#they’d put them in a chicken nugget box

[silverangelbox]

Thank u dad for making me go on walks at the age of 10 to lecture me about how no man will ever marry me if I’m fat. Thank you uncle for picking on my weight when I was 5’3” and 110 until I got myself down to 90

[serafilms]

song 56! you’re on your own, kid (taylor swift) + choi soobin requested by @explorewithd (spotify wrapped event)

i didn’t choose this town, i dream of getting out, there’s just one who could make me stay all my days

There’s a town on the west side of the coast, where the air is fresh with salt and pine. It’s small, quaint if you will, consisting of one market, one convenience store, a singular movie theatre, one McDonald’s and a whole bunch of family owned restaurants.

The town is yours, but you hate it.

You’re sick of walking through near empty streets, of seeing the same faces you grew up with at school, of trying to think of activities to do with your friends, and doing those activities knowing you’ve done them a thousand times before.

You can’t wait to leave it all behind.

You’re sitting in a booth in the McDonald’s, pondering this, when a tray slides in front of your face.

“Here you go, ma’am.”

You scowl up at the looming figure of the tall boy in front of you. He slides into the seat across from you and takes off cap embroidered with the restaurant logo, immediately reaching for one of your fries. He runs a hand through his dark hair, ruffling the flattened mess as he chews.

“Isn’t it against company policy to impose on your customer’s meals and eat their fries?”

Soobin shrugs at you, tearing open your straw and stabbing it into your cola to take a sip.

“Policy, schmolicy. There’s like two other people on shift and no customers. I’ll be fine,” he says, grabbing another fry. “And please, you love me being here.”

You tug the tray towards you protectively. “Not when you eat my food,” you mumble.

He rolls his eyes but a smile creeps onto his face as he looks at you, and you have to look down at your food to stop yourself from blushing and smiling back like a schoolgirl.

You open the box of chicken nuggets and frown. “Hey, you gave me one less!”

“Oh,” he says, blinking down at it, “yeah, I ate one of them when I was packing it.”

He sees your unimpressed stare and rises. “I’ll bring you two extra,” he says, then grabs the box and retreats into the kitchen.

Soobin’s absence gives you some time alone with your thoughts once more. Choi Soobin is, you believe, the only good thing about your town. He’s your best friend, your soulmate, twin flame, whatever you want to call it. He’s the one thing in this place that you could never be sick of.

You love your other friends and everyone else in the town too, of course, but it’s not the same. You know they’d all be there for you when you need them, but you aren’t quite sure when their concern stops being out of genuine care and starts being out of obligation. For their friend, neighbour, community. Nothing in this town acts by itself, and you feel sometimes as though you’re nothing more than a cog in its old, steam billowing machine.

You think back to your years at high school. You’d wait ages at some party for your friends to notice you, to find you and come up to you, only for them to not be there. Because you hadn’t asked them to. Because they were only there when you needed them to be.

You wanted something more. A city so wide that only those you wanted to find you could, that every friendship, every relationship is by choice. Freedom. More than that, you wanted somewhere that could contain your dreams, fulfil them. You were always overflowing in this town. You just wanted to know that you’re not on your own.

Your eyes flit upwards as Soobin returns and hands you the box. You’re pleased to find that he did put in two extra, and reach over to pat his head in gratitude. “Good job, Soobie.”

He squirms away from your hand and pouts at you, but forgets it as he grabs another of your fries.

“Stop that!” you protest.

“I’m only eating the super crunchy ones that you don’t like!”

You roll your eyes and take a few fries yourself, surveying the boy in front of you. His hair is tousled as it usually is at work, his face is a little shiny from the heat of the kitchen, and his eyes are wide as his mouth chews and he focuses on it. Something tugs at your gut, and you have a horrible reminder that to leave this town behind, you might have to leave Soobin behind too.

“Hey, do you ever think about getting out of this place?”

Soobin looks at you in confusion. “You mean McDonald’s? Well, yeah eventually, but it’s an easy way to make money right now—“

“No,” you interrupt, “I mean, like, out of this town. Move to the city or something.”

You feel the heat on your neck rising in embarrassment as his face morphs into one of surprise.

“I— do you?”

You begin to grow hesitant, but your desperation to confide in him wins, so you say, “Yeah, I do.”

He’s silent for a while, looking down at the fry in his hand, and you feel your anxiety start to take over, so you continue.

“I mean, obviously not forever, because I’d still come back and stuff, but I want to know what it’s like out there. I want to know if they can help me do the things I want to do.” He’s looking at you now. “I want to know that there’s more than just this version of myself.”

“So you’re thinking about moving to the city,” he speaks finally.

It’s less a question than a statement, and you aren’t quite sure how he’s feeling about this, so you ask, “If I was, would you come with me?”

There’s a long silence in which Soobin looks at you, and you meet his eyes, and you see uncertainty swimming in them until he says. “I don’t think I would.”

You feel your stomach sinking like a heavy stone. “Why not?”

“Well, because,” Soobin fumbles and his tall figure seems to shrink in on himself as he frowns, “because I’ve got friends here and family. I can’t just leave them like that.”

But what about me? You want to scream. How can he be so okay with letting you go? You want to yell at him, cry at him, rip your hair out, because if Choi Soobin wants to stay in this town you know that there isn’t enough resolve in you to leave him behind.

You want him to come with you, to fight to be with you, even to fight to make you stay. Anything, anything that will show you that he cares. Your hopes are disappointed.

“But if you do go, you know we’ll always be friends, right? You can call me whenever you need me.”

You feel as though you’ve been ripped in two, half of you left behind with the version of Soobin that sat there before this conversation happened.

You can call me whenever you need me, he said, whenever you need me.

You suppose that as much as Soobin is the best thing to come out of this place, he is still a product of it.

“Yeah, I know,” you say back, and manage a weak smile as he gives you one back. The two of you manage to divert the topic and spend some time devouring your meal until you’re finished and you finally have reason to leave.

“You should get back to work,” you tell him as you rise.

Soobin looks conflicted, and you see sadness in his eyes and the downturned twist of his lips, but he nods and makes his way around the table to give you a hug. You almost tear up at the feeling of his arms around you, chest pressed to yours, and you pull back before the tears fall.

“See you later,” he says.

“Bye, Soobin,” you say.

When you arrive home, you collapse into your bed and allow the tears to fall. You guess you really are on your own.

[4311osij]

(I wrote this poem: WARNING graffic content)

My last meal.

I think I've spent a great deal thinking of my last meal.

There's so many foods,

Melanzane,

An italian classic

It made me feel at home

Mac and cheese with the crust on the top.

Grabbing my fork I would thrive at the trust of its being.

Reminiscing of italy,

This little restaurant by the sea with thinly sliced octopus legs.

Not calamari,

Thin as paper. Lighter than a feather. Painted with olive oil.

And a little salt and pepper.

Putting up a show, eager to try. Eager to buy.

Or to finally try hot wings again on the superbowl.

Nachos and crab rolls.

And those tiny taco bell burritos.

With the cheese all about to leak.

Or some really large platters of meat.

Sushi, with my brother

Telling him about all the southerners.

All you could eat sushi. Only rule is, finish the plates and you wont get charged.

each round filled with 4 new sushi rolls.

Scallion pancakes

And steak lo mein with extra broccoli

Tempura rolls

and seasoned sticky white rice.

You eat so much it’s like you’re stomach is going to explode

It’s nauseating and a little humiliating but amazing.

Have you ever taken really salty fries, like the ones from five guys and drunk them into a double whipped vanilla milkshake.

How it tastes highly salty and way too sweet

Bobby's burger palace. Right outside the smith haven mall.

Buffalo burgers with potato chips crunched in the middle.

In and out animal style fries.

What will it taste like?

What does it feel like?

My friends are probably thinking…

But, you don't eat meat? Would it be a cheat?

You don't eat eggs and avoid breads.

And You never eat dairy?

They’d think this is scary.

But it's my last meal! And I don't care if I steal!

Because at the end of the day.

When i die, you will still hear the cry

When it's slaughterhouse time.

I wasn’t always this way.

I too ate lamb on Easter,

enjoyed dark gravy smothered on a turkey leg.

With stuffing and my aunt's infamous jelly.

I would eat the christmas pie

And frown at the sky as i felt my stomach rip in half from all the food.

I too, ate mcdonalds chicken nuggets.

Or those sonic hot dogs.

I too loved it all.

But I was far too young and extremely dumb. When I clicked on my first video.

I watched the cows fly, and be torn apart by the hands of a guy.

Did you know dairy cows after giving birth are immediately separated from their young?

Grieved over the realization of losing their child, they scream.

Yes, I heard it. Little 12 year old me, hear a mothers scream for her child.

And it doesn't stop.

They never stop.

It's only until their voice box has been destroyed and they are deemed “grounded”

Meaning unwilling to move.

That they are dragged by one foot,

Usually from a tractor or claw machine.

And dumped into slaughterhouse pens.

Pens were thousands of hands drag these cows to die, upside down.

Drowning in their blood, covered in mud.

And puss and sweat, and steroids.

Yes, your delicious milk and cheese.

It churns and yearns in a bucket after excretion. In a bucket filled to the brim with blood and puss.

There's so much of it due to mass production that not even the filters can clean it properly.

That's why dairy companies massively inject their products with dyes and chemicals to look more appealing to the eye.

Don't believe me? Watch it for yourself.

Cause I sure can forget it.

and of course this is America so it NEVER stops there.

No god forbid it stops there.

We need our double deep fried burgers and lard filled chicken tenders.

We need every single egg, as we ignore as the animals beg.

We even eat their young

Veal. What was the gain? What was the steal?

And yes little 12 year old me grew up, and started to throw up, every single meat i ever ingested.

For this was not fair! When did the food industry become such a scare?

When did cows stop being cows and become “meat”, “#9828674”

When did the babies become “veal tenders 2 for one sale!”

When did all of you close your eyes and pretend you actually care when in reality you still go to the same Mcdonalds every day, eat the same fried chicken every wednesday.

I'm going off track!

Im sorry

For I too will not care, when the day comes.

It will be my last meal.

I will eat the young, and I will slaughter the cows, I will steal all the eggs, and never make amends.

I will scarf down the lamb and ham, until I barf.

I will cut into my streak and reminisce as I, a 12 year old girl, watched a man deep dive his hand into a anus of a dairy cow.

To rape and impregnate her.

To continue the cycle

Don't believe it?

I assure you, I could not make this up even if I wanted to.

I would gaze at the stage, the conveyor belt would ring the chickens round and round.

As tiny blades sliced at their necks and watched as no one double checked.

If only they double checked.

These chickens most of the time do not die right away.

They live,

And have to stay alive again even as smaller blades cut into their veins and shaped their meat into dinosaur legs.

But it is my last meal!

And i could give a great deal.

Over how much I hate the food industry.

but even when I die.

You will always hear the cry

When it is slaughterhouse time.

I spent my entire life letting the mass production go to waste.

When I die, I will eat so much that it will no longer be for nothing.

Because who doesn't love a good burger and fries.

Who doesn't love needing to cry from having a lard induced heart attack.

This is america.

Bigger is better.

And we wait in these lines for our double deckers mounted sky high.

And we fantasize our fatty surprise.

Philly cheesesteaks.

Doubled loaded pizzas.

Lamb chops.

Steroid induced thanksgiving turkey.

Provolone,

And extra sweet Mascarpone,

Bacon egg and cheese.

And fudge filled ice cream.

Trust me when I say I will eat it ALL.

You know why?

For even when I die, no one will even try.

To stop the violence when it is slaughterhouse time.

[mandoalorian]

Chicken Nuggets [Marcus Moreno x F!Reader] *SMUT*

Summary: Marcus is back on the dating scene for the first time since his wife passed. Tonight is the night, and he’s a little insecure, but he hopes he can show you how much you mean to him.

Warnings: 18+ SMUT, car sex!!!, male receiving oral/road head (do not try at home!!), food mention, alcohol mention, feelings, tooth rotting fluff, Marcus is so adorable I’m gonna cry.

Word count: 2000>

REBLOGS APPRECIATED! ✨

Masterlist

Marcus Moreno was a gentleman. He was caring, and affectionate -- and unlike any other guy  you had ever been with, he was an excellent listener. He’d always ask about your day and he loved to find out quirky little facts about you. It always made you smile when he brought up a menial piece of information that you told him in passing conversation weeks ago. He made you feel cared for, and important.

Marcus was completely and utterly smitten with you. He hadn’t been with anyone since his ex-wife, who had passed away two years ago. Getting over the heartbreak alongside his daughter wasn’t something he’d wish on his worst enemy. But he was getting there. And with you by his side, your company seemed to make things just that little bit easier. He wouldn’t trade you for the world.

So it was your fifth date, and Marcus felt as though he was finally ready to get intimate with you. Both you and him had discussed sex, and he knew it was something you wanted, but you would always reassure him that there was absolutely no pressure and you were fine waiting until he was ready. Marcus Moreno was too good of a man to just let go for that reason.

It was Saturday night and you had decided to meet him at the small Italian restaurant located on the coastline. It was the most perfect, romantic destination for a date. Marcus was always punctual, arriving at least fifteen minutes early no matter the reason. But to your surprise, not this time. He was so nervous, knowing that tonight would be the night. He’d cut himself shaving, he’d drowned himself in cologne and he tried to put in contacts but they’d somehow slipped out of his eye and landed in the sink, all mushed up and ruined. So he was back to doting his thick rimmed glasses that you adored. He was only five minutes late, and you didn’t mind too much, already cracking into the bottle of red wine. His smile when his gaze locked onto you was enough to fill your body with fuzzy butterflies. He presented you with a bouquet of roses and tried to hide the blush that crossed his cheeks.

“Hi,” he said nervously. He looked down when you pressed a gentle kiss over his lips. “Wow, everything smells so good,” he acknowledged as he sat down opposite you. “What do you think you’ll order?”

“Maybe the pasta,” you returned, checking the menu. “What about you?”

“Well, I promised Missy I’d bring her a slice of pizza home, so…” Marcus admitted and you giggled. Hating your laugh, you brought your hands to your face and covered your mouth. Marcus noticed immediately and took your hands, brushing his thumbs over your knuckles. “Don’t hide yourself from me,” he cooed, looking up at you through his dark eyelashes. “You’re beautiful.”

You bit your lip and felt your cheeks flush under his sweet words. You didn’t know what it was -- perhaps the adrenaline of knowing what was to come after dinner, but his touch alone was enough to drive a bolt of anticipation through your core. You swallowed, losing your appetite for pasta and beginning to crave something else. He didn’t let go of your hands once, his fingers carefully tracing comforting circles into your skin as he gazed into your eyes and admired your beauty. 

“Marcus…” you whispered, pushing your thighs together as you felt arousal begin to pool between your legs.

He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t turned on too, if the tent in his pants was anything to judge by. “Yes?” he answered almost immediately, hating the way the word left his lips. He prayed the desperation that dripped from his tongue wasn’t evident to you.

“I… we… could get dinner later, if you wanted.” you suggested.

Marcus knew exactly what you meant, but he hadn’t realised it would be happening so soon. Nervous but excited, he bit his lower lip and nodded his head, a twinkle of lust sparkling in his honey brown eyes. He paid the bill, just for the bottle of wine, and took your hand before leading you out the restaurant. 

During the drive back to his place, you were feeling pretty restless. As his dark eyes focused on the road ahead, you let your hand wander across his denim clad thigh and towards his crotch. Your fingers delicately danced along his bulge and you felt more than satisfied when you heard a dark string of curses leave his lips. You’d never heard Marcus be so vulgar in his life.

“Shit hermosa, you trying to make me crash?” he chuckled, his eyebrows furrowing together with concentration. He was throbbing, but he figured he’d be able to handle it, as long as you didn’t go inside his jeans. The blood rushed to the tip of his cock as you palmed him softly. You hummed at his question but opted not to give him an answer, or at least, not with words. Popping open the top button of his pants and then finding his zipper, you pulled it all the way down. “You can’t wait, huh?” he countered further, already trying to resist the urge to thrust upwards into your hand. 

Finding that he wasn’t wearing any underwear, you swallowed, and looked up at him with doe-like eyes. “Marcus…” you purred, wasting no time and pulling out his thick length. He was hot and heavy, and under the artificial amber lights that illuminated the front of the car, you gave his cock a few pumps. “I had no idea you were so big.” you praised with a nervous giggle. 

Marcus didn’t say a word. He hadn’t been touched like this in a long time. Yeah, he’d used his own hand on plenty of occasions but it had never felt like this. He forgot how good it could feel.

The adrenaline was coursing through his veins as your thumb wiped up the precum that had beaded at the tip of his cock. 

“Your hand is cold, sweetheart.” Marcus murmured as you shimmied your fingers down his length to cradle his balls. As you squeezed them and played with them, you could feel him getting harder and harder.

“Do you prefer warmth?” you cooed quizzically. Marcus shuddered but remained silent, his eyes still fixated on the road. His patience surprised you, but he was a Heroic, after all. 

Clicking open your seatbelt, you shuffled down to your knees and crawled over the control panel in the car. Leaning over and finding a comfortable position, you placed your tongue flat against the slit and began to suck at his head. Marcus gripped down on the steering wheel as his eyes snapped shut, a heavy pant leaving his lips. His eyes must’ve been closed a little too long because the car swerved and you squealed his name. Thankfully it was late and the road was more or less empty.

“Tha- that could’ve been bad, baby,” Marcus gasped, his cock twitching in your mouth.

“Mhm.” you agreed as you bopped your head up and down his shaft.

He moved one hand from the wheel to your head, grabbing a fistful of your hair as you continued to go down on him. You could feel his cock twitching in your mouth as you pushed him closer and closer to the edge.

“So- so fucking good. Oh f-fuck, I forgot how good this coul-could feel… princess,” He admitted and you smirked around his length. “Mm, I’m close.” 

After only a few more pumps of his cock, Marcus came in your mouth, his salty seed spurting across your tongue. His load was large and you couldn’t swallow it all, but as you pulled off him, and the milky coloured substance dripped down your chin, he couldn’t have looked more proud. He pulled over at some place and let you regain your balance as you crawled back up to the passenger seat and strapped yourself back in. 

“Th- thank you.” Marcus blushed, leaning over and wiping his cum from your lips, doing his best to clean you up.

“You don’t have to thank me Marcus,” you returned his smile and gave his thigh a little squeeze. Marcus tucked himself back in and zipped his pants up. You looked out the window at the bright yellow and red lights. “Marcus, where are we?”

Marcus grinned sheepishly. “I thought you might’ve worked up an appetite after that. We uh- we’re at McDonalds.”

Of course. Of course DILF dad Heroic Marcus Moreno would take you to McDonald’s drive thru after receiving road head. It just made sense. You burst into a fit of giggles and rest your head on his shoulder. He wrapped a strong arm around you and pressed a kiss into your forehead.

“You’re unbelievable,” you laughed, shaking your head incredulously. “You’re so- God… Marcus… I think I lo-”

You cut yourself off immediately, your heart sinking in your chest as you realised what you were about to say. Praying that Marcus hadn’t clicked on, you tore yourself from him and rolled down the car window, peering out to gaze at the illuminated menu on the wall. 

“What do you normally get?” you asked, unable to bring yourself to look at him.

Shit, it had only been five dates and you weren’t even sure if he was completely over his wife yet. But all of a sudden, everything made sense. You really were in love with him. Was it too soon? Of course, you’d known him forever, but there was no telling how he’d react to your confession. 

“Uh-- I like cheeseburgers…” Marcus replied. “And fries. And a cola. What about you?”

You closed your eyes and sunk back into the chair. It was okay. It was going to be okay. When you turned back to face him, Marcus’ eyes were already boring into you, admiring your beauty.

“I like chicken nuggets.”

Marcus grinned. “So does Missy.”

He continued down the drive thru and ordered a chicken McNugget sharebox. Parking in the isolated lot, he passed you your soft drink and pierced the straw into his own cola before setting out the box of chicken nuggets. 

You and Marcus sat in comfortable silence as you dipped your nuggets in the assortment of sauces. “I really like you,” Marcus confessed. “And Missy likes you too. Which is important to me. We’ve been friends forever and I just think we’re good… together. Shit. That wasn’t meant to rhyme. I--”

You laughed when you saw how adorably flustered Marcus got. “I like you too.” You admitted and Marcus nodded, taking a sip of his drink.

“Are you still up for coming back to my place tonight? Missy is with her abuela.” 

“Yes.” you replied and his grin only deepened.

“Okay, good.”

You finished the box of chicken nuggets and slouched back into the chair, rubbing your tummy. “That was so good,” you beamed. “I’m stuffed though. I need to lie down.”

Marcus felt his cheeks heat up as he turned his key and switched on the engine. “When we get home.” he promised, his cock already hardening again as he imagined you spread out on his bed with your legs open. All the things he could do to you…

Sure, you didn’t expect your fifth date to end up with road head and chicken nuggets, but it was perfect, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

-—-—-—♡—-—-—-

Permanent taglist:  @paintballkid711​ @supernaturalgirl​ @phoenixhalliwell​ @ah-callie​ @stardust-galaxies​ @wickedfrsgrl​ @goth-topic​ @nerdypinupcrystal​  @kiwi-the-first​ @pedroepascal​ @castiel-barnes​ @honeymandos​ @rocketqueen​  @dybalalover10​ @girl-obsessed-with-things​ @elena-myth​ @moth-guillotine​ @pedro-pascal-love​ @hayley-the-comet​ @pinkninja200​ @maxiarapamaya​ @autumnleaves1991-blog​ @artsymaddie​ @harrys-stan​ @kennedywxlsh​ @cripplingmoon​ @cheekygeek05​ @mrschiltoncat​ @rye-flower​ @theamuz​ @persie33​ @sleepylunarwolf​ @martellthemandalor​ @pedro-pastel​ @steeevienicks​ @rrtxcmt​ @saphic-susperia​ @ladyjenny19​ @readsalot73​​ @softmedics​

[theartistichuman]

Tma 200 spoilers

I might post this to my ao3. This is a rough draft so please ignore the subpar writing.

Summary-

Melanie and Georgie heal.

They never did find the bodies in the end. That’s not for lack of trying; they scoured every inch of what used to be The Magnus Institute. They found a plethora of tapes, and some preserved Leitners (Georgie insisted on throwing them out, despite Melanie insisting that they were safe, and even if they weren’t they couldn’t hurt her anyways) but not a single body. Not even of the previous archivists.

Neither of them knew exactly what that meant. Georgie stayed stubbornly optimistic, but Melanie knew better. Georgie may have had her encounters, but Melanie almost was an encounter. She knew what it felt like to be afraid of what you’re becoming, but to want to hurt people anyways. She knew what it felt like to want to burn the world around you, and just keep walking. Melanie wanted to believe what Georgie did- that those two were dead and at rest- but she didn’t have the hope to keep it up. Not like Georgie did.

It takes time to make a new normal. Most days it felt like the world was holding its breath; waiting for the moment that their rest would be interrupted and they would be dragged back into their fear. Georgie started going to therapy, and seemed all the better for it. Melanie saw a psychiatrist every month or so for a check up, but after spending so long with Laverne worshipping her, she knew she needed a bit more time. It wasn’t good to put it off, but Georgie (and, by proxy, Georgie’s therapist) insist she take her time.

Georgie starts her podcast up after Melanie scolds her for getting stir crazy (employment was still fickle). She changed the theme, citing t that people probably wouldn’t want to speculate about the supernatural after they lived it. Instead she starts inviting people to send in her stories.

“Community counseling”Georgie told her over their celebratory dinner (dinosaur chicken nuggets and boxed wine) “people might feel better if they get their stories out there.”

Melanie highly doubted that, but she was the first guest on the newly rebranded ‘What the Apocalypse’ anyways. (It did make her feel better, but she suspects Georgie knows without her admitting it.)

The Admiral is different from how he was before. He didn’t pounce on things and his separation anxiety got so bad the vet put him on meds. The Admiral didn’t seem to like the dark much either, but according to Georgie that might not be because of the end of the world.

Every morning they take their meds together at breakfast. Melanie (with the assistance of her Scanmarker Air, that she refers to as her “sketchmarker air” to Georgie’s dismay) gets The Admiral his tuna, as Georgie makes them cereal.

Every evening they sit together and listen to their favorite books. Georgie will order them Hungarian on Fridays, and Melanie buys a cat carrier for The Admiral for Tuesday walks. It feels like family, and Melanie loves it so much it hurts.

Basira wanders in an out of their lives. Melanie isn’t sure what she’s up to, but she seems lost. Before she always seemed headstrong and powerful: like she knew where she was going and why. But now, without the pressure of the world on her shoulders, Basira seemed... timid almost.

Whenever Basira came over Georgie and Melanie would bring out their board games. They would drink an obscene amount of apple juice, and laugh until the sun came up. Basira never stayed past that, and they never asked her to.

One day Georgie interrupts their newfound evening “Melanie, we should talk.”

“About.....?” Melanie tries to point her face at where she approximates Georgie’s is. Georgie gently touches Melanie’s chin and guides her face up.

“Up here babe,” she says, fondly, “but I’ve told you that you don’t need to do that.”

Melanie knows she doesn’t need to do it, but the hand on her skin makes it worth it.

“I know.” She says back. “But I’m being polite.”

Georgie snorts. “Polite? You? You made Martin cry in your first week of work.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Melanie takes the hand on chin, and rubs her thumb across the knuckles. She ignores the small pang of loss she feels at his name. She thinks that in a different life they would’ve gotten along, maybe even been friends. “What was it you wanted to talk about?”

“Martin, actually. Well, Martin and Jon.” Georgie said. “I was thinking, and I understand if you disagree, that maybe we could... do something for them? Like a funeral or memorial or something? Maybe even just a headstone or something.”

Melanie opens her mouth to respond, but Georgie rushes in before she speaks.

“And I know you and Jon never got along, but I just think that after everything he deserves it. And even if he doesn’t , Martin certainly does. Even if neither of them deserve it I think it would help. My therapist told me I need closure, and I just thought-“

“Babe, babe, slow down,”Melanie interrupts, “I’d love to. Even if Jon and I... even if he was a bit of a wanker, he did sacrifice himself to end the apocalypse. And. Well, I just think t-that-“

Melanie stutters to stop for a moment to think. Georgie seems to understand that she’s not done, and squeezes her hand. Melanie takes a deep breath before continuing.

“I didn’t have a lot of friends growing up. Or after that. It was just me and my dad. When he died, they told me- they told me I couldn’t bury him. I couldn’t even have the ashes. Some bullshit about how he was part of a crime scene, which, looking now, didn’t make any sense. Not that I had enough money or time for a funeral, but... well, any closure would have been nice. I just- I just- I just don’t think I could let anyone close to me go un-un- I don’t know it’s just... it’s just bad.” Melanie winces a bit at her ending.

Georgie doesn’t say anything. Her hand stills from where she was playing with Melanie’s fingers. Melanie realizes a little belatedly, that she’d never talked about her father’s death with Georgie. After all they’d been through it seemed almost silly that Georgie didn’t know.

“And even if Jon was a wanker, Martin certainly wasn’t.” She tacks on in attempt to lighten the mood.

Georgie snorts at that. “Jon was... an acquired taste. He was a lot less uptight in University, but good god sometimes you could actually see the rod in his ass.”

“Hey!” Melanie says in mock offense “don’t speak ill of the dead!”

“You literally just called him a wanker!” Georgie retorts.

“Yeah but I’m allowed to! I don’t like him!” Melanie smacks her arm.

“Anyways. What do you want to do for them?” Georgie says once she stops giggling. “I was thinking a headstone, but that might be too much upkeep.”

“And people may not take kindly to a memorial to ‘The Archivist’ and his plus one.”

“Exactly,” Georgie agrees, “ so out with it. Give me an idea, oh wise prophet.”

Melanie pinches her hand. “Shut it, you. Maybe- maybe like a... bench or something?”

“A bench?” Georgie says teasingly, “that’s the best you’ve got? Not so wise after all.”

“Okay prophet, what have you got?”

“Maybe we could do something here? Like a photo album or something.”

“We don’t have any photos of them.”

“We could, like, write a heartfelt letter and burn it.”

“Maybe.” Melanie says with no small amount of suspicion.

“Okay, fiiiine maybe I don’t have any ideas.” Georgie relents.

They sit in silence for a bit after that. It should be uncomfortable, and probably would have been if it wasn’t Georgie and Melanie. Eventually Georgie gets up to find her phone so they can listen to the next chapter of their book. Melanie tries to lie down in the warm spot Georgie vacated, but The Admiral had already taken up the vacancy.

Melanie’s head lands in his soft fur, and he chirps inquisitively before curling around her head. Melanie buries a hand in his fur, and he rewards her with a content purr.

“Comfortable?” Georgie says when she re-enters the room. Melanie groans.

“Yes yes you fuss pot. Ready for our next chapter?” Georgie sits on the edge of the couch by Melanie’s head, and when she starts to pet her head, Melanie wishes she could purr like The Admiral.

Georgie snorts. “I think I might have a type.”

“And whats that?” Melanie nuzzles further into Georgie’s hand.

“Yeah,” Georgie pokes her cheek, “my type is ‘cats re-incarnated as people’. You can’t tell by looking at him, but Jon would absolutely melt at the slightest hair petting.”

Melanie is just about to protest being compared to Jon when an idea hits her. She sits up abruptly, and she hears Georgie give a little gasp in response.

“That’s it!” Melanie shouts.

“What’s it?” Georgie says, almost as loud.

“I’ve just had a great idea.”

Melanie gives her proposal, and even though she can’t see it, she knows Georgie is smiling the rest of the night.

—————

A week later, Georgie and Melanie walk into their apartment with two boxes. They would have just used one, but they were nervous the little ones would fight in the car ride that Rosie graciously provides them (with the payment of demanding photos).

And so Jon and Martin entered their lives.

One of the kittens is sleek black with golden amber eyes and short hair, and the other is white with blue eyes and so much fluff that he looks three times the size he really is. There were more kittens in the running, but these two were at the top (according to Georgie, they were basically photo copies of their namesakes), but Melanie decided these were the two when the woman at the desk told her they were inseparable.

They were worried about how The Admiral would react to their new additions, but it was proved irrational within three hours. The Admiral seemed to take a liking to them immediately.

“Maybe it really is Jon.” Georgie jokes when she stumbles on the three cuddled together. “Sometimes I thought The Admiral liked him more.”

(That was obviously false; anyone with -or with damaged- eyes could tell The Admiral adored her.)

They barely had to make an adjustment to their routine- the only real difference was the number of bowls during breakfast, and the number of feet that pattered in the halls.

Basira didn’t know what to make of it at first, but Georgie later told her that she stumbled in on Basira apologizing to Jon. Neither of them judge her for it; both of them did the same thing when they got him.

The days stretch to weeks, and the weeks stretch into months. Melanie goes to therapy, and attempts to keep houseplants. Georgie records her podcasts and teases Melanie when she fails to keep a cactus alive. Together they make their home with new cat toys (that The Admiral still refuses to play with), a cat tree (which the Admiral is more than interested in), crotchet throws from Rosie and the occasional mug from Basira.

One morning Melanie wakes to find the last bit of residual anger in her gone, and when she cries Georgie holds her tight.

Melanie loves it so much it hurts, and she wouldn’t trade it for the world.

[goodomensblog]

Afterward - Part 18

A Good Omens Choose Your Own Adventure Fic

Here’s how it works:

I’ll write a scene.

At the end of each scene, you’ll be presented with 2-3 options for what the characters will choose to do next.

Comment or reblog to vote for your choice. I’ll count all votes after the first 24 hours after each update is posted.

Read: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11, part 12, part 13, part 14, part 15, part 16, part 17

(#3 wins! Once again, we’re going with the most chaotic option and I am here for it)

Afterward - - - Part 18

- - - - - - - - - - -

It is late, and the streets of London are quiet and tired when the Bentley growls into the barren parking lot. Overhead, garish yellow arches glow, a lackluster flickering beacon in the darkness.

Aziraphale glances up - and then back at the restaurant, and heaves a long, deep sigh. “Oh dear.”

“Oh fuck yes,” Beelzebub crows, sitting up.

“McDonald’s,” Gabriel says, voice flat with disinterest. “Is that one of yours...?”

“Oh yeah, yep,” Crowley answers, steering them into the drive through. The giant, back-lit menu bathes the passengers of the car in a dull, white glow.

By the time Crowley remembers to roll down the window, the speaker is crackling and hissing and a tired voice is saying, “-your order. Would you like to try our new Triple Grand Big Mac? It comes with triple the bacon and triple the cheese.”

“Just uh, give us a sec please,” Crowley says, and looks to Aziraphale first. “Angel, what do you-”

“I want the new Triple Grand Big Mac!” Beelzebub says, leaning over the front seat. Dark blood is still dripping down the side of their face, and Crowley recoils as it splatters on the car’s dark leather.

“Watch it with the blood!”

Shifting to see around Beelzebub, Aziraphale sighs and hums, fidgeting as he looks at the menu. “Well...perhaps the wrap? Hm...no. No. Never mind.”

Crowley feels hot breath horrifyingly near to the base of his neck, and glances back to see Gabriel’s awful face pressing up on his right, attempting to peer out the driver’s side window.

“What the hell, Gabriel!” Crowley snarls, jerking back - only to bump into Beelzebub, who is still very much leaking blood. “Oh, come on - gross.”

“What is...a McFlurry?” Gabriel asks ponderously from Crowley’s right, as Beelzebub shouts, “And I want one hundred chicken nuggets!”

“Listen,” Crowley replies, grimacing as he wipes blood off his shoulder, “they’re not gonna be able to make a hundred chicken nuggets. It’ll take too long-”

“Perhaps...the veggie dippers?” Aziraphale mutters and shudders. “Though maybe it would be best if-”

“Um - excuse me?” The voice from the speaker crackles. “Do you, uh, need help, sir?”

“No, no - we’re-”

“Yes,” Gabriel says, interrupting. “Listen. My body is a temple, and I will only soil it with the purest nutriments. Do you understand?”

From the speaker, comes a long, buzzing silence.

“So you’re um...like a vegan?”

“Veeegan,” Gabriel says, sounding it out.

“Oh my God,” Crowley groans, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I want fifty cheeseburger Happy Meals,” Beelzebub demands, leaning over Crowley. “And don’t you dare leave out the toys!”

“Sorry? You want fifty-”

“Do you think they could make me a deconstructed burger?” Aziraphale muses.

“If I am going to debase myself with food, it must be organic, sugar free, have no preservatives, be keto friendly-”

“And give me forty-five ice cream cones - with the flakes!”

“Excuse me - what?!”

“-of course no trans fats, no GMOs, no partially hydrogenated soybean oil-”

“...perhaps I could request they leave off the pickles. The acidity really does tend to bring down the entire flavor profile-”

“-and seventy no - eighty hash browns! I want them double fried, no triple-”

“That is….ENOUGH!” Crowley shouts, laying his hand on the horn; and finally, the car’s passengers go completely and mercifully silent.

“...sir?” The voice from the speaker squeaks out, hesitant.

“Yeah, sorry about all that. I’m ready now.”

Ten minutes later, the Bentley rolls out of the drive through.

Aziraphale sits, lips pursed, with a salad in his lap and a large milkshake balanced between his knees. Beelzebub is slouched with several greasy boxes of nuggets between their legs and an ice cream cone in each fist. Beside them, Gabriel sits, lips curling in disgust as he peers suspiciously at the baggies of baby carrots scattered over his lap. 

Crowley, black coffee in hand and a small, greasy bag of fries set beside him, takes a long, slow sip of the drink. He clears his throat, and says with a measure of defeat, “Okay, yeah, fine - I’ll pop over to the store later to get us some better food.”

“Oh thank Heavens,” Aziraphale sighs; giving Crowley a conciliatory smile, he takes a dainty sip of his shake.

By the time they pull up in front of the bookshop, the car is littered with fast food wrappers, and Crowley sits in his seat, glaring, until quick hands snatch up the trash. 

“Thank you,” he mutters, and shoves open the door.

So eager is Crowley to return to the well worn sofas and sleepy warmth of Aziraphale’s bookshop, that he doesn’t even consider the possibility of enemies or traps until his hand is on the door. 

Fingers twisting around door handles, he halts. Aziraphale bumps into his back with a muffled noise of shock.

“Crowley-?” Aziraphale asks, pressing a warm, steady hand against his back.

Lowering his glasses, Crowley shifts to the side and takes a long, scrutinizing look through the dim windows. 

It’s unlikely that Entropy would know to find them here. But...they’d underestimated the void creature before - and they were in no shape to fight their way out of a trap. 

“Wait here,” Crowley says, glancing back at Aziraphale. “I’m gonna check it out. Make sure no one’s lying in wait.”

“Not by yourself, you’re not!” Aziraphale protests, reaching for his arm.

Crowley turns a considering look at the company crowding his back.

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

Before they can retreat into the safety of Aziraphale’s bookshop, Crowley needs to verify that it IS actually still safe and there aren’t traps or enemies lying in wait. Aziraphale insists that he shouldn’t go alone, and Crowley decides…

To take Aziraphale with him to check the shop for dangers. Aziraphale is injured, but a part of Crowley would rather they stick together. Besides, if something is lying in wait, Crowley would give his life before he allowed harm to come to Aziraphale. Team Ineffable Husbands is a go!

To take Gabriel with him to check the shop for dangers. Okay, yes, Crowley does technically hate Gabriel. But Gabriel is less injured than both Aziraphale and Beelzebub, and the archangel does still have an ethereal sword up his metaphysical sleeve. Crowley is willing to put up with Gabriel if it means keeping Aziraphale out of harm’s way. Team Inimical Assholes is a go!

To take Beelzebub with him to check the shop for dangers. Beelzebub annoys Crowley slightly less than Gabriel, and despite their injuries, Beelzebub is a powerful ally to have in a fight and seems to have a nose for sniffing out enemies. Team Awkward Demons is a go!

To go in alone, despite Aziraphale’s protests. Aziraphale is injured and Crowley would rather face any potential traps knowing that Aziraphale is safely out of harm’s way. He doesn’t need backup anyway. Team... just Crowley is a go!

Please comment or reblog to vote! :)

And yes, McDonald’s does actually sell tiny baggies of carrots.

Part 19

[fleetwoodmactshirt]

roadtrip headcanons (requested)

i think they’d all have a different vibe and a different energy. i didn’t really rank them best to worst, i just explored what i think the vibe of a road trip with each of them would be like. i also let loose and slipped in some super self-indulgent personal hcs/one-shot au idea that is a WiP about ezra as an intriguing handsome stranger you encounter on your solo cross-country road trip. as a treat. s/o to @ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa​ for suggesting whiskey’s fav song.

frankie morales is the road trip king. no matter how spontaneous, frankie can whip a road trip plan together smoothly. he’s got a spacious truck, he’s got a cooler, he’s got the coziest blankets, he’s got the travel pillow, he’s got the camping gear, he knows the best scenic routes, he’s got the best classic tunes, he’s got the best snacks. he makes homemade sandwiches and burritos, wraps them tightly in tin foil. he heats up frozen pizzas, cuts them into slices. he stores it all in the cooler for lunches. when the supply runs out, you gorge yourselves on burgers and fries at roadside diners. but every morning he’ll stop in the nearest town to buy some apples, or some fresh fruit/veg of some kind. if they’re ripe he’ll get avocados that he’ll cut in half for you both to scoop out with a spoon to eat plain while you sit together in the bed of his truck in the shade of a lake you’ve stopped at for the afternoon. but he surprises you with your favourite junk food and snacks. he lets you borrow his cap if the sun is in your eyes; he’s got a spare, more threadbare one in the glove box. he’s low key done the research on the best places for stargazing; you lie back nestled together under a blanket, in the bed of his truck, gazing upwards; you listen as he describes the constellations, tracing them out with his finger.

max phillips. business road trips but max’s...condition necessitates driving at night only. liminal spaces. driving through the night, sleeping in business hotel rooms during the day, dust motes floating in the thin streams of sunlight peeking through the cracks in the curtains you’ve pulled shut. you see incredible sunsets and sunrises from the highway. you also see some undeniably weird shit late at night on road trips with max. he watches you eat breakfast food at 2 am in neon lit 24/7 diners. while on the road he passes you lots of candy throughout the night; he stocks up from the hotel vending machines. but no matter how much caffeine and sugar he tries to fuel you with, sometimes you’re lulled to sleep by the peacefulness. you nestle your head against max’s shoulder; it’s not the most comfortable position to drive in but he can’t bring himself to readjust and shift away from you. solitary brightly lit gas stations that are like an oasis of light breaking the pitch darkness. the two of you feel utterly alone sometimes; the world has shrunk down to only you, max, in this car, driving along this empty, dark stretch of road, a blush of purple on the edge of the horizon signalling the dawn.

based on how oberyn canonically took his daughters to explore an abandoned holdfast, i think his road trip energy would be all about the journey and not the destination. road trips with oberyn and ellaria would be meandering and adventurous. sometimes you’re riding shotgun and sometimes you’re sitting in the backseat with ellaria laid out and napping beside you, sun hat dipped down covering her eyes, her long legs stretched across your lap. if the three of you come across a motel you enjoy he’ll feel no urgency to leave; the days blur together and soon you’ve spent a week soaking up sun by the pool and sleeping in late entangled together in a pile of limbs after long passionate nights. day by day you may not even travel very far; he wants to stop and explore. hike amidst rock formations, swim in hot springs, explore the local museums; whatever catches his or your fancy. if he sees a billboard on the side of the road advertising local caves, or a petrified forest, or hears rumour of nearby ghost town that’s all but disappeared off the map, you’ll suddenly find yourselves veering off down small country roads, hours from the highway, seeking out pleasure, adventure, mystery. 

marcus has a hilton rewards card so you’re staying at hilton garden inns every night. clean sheets. comfortable beds. complimentary breakfast. it’s very pleasant. middle class fancy. holds out his hand for you to drop some snacks into his palm so he can remain focused on the road while you’re both munching. let’s you curate the spotify playlists.

roadtrips with javier are always last minute decisions to just take off, head to a gorgeous but isolated beach you’d heard about that’s a few days from here. he doesn’t get many opportunities for long stretches of time off, so when he does you don’t hesitate. you might not even wait for a rational time to leave. it’s midnight and you guys just speed off into the darkness. you just threw some essentials into a bag, jumped in his jeep, and booked it. you gotta buy toothpaste and toothbrushes at a gas station, and you borrow javi’s deodorant stick because you forgot yours. greasy fast food containers, half-empty cigarette packs, and snack wrappers litter the dashboard. his aviators perched on his nose, one hand resting on the wheel, the other curled around your thigh, javi on a road trip is relaxed. he’s leaving all his burdens, his worries, everything weighing on his chest, all of it, behind him. literally, the more distance you guys put between yourselves and where you were, the more uplifted his spirits. when your favourite song comes on the radio, and you’re shimmying in your seat, he can’t keep his eyes off you, his gaze flicking between you and the road. he sings along under his breath, bobbing his head almost imperceptibly and tapping his fingers on the steering wheel, a slow smile spreading across his face.

whiskey pulls up to your house at 5 am on the dot, the obnoxious custom sound of the horn of his bronco rattling the windows and scaring the birds out of the trees lining the street. country music jams ONLY. you argue over his taste in music; does he enjoy being a walking cliche? he will not accept any song that doesn’t have a twang to it. he’d be an aux cord hog if he knew what an aux cord even was. so much for your favourite spotify road trip playlists. “spot fly? spot what fly, where?” still has mixtapes he made himself, the same ones he’s been playing since forever. forces you listen to all his favourite songs, the ones he knows all the words to, while he obnoxiously sings along and ignores your eye-rolling. but he doesn’t ignore how your feet start tapping absentmindedly to toby keith’s ‘whiskey girl’. the corner of his mouth quirks up in a smirk that quickly becomes a broad grin as he reaches over to smack your thigh, laughing he’ll make a country girl of you yet. startled out of your daze, you vehemently deny you weren’t enjoying the song, he doesn’t know what the fuck he’s talking about. he insists he knows the best places to stop, which means you always end up driving far off the highway to some little mom and pop diner that has killer apple pie for lunch. in the evenings you always end up in some honky-tonk bar that’s joined to a motel and yes, there’s line dancing, and yes he manages to twist your arm and convince you to join in. 

ezra…..as a man who’s floated from planet to planet, following jobs and leads, for the better part of his life, he’s found himself smooth-talking his way into being a lot of people’s unexpected travel companion out of necessity over the years. road trip ezra is on the run from someone or something; maybe the law, maybe not. all you know is this beautiful, mysterious stranger you met under dubious circumstances somehow, with his roguish grin and drawling accent, his kind eyes and eloquence, convinced you to let him ride along with you. you ran into him in the grungy diner attached to an even grungier motel in some desolate nowhere town. you recognized him; he’s unmistakably the lone figure on the side of the dusty road, his thumb stuck out, that you drove past yesterday. you’d driven past but that blonde streak had been unmissable and you won’t admit it but you’d felt his gaze on you long after you’d left him in the dust. ezra’s endless chatter on the road isn’t unwelcome; he knows seemingly innumerable facts about local folklore, flora, and fauna, and he never seems to be depleted of stories. you’d made the conscious and contrary decision to make this cross-country road trip alone, rebelling against a lot of cautionary advice, but somewhere along the way loneliness had creeped in under your skin and settled there. this handsome stranger may have an edge of danger to him but later when he’s bringing you to heights of ecstasy in a motel room you won’t give a damn.

maxwell lord flies everywhere in a private jet. the worst.

din djarin’s entire life is basically one long never-ending road trip. but in space. i figure earth-bound din on a conventional road trip would basically be how we see him: no nonsense. no frivolities. no music; travels in total silence. gets where he needs to go. stops for soup, as needed. stops for repairs, as needed. stops to work an odd job with some really sketchy people for some gas money, as needed. din’s road trip energy would be like that john mulaney joke. you’d see the mcdonalds sign lit up and shining in the distance and plead for him to stop so he’d pull into the drive-thru, order one black coffee and keep driving. except if you’ve got the baby with you; he gets a chicken nugget happy meal for the kid. he’s a good papa! and of course you’d get whatever you wanted too, he provides and cares for his loved ones after all.

SEND ME ANY QUESTIONS/HC PROMPTS/REQUESTS YOU HAVE

[nalgenewhore]

Slipping Through My Fingers - Four

masterlist - ao3 - last chapter - next chapter

warnings: none

The bell finally rang on a glorious Friday afternoon and Elide corralled all her students, herding them into the cubby room. 

Kohana, as always, was one of the first students ready, standing next to the door silently as his proclaimed ‘bestest friend ever’ stood next to him, excitedly chattering about her weekend plans. 

Esther Corsario-Beausoleil was an adorable little girl, with sea green eyes and a cloud of coily, flaming red locks, the child to Elide’s favourite parents - Ilias, Ansel, and Rolfe. Elide had known Ansel forever and knew that they proclaimed it to be a cruel and unjust punishment to stick their kid with three last names. Ilias had gotten the pick of her first name as a consolation. Unlike one of her fathers and Kohana, she hardly ever stopped talking, but it seemed as though Kohana’s presence had a calming effect on her. 

Esther was currently explaining to Kohana that her last name, translated into the common tongue, meant ‘pirate-beautiful sun’. Esther had the cutest accent, her pronunciation of her last names immaculate. 

That had him excited as he hurriedly told her that his last name meant ‘god of the sea-saviour of the earth’. They looked very pleased with themselves and Esther managed to stop hopping around to show him how her shoes lit up. 

“Ok, friends, is everybody ready?” Elide asked, standing at the front of the line. They all nodded and took each other’s hands like she’d taught them before she led them outside. It was beautiful again today and Elide couldn’t wait to go over to Nesryn and Lysandra’s place tonight, her week - while she loved it and it had gone as smoothly as possible - had been hectic and she was ready to relax with her closest friends. 

Elide said hello to the parents and nannies, pulling some of them to the side to discuss minor issues they’d had. Somehow, she’d managed to make it through the week without a single wet pants situation and Elide thanked whatever deity had ensured that small victory for her. 

“Elide! Elide!” Elide turned, to see Esther pointing across the asphalt area to her mother, who was climbing out of a sleek red Cadillac. “C’est Maman!” 

Elide chuckled as Ansel strolled up, wearing a pair of skin tight black jeans, a black top and a burgundy leather jacket, her eyes hidden behind a pair of cat-eye sunglasses. She tossed her glossy locks over her shoulder and opened her arms, letting her daughter race towards her and launch herself into her arms. “Bon après-midi, my petite. On fait bien, oui?” Esther nodded and began to babble as Ansel propped her up on her hip and walked to Elide. “Elide, my saviour!” Oh, how Elide loved that sultry accent.

“Hey, Ansel. Esther was a joy, yet again. We made some art today, but it won’t be dry until Monday.” 

Ansel nodded and turned to Kohana, who was now standing alone, the last kid, as he waited for his dad. There was a crease between his brows as he watched with those light eyes of his. “Hi, Ko-Ko. How we doing?” 

He turned to Ansel and waved, “Hi-hi. ‘m waiting for até.” He fell silent again, wringing his hands until something crossed over his face and he was off before Elide could stop him, running as fast as his little legs would take him. Kohana didn’t get too far before Lorcan was scooping him up. 

Lorcan was smiling widely as he easily put Kohana on his shoulders and walked over to Elide and Ansel. Kohana looked pleased, his little hands holding onto Lorcan’s hair as he sat on his perch. “Hey, Ansel, Esther.” Esther waved at him vigorously and swung her legs out, trying to get her shoes to light up again. “Elide.” 

“Lorcan.” Ansel looked back and forth between them with narrowed eyes after she pushed her sunglasses up into her wine-coloured hair. Elide still couldn’t tell if it was natural or not - even after all these years - but with Esther’s red strands, she couldn’t be sure. “Kohana was a perfect student this week. I’m very impressed with his ability to tie his own shoes. He’s got the best bunny ears in the game.” She winked at Kohana, who giggled and clapped his little hands before leaning over his father’s head. 

“I tied my shoes all the days, até.” 

“Good job, Ko. You ready to go?” 

“Yep! Got say bye-bye to Essie!” Kohana sat up straight and stretched out his arm, waving bye to Esther. “Bye-bye, Essie!” 

Esther beamed and waved goodbye to him as well, “Au revoir, Ko-Ko!” 

The adults chuckled at the cuteness and all said their farewells as Lorcan strolled off. Ansel swivelled to Elide, a brow raised, “What the fuck was that?” 

“Maman! Mauvais mot,” Esther chastised her mother, frowning as she crossed her arms. 

“Just like your Aba, huh? Always tell me what to do,” Ansel teased her daughter in reference to Ilias. Elide had known Ansel when they were both in university, around the time that she met her now husbands, and Elide knew that Rolfe and Ansel were the troublemakers of the relationship. “But seriously, what was that?” 

Elide rolled her eyes, “You’re still coming tonight, right? I’ll tell you then.” 

Ansel pouted and sighed dramatically, “Oh, I suppose I can wait that long.” They laughed and soon enough, were departing as Elide headed back to her classroom. 

She puttered around, tidying up and putting the little chairs up before gathering her things. It didn’t take more than fifteen minutes and she was off, after closing the blinds and turning off the lights, heading home for the weekend. 

It was nice out again today, but Elide had still brought her car, a cute, vintage, baby-blue painted Volkswagen Bug. She rolled down the windows as she drove home, happy with the success of her first week. 

Granted, she could’ve done without the realization that she’d had a one-night stand with one of her student’s fathers, but she’d take what she could get. 

+*+*+*+*+*+*

“Dad, where we going?” 

“We’re going to Ro’s house, kiddo.” 

“Can I bring Tigger?” 

Lorcan looked down at his son, his eyes wide as he pouted. “Sorry, Ko, you know Tigger stays at home.” 

Kohana sulked, crossing his arms tightly. “Wanna bring Tigger.” He frowned deeply, a fierce glare pointed at Lorcan as he picked the child up and locked their front door behind him, walking to the truck. Every first Friday of the month, the guys would all meet up and play poker somewhere. The level of the stakes varied, but never exceeded an ostentatious amount. 

As a bribe, Lorcan stopped at a fast food place and bought his son chicken nuggets on his way to Rowan’s, smiling in the rearview as Kohana happily munched on his dinner and kicked his legs out. Soon enough, they pulled up in front of Rowan’s townhouse and hopped out of the truck. 

Kohana raced to the door and pressed incessantly on Rowan’s doorbell until the silver-haired man yanked the door open, assuming it was Lorcan doing it to annoy him. Upon seeing Kohana, he grinned and picked the little one up, tickling his sides until he was squirming away. “No! No more!” 

“Boyo just devoured ten chicken nuggets, don’t blame me when he barfs on you,” Lorcan said dryly, laughing as Rowan made a nervous face and put Kohana down. He pushed past Rowan’s legs and raced into the house, roaring his arrival. 

“So how’s the teacher?” 

Lorcan groaned, “Fen told you?” 

“Literally the second after you told him.” 

“Fucking Marama,” Lorcan muttered, putting down Kohana’s backpack of toys and books. 

“Someone say my name?” Fenrys yelled as he popped out from behind the corner and Lorcan shouted. 

“Hellas below, man, can you not? I hate it when you do that.” Fenrys cackled and Lorcan wondered how on earth did he convince Nehemia to marry him. They all walked into the kitchen and sat at the table, with Kohana as their dealer. 

They didn’t fuck around after their greetings and got right into the game. At some point, Connall had fished out the old visor with DEALER stamped across it and plopped it on Kohana’s head. 

The five-year old took his job very seriously, his brows furrowed as he carefully passed out the correct amount of cards. “Juice, please.” 

After he’d gotten his juice box, the game was back on. Fenrys looked at Lorcan and wiggled his brows in a way that Lorcan did not like. “So, Man-Man,” Kohana looked up from the chips he was carefully stacking, sitting atop a pile of books so that he could see the entire table. “How’s school going? You like your teacher?” 

“Fenrys-” 

“Teacher is nice. Like her. She read stories and paint and draw and play outside with us. Did you know I gots a bestest friend, Fenny?” 

“What? I thought I was your bestest friend, Ko!” Fenrys exclaimed, holding a hand to his heart like he was wounded. “What’s your bestest friend like?” 

“Very loud. Essie talks a lot,” Kohana said, moving on to the blue chips. “She gots shoes that light up too.” 

“She seems like a nice friend,” Vaughan said, smiling fondly at his nephew. “Do you have light up shoes, Fenny?” Fenrys, mindful of the child sitting in full view, stuck his tongue out at Vaughan, making Kohana giggle. 

“Essie has two daddies and one mommy.” 

Lorcan elaborated, “She’s Corsario’s kid.” 

“Oh dang really?” Connall asked, his brows lifting. “Ay, didn’t he marry Ilias and Ansel?” 

“Yeah, they were in that prenatal class with us,” Lorcan said, focusing on his cards. 

“That is a brave man.” 

“What’dya mean?” 

“Marrying Rolfe and Ansel? I’m surprised he hasn’t had a heart attack yet.” 

They all chuckled and soon enough, the game recommenced, at the behest of the dealer. 

+*+*+*+*+*+*

“I got to say, El, Esther’s so happy she gets to call you by your first name.” Ansel rolled her eyes, “She had the most ridiculous daycare leader ever who made the kids learn the ‘proper’ way to address adults.” 

“They’re kids! Some of them haven’t even turned five yet, for fuck’s sake. If all we’re doing is learning our numbers and ABCs, then they definitely do not have to ‘address’ me like that. Certainly not if I’m teaching them to treat others how they want to be treated,” Elide said, helping Lysandra in the kitchen by washing a head of lettuce.

Ansel nodded her agreement and a wicked gleam entered her eyes as Elide started tearing up the green leaves. “So… how much more drunk do you have to be to spill that hot drama you’ve been sitting pretty on, with your cute lil ass?”  

Elide groaned and flicked Ansel’s nose, “Dude… can you be chill? For once?” 

“Spill? Spill what?” Aelin asked, popping into the kitchen. 

“Oh, am I finally going to figure out why you were being so weird on Saturday?” That was Nehemia, walking into the kitchen with Nesryn. Lysandra was already there, cutting something up for whatever dinner they were having. 

Elide groaned in defeat and hit her head on the countertop. “I slept with my student’s dad.” 

“What?” 

She lifted her head and pinched the bridge of her nose, “The guy from Friday night is the father of one of my students.” 

They gawked at her, utterly silent until Ansel gasped and covered her mouth with her hand. “Mon dieu, it’s Lorcan, right? Am I right?” 

“Mm-hmm. Yup.” 

Aelin, Ansel, and Nehemia cackled as Lysandra gave her a sympathetic look and hugged her. “I’m sorry, honey. That doesn’t sound fun.” 

Elide pouted and whined, “It’s so bad! I thought he was stalking me or something when he showed up!” A thought crossed her mind and she swore, “Anneith below, it’s gonna be so awkward at parent-teacher conferences!” 

“How?” 

“Well, I think he’s divorced and they have joint custody? Anyway, we’ve barely said more than two sentences to each other and I can’t even look him in the eye. The mother is going to have to be brain-dead-” 

Ansel sucked in a breath, all the humour in her face disappearing. “El… can I talk to you quickly?” 

They all exchanged weird looks as Elide slipped off her stool and followed Ansel to the backyard. The red-haired woman was pacing, biting her thumbnail. “Ans, what is it?” 

“Kohana’s mom died four years ago. She got sick and they didn’t find anything wrong until it was too late.” 

“Oh my gods. Are you serious?” 

Ansel nodded, her eyes conflicted. “Yeah. I figured you knew already. She and Lorcan had been together for years, highschool sweethearts.” 

Elide felt her heart drop and she couldn’t find the words to process anything. She knew what it was like to lose her parents at a young age and suddenly it all made sense. Kohana’s wariness to make friends outside of Esther, waiting anxiously for his dad to show up at pickup, lingering by Lorcan at dropoff. “Poor Kohana. Poor Lorcan. Shit.” 

Ansel winced and nodded, “I wouldn’t mention it to him until he brings it up. Losing her like that… no one should have to live through that. Especially with a kid.” 

Elide nodded, her mind reeling. Somehow, this mess became even messier. She wasn’t sure how it had done that. 

+*+*+*+*+*+*

Fenrys was having a no-blinking contest with Kohana when his phone buzzed. The five-year old smirked, the little shit had the audacity to smirk at him, his gaze piercing and wide open. “Do you needs a break?” 

Man, fuck him and his stupid grammar, Fenrys said to himself as he nodded and Kohana blinked, taking a bite of his mini Babybel. His hands were barely big enough to hold it in one. The golden-haired man had never wanted to throttle anyone more. 

He stepped away from the table and took out his phone, smiling at the image of his wife that lit up the screen. He accepted the call, “Hey, Mi. What’s up?” 

“Hi, babe, um… did Lorcan tell you that…?”

“Oh, Ko’s teacher? Yeah, he told me.” He paused, checking that everyone was busy doing something. “What about it?” 

Nehemia breathed out slowly, “She’s Aelin’s sister. Elide.” 

“Oh fuck.” 

A little voice gasped from behind him and Fenrys turned, seeing Kohana clap his hands over his ears. Bless that kid and his innocence. “Mi, I gotta go. Let’s talk more at home, ok?” 

“Ok. Love you, Fen.” 

“Love you too.” 

Kohana’s eyes were wide and he whispered, “You said a bad word, Fenny.” 

Fenrys stuffed his phone back into his pocket and quickly lifted Kohana up, carrying him to the kitchen. “I know, Man-Man. But guess what?” 

“What?” 

“If you keep it a secret and don’t tell your daddy, I’ll give you ice cream. Deal?” 

Kohana’s vehement nod was answer enough for Fenrys.

+*+*+*+*+*+*

an: Até means father in Lakota :) and it’s gonna be a lil slow for now, ok? but don’t worry, the drama is coming 👀

@mythicaitt @tinywolfofeyllwe @schmlip-scribble @the-regal-warrior @westofmoon @empire-of-wildfire @rhysands-highlady @city-of-fae @shyvioletcat @alifletcher2012 @tangledraysofsunshine @ttakeitbacknoww @tswaney17 @ourbooksuniverse @flora-and-fae @thesirenwashere @queenofxhearts @maastrash @mynewdreamwasyou @cursebreaker29 @superspiritfestival @empress-ofbloodshed @queen-of-glass @sleeping-and-books @beccasophia95 @exersize-me-i-dare-u @thewayshedreamed @hizqueen4life @ifinallygavein @bat-wing-rhys @awkward-avocado-s @b00kworm​

[hopelikethemoon]

Beach Day (Javier x Reader) {MTMF}

Title: Beach Day  Rating: PG Length: 2000 Warnings: None Notes: You can find everything about Maybe Today, Maybe Forever here. Set in the Summer of 1998. Summary: Reader spends a day at the beach with her family.

@grapemama @seawhisperer @huliabitch @pedropascalito @rogrsnbarnes @thewallpapergoesorido @twomoonstwosuns @gooddaykate @livasaurasrex @ham4arrow @plexflexico @readsalot73 @hdlynn @lokiaddicted @randomness501 @fioccodineveautunnale  @roxypeanut @snivellusim @lukesrighthand @historynerd04 @mrsparknuts @synystersilenceinblacknwhite @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @exrebelshocktrooper @awesomefandomsunited @ah-callie @swhiskeys @lady-tano @beskar-droids @space-floozy @cable-kenobi @cool-ultra-nerd @himbopoes @findhimfives @pedrosdoll @frietiemeloen @arrowswithwifi @random066 @uncomicalhumour @heather-lynn @domino-oh-damn @cyarikaaa @ahopelessromanticwritersworld @im-still-a-pieceofgarbage @ksgeekgirl  @yabby-girl @xqueenofthecraziesx @punkass-potato @coredrive​ @pascalesque​ @theduchessofkirkcaldy​ @queenquazar​ @sabinemorans​ @buckstaposition @holkaskrosnou​ @yespolkadotkitty @fleetwoodmactshirt​

Javier let out a low wolf whistle as you walked ahead of him, keeping up with Stevie as she bounded ahead on her leash. She was usually pretty good about not pulling, but the promise of the beach had her tugging at her lead. 

In response, ‘fuck off’ danced on the tip of your tongue, but Josie was hot on your heels and you were really trying to avoid ‘fuck’ being one of Sofía’s first words. Instead, you reached behind your back and flipped him off, which earned you a throaty laugh from him. 

You had been looking forward to today for the past week. Javier had taken the girls to the beach a couple times, but you had been trapped at work — missing out on the joys of summer with your family. Monica and Nadia had been planning to join you, but Nadia’s family was having a get together and her grandmother had been amenable to inviting Monica over. How could you argue with that? 

“How’s it going back there, old man?” You questioned, hand on your hip as you paused to let Stevie sniff at something that had caught her interest. 

“My back will probably have complaints tonight,” Javier remarked as he lugged the small portable wagon that held towels, chairs, a cooler, and the colorful umbrella that would hopefully provide a little shade to the four of you. 

“At least you look good while struggling.” You quipped, raking your eyes over him before you were off again with the dog and Josie. He really did look good. Sofía was strapped to his back in a carrier and he’d already shucked off his shirt after unloading the car. His swim shorts had slid down low on his hips and you tried to keep your mind from thinking too hard about that line of dark hair that was partially hidden beneath the waistband. 

“Mommy, look at the seagulls!” Josie shouted, running ahead after a flock of seagulls who took flight when she got too close to them. Stevie barked excitedly and you let go of her lead and let her go chasing after Josie.

You waited for Javier to catch up with you, keeping one eye on the child-and-dog duo as they went running down the sandbank after another flock of seagulls. “It’s the little things in life that make them happy.” 

Javier nodded in agreement, switching hands on the wagon so he could reach over and slot his fingers in between yours. “They get that from me.” 

“Yeah?” You laughed softly, “Even the dog gets that from you?”

He shrugged a shoulder, “Seems about right.”

You walked alongside him, “Remember when we used to rag on Steve for wanting to move back to Miami?”

“It was a near-constant thing.” Javier recalled. “I know it was Connie wanting to leave, but fuck — he was dying to get his ass back on a beach.” 

“I think I get it,” You remarked, squeezing his hand three times. “And trust me, I never pictured that Miami would become my home.” 

“What was your plan?” Javier questioned lightly, “If things hadn’t worked out.”

You chewed on your bottom lip as you thought back on what your plans had been. “Well, if they’d terminated me, I was going to come back to the states.” You shook your head slowly. “Probably try to beg my way back into a job in Atlanta or crash in Philly again.” You made a face, “This is the much better alternative.”

Javier nodded his head in agreement, squeezing your hand right. “I guess we can thank Steve for some things.”

“Oh, you mean like Josie?” You teased as you headed down the beach towards where she and Stevie were bounding around in the sand. 

“Definitely, Josie.” He chuckled, letting go of your hand as he moved to unpack the wagon. Sofía was chilling on his back, content with her little perched view over his shoulder. She’d even managed to keep both her sunglasses and her floppy hat on. 

“Josie!” You called out, “Come help us unpack!”

Josie came running back with Stevie trudging along beside her. Both of them were already covered in sand. You leaned down to pet the dog’s head, scratching behind her ear as she wiggled her butt in response.

“Do me!” Josie told you, tilting her head to the side so you could tickle behind her ear. She giggled like a fiend, wiggling in response. “Did you see that, daddy? I wagged my tail like Stevie.” 

“I did see that!” He said, passing her beach towel to her. “Are you turning into a puppy now?”

“Maaaaaybe.” She said with an impish grin as she neatly draped her blanket over her purple gold chair. “Are we going in the ocean?”

“We are!” You told her, pulling the umbrella out of the wagon and setting it up. You angled it just right, making sure the shadow was cast over the chairs for shade. “But first we’re going to get settled.”

“Okay.” She shrugged and flopped into her chair, pushing her sunglasses up her nose in a very familiar fashion. 

“Is she becoming me?”

Javier snorted, “She’s got every bit of your fire, baby. It’s like running around all week with your mini-me.”

“Odds are our grumpy baby takes after someone we all know and love.” You said lightly, reaching over to rub your hand over Sofía’s back as she pressed her cheek against his shoulder. “It’s uncanny.”

You rose up on your toes and pressed a kiss to Javier’s cheek. “Do you want to eat before we let them get in the water?”

Javier nodded, “Works for me.” He answered as he unstrapped the baby carrier so he could sink down in his chair with her. 

You knelt down in the sand, opening the cooler and pulling out the plastic bags. “We’ve got a pimento cheese sandwich on white.” You remarked, passing the bag to Javier. 

“Thanks, baby.”

“And a Lunchable for a certain princess.” You passed the box to Josie. 

“JoJo, let me open that.” 

Josie pouted a little, passing the yellow box to her father so he could prep it for her. She was unsurprisingly still obsessed with chicken nuggets and with the advent of barbecue shake-up chicken nuggets — she was thrilled. 

They had been a lifesaver for Javier’s on-the-go lifestyle with them this summer. You were only a little jealous. But at the same time, you wanted her to experience these memories with her father that you would’ve killed to have as a child. Not to mention, it was your own small way to make up for so much he’d missed out on in Colombia. 

“And what’s on the menu for you?” Javier questioned as he passed Josie’s lunch back to her and tore into his own sandwich bag. 

“Same as you. Without the crust.” You winked, sinking down into your chair beside his. “Lemme take her.” You offered, reaching out for Sofía.

She fussed a little at first, but was easily convinced to recline back and chill. 

Javier leaned down to dig in the cooler, passing you a Kool-Aid burst, “You’ve gotta try one of these.”

“I’m skeptical of blue drinks.” You teased, popping off the top of the plastic bottle and taking a sip. “That’s… not half bad.”

“We were out of water during our last outing,” He explained. “I had to resort to JoJo drinks.”

“It’s very sweet. I see why it’s named JoJo.”

“Mommmmy!” Josie giggled around her dramatic way of chewing the chicken. 

“This is nice.” You admitted, taking your sunglasses off and tucking them into the front of your swimsuit. “I need more of this “

“How much PTO do you have?”

“A week and a half. I was trying to save it up for when she starts school.”

Javier stared at you while he ate a bite of his lunch, “You really should look into teaching. You’d have more time at home and—“

“I do like the idea of working with you.”

He grinned at you, “Thought that would be a highlight.” Javier clicked his tongue against his teeth. “And then next summer — it’ll be all this all the time.”

“I’ll think about it.” And you would. You weren’t entirely certain if teaching was your calling, but you weren’t feeling the 9 to 5 thing you had going on currently. 

Especially with Steve’s plans to start up his own consulting firm? You could still keep one foot in the field while teaching. It was definitely worth putting some thought into. 

 ——

 Sofía was out cold laying on your chest. She’d had her fill of toddling around on the beach between you and Javier, playing in the water, and knocking down her sister’s attempts at sandcastles. 

Javier was currently letting JoJo try to bury him in the sand, beneath an attempt at a mermaid tail constructed from sand. His first mistake had been laying down and falling asleep — his second mistake had been continuing to pretend to be asleep once Josie started giggling like a goofball as she packed more sand over his legs.

“Are we going to have to leave daddy on the beach?” You questioned, nudging his shoulder with your foot. “You’ve turned him into a merman! How can we take him home?”

Josie looked up at you with wide eyes. “But daddy has to go home with us!” 

“Well, what could fix this?”

Josie tapped her chin thoughtfully. “A kiss!” 

“A kiss?” You grinned at your daughter. You tapped your finger against your lips, before tugging lightly on Stevie’s leash. She roused from her own nap, moseying over towards Josie.

“Kiss daddy” Josie urged in a poor attempt at a whisper. 

Stevie was thrilled to obey, licking excitedly at Javier’s face. He startled with a laugh, kicking his feet out of the sand. 

He swiftly scooped up Josie, pulling her into his chest as he pressed kisses to the top of her wet and curly head. Stevie barked excitedly at their laughter — jumping onto Javier’s lap. 

“I’d get down there and join in on the lovefest, but…” You gestured to your sleeping daughter. 

“You ready to head home, baby?”

“Probably for the best,” You sighed, dragging your teeth over your bottom lip. “Though I could watch the view  all day.” You wiggled your brows, eyes slowly wandering over him as he stood up. 

“And you flipped me off earlier for enjoying my view.” Javier leaned down and pressed a kiss to your lips, they still tasted like the blue Kool-Aid you’d both drank. 

“You would’ve been disappointed if I hadn’t flipped you off.” You whispered, brushing your nose against his before you sank back in your seat. “Take JoJo down to the water one more time and then we’ll pack up and head home.”

Javier gave your leg a squeeze before he turned back, hands on his hips as he looked down at Josie. “Last one to the ocean is a rotten egg.”

“Daddy’s a rotten egg!” Josie screamed as she took tearing off down the beach with Stevie right behind her. 

“Why aren’t you running, rotten egg?” You questioned, nudging the back of his calf with your foot. 

“She likes winning.” He told you, his lips curving upwards into a lazy smirk. “And I just wanted a moment alone to tell you, you’re the goddamn hottest woman on this fucking beach today.”

You felt your cheeks warm from his praise and not just the sun. “Go chase your daughter, you sap!” You laughed. 

Javier stole one more kiss before he went jogging down the beach to join Josie and Stevie at the coastline. 

His back was definitely going to be killing him tonight, but you had a feeling he’d consider it worth every single ache a day like today came with. 

[keelywolfe]

FIC: The Royal We ch.5

Summary: Finally the concluding chapter of 'The Royal We'! Wonder what's gonna happen here, hmmmm.

Tags:  Spicyhoney, Kustard, Established Relationships, Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

~~*~~

Read it on AO3

or

Read it here!

Edge woke far later than normal to the sound of the shower running. He jerked halfway upright in the bed, briefly disoriented, before the events of the day before came back to him in a rush. The baby shower planning, the discussion with Stretch about having children, or rather not having them, Janice’s son getting lost, and learning that Stretch’s abilities as a Judge allowed him see Monster souls, including his own.

Small wonder he’d overslept, Any one of those things would be tiring but put together it was entirely too much for a single day, particularly one where he and Stretch finally came upstairs in the wee hours of the morning, barely taking the time to shed their clothes before flopping together into their bed.

At least Stretch seemed to be somewhat recovered if he were up to taking a shower. Edge sank back against the mattress, kicking the blankets from his feet as he stretched with joint-popping bliss, luxuriating in a moment of uncommon laziness. As stressful as the day before had been it had also been cathartic in some ways, certain issues clouded between him and Stretch discussed then cleared away.

This morning his leg felt fine even without the brace, without even a trace of a pain. It was actually healing as the doctor promised it would, despite Edge’s occasional loose interpretation of their directions, and as time passed it would keep getting better until the injury was only a memory and an occasional ache on very cold days.

Getting back to normal, that was all. The term ‘normal’ when it came to their lives was certainly up for creative interpretation, but it honestly felt like they were getting to it. Of course, that was dependent on nothing new cropping up in their lives and it surely would. It didn’t matter, whatever came he and Stretch would face it together.

Thinking of togetherness, Edge rolled out of bed and made his way to the ensuite bathroom. Muffled strains of music were coming through the closed door and when he opened it, it poured out, bright and pop-cheerful. Behind the shower curtain, oblivious to his audience, Stretch was singing along. He’d always have a lovely singing voice, husky sweet and pitch perfect but it was the lyrics gave Edge a pause.

“i’d get down on my knees, i’d do anything for you…ohhhh, i don’t want anybody else, when i think about you, i touch myself…”

Well, that was an invitation if he’d ever heard one.

Edge only took long enough to strip of his pajamas, casting them off in a rare messy pile on the floor before sliding around the shower curtain. He was ready for Stretch to yelp and jump, catching him before he could slip on the wet porcelain. His lovely bones were slick with water and soap and he was blinking through the spray, his pale eye lights still bright from the surprise.

“holy shit, babe,” Stretch sputtered, licking water from his teeth. “a little warning would be nice!”

Edge only shifted Stretch in his arms, settling him with his spine pressed firmly against Edge’s chest. At his silent urging, Stretch let his head drop back against Edge’s shoulder, huffing a groan as Edge murmured against his skull. “And miss the chance to sweep you off your feet?”

“you can get in your gropes without giving me a—oooh,” Stretch broke off and Edge smirked, mouthing lightly at his scapula as his hands wandered lower, his bare fingers seeking out places he knew were sensitive, pressing and stroking until Stretch shivered in his arms despite the heat of the water pouring down on them.

“What was that?” Edge crooned. “I couldn’t quite hear.”

“baaaaaabe,” Stretch moaned. He squirmed, his pelvis scraping tantalizingly against Edge’s. “this isn’t fair.”

“No? I was only trying to confirm the truth of your statement,” and before Stretch could ask, “Do you, then? Touch yourself when you think about me?”

“heh.” That squirm turned into a deliberate grind and Edge caught his breath, “want a demonstration?”

As it turned out, by the time Stretch was finished ‘demonstrating’, they both needed another shower and Edge was never more pleased to have splurged on their hot water heater. The chance to hold Stretch in his arms for longer without any chilly surprises was well worth the extra cost.

~~*~~

It was a few hours later that Edge was finishing buttoning his shirt, giving his husband a sideways look where he was still sprawled out on the bed, entirely naked except for a single sock that was still sagging at the ankle. The other was in his hand, waiting for its owner to either work up the energy to put it on or to abandoned it to its lonely fate.

Tipping the scales in favor of wearing might be in order. “Are you planning on putting that sock on or do you need longer to bond?”

“i’ll put it on as soon as i can feel my feet,” Stretch sighed out dreamily, “babe, you sure know how to make an entrance.”

“In a variety of ways,” Edge said serenely. “I do well with entrances.” He sat on the side of the bed next to Stretch and leaned in to give him a lingering kiss before snatching up the sweatshirt beside him and dropping it on his head. “Come on, get dressed, we need to check on the chickens. I believe there may have been an event we missed.”

Stretch lurched upright, fighting his way out of the clinging folds of the sweatshirt to give Edge a stricken look, “fuck, i forgot!” The sweatshirt was only half on when he started for the door and he was still struggling to pull it over his skull when he made for the stairs.

“Pants!” Edge shouted after him. Their neighbors asked so little of them and he really didn’t think that no unexpected nudity was an unreasonable request.

A shout floated back up, “bring ‘em with you and i’ll get the coffee going!”

Edge only shook his head and retrieved a clean pair of track pants from their dresser. However this might end, at least it would be with a reasonable amount of dignity.

Well, that might be a tall ask of Stretch and if he couldn’t be clothed in dignity, pants would have to do, so long as it wasn’t the bare minimum.

Edge stifled his grin and headed for the stairs, pants in hand and ready to share that particular witticism with his husband. Anytime was a good time for pun to Stretch, but over morning coffee held a certain brewtiful appeal.

It was with puns exchanged (among them was Stretch declaration that so many jokes this early was a latte to handle) and coffee in hand that they finally made their way to the chicken coop to investigate yesterday’s happenings. The morning air was still tinged cool, only hinting at the afternoon’s predicted warmth and Stretch shuffled through the fallen leaves to the coop door where Noodle and Dumpling were already waiting impatiently for the bringer of their breakfast.

“yeah, sorry, gals,” Stretch set his coffee cup down outside the coop before opening the door. He leaned over to give them each a brief pat before heading to the feed trough. “i know, we’re running late. let’s get you fed before checking on your sis, okay?”

“I wouldn’t get your hopes too far up,” Edge cautioned. He set his cup alongside Stretch's and followed him inside. “I can’t even calculate the odds of her not only finding a fertilized egg but also managing to hatch it.” Her finding an egg at all was a question that Edge already decided not to look into too deeply.

“i can calculate it and trust me, it’s a lot of decimal points. don’t worry,” Stretch said as he measured out a scoopful of feed. “i won’t. not even sure i wanna meet whatever’s supposed to come out of the cryptid egg she stole. hope nugget isn’t too disappointed when her basilisk doesn’t hatch.”

The sound of feed pouring into the trough was enough to summon the smallest of their wayward poultry. Nugget poked her small head through the coop’s door flap, chirring inquisitively, and then darting out to beeline right for the feed. Hungry indeed, she didn’t detour even briefly in Edge’s direction, intent on her pursuit of tasty grains.

But it wasn’t Nugget that had their attention. Behind her, coming from the coop was a faint sound, a peeping reminiscent of those Edge heard on the farm back when he was considering whether to invest in chickens of their own. Stretch only stood frozen, staring at the coop door and Edge was the one who finally opened it and stepped inside.

They’d persuaded Nugget to abandon the plastic bucket she’d nested in for one of the coop boxes, lining it with soft hay and that was where the sound was coming from. The single caged bulb overhead didn’t provide much light and Edge peered into the darkened nest, his sockets narrowed. Nearly buried into the hay was a tiny ball of yellow fluff. Edge reached for it, scooping it cautiously into his hands and bringing it out into the light.

Stretch hovered over his shoulder anxiously, “is that…what is it?”

From the rounded cup of his hands, a tiny, billed head poked out. Webbed feet shifted against his palm as the little creature peeped anxiously, its eyes dark against the bright yellow fluff.

“it’s a duckling! holy shit!” Stretch managed to keep his delight to a muted squeal, reaching out with cautiously grabby hands. Very carefully, Edge deposited it into his hands, watching as the little bird settled against the warm bones. “this is way better than a basilisk!”

“I believe the neighbors will agree,” Edge said dryly, watching as Stretch very gently inspected their newest acquisition, petting that feathery softness. “Is it male or female?”

Stretch rolled his eye lights. “welp, all the years i spent studying physics instead of zoology are letting us down here, babe. i’ve barely got ‘duck’ cleared, if you want a more detailed report, you’re gonna have to hire a pro.”

“Understood,” Edge said. He looked out the door at their backyard, freshly layered in falling leaves. “What on earth are we going to do with a duck?”

Stretch only held the little duckling closer to his chest with a gasp, “we can’t get rid of it!”

“Of course not,” Edge said, exasperated, “I’m not suggesting we drop it off at the local livestock orphanage, it was a legitimate question. We’ll need to make arrangements for it, ducks may have different nutritional needs than chickens. It will need some sort of pond to swim in and—” He broke off as Stretch gave him a look. “What?”

That gentle smile matched the softness in Stretch’s eye lights as they briefly flashed into hearts, shining with love, “nothing, babe. you’re really gonna let me keep cheese?”

Edge blinked. “Did you just call that duckling ‘Cheese’?”

“yeah.” Stretch grinned. “short for cheese and quackers.”

“Oh, for—” Edge sighed. “I walked right into that one.”

“headfirst,” Stretch agreed. “don’t feel bad, i left the door wide open.” At that moment Nugget came wandering back into the coop and started to make concerned motherly noises. Stretch hastily set the duckling, no, Cheese back into the nesting box. Nugget hopped up into it, squirming back to bury her child beneath the bulk of her feathery warmth.

“guess introductions are over.” Lacking a tiny duckling to hold, Stretch settled for flinging his arms around Edge and giving him a hard squeeze. “c’mon, hot coffee waits for no fowl and cold coffee is foul, so let’s get ours.”

“You’re an endless font of hilarity, love.” Edge followed him out and the two of them retrieved their cups. By unspoken agreement, they settled to sit at the patio, sipping their coffee as the trees rustled softly around them.

His phone buzzed, breaking the silence, and Edge checked it to see a text from Papyrus. Ah, another loose end from yesterday’s tapestry to tie up. He opened the text to find not a jumbled of excited words but a picture. Of Undyne in a hospital bed, looking both weary and elated, Alphys at her side, but it was the small bundle in their arms that drew Edge’s gaze.

The only thing visible from the swaddling of striped blankets was the child’s face, the same deep blue skin tone as their mother and a small tuft of red fronds falling over their forehead. Childbirth seemed to have left a certain squashed quality to that face that hadn’t had time yet to fade, puffy cheeks and swollen eyes, and as Edge studied the picture another text came through.

It’s a girl!

A girl, a little niece to spoil and teach, and Edge could already picture her toddling along and joining the other children as they followed Stretch around very much like ducklings as he taught them science and experiments, spending his weekends building snowmen and painting excited faces. Without making any undue assumptions, Edge could imagine the formidable child that Undyne and Papyrus’s genes would produce and the adventures that might come of it, the coming years would certainly be interesting and—

“is that the baby?”

Almost, Edge twitched his phone away before Stretch could see the picture. But none of yesterday's upset or melancholy appeared, Stretch only looked at it with an appropriate expression of interest, smiling widely.

“aww, what a cutey,” Stretch cooed. “tell undyne she does good work.”

“I will,” Edge agreed, and did so. Before he set his phone aside, another picture came through, this time with Papyrus holding the baby, the very vision of a delighted uncle and why his arm was in a sling, Edge decided not to ask. The story of Undyne’s labor and delivery was likely an epic one and not to be heard before plenty of coffee. He was nearly ready for a second cup when Stretch spoke again.

“so,” Stretch began. He shuffled his feet against the porch, his coffee cup held tightly in both hands. “you wanna get started on the pond today?”

Edge smiled faintly. “Of course, love, best to get it ready before Cheese needs it.”

He watched as Stretch lit up, equally delighted by his answer and his ready use of Stretch’s chosen name. It was hardly more ridiculous than Noodle, Nugget, and Dumpling, and besides, their baby deserved the best, too, did it not?

A pond and some research into their little duckling’s needs, that was the challenge for the day and Edge was more than up for it, so long as Stretch was by his side.

Edge set his cup on the table and reached over to take Stretch’s hand in his, slender fingers tangling with his own. He ran his thumb over Stretch’s wedding band, the smooth metal body-warm. Together, no matter what, and Edge was ready for that adventure as well and any that came along with it, for the rest of his life.

Even when it included unexpected additions.

-finis

[hotchley]

“sit down and shut up”

morehotchcontent day five: kisses (counting kisses)

tagged: @ablogofthecriminalmindsvariety @whoreforthebauteam

but most of all, he was proud of the man he loved. he remembered when aaron hotchner had first joined the unit, nervous but bubbly, with hair that fell across his forehead and got in his eyes. they’d both been married then. the job had taken that away from both of them.

which is how they found each other all over again. and now they were happy. dave had his own way of expressing that. to other people, it may have seemed extreme, but dave was Italian. it was what he did. and besides, aaron wasn’t complaining so he had no reason to stop.

in which david rossi just likes kissing aaron hotchner,

it’s still thursday somewhere (it’s 11:12 pm in the uk, but i’m feeling dramatic)

read on ao3! 

David Rossi was a proud man. He was proud of his job, of the people he’d saved and the criminals he had put away. He was proud of how the Behavioural Analysis Unit, which so many people had scoffed at when it was first founded, had flourished. He was proud of the kids in the unit for continuing to brave their jobs and be unapologetically human.

But most of all, he was proud of the man he loved. He remembered when Aaron Hotchner had first joined the unit, nervous but bubbly, with hair that fell across his forehead and got in his eyes. They’d both been married then. The job had taken that away from both of them.

Which is how they found each other all over again. And now they were happy. Dave had his own way of expressing that. To other people, it may have seemed extreme, but Dave was Italian. It was what he did. And besides, Aaron wasn’t complaining so he had no reason to stop.

one

When one of you was a parent, and the other was an ex-marine, you got used to waking up with the sun. But where Dave actually enjoyed mornings, Aaron liked to bury his head in the pillow for as long as was humanly possible.

“Morning sweetness,” Dave said, when Aaron’s eyes fluttered open.

Aaron groaned. “It’s too early for this crap.”

Dave tutted. “Don’t let Jack hear you say that.”

The look Aaron gave him would have bought unsubs to their knees. But Dave was not an unsub. He was Aaron’s partner. And he knew exactly how to make that man smile.

Before Aaron could roll over, Dave extended his hand, giving Aaron plenty of time to understand what he was about to do. When Aaron didn’t tense, Dave gently caressed his cheek before pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. Aaron’s eyes closed at the contact, some of the tension he’d been carrying released.

“I’ll make us breakfast,” Dave said.

Aaron smiled, eyes still closed.

two

“I’ll make the coffee,” Aaron offered, entering the kitchen in one of Dave’s old t-shirts and his own jogging bottoms. His hair was still an untamed mess, just the way Dave loved it. It was always lovely at the end of the day to watch as Agent Hotchner became Aaron, but the best part was how he’d take the gel out and allow his hair to become all scruffy again.

“That’d be lovely. But that’s all you’re doing okay? As soon as you’ve done that, go and sit,” he said.

Aaron nodded, and for once in his life, did as he was told.

When Dave bought the plates into the dining room, Aaron was smiling down at his phone. Good. He wasn’t checking his work email.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Jack’s school uploaded some of the pictures from their camping trip. He looks happy,” Hotch said, tilting the phone so Dave could see.

“Good kid,” Dave said. When Aaron tried to take his plate, he tutted.

Aaron rolled his eyes, but stood up nonetheless. Dave kissed his cheek this time, before setting the plate down in front of him, delighting in the slight flush that appeared where he’d kissed him.

three

“We’re going out,” Dave announced, entering Hotch’s office without knocking.

Hotch looked up from his file. “Dave.”

“Aaron.”

“I can’t,” Hotch said. “I have all of this paperwork, and if I stop then it’ll just build even more and then I’ll have to stay later which will impact everything else, so don’t Aaron me. Get one of the others to go with you.”

Rossi knew Hotch wasn’t annoyed at him, he was just agitated by everything he was supposed to be doing. He flicked through a few of the files.

“First of all, these aren’t even yours, they’re the teams. So really, they should be in the bullpen. Second of all, these-” he held up another few “-are technically mine. Third, I can and will Aaron you whenever I want because I don’t want a member of the team to go with me. I want you.”

Aaron sighed, then stood up. Dave smiled and extended his arm. Out of habit, the other man glanced out the window of his office, just to make sure the team were all okay before taking the arm being offered to him as he allowed himself to be escorted out of his office. And hey, if Derek used that moment to grab a few extra files for Reid, well Hotch didn’t have to know.

“Thank you for not giving up on me,” Aaron said, twenty minutes later, as they were sat in the park eating ice-cream.

“It wasn’t exactly hard to love you Aaron. You’re a good man. Kind. Passionate. Handsome. I mean, what is there not to like?”

Aaron smiled, that awkward one he got whenever someone complimented him as he turned away slightly. Dave shifted so the space between them was significantly reduced and kissed Hotch’s shoulder, no longer covered by the blazer he’d convinced him to shed for the sake of comfort.

He saw Hotch mouth something to himself, but he couldn’t tell what.

It didn’t matter though. He’d made Aaron get some fresh air and forced him to relax for a few minutes. That was classed as a win in anyone’s book.

four

Dinner in the Hotchner-Rossi household was always interesting. Aaron had never been a particularly gifted cook, but after Haley’s passing, he started making more of an effort because unfortunately, Jack could not survive on chicken nuggets and boxed macaroni.

Dave had been more than willing to aid the Hotchner’s in their cooking journey. Some days he’d helped Aaron cook, other days he’d taught both of them a new recipe. And on some particularly difficult days, he had cooked something simple and light, just to keep them both going.

Now, it was a combined effort. Aaron usually did the preparations, as that was more set in stone. There were only so many ways one could crush garlic and most recipes defined how things were supposed to be cut up. It was regimented. Repetitive. Most of the prep for the dishes they made together was simple. A mind-numbing task that helped him get rid of the stress from the day.

Rossi would do the actually cooking because that was where things would get a bit more abstract. Aaron would often worry too much that it wasn’t going to be completely perfect, or that it wouldn’t be exactly what the recipe said, whereas Dave was much more willing to eyeball it all.

Normally, Dave would just watch as Aaron moved round his kitchen with ease, chopping up vegetables and getting the saucepans out. Hotch didn’t understand why Dave would want to watch him do such basic, boring tasks. Dave said that was the entire reason: he liked seeing Aaron Hotchner being domestic. It made his heart warm.

Today however, he chose to invade his personal space. He uttered a soft greeting as he entered, not wanting to spook him and gently rubbed his shoulders in a lightly massaging gesture.

“Hi,” Aaron whispered.

Dave pressed a soft kiss to his shoulder, smiling when Aaron relaxed. Deciding to be a bit more forward, he slowly started kissing the area not covered by his shirt, delighting in the breathless sigh Aaron released as he kissed the area where his shirt collar would not cover it.

“We’re going to end up in the E.R if you keep doing that,” Aaron warned.

Almost immediately, Dave pulled away, smirking when the Aaron Hotchner actually whined.

“We wouldn’t want that now, would we?”

He sauntered away after that.

five

“It’s quiet without Jack,” Dave said.

Aaron’s grip on his fork tightened minutely.

Dave cringed. “I’m sorry. I forgot how it must have felt then. Not knowing when you were next going to see him.”

Hotch shook his head. “It’s fine. You’re right. It is quiet.”

They had pretty much finished eating. Aaron was missing his son again, so he hadn’t eaten most of what was on his plate. Dave had planned for that, so the meal was more filling than usual. And it would last in the fridge for a few days. Jack was coming home in two days, which meant it would finish and nothing would be wasted.

“Why don’t we rectify that then?” Dave said, holding his hand out.

Aaron frowned.

“Dance with me. Just for five minutes. I promise you’ll feel so much better.”

Aaron let himself be pulled into the living room, not even hesitating to leave Dave lead. The trust he placed in him never failed to amaze him. He just knew that if wishes did come true, his only one would be that Aaron Hotchner never stopped looking at him with that adoration in his eyes.

When the second song came to an end, he placed his own hands over Aaron’s, then bought them to his lips and kissed them, feeling very much like a prince meeting his princess for the first time.

“My liege,” he joked.

Aaron grinned.

six

It was getting late, and so they had decided to head up to bed. Dave was doing a rough plan for his next novel- on pen and paper as that was the only proper way to do the first draft- and Aaron was reading one of those cliché romance novels. Dave thought it was hilarious that he liked to read about country girls falling in love with city boys, but Aaron said he liked to read about nice things, especially since their entire lives revolved around criminals existing.

When Aaron yawned again, Dave decided it was time to admit defeat. Neither of them liked to be the one to admit they were too tired to stay awake- probably because it reminded them that they were both getting older- but Dave was willing to do whatever it took to make Aaron establish healthy sleeping patterns.

Including swallowing his pride.

“I think I’m going to go to sleep now,” he said.

Aaron nodded, bookmarking his page. “That seems like a good idea.”

Dave slid off the bed and switched the light off. The door was closed. The windows were locked with the curtains drawn. When Dave switched the main light off, Aaron flicked the lamp on. He couldn’t sleep in complete darkness. He hadn’t for a while.

Aaron had been terrified that Dave would laugh the first time they slept in the same bed and he’d needed the light on. Obviously, he hadn’t. Instead, he had flicked both lamps on (they were on a case, nothing more needed to be said) and held him through the night.

Now, Aaron didn’t need any encouragement to let Dave cuddle him.

But before sleep could take them, Dave kissed him, once, on the lips.

“Six,” Aaron said, voice already quiet and sleepy.

“What was that?”

“You kissed me six times today. That has to be above the average.”

“What can I say? You’re above the average.”

The last thing Dave heard before he fell asleep was Aaron’s laugh.

[tobesensation-9]

hi~ i really love your writings 🥰👌🏼 anw, i want to request a scenario(?) when sf9 and s/o have to babysit their s/o's 3y.o niece for 24h? d-do you get what i mean.. 🥺 shsjdjsh i love you pls stay healthy and stay safe!!!!! 🥺🧡🙏🏼

This is so adorable 😍. I have nieces and one of them is three so this is soo cute to write! Thanks a lot and you too, stay strong 💪.

SF9: Babysitting Together

Youngbin

When you mentioned the news to him he was really excited. “Really? I’ll finally meet her!”

“Hi yn/n!” She’d run to you with her cute little legs while your sibling drops her off. You’d pick her up and turn to Youngbin so they can officially meet. Of course like a lot of little kids she’s nervous.

“Hi! My name is Youngbin. You’re so cute.”

She’d act timid not saying anything or waving at first because she was too busy hiding her face in your chest.

But as the day went on she and Youngbin became the closest friends. You started to get envious seeing that she was having more fun with him than she was with you.

“(The title she calls you) look at what Bin and I made?”

She’d come to you with a cookie in hand. You knew he wanted to make cookies with her. A brave task to take with a three-year-old, but he survived and had a ton of fun.

The cookie had the cuteness of what a toddlers art would looks like, only on a cookie. You took a piece and ate it in delight.

“Mmmm. It’s so good!” At your compliment she’d run over to Youngbin and hug him telling him how much you loved the cookie. He’d look up at you smiling and you smile back.

Inseong

This intellectual lol. Would definitely want to teach your niece a few things.

You’d be making them lunch in the kitchen when you see Inseong and your niece laying on the floor looking at a book.

It showed pictures of the different planets of the solar system. You loved how it wasn’t the ideal dolls and other ideal girl toys. So you loved it even more that she was really into it.

“What is this one called? It’s so biiiiiggg.”

“That’s Jupiter. Did you know it’s the largest planet in the solar system?”

“WHATTT?”

He’d end up taking her to the store and coming back after getting supplies to make their own solar system model. 

They’d talk about all sorts of things until her bedtime approached. She’d would definitely be reluctant unless he read more books to her as she fell asleep.

Jaeyoon

He’s always doing crafty things on vlive, so I see him making bracelets with her. When you told him he’d make the effort to buy all sorts of charms at the arts and crafts store. Wanting to give her a huge variety to choose from.

“So you’d add them like this.” The three of you are sitting at the table adding the charms to your bracelets.

“I don’t know what to add?” You could tell that he took the variety so seriously it kinda overwhelmed her.

“Well.... what about this one?” He’d pick a crown charm. “A crown?”

“Yeah, because your beautiful princess.”

“Yay a princess!” She’d end up making a bracelet with nothing but crowns, shoes and dresses, on it reminding you guys every 10 minutes that she was a beautiful princess.

You’d definitely have to buy her a crown before the day was over.

Dawon

After seeing how he interacted with the kids on ‘WDDD’ Dawon has an even bigger soft spot in my heart. Similar to the concept of his variety show, he'd try to complete every task that your niece requests, even the one’s he may not like 😂 ...

“What color do you like? I like purple on you.” 

“Ahhh....okay that's fine. That shade is pretty so I’ll let you.” 

“It is! I knew you'd like it!” 

You’d walk in on your niece giving Sanghyuk a make over. His hair was tied and two disheveled ponytails, with cutely and messy done makeup and now she was polishing his nails. He seemed to do a good job of making sure she didn’t make a mess of anything. But instead, his face was her creative canvas. 

“Oh you look so pretty!” You teased him, sitting in his stool, glaring at you and smiling back at your niece through the pain. 

Also see him giving her piggyback rides running all of over the play with with her squealing and laughing delight.

Zuho

Like Inseong, I see him sharing his knowledge and interest with your niece and she suck all of it up like a sponge. I’ve learned that young kids are so receptive and willing to learn new things all the time, its too cute. I also had to take the idea from SF9 Sangsa (the new episode was priceless 😂). 

So he’d be making music on one of her piano toys and she'd be so astounded.  

“Wait can you do that again?” 

“What this?” 

He’d play a short and cute segment of the chorus of ‘Summer Breeze’ and she’d love it and bounce around dancing like how cute toddlers are. He’d be jumping around and dancing with her too. He’d even be trying to teach her at one point, with her hitting all the wrong keys and laughing together. 

From all the excitement she’d have him playing the same melody from the song until she had gotten tired of it. 

Rowoon

I see Seokwoo really just trying to engage with your niece. Like he’d bring up different topics or she’d bring up different things and they'd be talking and playing for hours. 

You’d laugh at how inquisitive your niece would get. Seeing their interactions would tickle you to your core. 

“Mr. Seokwoo?” 

“Call me Uncle Seokwoo”. This would make you snicker 

He’d be sitting next to her, leaning to her giving her all his attention. 

“Uncle Seokwoo, are you a giant?” 

He’d chuckle, “Am I a giant?” 

“Yeah. You’re so big. I was scared when I first saw you. Because you look like a giant.” 

“Well, I guess you can call me that. You don’t have to be scared. I’m the nicest giant you'd meet.” He’d poke her nose and flash her a smile. She’d giggle and they'd giggle together. 

It was so cute and funny how quick she warmed up to him and how his charms can work on anyone. 

Taeyang

Taeyang just seems so gentle and tender. I think any kid would love him. Of course I think he would try to cook with her or teach her some dance moves. They’d be in a separate room, and you'd hear him playing tons of SF9 songs teaching her some of the dances. Of course modifying them to make the easier for her.

“Like this?’ She’d ask. 

“Yeah, just like that. You really got the hang of it!” 

In the living room where you were you’d see your niece running out of the room with Taeyang walking behind

“Can we you show you the dances Taeyang taught me?” 

“Sure go ahead.” 

With a speaker in hand, Taeyang would start playing ‘Life is so Beautiful’ which you’d assume was her favourite song to dance too since you heard this one the most. 

She’d look back a Taeyang the entire time laughing with the biggest smile on her face. 

Hwiyoung

For some reason I see him having playful banter with your niece. Younger kids can't help but be honest. I think that would poke at his sensitive side and it would turn into playful banter. 

“Youngkyun, where are your sleeves?” 

She’d be touching his arm. He was wearing one of his iconic no-sleeve, chuffed shirts 

“It doesn't have any.” 

“Why? It’s cold outside. You’re gonna get sick.” 

“I wore a jacket yn/n”. 

“Thats not warm enough. Find your sleeves”. 

“I told you it’s not supposed to have them.” 

You’d see them talking and see him getting flustered by the bluntness of a three-year-old. 

He’d look at you, flushed, but trying to laugh it off 😅😂.

Chani

I see him and your niece having a competition to see who’s the cutest for your attention. Like an aegyo contest. 

She’d come up to you just being a natural cutie pie telling all the things she’s doing and you praising her for it. And right after to play with her he’d tap you and do some of his famous aegyo and turning to her for a reaction. 

Not realising herself she’d try acting cuter for the rest of the day. 

“Look (your title)! My dress looks super cute with all the glitter!” 

“Look y/n, aren’t my cute eyes and cheeks cuter’, you’d just scoff at him and you’d see your niece just starring at him tapping you to tell you something that she thinks was better.

Even with this little competition they’d get along perfectly. That’s just the nature of Chani he seems to get along well with anyone.  

Extra points 

- I also think that some of them wouldn’t have any trouble putting her to sleep like Jaeyoon, Inseong, Rowoon and Taeyang. But I think the rest of them would need your help with that. 

- Even for those who would have trouble, she’d most likely take a nap next to or leaning on them instead of you before the day was over

- (Definitely see Rowoon, Zuho, Taeyang, and Youngbin just picking her up and laying her on his chest if they were sitting in the coach next to you). 

- Your niece would also want ideal food that kids would like, like pizza and chicken nuggets in the shape of dinosaurs. And all of then would agree with her, especially Zuho. 

- I see you trying to disagree and suggest something else but they end up chanting for dinosaur nuggets together 

- And not forgetting their juice or milk boxes that you’d serve both of them. 

[universalfanfic]

@inkoutsidethelines So I decided just to post “part 1″ because I’m not sure how long it will take me to continue this, and I’m impatient.

So here’s part one of the Traumatize Owen AU.

Mary had to shift her bag of groceries over to her left hand as her phone buzzed again in her pocket to signify she had an unread text. It was Owen, and her stomach still felt a little thrill when his name popped up on her screen. Which was ridiculous. They’d been dating long enough for those new couple jitters to wear off, but something about the addition of an engagement ring made them all come flooding back. 

Let me know when you’re home. 

Mary shoved her phone back in her pocket to unlock her door. Usually he’d tack on a “safe” to the end of that message. Or a heart or something, but maybe he wanted to come over instead. She wouldn’t be opposed to him dropping in. But if he jumped in before she finished putting away her chicken nuggets and juice boxes, she didn’t want to hear a peep out of him. 

 Mary tossed her keys in a bowl next to the door and sent Owen a reply. 

I’m back. Just don’t judge my groceries if you come over.

A check mark notified her that he saw the text, but he didn’t respond right away. Mary moved to unload her purchases and set her phone on the counter, off to the side. It didn’t take long for a blue light to shine at her back and Mary felt another thrill in her stomach as she turned to greet him. 

“Hey, Owen-” 

He hit her.  

The air left her lungs as she doubled over and Mary struggled to gasp. Only her training kept her from falling into an immediate panic. Her insides froze and her mind went on autopilot. She saw ahead, to his foot lashing out and striking her in the stomach, and she barely dove out of the way before his boot went through her cabinet. Wood splintered; some of the shards hit Mary in the face. 

“Owen! What are you doing?” 

It was a strain to speak; her voice was high and frightened, but it didn’t seem to bother him. There was no expression on his face. No anger, no malice, no horrid delight. Nothing but a blank stare and dull eyes that sent shivers down Mary’s spine. 

“What’s going on? You need to tell me.” 

But he said nothing. Mary shifted her stance as he came towards her, his movements gaining speed as he got close. 

He threw a series of punches and elbow strikes. Mary blocked them as she backed into her living room. The hits were landing with more force than she’d ever felt him use. Even as Daredevil. 

He lunged. 

Owen gripped her around the waist and threw her to the floor. He struck her in the face despite her attempt to block it. 

Mary went up instead of to the side. She launched herself upwards and flipped over him, just missing his reaching hands. He should have fallen onto the carpet, but a portal opened and Mary’s only warning was the flash of blue behind her once again. 

His fist was already halfway to her face as he stepped out of the portal and Mary let her body drop to the floor. She swung out her foot, hoping to knock him off balance. He stumbled back a few steps, and then portaled in place to right himself. Mary’s face grew grim. 

She wanted to say it wasn’t him. That this being had to be some shapeshifter or something taking Owen’s form. But he could teleport, and Mary didn’t think there were many shapeshifters who would come with that power too. 

But this still wasn’t him. 

Every other time Mary had fought him, it didn’t take this long to disable him or disengage. She’d never been especially worried when fighting him, even when he only saw her as a law-breaking vigilante. 

She was worried now. 

And his punches hurt. 

Her apartment was a mess. In close quarters it was hard to create room between them, and hard not to knock glasses of counters, frames from walls, books from shelves. Mary leaped from the back of her couch and tried putting him in a choke hold. Still he didn’t say a word. Didn’t choke or gasp or flounder. He pried Mary’s fingers out of her lock with enough force to leave bruises and she twisted her wrist and shot away before he could switch his hold to her. 

He still didn’t stop. Nothing she said made a difference, none of her pleading for information was answered. He was like a robot. And her visions were keeping her head above water, but she knew she couldn’t last forever. Owen was even covered in a layer of sweat, but he didn’t seem out of breath. 

Instead of coming straight at her again, Owen took a different approach. He portaled to her side, but she saw it coming and redirected his movements instead of trying to simply block them. He portaled to her other side.

Behind her, in front of her. To the side, to the front, behind, to the other side. 

Her visions were flashing in quick succession, giving her just a few seconds notice before he appeared. Mary’s lungs seized. 

She had to get out. 

By some miracle, her cell phone was still on her kitchen counter where she’d left it. Mary ducked out of the way of Owen’s arm and grabbed him by the shoulder. Using his own momentum, she swung up and landed on his shoulders. He immediately dropped back, as if to slam her into the floor, but the shine of blue light alarmed her. 

Mary yelled and pushed off his shoulders, launching herself a few feet back and beyond the boundaries of the portal. 

She was getting tired, and that was dangerous. She needed to grab her phone and she needed to get out the door. 

Owen appeared in front of her and threw a kick into her shin. There was a snap and Mary crumpled to the ground. 

Mary rolled backwards further, her phone even more out of reach, but Owen’s kick missed her; the floor shuddered where he hit. 

She didn’t have time for hesitation. 

Reaching behind her, Mary grabbed the first thing she could reach. Some “coffee table book” that Rachel got her as part of a housewarming gift. She threw it at his face and dove passed him as he dodged it. She didn’t stop. With phone in hand, she sped through her front door and down the hall. 

She needed to get out of his line of sight. Out of his line of sight and off in a direction he wouldn’t easily predict. But she barely had a head start and there weren’t many hallways in her apartment building. 

Mary hit the last speed dial on her phone and held it to her ear as she crashed through the emergency stairwell and onto the landing. 

Owen appeared through the door and grabbed her arm, then threw her down the stairs. 

Taking a deep breath, Mary leaped over the railing. Two floors down, she reached out and caught the railing, stopping her fall and nearly pulling her arm out of socket with the stop in momentum. 

She grit her teeth and pulled herself up and over. Through the door and back into a lower hall. Owen wouldn’t be familiar with the floors outside of hers. But she’d done a sweep through the apartments after she moved in, to know the best exits just in case. 

“Hey Mary, what’s up?” 

Maddie’s chipper voice came through the speaker, and Mary was glad to hear it. 

“I need immediate back up.” She said, going straight for the phrase that would grab Maddie’s interest most. “Something is wrong with Owen. He’s- attacking me.” 

“What? No, he-” 

“I don’t exactly have a lot of time!”

The sound went muffled and it was clear that Maddie had pulled away from the phone, though Mary could still hear her voice. 

“Connor, SOS at Mary’s place. Mach 5.”  

Repulsors twanged through the speaker and Mary continued down the hall, through another stairwell, and down two more floors. 

The front doors were in view, with a busy sidewalk outside. Mary wondered if he would be bold, or crazed enough, to attack her in public. 

She rushed through the front doors and Owen grabbed her. They both disappeared into the black void. 

Mary cut to a side door.

The door opened into an alley, there were a couple dumpsters to block her from being seen from the road, but she didn’t trust her deviation to keep Owen away for long. From the street, raised voices came, the sound of excitement and a child shrieking in delight. Mary heard repulsors. 

Connor shot over her building, did one circle, and then spotted her in the alley. He dove down and landed next to her; his face plate de-materializing as he studied her face in concern. 

“What’s going on?” 

“I don’t know,” Mary said. “I- I don’t know. He won’t say anything. He just-” 

Having to put it into words, make it real, left Mary feeling almost more nauseated than the actual fight. 

“It’s alright,” Connor said. He put a hand on her shoulder. “We’re going to figure this out and we’re going to set him right. Okay?” 

Connor was yanked backwards into a wall of black and shining blue. When Owen materialized again, he was alone. Mary choked in shock and disbelief as he engaged with her once again. Elbows, kicks, getting more and more tired. 

“Move!”

Mary grabbed Connor by the shoulders and swung him around. He immediately grabbed her back and launched into the sky. Owen managed to grab her shoe and Mary kicked him, losing it in the process. 

And then they were above him, staring down. And that was that. 

Until it wasn’t.

Owen portaled, jumping into the air himself. And jumped and jumped and jumped. He used constantly teleporting to raise himself into the air and follow them. Connor cursed behind his reformed face plate. 

“Time to go.” 

Mary watched Owen as he struggled; up and up and up. His face still impassive and unmoving. 

His eyes were cold blue and empty; his jaw tense. There were- there were tear tracks running down his face. 

Her stomach curdled. 

Connor twisted away and put his back to Owen and his suit rippled as it shifted until it reflected the city around them and rendered him, and subsequently her in his embrace, invisible.

And then Connor shot off and Mary had to leave her heart behind; still flickering over her apartment complex.

[lostintranslaation]

history always repeats itself

By @wh0doyouthinkyouareiam for @clover-roseee for the @friendly-neighborhood-exchange!

Rating: Gen

Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Ned Leeds, Peter Parker & Morgan Stark (Marvel Cinematic Universe)

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Ned Leeds, Morgan Stark (Marvel Cinematic Universe), Pepper Potts

Summary: When Peter gets bitten by a spider at the Stark's lake house, he thinks he's got it all under control. He's gotten through a spider bite once before, right?

(hint: he doesn't quite have it all under control)

Read it on AO3

Peter shrugs his backpack over his shoulder and winces. He’s been busy recently and between trying to finish out his senior year strong and helping with May’s homeless shelter liaison program and spending more time with the Starks, Peter hadn’t had much time to go out on patrol. So yeah, he was out of shape. But was it normal to be this sore?  

“Peter? Can you hear me?” Ned cranes his neck around Peter’s locker. Peter blinks.

“Uh, yeah.” Peter closes his locker. “Sorry, I just zoned out for a minute. What were you saying?” He shoves a knuckle into his eye to counteract the pressure building in his head.

“Have you seen the new Star Wars movies yet, the ones that came out during the blip? I think there’s, like, two, maybe three. They switched the actress for Rey, but I heard they’re pretty good other than that.”

“I haven’t, have you?” Peter pulls his hood over his head as the two of them push open the doors of the school to start their daily walk to the train back to Queens. At least some things never change.

“No. Haven’t gotten the chance yet, y’know? Been a little busy. But,” they stop at the bottom of the stairs, “I got a new Lego set from the latest episode for my birthday last week. I was thinking, if you’re free tonight, we could put it together and binge all the movies that came out while we were gone?”

Peter sighs and leans on the railing. “That sounds like a lot of fun, but I promised Ton- Mister Stark that I would babysit Morgan tonight.”

Ned’s jaw drops. “You call him Tony?” Peter just smiles and looks down. “Are you guys… close? It seems like you’ve been hanging out with the Starks a lot recently. Babysitting tonight, the lake house last weekend…” Peter huffs out a laugh.

“Last weekend was just to help them out. They needed a couple boxes moved in their garage and Pepper called me to help out because Tony’s still… not in moving-boxes condition. But yeah, ever since… you know, he’s been acting different. Nicer, I guess. He’s like, actually wanting to spend time with me, which is a nice change.”

“Well, either way it’s cool.”

“Yeah,” Peter agrees. “Hey, I gotta go. Tony told me to just come to their apartment after school got out.” He starts walking backwards. “But text me about a raincheck for our Star Wars binge, okay?” Ned nods and Peter turns around to start the three-block walk to the Stark’s Manhattan apartment.

It’s chilly out, the kind of cold where fall is fading into winter and the sky is grey and the streets are wet even though it’s been a couple days since it last rained. Peter tries not to focus on the headache building behind his eyes and the stiffness in his neck and hopes that Morgan will be up for a nice, calm movie night or something like that.

Knowing her, she probably won’t be, though. She’ll probably want to play horses or something like that and Peter will have no choice but to trudge around their apartment with her on his back, perfecting her princess wave she’d tried so hard to teach him but couldn’t quite accomplish.

And despite all this, despite the fact that when she gave him the eyes he was physically incapable of telling her ‘no’, he wouldn’t change a thing. He couldn’t change a thing, not even if he wanted to. The first time he’d babysat her, she’d asked for a juice pop and then the next thing he knew it was a couple hours later and they were sitting on the couch watching Sofia the First, three juice pops in. When Pepper and Tony returned, they just offered sympathetic smiles that said that they’d been there before and sent him home with a nice check.

The doorman at the Starks apartment building was nice and Peter sometimes would buy him a coffee if he had a little extra cash when he came over to visit. But today all Peter could do was offer up a weak ‘hi Mister Hudson’ and a tight-lipped smile.

“Hello Mister Parker,” he greets as Peter walks through the doors. “Up to see the Starks?” he asks before pressing the floor number in the elevator. And after not receiving a verbal response, “Rough day at the office?”

Peter sighs and leans back against the cool wall of the elevator as it starts its ascent. He pulls his jacket tighter around himself and tries to suppress a shiver. “I’m just tired. Nothing new,” Peter says. “How are you?”

“I’m doing great. You know, Ava had her baby a coupla days ago.” The man’s wrinkled face splits into a giant smile and Peter can’t help but smile himself.

“Congratulations! How does it feel to be a grandpa?”

“Oh, it’s incredible. She's incredible,” he flips open his creased leather tri-fold wallet to show Peter a photo of a pink squishy baby with giant eyes and a small tuft of dark hair atop her head.

“What’s her name?” The elevator dings and the doors slide open.

“Nina,” the doorman replies, still smiling fondly on the photo in his hands.

Peter claps the man on the back. “She’s beautiful, Mister Hudson. Have a great rest of your day.”

“You too, Peter. Try and get some rest.” The look in the man’s eyes is sincere. Peter smiles and the doors slide shut again.

Peter leans against the wall in the entryway and kicks off his shoes near the door. He closes his eyes and hangs his head, but the moment of solace does not last long before Morgan’s footsteps come pattering down the hallway to greet him.

“Peter!” He kneels down and pulls her into a hug.

“Hi Morgie.”

“Do you wanna have a tea party tonight? Mister Bear is gonna be there.”

“That sounds like a blast.” He straightens back out and immediately doubles back over, an involuntary groan escaping from his lips as his stomach cramps. He sways on his feet and a wave of nausea rises in his throat but he swallows it back down. Clipped footsteps echo down the hall.

“Heya Pete,” Tony rests a hand on the top of Morgan’s head and she squirms out from underneath his touch. “You feeling okay?”

Peter forces his face into a tight smile and straightens back out. “Mmmhmm,” his voice is higher than normal and he clears his throat. “Just peachy.”

“Do you have the keys?” Pepper asks from down the hall and Tony answers back in the affirmative.

“Alright, we gotta get going.” Tony extends an arm to Pepper and she laces hers around. “We shouldn’t be back too late, maybe elevenish. You know the drill. Dinner and bedtime like normal.” Peter nods and tries to ignore the tension building in the back of his neck.

Pepper walks down the hall and slings her purse over her shoulder before kneeling down to give Morgan a peck on the top of her head. “Be good for Peter, okay?”

Morgan nods and beams up at Peter, “We’re having a tea party, right Petey?”

Peter musters up a small smile to return to her. His head is pounding now and he leans against the wall for support. “Yep!”

“Well don’t have too much fun,” Tony shrugs his coat over his shoulders and him and Pepper step into the waiting elevator. They wave as the door closes.

“Bye Mommy! Bye Daddy!” Morgan waves back.

She takes Peter’s hand and looks up at him. “Ready?” Peter nods. The headache is blinding now and he can hardly think straight. The room is spinning and waves of nausea roll over him to the point where he has to rest his hands on his knees until the bout passes.

“You okay?” Morgan rests a hand on Peter’s sleeve and sharp spikes of pain race up his veins towards his neck. He coils away from her touch and ends up on the ground. This can’t be good. He takes a breath and rolls up the sleeve of his sweatshirt. A raised red bump greets him.

The Starks’ garage was a mess. Old bots and other projects that Tony didn’t need anymore littered the floor and boxes of old tools and car parts were stacked up to the windows. At one point, Peter moved a stack of firewood into the house near the hearth. There was a nest of spiders wedged between the logs and Peter swears he saw one bite his arm. But he was sure it was nothing to be worried about. He was Spider-Man, after all. Whatever spider had bitten him, it was sure to be no worry.

But now, as he swallows back the bile rising in his throat and his arm that had been bitten throbbed so deeply he could barely think, he wasn’t so sure.

The skin around the bite was red and swollen but other than that didn’t look too abnormal. Peter rolls down his sleeve and forces his face into a smile. “I’m okay, Morgs.” Her face is unconvinced so he takes her hand with his good arm. “I’m okay.”

“Promise?” She holds out her pinky.

“Promise.” He hooks her pinky around hers and she nods. “Are you hungry? I think we should eat before we have our tea party.”

“Can we have dino nuggets?”

Peter pushes himself up off the floor and takes a moment to catch his breath before responding. “Whatever the princess wants.”

She takes his hand and pulls him towards the kitchen, slower than she normally would, but with all the usual enthusiasm. His feet blunder underneath him and legs float as if disconnected from the rest of his body. A bead of sweat races down his temple and he catches it with the sleeve of his sweatshirt.

In the kitchen, he blows out a shaky breath and digs in the freezer for the chicken nuggets. His chest feels full of tissue paper and he can’t suck in a full breath.

Once the nuggets are in the oven and a glass of juice has been poured for Morgan, Peter searches through the cupboards for some tylenol or ibuprofen or anything really. Once he gets his hands on a bottle of ibuprofen, his shaking hands are barely able to twist the cap off, but once he does, he shakes out a handful of the tiny orange pills and swallows them, chasing them down with a glass of apple juice.

Some time passes and Morgan plays her music and Peter is almost able to take his mind off of the warning buzzing in the back of his neck and the increasingly painful stomach cramps that come and go like a wretched tide.

Once they’ve both eaten, (Morgan more than Peter, for once.) Morgan leads Peter down the hall to her room and shows him to a seat at a table set up with her pink-and-white porcelain tea set and stuffed animals resting in their own chairs in front of their own teacups and saucers.

Morgan picks up the teapot and “pours” the tea for herself and Peter and each of the guests at the table. Peter zones out for a moment, but Morgan must have said something to him because she’s staring at him expectantly.

“Petey?”

“Yeah?” Peter blinks. His stomach is full of bricks and it aches like it never has before. He clamps his arms around his middle and breathes as deeply as he is able.

“I said do you want sugar,” Morgan sighs, exasperated.

“I think I’m good.” Peter replies. He can no longer ignore the pain and his sweatshirt is damp with sweat.

Morgan sets the sugar bowl down on the table and rests her forearms on the white tablecloth. “You’re not very fun to play with today.”

Peter looks up and his head pounds. “I’m sorry babe. I just don’t feel very good. Do you want to watch a movie or something?”

Morgan sighs. “I guess. But only if it’s Nemo.”

“Nemo it is. You go get it started and I’ll be right in.”

As Morgan bounces off to the movie room, Peter stumbles into the bathroom, leaving the light off to ease his headache. He rests his head on the cool granite of the bathroom counter and breathes for a moment, working up the courage to fight back the nausea that threatened to cripple him. His heart is racing and so is his mind, trying to match up his symptoms with something, anything that he could remember from his time being a Boy Scout when he was younger and Ben was still around. It almost felt like it might be a black widow bite, but wouldn’t there be fang marks? Or maybe there wouldn’t, Peter doesn’t know.

“Petey? Are you coming?” Morgan’s voice pulls him from his head. He splashes water onto his face and takes small deliberate steps to avoid toppling on his way to the movie room. It’s only a couple rooms down the hall, but still, Peter is sweating and his legs are trembling and he practically collapses down onto the couch when he arrives. Breaths come in labored pulls and his head is swimming in pain.

Morgan orders FRIDAY to start the movie and FRIDAY complies, but Peter has a difficult time focusing on the movie, or anything besides controlling his breathing and not puking all over the rug.

Peter doesn’t know how, but somehow, he was able to make it through the movie and to Morgan’s bedtime. She had fallen asleep on his shoulder and he somehow hadn’t noticed until after the movie had ended.

He moves to wake her and everything hurts. He doesn’t remember feeling this horrible since the first spider bite. Oh no. It couldn’t be happening again, right? No, right. Yeah. It couldn’t happen again. Unless…

“Is it over?” Morgan sits up and rubs the sleep from her eyes.

“It’s over, baby. Time for bed. You should go and use the potty and brush your teeth really quick so we can get you to bed. It’s getting late.”

“I would do that all really quick if I could get a juice pop.”

Peter sighs. “Alright. One juice pop. Then bed.”

“Deal.” She hops up from the couch and bounds toward the kitchen.

Peter leans forward, an involuntary groan escaping from his lips as his stomach cramps again. When he stands, his vision blacks out, and he comes crashing down to the floor.

Tony’s watch buzzes on his real arm. Peter’s photo lights up the display. He pulls his phone from his pocket and picks up the call.

“Hey Pete, how’s it going? Everything alright on the home front?”

“Daddy?” Morgan’s voice is shrill, like it only is when she’s scared.

“Morgan? Are you okay?” This grabs Pepper’s attention and she comes closer to Tony and the two of them walk away from the center of the social circle to the outskirts where they can hear better.

“It’s Peter,” she says. “I think he fell down and now he’s sleeping really hard and I can’t wake him up.” Her voice wavers and Tony’s heart speeds up, fluttering and skipping over beats like they’re nonessential.

“It’s okay Morgie. You did great. Can you tell me where he fell?” Pepper’s eyes are wide and Tony fights to keep his demeanor calm when all he wants to do is freak out.

“In the movie room.”

“Did he hit his head when he fell?”

“I…” Morgan whimpers, “I don’t know.”

“It’s okay babe. No worries. Everything is all good. Mommy and I are going to be home in just a couple minutes, okay? It’s all going to be okay.”

“Okay…”

“I’m going to give the phone to Mommy, okay? And we’ll be home really soon.”

“Okay.”

He hands the phone to Pepper and they leave the party in a whirlwind of curt goodbyes and squealing tires until they are back at the apartment and running through the lobby, barking inquiries about Peter’s condition at FRIDAY.

When the elevator doors finally open at their penthouse apartment, Tony and Pepper sprint down the hall to the movie room. When they finally get there, Tony’s stomach drops. It’s a sight no parent should ever have to see, one of their kids pale and sweaty and passed out on the floor while the other looks on with tears in her eyes and streaming down her cheeks.

Tony skids across the floor and his knees creak when he droops down close to Peter (he would pay for that later). “Peter? Time to wake up buddy. It’s not bedtime yet.” He cups Peter’s cheek and he can see Pepper ushering Morgan out of the room out of the corner of his eye.

Peter shifts under Tony’s touch and groans. His eyes open, just slightly, and then close again. “Come on buddy. Talk to me. You can do it.”

“T’ny?” Peter breathes. His face is so pale. Way too pale.

“Yep, it’s me buddy. What’s going on?”

“I,” his face scrunches in pain and he lets out a breath, “I dunno.”

“It’s okay bud. No worries. Everything’s gonna be fine. Cho’s on her way, but she’s about 20 minutes out. Be honest, can you wait that long? Or should I take you to the ER?”

“I dunno.”

“Okay, okay. That’s fine. We’re gonna get this all sorted out, no problemo here.”

Peter hums and closes his eyes. “Oh, no siree, we’re gonna want you to keep those peepers open right now, okay? Peter? Open up.”

Peter hums again and opens his eyes back up. He gasps and sits up suddenly, like he just realized what was happening. “Morgan?” Peter whips his head around searching for the girl and Tony manhandles Peter back to the ground.

“Morgan’s fine, kiddo. She’s with Pepper.”

He blows out a breath. “Okay, that’s good. That’s good.”

“How long have you been feeling this miserable bud?” Tony maneuvers himself so that Peter’s head on his thigh and he tangles his fingers in Peter’s sweaty curls.

“Since yesterday. Got bit by a spider.”

“Again bud? You have quite the luck with spiders, huh?”

Peter squints up at Tony. “Could you turn the lights down? Head hurts.”

“FRIDAY, lights down to 15 percent.” She complies.

“Tony, I don’t—“ Peter claps his hand over his mouth and gags.

“Woah, it’s okay. It’s okay. Let’s get you—“ he pushes Peter up into a sitting position and rubs his back. Peter gags again and vomit splashes onto the dark carpet. “There you go. You’re okay.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sor—“ he doubles over again and groans.

“Hey, it’s all good. No apologies here. I was thinking this rug was getting to be out-of-style anyways.” Peter just whimpers.

“It hurts Tony. Like, really bad.”

“I know bud. I’m so sorry.”

Peter leans into Tony’s chest and Tony rubs his shoulders. “Make it stop,” Peter whines. “Make it stop, Tony, please.”

Tony holds Peter closer. Peter is hot. Like, just-ran-three-miles-in-the-August-heat hot. “FRI, ETA on Cho?”

“Helen Cho will arrive in seven minutes.” Even though she’s just an AI, Tony swears her tone is sympathetic.

“Can you tell me where it hurts bud?”

“My stomach and… my— oh Tony my head too.”

“Cho’s gonna be here any minute bud. Just hang in there.”

“Mmhmm,” Peter nods into Tony’s chest and he can tell that he’s crying. It makes his heart ache.

The next seven minutes pass slowly and painfully, but somehow, they pass. When Cho gets there, she takes the situation by storm and all Tony can do is watch.

“Did he say what kind of spider it was?” She pricks the back of Peter’s hand with a needle and hands Tony the saline bag with instruction to squeeze.

“Uh, no he didn’t.”

“How long has it been since he was bitten?”

“36 hours, max.”

“And what are his symptoms?”

“He said his head hurt, and his stomach. Fever and sweating. Nausea and vomiting too.”

She holds his eyelids up and flashes a penlight into both of his eyes. “Anything you want to add, Peter?”

“Hard to breathe. Can’t really move my legs.”

“Got it. It sounds to me like this might be a black widow bite. Were there two fang marks at the bite site?”

“I don’t… I don’t remember.”

“It’s okay. No worries. I’m going to give you muscle relaxants, painkillers, and something for the nausea.” She digs around in her kit and produces three syringes that she systematically plunges into Peter’s saline line.

“Givit to me straight, doc,” Peter slurs. “How long do I got?”

Cho huffs our a laugh. “You’ll be fine, Peter.”

“Oh goodie.”

“Yes ‘oh goodie’. You’ll still be hurting for a couple more hours, but we just gotta let the venom flush out of your system. So that means lots and lots of water.”

“Hope I don’ drown.”

“Looks like those painkillers are kicking in nicely,” Cho smiles as she packs up her bag. “Call me if anything changes.”

“Thank you.” Tony puts a hand on her shoulder.

“It’s no problem.”

As Peter fades in and out of consciousness, Tony works on getting him cleaned up and changed into a pair of Tony’s old sweats, carefully threading the IV line through the sleeves of his sweat-damp hoodie. The bite is swollen and red and Tony feels sick at the thought of Peter feeling so horrible for so long.

Tony wedges his arm under Peter’s and the two of them wobble over to Peter’s room together. Peter collapses into the bed and Tony helps him get comfortable, pulling up the comforter and brushing his slightly-too-long curls off of his clammy forehead.

“Daddy?” Tony whips his head around.

“Morgan? Aren’t you supposed to be asleep right now?” He sits on the edge of Peter’s bed.

Morgan just shrugs and fists her pajama shirt in her hands. He beckons her over and pats his knee. “C’mere madam secretary.” He pulls her close and bumps heads with her. “Pete’s fine. See?” He points over at Peter, and Peter raises his arm in a pathetic wave.

“Hiii Morgie,” Peter says, a touch too loud. “I’m gettin’ aaalllll better. No problems here, no siree.”

“See babe? He’s fantastic. A little high, but other than that, he’s doing great.”

Morgan looks back up at Tony and sniffles. “Are you sure?”

“Sure? Honey, I’m positive.” Morgan nods and crawls up into the bed with Peter, where he tucks her under his arm.

“Well,” Tony slaps his knees, “I think I’m going to turn in for the night. Holler if you need anything, okay?” Peter mumbles something along the lines of ‘okay’ and Tony switches off the lamp. “Love you guys.”

“Love you too,” Peter mumbles and Tony’s heart melts.

[kisses-holland]

Don’t Give Up On Me (Part One)

Summary: Y/N tries her hardest to make sure she has enough money to help her six year old brother with his treatments because of his leukaemia. She lands a job as an assistant for a well known company. Only problem is? Her CEOs don’t like her very much. 

Pairing: Enemies to lovers! CEO! Tom x Reader, Enemies to lovers! CEO! Harrison x Reader

Prompt (Location): Office

Warnings: Mentions of cancer, swearing, Rude Tom and Rude Harrison, angst

A/N: For @uglypastels 2.5k writing challenge!! Sorry for the wait. I hope you guys enjoy the first part!

The subway ride across town for the coffee was hectic. It was around 8:30 in the morning, the same time everyone wanted their coffee. So for you to go across town taking the train, getting two hot black coffees, and taking them back to the office was tough. Especially when you had to be careful for not spilling.

It was only a half hour into your job and you already wanted to quit. But you couldn’t.

“I'm doing this for Ben. Once he’s better, this will all be over.” You mumbled to yourself as you made your way to his office.

Of course, the coffee didn’t stay piping hot when you got to the office, so, you used the microwave in the staff’s break room, hoping they wouldn’t notice.

While you were warming up their coffees, you caught up with the lady who interviewed you. Her name was Kianna and she was a supervisor within the company. She knew how horrible Tom was, but was surprised to hear that Harrison was just about the same. Deciding not to stress about the situation, you headed back to Tom’s office and put a fake smile on your face. For your brother. That’s what all that mattered.

Without knocking, you entered the office. At this point, if they hassled you for not knocking, that piping hot coffee would end up somewhere not so sunny in their situation.

“I see you’ve brought our coffee. But you still haven’t changed your choice of clothing. I guess it’ll do.`` Tom said, taking a sip of his coffee. “I have a pile of paperwork for you to sort through. You better get started if you don’t want to be here all night.” He said, taking another sip and pointing towards boxes full of unorganized sheets of paper.

“I'm sorry, but do you have a problem with me? Because if you do, I will happily leave.” you said, crossing your arms. You didn’t want to deal with his harassment, not with your situation.

“I don't have a problem with you, sweetheart. but if you want to leave, go ahead. I'm not the one needing money right now.” He said. smirking back at you. You scoffed.

“You don’t know me, or my situation.”

“Exactly. and I don’t want to know, nor do I care. That paperwork is waiting.” He said, gesturing towards the boxes that were stacked in the corner of the room.

Sighing, you trudged over to the boxes that were filled with tons and tons of paperwork.

“So, do i get a desk to work with? An office?” You asked. There was no way you were going to do this on the floor.

“Yeah. You’re looking at it. The floor, Sweetheart. Get to work.” He said, not even looking away from whatever Harrison was showing him on his tablet.

Deciding not to ask anything else, you started on the paperwork. You vividly remember Kianna telling you that if you get your work done earlier than the time you were supposed to be there for, you could go home early. Deciding on skipping lunch, you thought about how much more time you’ll have with Ben after work.

You knew in your heart that Ben will get better. You’re not going to lose hope. He was strong, and he had his whole life in front of him. If anything, you wish it were you instead of him lying on that bed. You were willing to give everything up for your little brother, he was the only person you had left in this world. And you wanted him to stay.

A half hour later, you were halfway done with the first box. organizing paperwork wasn’t as bad as you thought it would be. but the phone call you got, made you halt for a second.

As your phone was ringing loudly through yours, Harrison and Tom’s ears, you rushed to answer it, almost dropping it in the process.

“Uh. I need to -I need to take this.” You stuttered, as you quickly walked outside of the room.

Your heart dropped as you saw who was calling, the hospital.

“Hello?” You asked, hoping it wasn’t anything bad.

“Hi, Y/N. It’s Stef. Ben just wanted to talk to you and say ``hi.” Stef was one of the nurses who are taking care of Ben. You got along great and she was a very nice woman. She always updated you on how Ben was doing. Sometimes, she would even let you stay overnight. Stef knew your story, and she understood your situation. She was kind of like a second mom.

“Hey, Ben! What are you doing up so early, buddy?” You asked, tone changing to a much higher one.

“Just missed you, Y/N/N.  Will you come see me today? Nurse Stef got me a new blanket!” He said happily over the phone. Hearing how happy he is brought tears to your eyes, only wanting happiness for your little brother.

“Oh really? What kind of blanket is it?” Sniffling, and blinking away the tears that are about to pool out of your eyes any second.

“Spider-Man!” He exclaimed.

“That’s amazing, bud! I can't wait to see it. I'll be there as soon as I can, okay? I have a new job and if I get my work done, I'll be able to spend the entire night with you! Just hang on tight, buddy.”

“Okay. I can't wait to see you. I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you too, Ben.” And with that, he hung up the phone.

Sighing, you quickly wiped the tears that were in your eyes and took deep breaths. If Tom or Harrison saw you crying, you would never hear the end of it.

Walking back into the office, you noticed both Tom and Harrison staring at you. Tom rolled his eyes and got back to whatever he was doing, however, Harrison wouldn’t stop staring at you. As if he was reading your eyes for answers.

The only thing on your mind was to get the paperwork done so you could see Ben. Hearing the excitement in his voice after he got that new blanket brought joy throughout your body. You wished and hoped that he would be able to grow up and be happy all the time.

Suddenly, Tom left the room, leaving you and Harrison alone. You would occasionally sigh, but Harrison kept looking at you.

“I know you’re staring at me. Is there something I can do for you?” You asked him, not looking up from the piles of papers.

“Who was that? On the phone?” He asked, breaking the ice straight away.

“No one. That’s none of your business.”

“I heard your conversation.”

“I don’t care. I have a lot of work to do.” Why does he care who you’re talking to? If he was nicer, you would’ve told him. Maybe you would’ve told Tom too. But Ben’s situation is only between you, Kianna, and the nurses. Nothing was going to change that.

With that, he fell silent. And as soon as you guys stopped talking, Tom walked into the room.

“Is that paperwork almost done?” Tom asked, raising his eyebrows.

“No. I only started it about 45 minutes ago.” You rolled your eyes. What was he expecting? For you to go through all three boxes within the first hour?

“Well, I need that done by 12. If you don’t get them done, you’re fired.” Hearing those words brought tears of frustration to your eyes. If he wanted them done quicker, why doesn’t he just help you?

“Yes, sir.” You whispered. If we wanted them done by 12, he was gonna get them done by 12. That only meant you would get to see Ben earlier, and have lunch earlier.

At around eleven o’clock, you had about one more box left. But now, your eyes were hurting and so were your legs from crouching down. You looked up from your position and noticed Tom and Harrison chatting while drinking whiskey. They knew you were struggling. They knew you were tired. and they probably thought you looked pathetic with the way you were sitting on the ground.

“Is there anything I can do for you?” You asked, softly. Maybe if you were nice to them, they’d be nice to you.

“Hand over your cell phone.” Tom said, holding his hand out. You were taken aback. You’ve been doing your job since you got here, there’s no reason for him to take your phone. If there was an emergency at the hospital, they’d have no way of contacting you.

“Why? I've been doing my job just fine. I don't-“

“We need your phone, in case of further distractions.” Harrison interrupted, walking towards you. You handed him your phone, knowing there was no point in arguing.

“Fine. but if I get a phone call, that phone comes straight back to me.” You crossed your arms. No way were they going to take away your communication from your brother.

“That’s not up to you, now is it? Get back to work.” And with that, Harrison gave Tom your phone, who locked it in one of his drawers to his desk.

After an hour, the pages were finally done. You stood up to tell Tom the news.

“Pages are done. Anything else I can do for you?” You asked, hoping the answer was no.

“That’s everything for today. but I would like for you to get a new outfit for next time. got it? And maybe lose the attitude.”

“But I-“

“No buts, or you will get fired. Am I clear?” He asked in his menacing tone.

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. Get out.” Tom said, pointing to the door ahead. You scrambled to get out of the building, hoping to take the next train to the children’s hospital. You were going to spend the rest of the day with Ben, because you knew that he could cheer you up from this horrible day you had. Your first stop was McDonald's, so you could give him his favourite lunch; a happy meal with four chicken nuggets and an action figure he would collect in his hospital room. You got him one every week, and he kept every toy he got.

As you were ordering his food, you remembered the last time you got him a happy meal, and what he said to you.

“Next time, I want a Spider- Man toy!” He grinned as he saw the miniature Iron Man figure in the package.

“You really do love Spider-Man, huh?” You laughed as you watched him play with his toys

“Spider-Man saves the city, and he saves people. I know he’s going to save me too, Y/N/N. I dream about it.” He said, not looking away from his toys.

“Oh yeah? And where’s Spider-Man now?”

“He’s trying to find you a good job right now! I promise, he told me!”

“Miss?” The employee interrupted your thoughts as she handed you the bag.

“Thank you so much.” You grabbed the food and quickly scrambled outside, towards the nearest bus station, which luckily for you, was a couple metres down; right beside the building you work at, actually.

The hospital was about 20 minutes from your workplace, so it didn’t take long for you to get there. You couldn’t wait to see your brother. Your life was rough, and you only have him left. You want to keep him here for as long as possible.

Since you had the place memorized to the back of your head, you recognized the familiar room, and how they had Ben’s name outside his room. A sign he printed and coloured for himself. You walked in and smiled as you saw him colouring in his colouring book.

“Hey, bud.” You smiled, pulling up a chair and gently giving him a hug.

“Hi Y/N/N! I can't believe you’re here so early! I missed you.” He said as he nuzzled his face into your neck.

“I missed you too. I brought you something.” You grinned as you showed him the familiar happy meal package. He gasped out of shock.

“Do you think I got Spider-Man this time?” He asked, ripping open the package.

“I don't know, bud. Have a look for yourself.”

Turns out, he did get a Spider-Man toy, and boy, was Ben happy to see the little action figure, which definitely brought a smile to his face.

“I made a friend today, sis!” he said, while eating his chicken nuggets.

“Oh yeah? What’s his name?”

“Paddy. He said his family is coming to visit him tomorrow! Maybe you can meet them with me? He likes Spider-Man too!’ He exclaimed.

“Of course, bud. I would love to meet your new friend and his family. How about you finish up and I’ll read you a story okay?” Ben quickly finished his meal and you made sure to clean up the mess that he had made while doing so. Lately, he has been more tired, and you’re hoping that it’s because of the medication and not because of his illness. Especially since he started making friends. You definitely didn't want him to be lonely, and you were happy he found someone his age that could keep him occupied. 

“Can we watch a movie, Y/N?” He asked, as he made room for you on his bed.

“Of course we can watch a movie. I just can’t lay on your bed with you. You know that, kiddo.” You frowned as his smile faded. 

“I know, but I was hoping this time you would.” He sighed, but quickly turned the television on with the remote he had. Of course, he decided to put on Spider-Man. 

However, all you could think about was how you were going to go to work tomorrow, without a new outfit.

Taglist:

@fanficparker @your-daily-dose-of-fangirl @magiclolipopqueen@organicpurplepants @delicately-important-trash@butterfliesinthenightsky @redstrawbbaby @shayke-and-bake@olivia1112 @lazymarvelfan @karlitabi-rrito @green-lxght@babylsn @sincerelyfan @awesomeaugustina @joycesld @xxr-88xx @czygrlm @ixchel-9275 @peterbxrnes @claredolphinbear24 @fakindob @superheroesaremytea @sltwins @a-dorky-book-keeper @vicisbookishblog @flemishbitch @van-horn-dashner @vintageroses1014516 @linnyalou @zabdisamor @its-the-unknownspidey @anxiousstark @quacksonsgivemelife @runway-to-my-aid @michellemxndes @quacksonsgivemelife @xximaweirdoxx @paradisiacalsparks @sithrhee @starsholland @spellbinding10 @uwupxterparker 

[verai-marcel]

The Light That You Shine (RDR2 Fanfic, John Marston x F!Reader, Chapter 2 of 6, 18+)

Tags, Warnings, & Notes in Chapter 1.

AO3 Link is here.

Chapter 2 - Love Blooms

Word Count: 2333

You lugged the last bucket of fresh flowers off the delivery truck, placing it with the others at the back of the shop. Wiping the sweat off your forehead with the back of your gardening glove, you walked back to the truck to say goodbye to the driver. 

"See you tonight, Uncle George! Thanks for the help!" 

"No problem, sweetpea. Maddie is making lasagna tonight to celebrate."

You squealed with delight and waved goodbye as he drove back to the nursery that he and your aunt owned. As you walked back to the shop, you reminisced on the road that life had taken you. 

You grew up with plants, knew how to take care of just about anything that grew from the land. When you were in ninth grade, you decided that you wanted to open up a flower shop, and while your parents wanted you to go to college, you were stubborn. Reading about starting your own business and working your summers at the nursery, you finally convinced them to let you follow your dream. 

But on the day you graduated from high school, when you should have been walking across a stage to accept your diploma, you were instead in an ER waiting room, being told, in no uncertain terms, that your parents did not survive the car crash.

Two years later, the pain was still fresh. But they had taught you to live your life by moving forward and doing your best, to love the world, and to see the good in everything, even when things were down. 

So you moved on with your life, determined to not let your sadness get you down. After all, you knew that they'd want to see you thrive.

But some nights were worse than others.

Your parents had willed you everything, and with those funds, you rented a live-work unit with a small shop downstairs and a studio apartment above it. You were planning to put your all into your business, marketing on social media and researching floral trends to stay up to date so that you could stay ahead. 

You stayed so busy preparing to open your shop, in fact, that you didn't have time to be sad. No time to think meant no time to be depressed. 

It helped that Aunt Madeline, or Aunt Maddie as you usually called her, and Uncle George immediately came over after the accident and helped you sort everything out, from supporting you emotionally to aiding you in figuring out the estate sale and everything else in between. If not for them, you would have been in a far worse place, mentally, financially, and physically. You had been living with them two towns over until yesterday, when you finally finished moving everything over to your new place. It had taken a week of steadily packing and moving and unpacking your things, but you were done with that part. 

Now for the exciting task. 

You looked around the empty shop, seeing in your mind's eye where your displays were going to go, what colors you were going to make the walls, where your work table would be set up, everything. 

Stretching your arms above your head, you put your headphones on and got to work. 

***

John loved the open road. Driving between towns where there was almost nothing but farmland and blue skies, he felt free. Glancing at his mirror, he saw Arthur following him on his Indian Scout, a content look on his face.

He must be enjoyin’ himself, he thought as he revved his engine and took the highway exit. It had been a long time since he had passed through this small town. He wondered if one of his favorite fast food places was still around.

Arthur followed, giving him a ‘what the hell’ look as he pulled up next to him at the stop light.

“Felt like lookin’, s’all!” John yelled.

“You wanted a damn burger, more like!”

“You don’t have to come!”

“I ain’t missin’ Buffalo Joe’s!”

The light turned green and they sped off.

***

You were in the middle of washing your store windows when two men came walking up to you, looking confused.

“Can I help you with something?” you asked kindly, though their tough exteriors put you slightly on guard. Can’t judge by how they look, you reminded yourself.

One of the men had on a cowboy hat and five o’clock shadow, with eyes the color of an atoll island. He looked at the other man, with his leather jacket and torn jeans, looking like he stepped out of an 80s music video. His shoulder length dark brown hair looked thick and luxurious, and his warm grey eyes looked around before they came to rest on you.

“Uh, excuse me, miss, but was there a burger place called Buffalo Joe’s around here?”

You blinked. His voice was like electricity running through your body; you hadn’t expected that reaction and had to pause a moment before replying. “Sorry, that place closed a year ago,” you said. “It was here though.”

The man cursed.

“John!” the other man mumbled angrily.

John looked back at you, his eyes softening. “I’m sorry, just…”

“Miss the place?” you offered with a smile.

“Yeah,” he said.

“Well, the owners opened up a new restaurant two blocks down the road called Triple Patty’s. Same burgers, but dressed up a bit.”

He lit up at the news, and his smile immediately charmed you. Despite his rough get-up, he suddenly looked younger and more innocent. “Thanks for the tip.” He turned to his friend. “C’mon Arthur, you can buy me a burger.”

Arthur snorted. “You ain’t pretty enough for chicken nuggets, let alone a burger.”

You laughed at John’s offended expression. “Have fun, you two.”

John waved at you, shooting you a cheeky grin as he left with Arthur, and you found your eyes following the shape of his back as he walked away.

***

“Hey. Earth to John.”

“Huh? What do you want?”

“You been spacing out since we got here, you still thinkin’ about Dutch?”

“What? No. Can’t do nothin’ about him.”

“Then… oh. I see. I see what’s goin’ on here.”

John put down his burger and glared at Arthur. “And what exactly is goin’ on?”

“The girl.”

He picked his burger up and took a couple more bites before speaking again. “What about her?”

“You wanna talk to her again."

John's shrug was anything but nonchalant. "She was cute. Who wouldn't want to talk to her?" 

Arthur's chuckle was equal parts teasing and sympathetic. "Go talk to her. I'll meet you back at the club."

John blinked, surprised. Then he narrowed his eyes. "What's the catch?" 

"Can't I do anything nice for you without arousin' suspicion?" 

"No," John answered flatly. He finished his burger, glaring at Arthur. 

Arthur laughed. "Go on, get goin' before you miss her."

John gave him one final glare before he took off without a look back.

Arthur waved down a waitress and paid the bill. As he left the restaurant and walked back to his motorcycle, he looked in the direction that John was headed.

“Good luck, kid.” 

***

You were carrying a large box when you heard a voice from outside the shop. You set the box down on the back counter and turned around. 

John waved, a sheepish grin on his face. 

Coming back to the entrance, you opened the door. "Hi!" you said cheerfully. "Did you want a different restaurant?"

"Ah, no, that place was great! I just wanted to thank you again…" He trailed off as his eyes took in the disaster zone that was your shop in progress. "You, uh, need a hand with anything?" 

"Oh, no, I got this," you immediately replied, not wanting to trouble a complete stranger with some of the hard labor that you had planned. 

"Please," he said, stepping closer. His earnest expression tugged at your heart, and you found yourself unable to tell him no again. 

"Well, if you insist, then could you help me carry a couple of boxes from my car?"

***

Somehow three hours passed before you knew it, and as John helped you move the last display case into place, you noticed the sun was setting. 

"Oh my god, I didn't realize how late it was!" You turned to him, about to ask him something when you caught him stretching, his arms pulling at the tight shirt, showing his muscles bulging. A bead of sweat glided down his neck, and you suddenly had a strong urge to lick it. Then he turned to you, and you discovered that his eyes were a unique mix of grey and hazel; caught in the beauty of them, you were stunned to silence.

“What?”

You quickly pulled yourself back to reality. "Uh, I really appreciate all your help today. Can I buy you dinner?"

"I was about to ask you the same thing," he said with a wry grin. "You beat me to it."

You laughed, utterly charmed by him. "So I win?”

“I guess so.” He came closer to you. Your heart started to beat faster as you realized that he really was a very attractive man. “How about I buy you dinner first, then you can buy me one. Don’t feel right getting two meals in a row.”

You grinned. What a sly fox, getting you to agree to two dates at the same time.

Wait, was he asking you out on a date?

You froze. You hadn’t had much time to date, not since your life had changed so drastically two years ago. And even in high school, your ‘dates’ were just going to the movies with a boy and then going home right afterwards. You looked at John, his poise full of self-assuredness, as if he walked through life knowing his place in the world, and wondered for a split second what it would be like to get close to a man like this.

You were so deep in your own mind that you hadn’t noticed when he had taken a few more steps closer to you. Now he was within arm’s reach of you. He called your name out softly, his eyes focused on you.

“I, uh, yes. Two dates. I mean dinners. Two dinners. Sounds good to me,” you stammered.

He smiled knowingly at you; he had heard your faux pas and had commited your words to memory. “Great, glad to hear it.”

***

You gave John one of your newly printed business cards, too excited about the fact that you had business cards to worry about how silly of an act it was. But he took the card and drew a heart on the back of it as he wrote down your personal phone number. After adding your number to his phone and texting you so you had his number as well, the two of you planned for a dinner date the next night, and he took off. As you watched him ride away, you wondered if you were wise in following your gut rather than your logic. 

Locking up your shop, you got in your car and drove to your aunt & uncle’s house, looking forward to Aunt Maddie’s lasagna for dinner.

***

You spent the next day working on the orders that had already been placed, mostly by friends and relatives who wanted to support your business. You were grateful for their support and worked diligently, mulling over your designs again and again, agonizing over every choice. It was their orders that you were going to use to start your social media accounts to advertise, so you wanted to make sure they were absolutely perfect.

You were so wrapped up in your work that you didn’t notice how fast time had flown.

“Hey,” John said casually as he walked through the double glass doors.

You poked your head up past the half wall that separated your work area at the back of the shop from the retail area. You saw him looking quite cleaned up, dressed in a dark green button up short sleeve shirt, which he wore open over a plain white shirt, with faded blue jeans.

And you promptly panicked.

“Oh my god, I forgot the time, I’m so sorry!” You started to clean up your tools, but when you looked back at the bouquet you were working on, you started wondering if you should’ve added that tiger lily or not.

“Are you in the middle of work?” he asked, coming closer. He looked at your bouquet and tilted his head.

“What do you think?” you asked.

“Looks a little too orange,” he said bluntly.

You looked back at the bouquet. He was right. You took out the tiger lily, setting it aside. 

“You didn’t have to change it,” he said as you turned the bouquet on its lazy susan, observing it from all angles.

“No, you were right, it seemed a little too warm. Needs some cooler colors to balance it.” You grabbed some bellflowers and added them around the edges instead. “Perfect.” Turning to him, you smiled, happy with your work. “Thanks!”

John smiled and looked down at his feet. “You’re welcome,” he mumbled. He looked up again. “Shall we go, my lady?”

You laughed. “Wow, a gentleman.” You looked down at yourself; you were wearing a dumpy black T-shirt with a pair of bright purple denim shorts, all under your florist apron.

“Um, can you give me some time to shower and get dressed?”

John leaned in and sniffed your neck. “You smell like flowers. And you look good.” He pulled back, unaware of the effect his action and his comments were having on your heart. “But if you want to, I’ll wait.”

You looked at the clock that you had hung on the back wall. You looked back at John, who was looking at you like he wouldn’t care if you were wearing a potato sack, he would have still said the same thing. 

“Nah, fuck it, let’s go.”

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

Chapter 3