter (a student) is stressing majorly over an essay he has to have finished in a few days, and he’s sleep deprived. After his 3rd all nighter, while pouring his 5th or so cup of coffee, he dozes off and pours hot coffee all over his hand. He plays it off as a joke and tries to go back to typing, but Tony and Steve are having absolutely none of it.

okay okay okay I’m sorry this took a while but it came out longer than I expected so I hope that makes up for it

(also my computer sucks, it keeps rebooting and deleting my Word drafts so I had to switch to Google docs aijsuhdhdudhdhsydhu)

side note: I assumed you wanted a stony fic, so I’ll just go ahead and say that this is post CW and IW, everything is dealt with, apologies were made, you know the drill. Also, since you just said Peter is a student, I went ahead and toyed with the concept of Peter in college, if that’s okay??

Peter always thought it was a joke. An exaggeration, he means. Something blown out of proportion to make college life sound harder than it actually is, to the point where it was pretty much a running gag rather than an actual phenomenon.

Staring at his laptop, eyes white-hot and fingers vibrating on the keyboard, he realizes he was wrong. He was so wrong about what he thought college was going to be like. Easier, a place where you’re in your element and all that prejudice you suffer through high school becomes utter and complete crap, and a time your life starts to forge itself at last.

He was so, so wrong about the easier part, college really is the land of hell and sleep deprivation, he thinks to himself, and cracks open his third can of Redbull. The numbers 3:07 stare at him almost impatiently from the corner of his too bright screen, as does the blinking text cursor on his newly opened Google document. Keyword: newly.

He has an essay due on Friday, which is in two days’ time, and he hasn’t even started it yet.

He’s been so caught up between his surprisingly demanding job at the Bugle as a photographer for Spider-Man and his work as Spider-Man every night that he fell behind on a monstrous pile of college essays and papers for all of his classes, due in the same week.

He doesn’t know when he started to carry coffee around everywhere, or how he’s pulled more than a couple all-nighters after some particular nights of rough crime-fighting. Then there’s May at the hospital, a can of worms he’s not opening.

He’s been managing, to say the least. Meet required attendance. Go to eight AM lectures. Report to Mr. Stark (after the events of the so called Infinity Wars he now reports to him directly) about Spider-Man. Report to Jameson. Get screamed at. Check up on May. Get possibly screamed at again. Put on the suit and patrol the city. Get beat at. Stumble into his dorm room (with new scrapes and bruises over the healing ones). Check due work. Drink coffee or energy drink (or both, twice). Get to work.

Lather, rinse and repeat.

But it’s either this, or give up one of the following: college or Spider-Man. And his thoughts on that go without saying, so he just sighs, shakes his head to clear the psychedelic outbreak of colors in his eyes, and burns the midnight oil.

During lunch on Thursday, Mr. Stark texts him an invitation to hang out at the compound. He’s attended a nine AM lecture and his follow-up morning classes on zero sleep, has yet to eat something since coming back from patrol last night and is on his way to visit Aunt May.

He misses his mentor. He still keeps in touch with Ned despite different college choices, occasionally passes MJ on some hallway and Harry’s inbox is always available, but it’s Tony Stark he can talk to about anything and everything. He knows what he’s been through. He knows what it’s like. He knows.

Aunt May has always been his rock—a guiding hand at his right. Mr. Stark’s is at his left.

Peter texts back his acceptance, figuring he can just take his laptop with him to the compound and finish his essay there.

“Didn’t you pick the place and the movie last time?”

“Yes, yes I did, because my good tastes take us to the best Italian restaurants in the city and movies with actual plot instead of some Morgan Freeman wannabe narrated documentary about mosquitoes.”

“That was one time, Tony.”

“My pants legit zipped themselves up, Rogers. Sexy beard or no sexy beard. Mosquitoes.”

Peter regrets a lot of things in his life. Uncle Ben is a no-brainer. Hopping on a donut spaceship is another. Going to college is now one of them, and so is his decision to study biophysics, which comes with the one to stay up for three nights in a row fueled by nothing except four cups of coffee and at least five different energy drinks.

He also regrets being stupid enough to get bit by a radioactive spider. His enhanced metabolism can go jump in the lake, because it makes the caffeine he’s been relying on utterly useless. He’s downed enough coffee to induce cardiac arrest—were he a bit more on the human side—yet the buzz he needs lasts only enough for him to type about fifteen words in before exhaustion comes back to rear its ugly head.

It’s happening now, he notes, as words swim in his eyes and the sound of Mr. Stark and Captain Rogers on banter about their eventful dates drowns out. He grasps the Starbucks Happy bought for him when picking him up, and it takes him more than he’d like to admit to register the hot splash and the sudden, searing pain in his right hand.

“Why are we even discussing this? You said you wanted to see Ocean’s 8 last thurs—Peter!”

Oh, so the scream really was from him.

“Jesus Christ, what the hell happened?”

Mr. Stark is off the couch’s arm and by his side before Peter can blink away his tears, holding and inspecting the back of his hand. Peter just shakes his head and his burning hand, more concerned about the coffee he just spilled all over his keyboard.

“Nothing! I just spilled coffee on my hand, it’s no big deal.”

“You just spilled hot coffee on your hand, no big deal my ass.”

Mr. Stark starts to pull him from his seat on the kitchen island, and Peter wants to reassure him it’s fine, he’s fine, even as he feels his hand blister and tears run down his face. He needs to finish this essay, he’s been slacking too much, his grades—

It’s when he hears water running and Captain Rogers saying, “Even Spider-Man needs to rest, kid,” that he realizes he’s been talking out loud. Mr. Stark’s hand is back on his and holding it under the water, ice cold and mind-blowingly relieving. Peter’s breath, uneven and like so unnoticed, steadily slows down enough for him to sigh and rub at his eyes.

Mr. Stark stares at him through the whole process. “When’s the last time you slept, Peter?”

“I’m not sure,” he lies. Mr. Stark gives him a look. “Three days ago?”

“Three days ago?”

“How have you managed to stay awake?” Captain Rogers asks. He’s cleaning up the coffee on the table and the computer. He’s also frowning at the screen.

“Coffee? Like,” Peter rubs his eyes again, “Lots of it. About… five cups a day, I think.”

“Five cups?” Mr. Stark repeats, turning off the faucet. He’s angry. “You’ve been drinking five cups of coffee a day? Kid, do you even realize what that does do you?”

“Uh, pot meet kettle?”

His mouth actually snaps shut at that. And anyone else would pass it for imagination, but Peter hears Rogers snort from his spot in front of Peter’s laptop.

“Okay, no. It’s one thing for me to do it. And in my defense, I don’t do it as often now.” Mr. Stark produces some sort of ointment tube out of a cabinet and wastes no time in rubbing it onto Peter’s hand. “You, however, are too young to start doing that already.”

Peter swallows back a remark on Mr. Stark’s age and says, “I had no choice, okay? You know that my metabolism is sort of shot through the roof. One or two wasn’t gonna cut it.”

“And you couldn’t manage to sleep a couple of hours in three days to recharge and write the essay?”

“No. It’s been… I… Between eight and nine AM lectures, patrolling the city and Aunt May in the hospital, I just… I didn’t have time, I kept trying but I always get back to my dorm so late it’s practically early, but my grade depends on this essay—”

“Okay, okay, okay.” Mr. Stark’s free hand rubs his shoulder the moment Peter’s anxiety makes a clear stand. “I understand, kid, I understand. But you’re allowed to cut back if your grades are slipping. You know that. You didn’t cut back in high school and it wasn’t pretty, remember? You have to cut back.”

Peter nods his head along. “Yes, yes I do, I know, but the due date is tonight at midnight and I haven’t even met the minimum required words, and I still need to visit Aunt May—”

“What’s your degree, Peter?” Captain Rogers interrupts smoothly. “If you don’t mind me asking, that is.”

“Uh, biophysics.”

Rogers nods. “And what’s the essay about?”

“Ah, well, you see—”

“Honey, you know I mean no offense when I say I might be of more help there—”

“Yes, I know, it’s okay. It’s just that,” and Rogers looks like he wants to smile but tightens his lips instead, “I’m reading some of what you wrote, Peter, and I’m pretty sure the recipe for chicken nuggets has nothing to do with Physics.”

Peter stares. Mr. Stark stares.

“What.”

“Okay, so here’s what we’re gonna do,” Mr. Stark starts, now wearing a similar expression to the Captain’s, already maneuvering Peter around the kitchen counter. “We’re gonna get you some chicken nuggets—”

Peter laughs a bit too hard at that. His burn is now a dull throb, thanks to his advanced healing and Mr. Stark’s quick reaction.

“Now, seriously. We’re gonna get you to bed so you can sleep like the dead, I’m going to go through your work and help you out—”

“No, Mr. Stark, you don’t have to do that—”

“I said I was gonna help you out, as in leave a few pointers. I’m not going to write it for you, kid. Lord knows you can probably do a better job than me.”

Peter opens his mouth to counter that, but then it’s Rogers guiding him out of the room instead, Mr. Stark sat in front of his laptop. The Captain’s hand on his shoulder is gentle, so gentle he’s remembering how tired he is. It’s even gentler when he sways on the spot and it steadies him.

“You’re going to get some sleep while Tony works his magic,” Cap says with a reassuring smile. Mr. Stark is already typing as he speaks. “We’ll explain everything to your aunt, she’ll understand. And we’ll wake you up before midnight, enough for you to finish this essay and for us to have a long overdue talk about how to properly balance your school life and Spider-Man.”

“I’ll arrange a time schedule for you and all that jazz,” Mr. Stark adds. “Complete with tips on how to control one’s spidery alter-ego, how to study something that one twerp professor makes you hate with every fiber of your being and how to keep yourself from murdering your snoring roommate.”

Peter blinks. “You listen to my voicemails?”

“I happened to stumble upon that one. And the one about how you scaled a building just to get to class in time and climbed in through the window five seconds before the professor and the security guard arrived. Now that’s a story I gotta hear.”

He stops typing and stares at Peter for a few long moments.

“Go catch some Z’s, kid. You’ll be okay.”

Then he goes back to typing.

As he’s steered in the direction of his complimentary compound bedroom, Cap leans in and whispers, “Yes, he does listen. And he always reads your texts, by the way, even if he doesn’t always reply.”

“I can hear you two conspiring, Steve!”

They reach the open door of his bedroom, the bed so inviting Peter nearly throws himself on it, shoes and jeans be damned.

On his way back, Cap ruffles his hair.

“Sleep well, Peter. Everything will be okay.”

Later, as he works the last two paragraphs of a much more impressive essay on zilch caffeine and six hours of sleep, Mr. Stark at his side with a mug of tea much like his own and the Captain’s, a half-empty family box of KFC and the Discovery channel on background, Peter thinks it really might just be.

[keelywolfe]

Third in the ‘by any other name’ series

Summary:

Edge just wants two things; his lover to be safe and a good place to get a cup of coffee. Naturally, this is too much to ask.

Notes:

I'm just amusing myself at this point. Can't they just be sarcastic and witty and love each other for a little while?

The Beanery wasn't in the most prime location for a coffee shop. Starbucks had claimed all those in town, with at least three in easy walking distance of the college. Despite that, the shop did modest business, particularly with the unspoken knowledge that Monsters were welcome.

Edge parked his car in the outer part of the lot, with spaces empty next to him on both sides. Another little habit that he didn't bother attempting to break; it was safer to have a clear line of sight with the extra bonus of no one being able to ding his car and if Stretch was going to grumble about the walk, he could take a shortcut to the passenger side.

If he was going to talk to Edge this afternoon, that was. This morning had been unpleasantly quiet, to be sure.

Getting Stretch to agree with letting Edge drop him off for a few days had taken more than a little persuasion. Not that he wasn't allowed to take the bus; as per his agreement with the King, after Stretch had signed the statement and deleted a few choice selections from his twitter (and agreed not to post any new ones. And to not ask anyone else to do it for him. And to not post anything to Reddit, Snapchat, Instagram or any other place on the internet or undernet with regards to the Ebott Police. Honestly, Edge hadn't read the entire agreement but he had no doubt Antwan had been thorough). After he'd signed it, he'd had his full privileges reinstated.

It was Edge who was having a difficult time letting him take the bus. Just thinking of Stretch sitting in a cramped vehicle, likely wearing headphones and barely paying attention to his surroundings, humans all around him…and the creature who'd tried to hit him was out there, in the city, perhaps considering retaliation—

Edge was very, very good at compartmentalizing, but not where Stretch was concerned.

Stretch was fairly reasonable about Edge's completely unreasonable concerns, but trying to infringe on the freedom he'd just gotten back hadn't gone over well. That night wasn't the first time Stretch had slept on the sofa, refusing to come to their bed, but it was the first time Edge hadn't left him there alone. He'd sat on floor beside the sofa, leaning against it and listening to Stretch's even breathing the entire night. Stretch was fine, perfectly fine, and Edge hadn't at all spent the night coming up with elaborate fantasies on how to secretly murder the creature who'd dared trying to hurt what was his.

He was under no illusions as to what he would have done if the human had managed it.

Stretch had awoken early to find him still sitting there, shadows beneath his sockets, and his emotional walls crumbling. It hadn't taken him a moment to slide to the floor, crawling half into Edge's lap, arms around his waist and burying his face into his shirt.

"you can chauffeur me around for this week only," Stretch had told him, his voice still sleep-rough. "find a way to get over it, lover; i already told you, the collar and leash stay in the bedroom."

Find a way to get over it.

Right.

The bell on the door rang cheerily as Edge stepped inside. At this time of the afternoon, there were a few college students taking advantage of the free Wi-Fi and no one else in the shop.

Except Stretch, who instead of sitting at his regular table was wearing one of the barista's green aprons, sweeping the floor.

"What are you doing?" Edge asked, resigned.

"uh, cleaning?" His tone clearly suggested that Edge was the crazy one.

Of course. "Let’s try again. Why are you doing that?"

"well, see, that’s a long story but what really matters is they are letting me work off my debt. it’ll only take....what did you say, debbie? five days?"

The shop owner looked up from behind the counter. "Four, sweetie, today counts."

"four days!" Stretch said cheerily. He moved the broom over the floor in exactly the manner of someone who had no idea how to sweep.

Edge stepped up to the counter, surveying the various containers and cake stands filled with treats. Nothing seemed out of place or missing. "What did he break?"

"Sorry, hun," Debbie shook her head and set a steaming cup in front of Edge. "I’m sworn to secrecy."

Wonderful, he was converting people to his side.

Stretch slouched up next to him, flopping down on the counter. "i mean, i am sorry. i really thought it would work. i did the math and nitrous isn't dangerous in those quantities anyway—"

"Stretch…"

"—besides, it would really help with their cold brew. if it worked."

Debbie patted him lightly on the skull and Edge struggled not to tense. He knew the woman had no ill intent but the instinct was hard to ignore. Particularly right now, his emotions roiling far too close to the surface. "I know, dear, you did try."

"You have been allowed back into the city for one day," With a sigh, Edge reached for his wallet, "What does he owe you?"

A hand slapped his own against his pelvis, pinning it down. He did not lash out, he had far better control than that, but the urge still flickered, viciously suppressed. Another coffee may not have been the best idea for his nerves, not with internal volcano he was battling.

"uh uh, sugar daddy, i can pay my own debts."

"Can I at least pay for my coffee?" Edge asked dryly, tugging free and handing Debbie a bill. He waved away the change. "You are not allowed to get me banned from this coffee shop. I like this coffee shop and I don’t want to find another."

"We'd never ban you two, hun. The way you both drink coffee, you're putting my son through college," she patted Stretch on the skull again. "He just needs a job to keep him busy. I keep telling him he needs to start a YouTube channel. His Twitter is hilarious."

"maybe someday," Stretch rolled his head enough to look up at her, "and then years from now you can look back and say you knew me when."

He shifted to stand upright, posing majestically with broom in hand. He looked like a movie poster for a new Simon Pegg film, something about ninja janitors, perhaps. The sight settled something in him, made him want to pull Stretch in and hold him. Instead, Edge pulled out his phone and took a picture.

Stretch sidled over and looked over his shoulder, "who are you sending that to?"

"Blue."

"good, tell him to fucking call me. he’s two continents away, i could use a check in."

Now there was some information. Stretch always managed to be chatty and at the same time saying a frustrating amount of nothing. That he hadn't spoken to his brother lately was worthy of note. "I’d assumed he was calling you daily while you were home bound."

Stretch turned away, sweeping with sudden intensity. Ah yes, that was about as subtle as a flying chainsaw.

"Rus?" Edge prompted, softly.

He waited patiently, watching Stretch fumbling with the dust pan. When that became too much for him to bear, he took it away, crouching to hold it while Stretch swept his feeble pile of dirt and straw wrappers into it. He was empting it into the waste bin when Stretch finally muttered. "i didn’t tell him."

"What?"

"i didn't tell him," Stretch said louder. He flopped into a chair, shrinking away from Edge's look. "he would have come home. his work is important. we can’t just rely on our trade agreements with this country."

Edge exhaled slowly. Difficult to argue either point, particularly since he knew Stretch was right. Blue was part of an envoy visiting overseas working towards increasing their revenue and goodwill but if he heard what had happened, Edge had no doubt he'd be on a plane home immediately. His own brother was along as a bodyguard, of all things, and he never would have expected Red to take the job so seriously. He'd changed since they'd come to the surface in ways Edge never could have anticipated.

"did you tell your brother?"

Then again, some things never changed. "Of course not. I don’t have to tell Red anything. He knew before I'd even gotten you out of the cell and since he hasn’t told Blue, I assume he’s agreeing with your stupidity. Older brothers..."

Stretch looked at the floor, downcast, and Edge made a mental note to ensure Blue called him by the end of the night. Just talking to his brother would improve Stretch's mood.

"How long do you need to sweep?" Edge gave the broom a nudge with his toe, waking Stretch from his contemplation.

"huh? oh, it’s fine," Stretch took off the apron and handed it over the counter. "thanks, deb, i told you he’d believe it."

"You were right, next coffee is on the house." She folded the apron with an amused grin and then handed over a paper bag to Stretch. "And here, for fixing the steamer for us."

"no problem," he shrugged awkwardly and took the bag. Edge didn't have to look inside to know it was lemon bars.

"If I had an ass, you'd be the biggest pain in it," Edge grumbled. This would be the first of many paybacks for refusing to let Stretch ride the bus, he was sure. He didn't care; whatever petty amusements Stretch came up with were worth the price.

Stretch slung his arms around Edge's shoulders, pressing their foreheads together. "you love me."

"I do," Edge said. Faint orange tinted Stretch's cheekbones and Edge pressed a kiss there. Only to glance to the side to see Deb watching them like a particularly good cable movie, her chin propped on her hands. If her eyes could have morphed into hearts, he had no doubt they would have in an instant.

"Don't mind me," Deb grinned. "You aren't bothering us, are they, guys?"

An absent murmur of agreement came up from the college students who weren't wearing headphones. None of them looked up.

"Come on," Edge grumbled, catching up the strap of Stretch's laptop bag, waving to Debbie as he guided Stretch out the door. "We need to get home. Antwan and An—Jeff are coming over for dinner tonight."

"really?" Stretch all but glowed at that news, melancholy forgotten. "they are actually coming to dinner together? my own personal matchmaking project is coming to us?"

"They're already dating, you don't need to matchmake."

"Oh, please, like antwan won't find a way to fuck it up? we both know better."

"We know no such thing. The only thing I know is that Antwan is going to murder you if you don't stop calling him Andy and I may let him."

Stretch's look said exactly how much he believed that. "the important thing is how does andy feel about it."

"I think 'Andy' has Stockholm syndrome and would probably let you call him Pricilla." Edge climbed into the driver's side and waited for Stretch to fasten his seatbelt before backing out. "I feel like we should discuss this odd cult of fans you're getting."

"they are called followers and twitter is not a cult."

"Of course," Edge sighed. "I'm not worried about your twitter harem. The living one you're slowly gathering is what concerns me. Just promise me you won't use your powers for evil."

"you know i love you," Stretch reached over and patted his knee. "but i can't make you a promise i might not keep."

Edge was fairly certain that nothing he'd done in life was worthy of this punishment. Maybe it was time to let Stretch take the bus again…then again, that was how he'd met An—damn it. Jeff. "Let's just worry about dinner tonight."

"what's to worry about?" Stretch yawned. "you'll cook, i'll entertain. what could possibly go wrong?"

Edge wished that sounded less like a prophecy. He really did.

-finis-

Read the Next One

[x-reader-theater]

Heart

Relationship: Peter Parker X Fem!Reader

Prompt: “Hey! Could I request a soulmate AU in which they are in college but vaguely knew each other in high school. They’re not in the same classes but randomly find out they’re soulmates. I just thought of this idea, love your writing! 💕👏🏻”

Summary: You never thought that you would be one of the people to lose your soulmate before you even found him...

Warnings: None really, it’s just really short XD

Word Count: 842

A/N: I’m sorry I haven’t been posting as much, I’ve just been super stressed with work and I haven’t found time to write and have ideas at the same time, that’s why this is so short, but I want to thank the person who gave me this prompt, it was so sweet of them to do so, and I am, as of today, going to have tagging on my fics, so please message me or ask me if you want to be tagged in my fics! I’m not going to be able to post as regularly as i wanted to, but I’ll be able to as much as I can. Thank you to the person who sent in this prompt! <3

You were late. You didn’t know how this happened, but maybe it had something to do with you pressing snooze on your alarm five times before finally waking up. That couldn’t be the case. You had an important meeting with Professor Saxby, your Literature teacher who you planned to meet with to talk about your latest project. It was a photo project, where you would ask some of your fellow students to dress up and act out scenes from the book you were reading, Shakespeare’s Hamlet. It was your favourite of his plays, the suspense, the drama, the killing. You could recite the entire play word for word, and damn it you were proud of yourself.

You were studying to become a Shakespeare analyst, and enter the realm of teaching, teaching what you know to others who have the same passion and drive about Shakespeare that you had. It was a difficult subject, you couldn’t lie, but it was all worth it if you could have your dream job.

You were running through the courtyard, jumping over studying students who were finally outside, getting the sun they needed while studying for their 15,000 word essays due in three days, and sitting under trees, reading a book they were supposed to finish four days ago. You jumped and ran, sprinting past groups of people, or knocking over others entirely. Throwing open the doors, you race to your objective, looking down at your watch, seeing you only have a minute to get to her office, looking down, when you bump into someone, and your entire world flashes with colour.

Your eyes widen, looking up, and you see a boy. He was a familiar boy, with familiar brown hair and eyes, pale skin, and a smile that could melt the world. “It’s you…” he trails off, but you didn’t have time for that.

He grabs your hand, but you rip it away from him, saying, “I’m sorry, but I really have to go…” You turn away and rush off towards the door, with only a few seconds to spare. Knocking, a woman with bright blonde hair opens it, and she smiles at your shaking form, heaving breaths making almost no sound.

“Ah yes, Y/N. You’re right on time. Please, come in,” she says and you nod, smiling. She turns and you glance back to the spot where you ran into that boy, your soulmate, but he’s nowhere to be found. You might have just missed your chance.

Exiting to office, a huge grin on your face, you slip through the halls, not giving a fuck if you were laughed at. You were just so happy today. Your project was approved, and you found your soulmate, but then lost him again.

It was going to take a while to track him down but he did seem familiar, like you had met before, but only briefly.

You hated the drama that was plaguing your life right now, mostly because you had much more important things to do right now, but a little distraction from school work could help you get back on track.

Deciding to do some research, you make your way to the closest Starbucks, going to every social media platform you’ve ever had. Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, you even logged onto your old MySpace account, though it all was a dead end. So he wasn’t someone you were friends with on any of those, but maybe you met him at a party, and had gotten a drunk picture of him. After about an hour of searching, it was a dead end as well.

“Hey!” You hear someone yell at you. “Are you gonna buy something, or are you just gonna use up all the bandwidth of your wifi?” You close your computer and put it away, walking up to the counter, blushing and smiling in embarrassment.

“I’m sorry,” You look up at the barista and your eyes widen. It was the boy, the one who bumped into you today. “Oh,” you smile, “Hi.”

His eyes were wide and his mouth was moving like he was going to say something, but nothing was coming out. “Hello,” He ends up whispering.

“Funny meeting like this. We either always seem to bump into each other or yell at each other,” You laugh and he smiles.

“Actually, we used to go to highschool together. I sat behind you every day in English,” He says, blushing. “I used to think you were really pretty.” This comes out as a whisper.

Smiling, you lean over the counter and kiss his cheek, sliding a piece of paper into his pocket. “Well, I think you’re cute too.” And with that, you walk off, leaving through the front doors for him to stare at you.

He reaches into his packet and pulls out the note, and reads aloud. “Oh, just so you know, the name’s [Y/N], and you’re really cute.” Your number is scrawled in blue ink on the bottom of the note, a little heart next to it, and Peter smiles.

[brokebuckkmountain]

Some more gems from your favorite grumpy barista

Sometimes I need to vent and post while sitting in the break room, but I’ve overall decided to keep my work-related stories in long posts under the cut. Since this isn’t a barista blog and I’m sure most of you don’t care. But anyways, people have been trying me these past two weeks.

me: Hi, how are y-

customer: Iced green tea!

me: What size would you like?

customer: Venti.

me: Can I get you anything els-

customer: I want soy.

me: ...In your iced green tea?

customer: (looking at me like I was dropped as a child) Ugh, no I want a green tea latte! God!

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This one customer let his two toddlers run through my store, screaming and grabbing things- it was so obnoxious that several customers commented on it. As I’m in the middle of helping a wonderful older lady, he walks up to my register from the wrong side of the line and interrupts us to say “How much is this?”. If it was anything else I would have told him to wait, but he was holding up a banana and I know off the top of my head those are $1, so I answered. After I was done with my customer, he walks up to me, throws a dollar at me, and walks off, sneering at me when I said “have a nice day”.

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This one girl wanted a refill on her iced green tea (and she even changed what she originally got, so I rewrote her cup for her) and was shocked when I said it was 50 cents. Apparently she saw somewhere they were free, and argued with me that I shouldn’t charge her. She even had me get a more experienced barista to back me up. When we both confirmed that refills were 50 cents, she went “Nevermind, I don’t even want it anymore. Give me my cup back!” All this, over two freakin quarters. And better yet, in the time it took me to deal with her, my line got long, so my manager came out and chided me for letting it get so long.

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I’ve had whole massive groups of people not know what size they want, and whenever I ask them, they all go “uh....” and think about it for awhile. Because apparently seeing their four friends before them get asked didn’t clue them in to the fact that they’d need too know. Worse yet, I’ve had singular people order 5+ drinks and struggle to come up with a size for each one.

----------------------------------

Today a women tried to pay me with her Starbucks card, and rather than the old “oh no I’m paying!”-”no no I’ve got it!” shtick older women like to do, her friend literally shoved her away from my register to pay me herself; they jockeyed back and forth against each other like that for awhile while I tried to inform them that whoever was paying, I swiped the card on my side.

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customer: (after letting her four children all order for themselves, so a mass of frappuccinos I had to pull teeth to get) And can I get two vanilla creams? Grande?

me: Do you mean the vanilla cream frappucinos? (please understand that half of the time someone orders a frappuccino from me, they just say “(flavor) cream”, so that’s what I’m used to assuming)

customer: Uh, no. I want it hot.

me: You want... hot vanilla cream? Like just the cream? Do you mean vanilla flavored steamed milk?

customer: God, just ask one of the people who actually make the drinks. They’ll know better than you.

(because apparently this woman has never step foot into a Starbucks before and doesn’t realize we all have the same job, and just switch positions)

So I explained the situation to my coworker on bar, who proceeds to explain in unnecessary detail that I need to find “steamed milk” on the register and add vanilla flavor. Ya know, rather than saying “Yes Sarah it is exactly what you guessed it was”. So I looked like an idiot, confirming everything the bitchy customer already thought.

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This one girl ordered a Trenta Very Berry Hibiscus with “extra extra ice”, watched me make the entire drink, and as I was pouring it into her cup, she goes “Um, actually, I changed my mind. Can you do it light ice instead? Like less than the normal amount?”

To which I said “sure”, smiled, and dumped out the entire drink I had just made because it was already all shaken together.

----------------------------------

I had a woman continually badgering my coworkers and me about her scone during a rush, despite the long line of warmings before hers. And the fact that we were on bar and had never spoken to her before, nor were we heating the food. My coworker and I were in the middle of solving an actual problem with coffee grounds, and she kept interrupting us every 10 seconds about if we knew if her goddamn scone was coming. She would also watch everytime the girl doing warmings would call out a food item (warm bagel, panini, etc, for Bill or some shit) and interrupt us to go “Umm I think that’s mine? Can you check?”

----------------------------------

customer: Which of your frappuccinos can someone with diabetes have?

me: Literally none of them.

(this person also apparently didn’t know the dietary restrictions that come with having diabetes because she went through every item on the menu and asked if she could have it)

----------------------------------

On a similar note, yesterday I had a woman order a chicken panini from me, had me warm it up, then came back 30 seconds later to complain to my manager that she was vegetarian and couldn’t eat it.

----------------------------------

I don’t know why this keeps happening, but I keep having these couples come to my register, and while the girlfriend is ordering, the boyfriend has his arms around her waist and is kissing on her neck and whispering in her ear. Like please take that PDA shit elsewhere, you can have your foreplay after you order your frappuccinos. Ya nasties.

----------------------------------

I’ve given a few customers drip coffees, only for them decide they didn’t want the sleeve and wordlessly throw it back at me.

----------------------------------

“Can I get a grande drip in a venti cup, no room?” No, because if there was no room it’d be a venti drip, how stupid do you all think I am?

----------------------------------

customer: (seeing that I am completely out of straws on the bar and also in the middle of making a thousand drinks) Um, I need my straw.

me: I’m actually out of those right now, but if you look right behind you on the condiment bar there are a bunch.

(walking that five feet and getting his own was a real inconvenience, apparently)

----------------------------------

customer: (orders a $2 coffee and tries to pay me with a $100 bill)

me: I’m sorry, I actually don’t have enough change in my till for that.

customer: Can’t you just do it anyway?

me: Not if you want all of your change back.

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(during rushes, sometimes another barista will write the cups of the people in line for me and I’ll just ring when they get to me)

me: Hi, what’ll it be for you today?

customer: (pointing to coworker writing cups) She knows.

(sometimes they just wordlessly point)

me: Okay, I still need to know what you ordered so I can ring you up though.

----------------------------------

me: Can I get your name please?

customer: (stares at me for a long time) Just put the letter K.

(variations of this one happen all the time. what do you think I’m going to do with your name, bro?)

----------------------------------

me: Can I get your name please?

customer: It’s (whisper-mumbles something I can’t make out)

me: I’m sorry, what was that?

customer: (angrily) D-A-V-E!

(listen if your name is some shit like Dave or Kim or John and you’ve gotten it spelled wrong, someone did it to mess with you because you’re a dick. we all know how to spell your name.)

----------------------------------

(during a rush)

coworker: Remember to ask how they like it spelled. Especially Sarah’s. They all really like it when you ask how their name is spelled, it’s super important.

me: You realize Sarah is my name, right??

----------------------------------

customer: Can I get a grande nonfat mocha?

me: Sure!

customer: Make sure it’s nonfat.

me: Oh yeah, I got that.

customer: And make it 14 pumps of mocha.

me: ....

----------------------------------

(grown ass adult) customer: Can I get an octopus cookie? I want a purple one though, not an orange one! You have purple left, right? I want purple!

----------------------------------

woman I have literally never seen before in my life: I’ll have my regular.

----------------------------------

customer: I’ll have a coffee.

me: Just a regular drip coffee? What size?

customer: No, no, I want your ground coffee.

me: Are you talking about a hot drink, or a-

customer: (yelling) Ground coffee! Ground! Ground!

me: I-

customer: It’s all ground up!

me: Oh, do you mean the icy ground up drinks? The frappuccinos?

customer: Yeah, that one.

----------------------------------

I also had a woman (who only ordered a water) tell me the government had stolen 6 thousand dollars form her, that schools teach young women to prostitute themselves, and that she was convinced her daughter was into prostituting as well because she came home in such high heels and short skirts. I eventually was able to politely mover her along, as I had a growing line.

----------------------------------

(the customer was incredibly cheerful and nice this entire interaction, btw)

me: Can I get your name please?

customer: Sure, it’s Jared. What’s your name? (reads name tag) Oh, Sarah! That’s my sister’s name.

me: Oh nice, is she an H or no H?

customer: I don’t really know, she changes it all the time... I haven’t seen that bitch in years though, so who cares? Have a nice day!

[writingforyourpleasure]

ON THE ROAD AGAIN

Characters: GERARD WAY x Reader 

 Link to chapter four :   https://writingforyourpleasure.tumblr.com/post/616411340391759872/on-the-road-again

Warnings : None 

 Author’s note: Hello ! Hope you’re all doing okay during those strange times ? Sorry for not posting but I had my en-of-the-year exam, but it’s now done and , I only got a few homework to hand-over now and my second year in college’ll be done !Here you go thank you to keep reading .

5.      “ Pun-master “

  You woke up, feeling something or someone moving in front of you . You started to groan at the uncomfortable feeling not wanting to get up just yet.

“And what owe me the pleasure to be assisted by your presence tonight sir Way?” You said while looking for plates.

The mass finally moved away , listening to your complains .

You woke up what felt just five minutes later but probably was in reality hours after it. Your eyes fluttered slowly as if they were disconnected from your brain. A light shine from the outside was peeking through your tinted window as soon as you truly started to wake up , you realized that Gerard wasn’t here anymore.

“Right…” You breathed out to yourself. Honestly you didn’t want to wake up. You were scared , scared of overthinking this , and because of that you actually was overthinking it . Your brain wasn’t playing on your favor . You didn’t knew how you were gonna survive today. The worst was, you didn’t knew how to act with Gerard , what happened yesterday night wasn’t that big of a deal, really , but again ; you were overthinking it . You just wanted to act normal with him , and was prying your brain to not let you down once you’ll see him. You felt so stupid for having a crush on one of your coworker and friends. You got up and hoped for the best.

You got out of your nest , only to find that you were alone in the bus and that you already had arrived into the next parking’s venue . You went directly to the kitchenette and groaned realized that you guys were short on coffee. You finally resigned yourself and went for the shower.

You got out of the bus a dozen of minutes later to find the parking lot empty except for the security that was already keeping everything on check. You checked your phone to see that it was 3pm . You had enough time, to get yourself a coffee somewhere and not stressing about when to comeback since you didn’t had to repeat with Dex or anything. You put back in your , old black Green Day’s hoodie, pocket your phone . You’ve dressed yourself as unfashionable as it is socially allowed , your laziness was clearly reflecting itself through most of your actions today. You put your headphones on , listening to the last Fever 333’s album and searched on google maps for the nearest Starbucks, once again a reflect of your laziness you figured.

You arrived to the welcoming smell of dirty beans being ground and hot milk.

Once you got your order you looked around for a seat since the place was pretty full, luckily you got one in front of the glass and on both sides what appeared to be two couples . Great. You hope that you’ll be lucky and won’t have to witness the same amount of smooshing in both of them. The teenage one , on your right , were the ones all over each other, with the boy groping at every part accessible of his what-you-presumed-to-be his girlfriend. The one on your left were two men in suits holding each other hands while talking , you sat facing the widow and the other empty seat. You got out of your backpack your sketch book and a pencil starting to draw people passing by while music took you in other world. A tap on your shoulder took you of guard , you got off your headphones .

“Yes ?” you turned around your head to see who was trying to get your attention.

“Hey, is this seat taken ?” Dex was smiling down at you with a big smile.

You said nothing instead kicking the seat in front of you, back to the glass for them to seat.

“I feel like it’s been a while since we talked .” Dex said sitting and looking expectantly at you.

“What are you talking ‘bout we talked just yesterday.” You said not looking up from your sketch book.

“Don’t play dumb y/n , you know what I mean. Like just the two of us ?” Dex sighed , seeing that you decided to not play cooperative . This time you did look up to your friend with a blank expression . Watching their eyebrows furrowed in confusion. It’s true , lately you tried to somewhat distance yourself since you were trying to figure out what the hell was happening with Gerard and you knew that being close to Dex would not help one second . Your friend knew how to read you even when you tried to hide something as well as you could. You had thinked that if Dex was about to ask questions it would make it weird since you were all working together . If you fucked up at any moments , you’ll have nowhere to hide and sometimes it can be a great deal of pain . But apparently you didn’t succeed not to make it awkward since your friend was not so happy that you act a little colder than usual . You were already fucking cold to any strangers , so to be cold to them was shitty. You sighed and run a hand through your now greasy hair . You needed to take a shower quickly , maybe it could wait after the show .

“Hey earth to y/n, hellooo?”

“Huh yeah sorry I was gone for a few…”

“Yeah no shit .”

“Sorry… like for all of it it’s true I’ve been kinda avoiding you guys.”

“Meh it happens , I mean it’s okay we all got our own problems.”

Dex tried to stay warm inside of the Starbucks but you could sense that being against a cold ass window wasn’t helped them to get the warmth that provided the Starbucks.

“I’m so cold….” They whispered as they took a gulp from their drink.

“Well….then stand in a corner .” You replied taking a large gulp of your hot drink too.

“What-Why ?”

“Think..”

“No….. please tell me it’s not because of what I think dude.”

“Coz’ corners are 90 degrees.” You said with a smug smile.

“Ho god …. Ok you know what maybe it’s for the best to be socially distant haha. It is so bad please do not do that again?”

“You’re asking way to much to the pun master .”

“More like the master of fucking nothing y’mean .”

“What did you said peasant , I think I didn’t quite hear that ?”

“Ho nothing .” said your friend smiling like a fool.

“Y/N I’m still fucking cold !” Said your friend trying to warm themselves up by rubbing strongly their arms.

“And how is that my problem , my dear?”

“Someday I really am going to kill you , y’know?” Told Dex between their teeth, with a little grunt along the way.  

“Y/N , Can I borrow your scarf? I’m seriously freezing. ”

“Well I can’t turn into a heater for you now can I? So do you want me to set you on fire? Because, I mean it’s still an option? Like I have my lighter right here so….?” You joked while giving them your scarf.

They gave you a warning glance as if they believed you . Then on a very exasperate note they sighed and said :

“Why are you like this?”              

You both laughed at that getting some curious looks from other clients. Once both of calmed down you try to get serious talking about the elephant in the room .

“Hey , can I ask your advice on something?”

“Absolutely , but I only advise communication, homosexuality, or murder.” Answered your friend earning a smug know-it-all smile out of you.

You were about to start to get off of your chest the whole “Hey I think I may or may not like the lead singer of the band for which we’re working for.” They cut you off.

“WAIT!”

“Yeah ?”

“Are you absolutely positive this isn’t dangerous or something?” They looked very serious about this , which had the reflex to make you roll your eyes deep inside your skull.

“I’m 95% sure, but yeah, I’ve failed fourth grade math so…” You decided to answer her stupid question with a stupid answer.

“Ho okay then we’re good I failed second grade! So just before we start , how long will this take ? I got to pick up my dog at the salon. «You both laughed at that. «No but like seriously we’ll have to go back to the bus eventually . Maybe tell me along the way back?”

“Alright , alright” You both got up from your seats and finally got out of the Starbucks.

“So huh, you remember when we got the 1 week break , alright?”

“Right. “

“Well huh, me and Gerard started talking by text pretty often during this time.”

“Ho. Did you now ?” They said waving their eyebrows in a suggestive way.

“No not like that calm down, you demon fuck .”

“Always a pleasure to fill my responsibilities.”

“You weirdo….” You whispered under your breath.

“Ho do not act if you aren’t even weirder man ! “

“Anyway, I just , I don’t know . I think, I think I may like him y’know?”

“Well it’s pretty comprehensible , I mean he’s hot .”

“I’m not talking about this you twat!”

“Ho c’mon you can’t say he isn’t !”

“Haha ,He is , I ‘ve sight too I’d let you know. It’s just not the point here .”

“You do? Sorry it’s hard to tell when you dress yourself like that .

“You bitch!” You choked on your drink , coughing violently.

“I’m just kind of dreading to really assuming the whole ‘hey by the way I’m hitting on you’ I don’t want to make it weird during the tour , when we’re not even at the half of it. And I don’t wish for everyone to see that I am hitting on him. I’m not ready.” You explained to Dex , not really wanting to expose everything you and Gerard said or do , foremost because there’s not that much to say

“Maybe not hitting on him is a good call since if you do I’m pretty sure he’s gonna freak out hearing your lame puns.”

“May I recall to you that I’m the pun-master AND the master of pickup lines ?”

“You completely suck at pickup lines, bro.”

“No I don’t !”

“The last time you tried one of you’re pickup lines was on this poor cute girl in Louisiana when you said ‘Are you Google –“

“CUZ YOU’RE EVERYTHING I’M SEARCHING FOR !!!”

“Yeah no wonder it didn’t worked !”

“I’m a genius , you’ll miss me when I’m gone.”

“You wish . So why are you’re feeling attracted to the guy ?”

“Well you see my kink is when people actually care about my feelings and what I have to say. And Since I know him he seems to correspond to this criteria , so I find it pretty attractive and hot since it’s my main kink.”

“Yeah , too unrealistic. Settle for bondage like the rest of us.”

“Where you ever nice Dex ?”

“2012, worst year of my life.” You laughed at what your friend said . “No but more seriously y/n, just let it happen y’know? And when you have the feeling that both of you are having a moment then maybe hit on him but stay subtle y’know?”

“I just want him to take me out…”

“Like, on a date or with a sniper ?”

“He’ll have to surprise me .” You both laughed before changing the subject to the little surprise you’ve both had planned for Max, since he was spending all of his nights and days working on your band , you wanted to do something nice for him. You bought a cookbook a few weeks ago for him as a present for the occasion, he often baked pastries as a distressful way to exhale from work time. Even though the bus condition made it hard to cook anything big it already was a good start. And you bought some bottle of Irish hard cider, since he had said it was the best thing he ever tasted when you all took a vacation to Dex family house there. After getting back to the bus everything went pretty fast , but the talk with Dex about Gerard was still playing in your mind. Ames saw that you were lost in your thoughts most of the time and ask you several times if everything was okay, you tried to act like you didn’t knew what he was talking about and you all moved on with your day . Mikey, Frank , Gerard and Ray were already in your bus when you had come back from your coffee session, and they yelled at you for not texting them and taking them with you. You brushed it off saying that next time you would. Gerard had tried to share looks with you during the day but you were too much caught up into your head to notice.

The show this night was nice and almost too short even if you guys took a ten minutes on My chemical romance planning since you played a special song. Once you were backstage Ames and Billy started their routines taking everything off stage to let place for the boys. To go faster Max offered to help them. It gave you and Dex a chance to run to the bus to prepare your little plan. You took any cushions , pillow and anything fluffy you could find , when you were done the bunks were quite a mess but you didn’t want to think of it since you still had to prepare the hard cider and the cake you brought from the Mark & Spencer’s not having too much time to find anything else. By the time everything was served , you knew that My chem was done with their show too , so you decided to prepare them a part too , you made a point to serve a apple juice instead of the cider for Gerard , not wanting him to feel excluded or anything. Max had been held backstage by Billy and Ames who were your dearest allies as ever.

You installed yourself with every plates and drinks giggling between the two of you alone in the bus to stupid jokes.

A knock made itself hear through the bus and Billy appeared into the kitchenette area before being followed by Ames and Max , who where looking at you with huge smiles spread across their face and a snort from the three of them.

“What the fuck did you do with our beds ?” Asked Max between a laugh.

“Well we did a pillow fort !” Answered Dex.

“Isn’t that a little childish ? “

“Does it means you don’t want to join us ?” You asked Max.

A silence swept through the bus.

“…Move over .” Said Max entering your huge pillow fort and already going for the cake and drink.

“Wait there’s a party and you guys didn’t told us about?! “Said Frank entering your bus.

You handed a plate in his direction , earning a smile from him before he arrived by your side as well as everyone else too.

Frank was on your right while Gerard was on your right and all of you were in a cercle eating and joking about stupid stuff.

“Hey you look better than this morning it’s good to see.” Whispered at your side Gerard offering a sweet smile before readjusting a few locks behind his ear.

“Well It’s because in the end we migrate towards comfort , and I realized that I am most comfortable around you , all of you.” You said returning a bright smile to the man.The night went along before Frank spoke up .

“Guys how are you gonna clean this mess to sleep tonight ?” Painful groans made themselves heard from all of you.

[cooperjones2020]

Second City, chp. 10

Summary: Sometimes she worries she’s settling — for a smaller job, a smaller city, a smaller life than she’d promised herself — but that was before she found out Jughead Jones lives in Chicago. That was before she found out the final secret of Jason Blossom’s murder.

A/N: Fletcher Foley is a real Archie comics character, but I haven’t read any of the issues he’s in.

A/N 2: Apparently I forgot to post this a few days ago when the chapter went up on Ao3, so for those of you who only read here, here you go :)

ao3–>http://archiveofourown.org/works/11409360/chapters/26328312

All previous chapters of Second City and Nobodies Nobody Knows under the tag #second-city and on the Who Sings Heartache to Sleep series page on Ao3.

10. In which a change of scenery takes place

She steps out of Jughead’s apartment and into an uber. Well, not immediately. She can’t telepathically summon ride-hailing services. Though she’s sure someone in Silicon Valley is working on that very problem in this exact moment. A hysterical laugh gets caught in her throat at the thought.

She’s worried Jughead will come after her, so she zigzags a couple of blocks until she’s on the far side of the square. In between a coffee shop and a wine bar, she finds a large hedge to stand beside, and then she summons the car. Thankfully, his neighbourhood is still busy on a Sunday afternoon, and there are many small black icons zooming around when she opens the app. The wait is less than two minutes.

Kevin, she knows, is at work, some special project keeping him up at all hours and in the office, even on weekends. Polly doesn’t pick up. It’s her day off, so Betty assumes her sister and her sister’s boyfriend are enjoying their last few days of kid-free time. And, while she’s so glad she and Veronica are reconnecting again, she doesn’t think they’re quite at the point for this. Even if they were, she also doesn’t think she’s quite ready for Ronnie’s particular blend of supportively brutal honesty. Archie is an option she doesn’t even consider.

So, she goes to the only person who knew her then.

She manages to recapture and hold onto her anger all through the car ride. It feels righteous, powerful, and, unfortunately, all too short. Because once she steps into Mary’s house, she bursts into tears. Something deep inside her, long forced closed and held together with glue, staples, tape, cracks open and grief stampedes through her. She’s vaguely aware of Mary pulling her to the couch, wrapping her arms around her, and rocking her. Mary rubs circles on Betty’s back and makes calm shushing noises. She speaks only enough to ascertain that no one’s been injured or died, then she just lets Betty unload until she’s empty.

She cries for an embarrassingly long time, in violent sobs that wrack her body and cause a headache to bloom behind her eyes.

At some point, she comes to and slides from the couch to the floor. It’s still light out, though it is the middle of summer, so all that really tells her is it’s before 9 pm. Her throat is dry and lips parched. There’s a water bottle on the coffee table in front of her. She grabs it and drinks half in a series of gulps. Mike must have brought it out for her. She hasn’t noticed him in the haze of her heartache, but he must be around somewhere.

Betty settles back against Mary’s legs and lets her stroke her hair, allowing herself to be comforted by the maternal gesture.

“He lied to me.” She doesn’t know if she’s talking about Jughead or her father, but, in the end, she supposes, it doesn’t really matter.

Once she gets to her gate, Betty tries to take up as much space as she possibly can without feeling guilty about it. She picks a seat at the end of a row and sets her purse next to her, her sweater in the seat next to that. Her suitcase she slides so it’s partially in front of a fourth seat. She creates a forcefield of belongings so no one can approach her.

Yesterday had scooped her out and left her numb, depleted. But the one good thing about a multi-hour crying jag is its cleansing power. Sitting at the gate, she feels a renewed sense of purpose.

As soon as it’s crossed nine o’clock, she calls Cynthia.

“Betty, why are you calling me? Why don’t you just come down the hall? We can start our Monday meeting a little early.”

“I’m not in the office, Cynth. I had a bit of a personal emergency. I’m actually at O’Hare waiting for a flight back to Riverdale.” In all her years of grown-up-hood, Betty’s never done something like this. When her father died, they’d known it was coming, so she’d made arrangements to work from home and had trained the person who’d filled in for her on the things she couldn’t do remotely. Anxiety bubbles in her stomach at the thought of disappointing Cynthia.

“Oh no, is everything okay? Your family?”

“No, they’re fine. It’s more a me thing. But I’m so sorry to just leave like this. I know I don’t have vacation time or anything yet, but I was thinking I could use some sick days? Though I don’t know how long I’ll be gone—no more than a week surely. But I can also just take it as unpaid time, I know I’m leaving you in the lurch. And I have a piece half-finished—”

“Betty, stop. We’ll survive. We were gonna run your FP Jones interview this week anyway before his pre-publication publicity circuit starts next month.”

“Oh right.”

The flare of anger she has at the memory of her and Jughead in the bar in May, the moment she first started letting him back in, gives her the courage to get to the thing she’s been thinking about since she cried herself to sleep, then woke up at midnight on Mary’s couch and bought the plane ticket.

“Look, about that. The personal thing. I have a piece to pitch you. I think we should extend the Jones series to three articles. I’ll still review the new book. But I wanna write about—about Betsy Coleman. About being her. About what really happened, all the stuff Jughead omitted from the story. I want to write about it.”

But Cynthia knows her. Knows how deeply uncomfortable she’d been at the prospect of being publicly connected to the character.

“Oh honey, no. Why don’t we just talk about that when you get back?”

She lets Cynthia talk to her down, but she makes notes on the story anyway, while drinking the largest Starbucks green tea frappucino she thinks she can get away with without totally wrecking her blood sugar. She doesn’t mind that Jughead had written about her, about their life. She’d always known he would, had believed it in all the years between their break-up and The Final Fissure’s publication. She couldn’t begrudge him the one thing that she knows has always kept him sane, the thing that he does so beautifully it would be a crime to keep it from the rest of the world. She can’t begrudge the world for wanting to share in that. But, now, she’s pissed that he made her the heroine. She’s pissed that he put her on a pedestal, even while her own family was just as dirty as the Blossoms, the Kellers, the McCoys. In the Civil War between the North and the South of Riverdale, it was the Montagues that were blameless. Her own Capulets commanded every gun, every sword, every gavel.

She does wind up talking to Veronica, huddled against a charging station, and Ronnie makes her laugh through the tears that occasionally threaten.

Betty is jealous of Veronica (what else is new?). She is jealous of how sure and easy things are between her and Archie. And god she’s jealous of the sex she knows they must be having.

“It’s like the universe was saying here’s what you get, Elizabeth. You finally get to have a really great lay and then it all comes crashing down around your ears,” she whisper-yells, all too aware of the businessman in the row behind her. She hates being on FaceTime in public. Headphones make it marginally better, but not enough dispel her anxieties over being heard.

“Betty, that’s not how it works and you know it. You and Jughead, it sounds like you were a ticking time bomb anyway. Both physically and emotionally.”

“Bomb is exactly the right word. Only there’s a hell of a lot more shrapnel than I predicted.”

“Are you sure you should be leaving right now? I’m sure Jughead’s worried about you if you just ran out on him. And your mother—look, I may have only known her a short while but Alice Cooper makes an impression. Don’t you want to be calm when you see her?”

“I need to know, Ron. And she’s out of town right now, so I’ll have some time to figure out what I want to say. To look for, I don’t know, something.”

“Do you want to talk to Archie? I can wake him up.”

“No, I’m not ready yet.”

“I’m sure he doesn’t know.” She feels her nostrils flare.

“How could he not know?” She doesn’t know what would be worse — if Archie had lied to her or if Jughead had lied to Archie. Even through her own pain, she’d noticed how deeply Archie had felt Jughead’s loss. She’d been so pleased when she’d heard they’d reconnected. She didn’t want to come between them. Even at the time, she’d felt guilty for being with Archie. And sometimes, she’s pretty sure he felt the same. But they’d needed each other then, to hold each other up when the foundation had crumbled beneath them.

No, she knows what would be worse. As much as she hates having Robin Scherbatsky-ed them, the thought of her lifelong best friend, the only person who’d always been there for her, who’d always been honest with her, even when it would have hurt her less to lie, the thought of him keeping something like this from her—Well, it’s almost as bad as Jughead keeping it from her.

As she readies to board the plane, she finally pulls up their text message thread. He called her eight times yesterday, before finally giving up around 11 pm. He also sent her twenty-two texts, none of which she’d read. When she’d awoken at midnight on Mary’s couch, she’d opened the apps to get rid of the notifications, then pulled up the internet to book her flight. She hands her boarding pass to the gate attendant to scan, then shuffles along the jet bridge and scrolls through them.

“betty come back”

“you can’t just wander around a neighborhood you don’t know”

“i have more to tell you”

“i really want to talk to you”

“please answer me”

“you forgot your food. and your bra”

“hello”

“i will keep texting and calling you until you answer me”

“i just want to make sure you’re safe”

“please betts”

“i didn’t want to make it worse”

“i should have told you a long time ago”

“but in my defense it was pretty clear you’d moved on”

“shit ignore that last one”

“betty”

“betty”

“betty come on”

“answer your phone damn it”

“i’m sorry”

“just tell me you’re okay. please.”

“nvm, heard from mary”

“i’m here when you’re ready to talk.”

There’s one more text, from 5 o’clock that morning: “just please be ready to talk sometime”. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath.

Now, she responds: “can you send me copies of the security photos you have?”

He calls her when she’s still getting settled in her seat, and his voice is a familiar cocktail of anger, panic, and pain. “Betty, where are you?” Before she can answer, the flight attendant’s voice comes over the intercom. “Are you on a plane?”

“Yes.” She doesn’t mean to be short, but it’s hard to know what to say, what she can say in this moment.

“Where are you going?”

She debates not telling him, but knows he’d figure it out anyway. “Home. I need to talk to my mother and I need to do it in person. She’s not as good at lying to me face to face.”

He lets out a ragged sigh she can hear, even over the sounds of the engine warming up. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for this to screw up—”

But she cuts him off, “I’m not. Jughead, whatever else I’m feeling, and who even knows what that is right now, I’m glad I know.”

“Why did you walk out?”

“Not right now, okay? Can we just focus on the Jason Blossom murder mystery plot?” There’s so much still for them to say, but she almost understands why he’d asked her that yesterday.

He’s silent a moment, then he says, “Are you okay?”

“No.” She lets out of shaky laugh. “Fuck no, definitely not. But I will be, once I get some answers.” But then the flight attendant comes by and signals that it’s time to switch to airplane mode. “I have to go, Jug. I’ll—I’ll call you, I guess. Later.”

“Okay.”

She hangs up without saying goodbye.

She can’t get comfortable during the flight. The ache between her thighs and across her shoulder blades reminds her how long it’s been since she’s been with a man. It also reminds her of the cost. She wonders if there’s a metaphor in there somewhere, but the thought is too tiring. So, she stares out the window as the lake gives way to the fields and forests of Michigan, Ontario, and, eventually, to New York.

Betty walks out of the airport, and, for the second time in two days, dissolves into a puddle of tears, this time in her sister’s arms.

“Hey, hey, little sis—what’s wrong?” Polly’s perfected her mom voice over the years, and for a moment Betty lets it lull her into a false sense of security. Then she freezes as realizes she cannot tell Polly any of what she suspects. Not until she’s sure. “No-nothing. It’s just been a hard week and I didn’t realize how much I missed you.”

Polly pulls back from her, hands still on her shoulders. “Do we maybe need to stop for some ice cream and Midol on the way home?”

Betty manages to pull a laugh out of somewhere deep inside, her spleen maybe, and says, “I hadn’t even thought of that, but sure.”

“One pint of Tonight Dough coming up! Mom only has that no sugar added frozen yogurt at her house, and, believe me, you don’t want to eat it unless you have to.”

She lets her sister console her with the promise of frozen dairy products and pain relievers she doesn’t need as they bundle her suitcase into the car and pull away from the airport.

“I’m sorry I won’t be here for your visit, Betty. And mom won’t be back from her conference for a couple of days, so you’ll have the house to yourself.”

“That’s okay. I’m the one who didn’t give you any warning I was coming. Thank you for coming to get me.”

“Are you kidding? A whole hour of you to myself and I don’t have to answer Cheryl’s incessant texts about SPF and not wearing mom shoes and yes I’m sure we don’t need fast passes and Disney World and Universal are plenty, we definitely don’t need to go to SeaWorld too.” Betty rolls her eyes. Cheryl is some Frankenstein’s monster of sort-of-cousin and sort-of-sister-in-law and completely overbearing, but Betty couldn’t imagine her life without her. She just wishes Cheryl would stop trying to buy the twins’ love. One, it’s unnecessary, they adore her. And two, sometimes it makes Betty feel a little bad that she can’t do the same, no matter how much Polly hates when Cheryl goes over the top.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to stay, just for tonight? I can have Fletcher push back our reservation.”

“No you should go. Don’t let me derail your plans. Besides, I had to be at the airport so early, I didn’t sleep very well last night.”

Polly rolls her eyes but keeps them on the road. “Of course not. You could have gotten a later flight, you know. Like two weeks later.”

“I know, it was sort of an impulsive decision.”

“Betty Cooper doesn’t do impulsive.”

“Maybe now she does.”

Polly glances over at her. “You look happier.” It’s surprising thing to say, considering the tears that had met their reunion.

“Pol, I just busted out the waterworks when all you did was hug me.”

“Stop it. I mean, you seem brighter. Like you’re taking better care of yourself. You’re smiley-er.”

“You spend too much time talking to twelve year olds. But yeah, I think…I think overall I am. I mean, it’s been hard, being so much farther away from all of you and basically starting over. But I like my life so far.”

“I’m so happy for you even though I miss you so much. Maybe once we all get to Orlando, I can have the twins FaceTime with you.”

“That’d be great. We all? Who else is going on this adventure again? Besides Cheryl.”

“Me, the kids, Fletcher, Cheryl’s girlfriend. Cheryl’s picking them up and we’re all meeting up at the airport Wednesday, so Fletcher and I are going to spend tonight and tomorrow in Saratoga Springs, a little mini-vacation before the crazy.”

Betty turns her sister’s statement around. “You’re happy?”

Polly’s smile is so big that Betty thinks it must hurt. She grabs Betty’s hand where it rests on the console and squeezes it.

“Yeah, I’m happy.”

Betty’s heart clenches.

For the rest of the ride, Polly chatters happily about their vacation plans. As much as Betty had enjoyed Harry Potter world, the prospect of that many consecutive days in the full buffet of Orlando’s theme parks, packed into crowds like sardines, and in August no less—she thinks it sounds like her own personalized version of hell.

But most of all, she thinks, she’s glad her sister won’t be here to see what’s coming. That she’ll have time to think of how to tell her.

[thisislizheather]

January Jewels

Forgive the lateness of this post! Here are the highlights from January.

Still using the Origins GinZing Eye Cream and I think it’s working, so I’ll keep at it. It doesn’t leave those red circles under my eyes (that other eye creams have done to me) when I’m using it either, which is a huge plus.

I can’t remember if I’ve ever mentioned how good this ArtNaturals shampoo & conditioner is for hair growth. I’ve been using it for a few months and it obviously takes a bit to start working, but it definitely does. I’ve also tried their Himalayan salt scrub, which is also pretty great.

Again, I’m not sure I’ve ever mentioned it, but I’ve been in love with this perfect tinted moisturizer from AmorePacific for about a year now. I know that it’s too expensive, but I really try to make it last at least a year to make it worth it.

Nobody told me how good orzo is! I may have told Nathan it’s a kind of rice so that we can continue to eat it regularly?

I watched about three or four episodes of Tidying Up with Marie Kondo since every person on the planet did as well, and I think I’m good and don’t need to watch more. Although I did see this one Buzzfeed post about actually helpful insights from her whole deal.

Did you know that if you have an iPhone, you can literally shake it to undo typing? Layla just taught me that, so great.

I tried the burger at Beebe’s and it was good! Especially if you’re in the mood for something quick & tasty.

Read & loved Busy Philipp’s new book.

Sampled some of the donuts at Dough and… oh man. Too doughy! I know, don’t kill me. And there were barely any poppy seeds on a supposed “lemon poppy seed donut.” Go home!

I’ve been using Kiehl’s Buttermask For Lips for a few weeks and even though it’s pretty decent, I think the Laneige Lip Mask is a slightly better product in terms of how soft it makes your lips in the morning.

Finally ate at Emily in the West Village. Didn’t realize they took over the old Blue Ribbon location, it’s such a beautifully small spot. The food was fantastic, it’s still unclear to me what exactly a Detroit-style pizza is, but it’s lovely and weird and so good. The burger was great too, just definitely not worth $27, that’s insanity for meat on a bun, I’m sorry.

Oh! I tried this awful salmon recipe off of Half Baked Harvest, which usually has amazing recipes. I kind of like that that woman isn’t perfect now.

Had the best hot chocolate of the season so far at Boro Hotel.

My friend Dave Merheje has a stand-up special on Netflix that is crazy good and he’s the best and you have to watch it.

So I’m all caught up on This Is Us and man. It’s a lot. When William told Randall, “Take me to meet your father” and he starts talking to Jack at the tree? I haven’t cried that much at a scene since Tom Hanks lost Wilson. Good christ. I think one of the best parts about this show is that it covers all the years of a life of someone and I feel like no show has tried to do that, it’s so crazy good at times.

Tell me you’ve seen the Futurama episode Jurassic Bark about Fry’s dog. I wept.

I’ve been hearing about Xi’an Famous Foods forever, so I made it over there and ate the spicy lamb cumin noodles, which was huge and really good, definitely enough for two people. It was super spicy and the lamb was incredible.

Finally tried Smith & Cult nail polishes and they last a pretty decent amount of time. In love with the colours Stockholm Syndrome & Doe My Dear.

Also in love with Cara Cara oranges. Find them. Eat them. Love them.

There’s this wicked new pizza place in my neighborhood, Massa’s, which definitely has a hint of what is so good about Patsy’s in the city.

Obviously I watched both Fyre Festival documentaries because none of us are individuals in this age and while the Hulu one was good for showing the terrible-ness of the financial specifics, and the Netflix one was good for showing the bigger picture of what a scumbag he is and the specifics of people who were screwed over - BOTH really were the same fucking movie. Dick guy. Dick advertising company. Dicks all ‘round.

I’ve been watching this 100 Baby Sims Challenge (a new one comes out each week roughly) and they’re so addictive to watch. I don’t even feel the urge to play, it’s weirdly enjoyable just to watch.

Watched the Ted Bundy tapes and after seeing the whole “series” on Netflix, I’m officially on board with the death penalty. I used to be against it more or less, but definitely on board with it now. Another thing? I can’t watch these types of series anymore. Not because they’re too horrific to think about or because they’re such awful crimes (they are, both of those things), but it’s infuriating to watch these pieces that treat these vile human beings with such dignity, who are thoughtfully studied and analyzed while each victim simply has a name, a photo and how she was brutally murdered… and that’s it. It’s demoralizing to everyone who suffered as a result of those crimes and disgusting that these despicable men are treated as celebrities with any kind of rights. It’s sick.

Tried Cadbury’s Royal Dark Chocolate and I swear it doesn’t even taste like dark chocolate, it’s so good. It’s like what all other dark chocolate WISHES it tasted like.

Went to Tavern On The Green in Central Park for the first time! This place will forever remind me of Ghostbusters, it’s amazing that it’s even still around. The service was great, the light inside the place is so bright and lovely, the food was fairly average, but I am glad I went.

Finally ate at The Dutch (somewhere I’ve wanted to try for years) and it was perfect. Look, I have a soft spot for steak tartare and their wagyu one was phenomenal. Even the jalapeño cornbread with whipped butter that comes before the food was amazing. Although bad cornbread is hard to find. The kale Caesar wasn’t anything to write home about, but that’s okay. The service was stellar and the hostess even said, “Goodbye Ms. Heather!” on my way out, which I loved. I will definitely be back here.

I made two new recipes from Chrissy Teigen’s second cookbook: the salted maple granola and the cheesy spicy breakfast hash. Both were crazy good! Some notes: ignore the microwave instruction on the hash. And lessen the granola ingredient amounts unless you want to be eating this granola for a year (it also tastes amazing unbaked).

I returned to Augustine inside The Beekman for Restaurant Week for lunch and even though it was day 1 of having the flu, the food (that I ended up taking home) was delicious. A decent steak tartare and a roast chicken that would put all others to shame.

I was in Starbucks on my laptop recently and since I forgot my headphones, I had to listen to the Hamilton soundtrack that they had on for at least an hour. Aaaaannnndddd I feel like you know where I’m going with this. Hamilton sounds like it fucking suuuuhuuuucks. I promise I’m not just hating for the sake of hating something successful. It actually sucked hard. I can’t imagine sitting through the actual performance, good god the patience you’d have to have.

Read The War of Art upon Nathan’s insistence.

So excited for the Big Mouth Valentine’s special next week.

[jordan-phoenix]

The Unbelievable Power of a Belief

One of our most overlooked superpowers in life is the unbelievable power of our beliefs.  A quick note: This is not for the faint of heart. It is going to go deeper than possibly anything you’ve ever read into the inner workings of our minds and about what we really know about life in general. But – it is for a very good reason. If you decide to read it, you will come out the other side wiser, and much more in control over your own life. So do what you will.

Let’s get started. What is a belief?

The dictionary defines it as: 1 : a state or habit of mind in which trust or confidence is placed in some person or thing 2 : conviction of the truth of some statement or the reality of some being or phenomenon especially when based on examination of evidence A belief is something that WE PERSONALLY CHOOSE to form in our own minds about the way WE CHOOSE to perceive the world around us. It is our recognition that some idea or thing is true and valid.  Again, our beliefs are things that WE DECIDE WE WANT TO THINK are true, based on the information we have taken in up until this point in our lives.  Our beliefs are based off of OUR PERCEPTION of life, which is based solely on our experiences and knowledge about life. Just because we see something a certain way, does not necessarily mean that’s the way it actually is in reality.  Perception and reality are TWO DIFFERENT THINGS. As we get older, and we learn new things, we realize that certain assumptions we had at a younger age were not as accurate as the new view we currently have of the world. This is why I consider myself a student of life - because I know that all of the things I think I know about the world are only the best assumptions I can make using all of the things I’ve learned up to this point, and does not necessarily make any of them true. I understand that we will probably never know everything there is to know (in this life anyway), and there will always be new things we can learn from others throughout the course of our lives. That’s why I am a philosopher – a lover of knowledge. I love to keep an open mind, learn new things, and think for myself. I’ve found that I keep getting closer and closer to understanding the truth of what reality is, and as I do, it allows me to smash through my inaccurate perceptions that have held me back, and caused lots of pain and suffering in the past. Subsequently, I now know more about how to think about and interact with the world, and how to create a life that continuously makes me fulfilled at higher and higher levels. I know your head is probably spinning right now, because mine is too. Sorry about that. Go get a glass of water and let that settle in for a minute or two, and re-read that last part if you have to. When you BELIEVE you have digested all of that, feel free to continue on.

The reason why I went so in depth previously was because I really want you to understand first and foremost that PERCEPTION IS NOT REALITY. It is only after we know that – that we can really start to understand how to control our beliefs. And I’ve learned that having control over your own beliefs is probably the most powerful thing you can do to find long-term joy and achieve miraculous things in this world. Let’s examine one of the greatest examples in history of perception and reality being different. For thousands of years, it was a widespread belief that the earth was flat - and that if you were to go to the edge of it, you would fall off. Aristotle was one of the earliest to dispute this belief, and provided actual evidence against it. He stated that by simply traveling south, the constellations of stars would appear higher above the horizon, which would not make sense unless the earth was round.  But people did not like this new idea at all. People do not like when their perception of reality is seen to be inaccurate and outdated. We do not like to be wrong. Throughout history, whenever someone has made a revolutionary discovery or idea, the general public always has the same reaction. First, they close their mind off to the idea, ridicule the person, and suggest they enter an insane asylum. Next, they become very afraid, and violently oppose the idea, many times even threatening to imprison or even murder the person who created it. And finally, after lots of struggling, it is accepted as the new status quo “reality” (when it is still actually just a newer perception). Perhaps that is why I felt like my head was spinning when writing that paragraph previously. We humans are scared of the unknown. We like order. We like to feel safe and comfortable. We don’t like it when something comes along that threatens to change the way we see the world, even if it is for the better, because we just want to keep things the same. We are cowards. We would rather stay exactly where we are, no matter how shitty things can be, rather than try to see things in a new way, because even though it could make things one hundred times better for everyone, we fear that it has the chance to make things just a little worse, and decide it is too risky. We don’t like to deal with the fact that in reality, none of us really know why we are here, or what we are doing. That’s why many people don’t like to think for themselves, and would rather just keep busy in their day-to-day actions – it gives us comfort to just blindly follow the herd. Besides, if “all the cool kids are doing it” it must be good, right?

Think about your beliefs about the world we live in right now. Where did you get yours? Did you choose all of them yourself, and examine why you believe them? I can tell you this – from my own experience, from spending years examining all of my beliefs about the world, I WAS SHOCKED when I realized just how many were passed down to me from others, and were not based on my own better judgment. I had so many beliefs that were self-limiting. I realized that almost all of the problems in my life were based on perceptions I had about the world that were the equivalent of the earth being flat. It’s no wonder so many of us suffer and struggle in our lives. We are walking around the world in a self-created prison based upon inefficient ways of thinking that we got from others who were just as clueless as us - AND WE DON’T EVEN KNOW IT.  Think about how many beliefs are passed down to us from our families, our friends, our culture, the mass media, and everything around us. How many of us have certain religious beliefs, political affiliations, favorite sports teams, views on marriage, views on racism, views on animal rights, and many more, just because these were the things that the people around us believed when we were young and didn’t know any better, so we just copied them? Does that mean that the beliefs we have chosen are all the right ones, and that all of the other ones are wrong? How many of us have then created stories and reasoning around these ideas about why we are right and others are completely wrong, when we haven’t even looked at why we even believe them ourselves in the first place? Think about this scenario – You’re a helpless child. You can’t even fend for yourself. These big people that hang around you start to feed you, clothe you, and make you feel safe. They teach you things – like how to read, how to tie your shoes, and how to have table manners. They give you things and teach you how to do things that make your life better. So, if they were to tell you that you are supposed to root for the Yankees and to hate the Red Sox, why wouldn’t you believe them? If they tell you that Democrats are idiots, or that Republicans are morons, why wouldn’t you believe it? If they tell you that another race is evil, why wouldn’t you believe it? So, if they were to tell you that you’re too loud, too short, too fat, too ugly, too stupid, that you are worthless, and that you will never amount to anything in life, it is possible that you will WAKE UP ONE DAY 20 YEARS LATER, READ THIS POST, AND REALIZE THAT YOU HAVE BEEN SPENDING YOUR ENTIRE LIFE NOT KNOWING WHY YOU NEVER FELT HAPPY, WHOLE, AND LIKE SOMEONE WHO DESERVES GOOD THINGS IN LIFE!

Beliefs can empower us or cage us in forever. Beliefs are that powerful.

 I once heard a sad story. There was an elephant at a circus that was chained to a pole as an infant. He tried to break away, but was not strong enough to. Over time, he became monstrous. One day, the circus accidentally went on fire, and the elephant died. He was enormous, and could have easily ripped the pole out of the ground to run away to safety, but there was a SELF-LIMITING BELIEF IN HIS MIND that told him he would not be able to do it, and so he didn’t even try.  Do you understand the impact your beliefs can have on your life? Do you understand that even though you may not be able to see how or why (just like the elephant), they have the ability to transform your life? What I’ve come to understand is that EVERYTHING is based on belief. EVERYTHING.  A few examples: The U.S. national debt is in the trillions. How is it possible that the country still exists, purchases things, and plays the role of a world superpower when it has a negative amount of money to buy things with? It is because investors are willing to put their money into the system, in the form of government bonds. Why? Because they BELIEVE that the U.S. government is stable, and that they can cash out their investments in the future for profit. Why does a bank give some people a business loan, while not others? It is because based on their credit history and their proposal, the bank decides whether or not they BELIEVE that the person is a man of their word and will pay it back. Why does Starbucks coffee cost three times as much money as McDonalds coffee, even though McDonalds coffee was found to taste better in a blind taste test? Because Starbucks has a fancy name, exotic flavors, and a nice atmosphere, and so people BELIEVE it is more valuable.  Why do we pay $150 for a shirt with a tiny horse or alligator on it rather than a duck or a falcon? Because our society and advertising has made us BELIEVE that it is worth the money. Why does a job hire one applicant over another? Because the chosen applicant did a better job of making them BELIEVE that he will get the job done. Why are some men who are broke, out of shape, and abusive able to date women who are beautiful, inside and out? Because they BELIEVE that they deserve awesome women, while some awesome women BELIEVE they don’t deserve anyone better. How did Thomas Edison invent the ability for humans to see at night? He BELIEVED that it was possible, and tried 10,000 different combinations until he found the right formula to invent the light bulb. I could go on and on with this, but I think you can see at this point that our beliefs are crucial in lives. What you believe shapes who you are as a person, what things come into and out of your life, and affects your overall quality of life.  Your beliefs are a tool to serve and empower you. Start thinking about which ones have slipped by your radar undetected for years and years, and are still holding you back right now. Just pull out a blank notebook, and start writing. Scribble down whatever comes to your mind. It doesn’t matter how silly or stupid it sounds. It’s just for your eyes. Write down as many as you would like – the further you go with this, the more you can align your life with your true identity. I’d say start with 5-10 things. Make a list of 5-10 beliefs you have, and figure out where they came from. If they are ones you no longer wish to have, write down new empowering ones to replace them. Of course, this is not an overnight fix, and it will take some time and diligence to overcome feelings of inadequacy that you have carried with you for years. But if you make a habit of reading the new beliefs you want to have to yourself every morning, for at least a few weeks, you will begin to really internalize them, and you will be amazed at how much it can change your life. 

If you enjoyed this article, imagine what would happen if someone were to extend it to 200+ pages, then make it slightly more awesome. This new book represents over six years’ worth of my life experiences, insights, and ideas on creating a better way of living for all of us: 

It’s All My Fault: How I Messed Up the World, and Why I Need Your Help to Fix It

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[khelinski]

A writing exercise – write one of your worst memories (I will get to a best memory in the distant future).

There is a scene from a memory that I keep going back to in my head. The moment I felt very low. The moment I really wanted to die.

November 23rd, 2015. A few weeks prior, I had flown down to Florida for an interview at a theme park with mouse ears. They had placed me on a waiting list. I flown back home to Michigan with mixed emotions, high anxiety, and low self-esteem.

I had divorced someone I very much love(d) a month and a half prior. I had separated from her a couple of months before that, relocating to my parent’s basement. I had stepped-down from a leadership position a month before that. And my ex-wife and I were going through hell six months+ before that. In hindsight, the relationship turning sour the way it did was nobody’s fault. She suffered from addiction. I suffered from depression. The two do NOT mix well – like mixing drugs and liquor together (I’ve seen my share of that). We were so perfect for each other (I still think that), but we were terrible at each other. It’s a damn shame. I inspired her to push her art. She inspired me to push my writing. I hope she is still art-poppin’.

Anywho, on the 23rd of November, I was having a texting fight with her while I was at work. I don’t even remember what it was about. Probably something dumb and meaningless (as most of our fights turned out to be). I was physically, emotionally, mentally drained from the entire year. And I have the unfailing ability to take someone’s negative comments and harness its content, context, and subtext into my brain, body, and soul; feeding into its negativity like a drug itself. I start believing the negativity – I start to become the negativity. It’s a contributing factor to why my depression keeps rockin’ n rollin’ in my head.

I came home from work in the late afternoon (I was a liquor orderwriter at Retail Hell then, and had early shifts). Working with liquor bottles and having strong amounts of depression infuses your mind to want to drink. I had an entire pack of wine coolers that was in the fridge, stored Captain Morgan in the basement, and whatever else bottle I could find. I drank and drank and drank in a very short amount of time. I don’t remember the duration of how long it took for the buzz to kick-in, but by the time I felt it – I was a wreck. I cried, screamed, had a full-fledged emotional outburst. It was like everything I was feeling that entire year poured out of me. I then got sick, and as you could imagine – it wasn’t a pretty sight. I know I freaked out my family. Ashamed they had to witness that.

Though I don’t remember what all was said or done that evening/night (after all, it was just about three years ago). I do remember what was going through my head. I didn’t want to drink to get drunk. I wanted to drink to disappear, to not think and feel anymore. At that moment – I wanted to die.

Days and weeks blended together afterwards. I felt lower and lower.

December 7, 2015 at 6:20 P.M. – I get this email…

“Congratulations! On behalf of [the theme parks with mouse-ears], we would like to offer you a Full Time Food Service Quick Service H/H Spec Bev role at [one of our theme parks].”

I learned a month later that the role ended up being at Trolley/Starbucks. I can’t even imagine what anyone’s first impression of me was.

I gave a notice to an employer I was employed at since mid-2008. I packed everything in my KIA, and drove all the way down here on a whim (and to save myself). Friends from up above keep asking me when I am going to visit Michigan. I am not. Not anytime soon, anyway. Not for many years, probably. Bad memories, bad demons, and bad dreams (that still haunt me) await me in the Great Lakes State. But it’s not my ex’s fault. It’s just the way things happened. She had her reasons…her demons…her bad memories (and I am sorry I didn’t make it easier for her). It’s not my fault. It’s just the way thoughts flow in my head. I strongly believe if I didn’t leave Michigan when I did – I don’t know if I would be writing this worst memory today, or walking this earth for that matter. That’s how close I was to losing it.

Fast-forward all the dumb mistakes I’ve made, the emotional outbursts, the ever-so-learning curve I had at Trolley, the people I befriended (and hurt) along the way, the triumphs and losses in Florida since I moved here…goes back to that damn bad memory, binge-drinking and wanting to disappear.

I joke about drinking and knowing things but in all actuality, I don’t drink as much as I make it out to be. I joke about rum, but hardly drink it. I scared myself November 23rd, 2015, and watch my in-take very carefully. I slipped a few times in 2016, but nothing serious. And don’t worry, friends – I am okay. Compared to this time three years ago – my state of mind is better.

A leader asked me recently what motivated me to return to the mouse. I gave a BS reply, because that’s all I believed prior to 2015. Then 2015 happened, the year my joy died. Life hasn’t been the same since then. And even walking through the theme parks being spoiled with all the wonders many spend their savings on – I must admit, there is a good chunk of my soul that doesn’t feel much enjoyment in it. Not like where my head was at back in 2007/2008, when I did the college program. Back when I was naive. Back when I didn't experienced life yet.

The leader’s question kept jabbing at my head, though. After all this time – why did I return? Is it my dream? My dream is to write. I am doing that. So no. Is it because of the pixie dust, the fantasy, and the magic? Sadly, no. That was my excuse years ago. Truthfully, it goes back to my worst memory. It goes back to 2015. It goes back to my depression. The mouse gave me a purpose to continue on, to live another day, to keep moving forward as Walt himself once said. At the time, the mouse was my lifeline.

Fast-forward to now – writing has become my lifeline. Self-indulgent and all, I express everything that has been boiling inside of me – all my thoughts, emotions, feels. And as you can read – I feels a lot. This is one truth I’ve shared with some people – but never shared it with all. It’s a memory I am not proud of, since it was manifested from bitterness, anger, and hurt. I said a lot of [edited for content] things to my ex, about my ex – none of it was deserved (or true). Regardless how she might feel about me – she still inspires me. Inspires me to write, to read, and to be better. I don’t know if I am better, truthfully. My head is still the same. The thoughts in my head still flicker the same images. But I am writing with courage, with honesty.

Regardless how much I sleep or lack of, I still write - like a hard to reach itch that needs to be scratched. Regardless who reads it, likes it, shares it. Even if my ex reads this (or not). Even if the people that hates my guts for an assortment of reasons stumbles upon this, points, laughs, and presses on with their life. Even if a friend skims, scrolls, and likes without proper context. Regardless if it is ignored by many (which is usually the case, especially of this length – a meme is easier to e-digest). I still write, friends. I write for me. I write to learn. I write to live. I write.

I am glad I picked up everything and moved down here. I am glad theme park with mouse ears hired me when they did. I am glad Trolley was the door in. I am glad of all the people I encountered, the lives that helped me through this journey, and the friends I’ve made (seriously – everyone I worked with at Trolley, even the ones things had turned sour between us – you all not only helped me at Trolley at the time – you all saved me). I am glad of everything (except one, or two, or many things - but never mind about that). I am glad I met the particular person that hates my guts, but I can't stop writing/thinking about. I am glad my family moved here with me six months after I did. I am glad I am still writing to this day.

Most of all - I am glad I woke up November 24th, 2015 - with just a hangover headache. Even wrote a lighthearted post about it:

“Mental note: don't do heavy amount of drinking and then have an emotional breakdown. The morning after is brutal.”