#tomorrow and Saturday are only half days though but still

[jelliclekay]

please everlasting cat please let this week of work go by easier than last week I'm begging you

[avianyuh]

Boring | Min Yoongi

Summary: For almost a year, you've worked for Min Yoongi's company. He gave off the impression of a cold businessman. No one ever saw him smile, laugh or discuss anything other than work. Everyone seemed to think he was a boring guy, who was too consumed with work. You'd assumed there was more to him, and often fantasized about him, but as far as you knew, he wasn't even aware of your existence. You didn't think he noticed you at all in meetings, or when he walked past your cublicle, but maybe you just weren't paying enough attention?

Word Count: 2.9k

chapters [1] ?

The worst thing about meetings is when they are scheduled at inconvenient times of the day. Like this you were currently sitting in. It was 3pm on the dot, on a Wednesday. Two more days left in the work week until you could sleep in until 11am. Two more dreary days of fake smiling at all of the coworkers you secretly couldn’t stand. Two more pathetic days of hearing the mindless office chit chat that you tried so hard to tune out. But one thing you would actually miss as you’d lay in bed until noon on Saturday was the sight standing right in front of you, giving the most boring presentation. Min Yoongi. Your boss, your superior, and your secret crush. Yes, it sounds like grade school to say you had a secret crush on him, but it’s the truth. You hadn’t mentioned it to your friends and definitely not the two women you were friendly acquaintances with at the office. It was an innocent infatuation. You couldn’t help yourself. He looked so attractive when he was dressed in his office attire. You had never seen a man look as good in a suit as Min Yoongi did. And when you happened to catch him adjusting his tie or recuffing his sleeves, it sort of sent you ‘over the edge’ and would become the highlight of the day. You loved to stare at him when he walked down the aisle past your cubicle. You held your breath if you were standing next to him in the elevator on the way up or down. And you fantasized about him while you sat through his boring presentations. You couldn’t fathom why a man so attractive could be perceived as so monotone and frankly, boring. You would see him walk around the office and interact with the other employees, but he always kept a straight face. Even when some of his clients would try to crack some jokes with him…nothing. You wondered why he kept so many walls up, well if that was even the case. Maybe he wasn’t guarded, maybe there simply wasn’t anything interesting about him? And that’s why you were more than okay with keeping your little crush a fantasy. You knew that you would probably be incompatible considering he seemed to have no soul. And honestly, you did like to tell a few jokes. You looked up from your notepad and stared at him, just as everyone else in the room was doing. Though you were basically invisible at this company, you still had to pretend like you were paying attention every once in a while.

“By tomorrow morning I need that file on my desk. It’s crucial that everything’s done and ready to go for the Smith account. Who was in charge of that?”, as the twelve other people in the room all turned their heads to look at me, I suddenly felt nauseous as my stomach started to twist into knots. As I darted my eyes from my coworkers, they landed on Yoongi, who was staring at me expectantly, waiting for his file. I cleared my throat and shuffled through my papers, pulling the manilla file out from under my notepad. I stood up from my chair as I walked over to him. His eyes followed me the whole time.

“Here it is Mr. Min.”, I said as I handed him the file. Your fingers briefly touched and you noticed just how calloused they were. You wondered why that was. He nodded at you and murmured a short Thank You, before he moved on to the next subject and you scurried back to your seat. By the time the meeting was over, I was back at my desk and watching the clock. 4:30. Only a half an hour left. You had finished all of your assignments and was just fiddling with the pencil in your hand when your office phone started ringing. “Hello?”, you answered, annoyed and wondering what could possibly be so important to warrant a call 30 minutes before you could leave.

“Mr. Min would like to see you in his office.”, the woman said before hanging up immediately. Shit, I thought. What could I have possibly done? He’s never wanted to see me in his office except for that one time when he gave a speech to everyone after we secured that big client. You had remembered to take note of his office since at the time you assumed it would be the only time you’d see it. He had photos lining his desk. Him at different sports games. Mainly basketball games. Pictures of him posing next to players, a picture of him on a boat, and a picture of a family. It looked like an older photo, so you assumed it was a childhood photo of his. But that’s all you could remember at the time since that night you had been knocking back quite a few drinks with your colleagues in celebration of the pay raise. But now here you were, approaching his secretary’s desk. “Y/N? Let me notify him before I send you in.”, His secretary looked down at the phone before pressing the button to ring him. “Mr.Min…yes, she’s here. Okay, I’ll send her in.”, She glanced back up at you, “You can go in.”, she said blankly before staring back at her computer screen, you gave her a quick nod as you walked past her desk. You could hear the frantic sound of her typing on her keyboard. You knocked on the door once before peaking your head in.

“Mr.Min? You wanted to see me.”, your voice was timid. Mainly due to the fact you were wrecked with nerves on the inside. You had been raking your brain on the walk down to his office on why you’d been called in. Maybe you were getting fired? But, on the same day you have that interaction with him during the meeting? It was the first time you had properly spoken to him.

“Ah, yes, Y/N. Please close the door behind you and take a seat.”, there it was again, that emotionless, monotone voice. It made it one hundred times harder for you to gauge what this conversation would be about. Was he angry? Was he calm? You had no idea. His face was stone cold. You really never saw him smile. And not to mention, his office was so dark, the blinds were almost completely drawn shut and now the door was closed. You found it concerning that he wanted the door closed. Last time someone went into his office and closed the door, they were walking out an hour later with two boxes filled with their belongings. You started to fidget with your fingers as you took a seat. You took a deep breath in as you watched him pull his hands out of his pockets and move from his standing position against his window and take a seat in his own chair across from you. “First of all”, he started, “You don’t have to worry, you’re not being fired, so you don’t have to play with your fingers.”, Immediately you placed your hands at your sides.

“Oh, um, didn’t realize anybody would pick up on that habit…”, you said, shocked at how observant he seemed to be.

“Well, I’ve seen you around the office and in my meetings for almost a year, and you do it at least one meeting per week.”, he shrugged before looking down at his desk and opening one of his filing cabinet drawers underneath. He pulled out a folder, specifically the manilla folder you had just given him during the meeting. He handed it over to you, and you furrowed your brows in response as you took it. “I skimmed through it, everything seemed fine. Problem is, I just got a call from Smith himself, and it turns out, his assistant faxed over all the wrong information. He’s still coming in tomorrow and expects the folder to be ready to go.”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing, you assumed he was about to ask you to stay late and re-do everything, just because someone else made a mistake? Unbelievable. Before he could continue speaking, you intervened, “So what? Now I have to re-do everything? Do you understand that all that work in this folder took me a whole week. Rome wasn’t built in a day Sir.”, you snapped. Yoongi raised an eyebrow at you, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms across his chest, seemingly challenging your opposition.

“So you’re telling me that you refuse to do it? I understand it’s asking a lot, but you would be paid for any overtime. I can’t force you but if you don’t stay, don’t expect any big projects in the near future. Maybe Jerry at the cubicle across from you would like your next project?” You narrowed your eyes at him in a silent attempt to say, screw you.

“Sir, all I’m saying is that I sort of feel like this was sprung on me a half an hour before work ends, and you’re telling me I have to do a week's worth of work on my own in one night. I just don’t see how that’s fair.”, you explained, trying to keep your voice from getting too loud. One wrong move or word and he could fire you on the spot for 'disrespect'.

“So you’re concerned about working alone? Fine, I’ll stay and work on it with you.” Yoongi said as he looked down at his wristwatch, most likely mentally rearranging his afterwork schedule.

“Seriously?”, you asked, surprised that he would even offer to stay and work on the file with you at all. He looked back up at you, nodding his head, looking you dead in the eyes.

“Yeah, get your computer, you can set it up in here. We have a lot to get through.” And boy, was he right. The next thing you knew, you were two hours deep into paperwork, calling as many people as you could reach to fact check considering the fact most people had left their offices for the day. By 7pm, you were getting a little irritated as you weren’t making much progress with the file. And not to mention the fact that you were getting hungry. You ran a hand through your hair as you let out a frustrated sigh, throwing down your pen on your notepad. Yoongi looked up from his computer screen, his head resting on his hand, and he had his left arm resting on his desk. You could tell that even he was getting frustrated, and that in turn made you angry. And before you could stop yourself, you exploded.

“So, how exactly do you do business around here? You’re telling me that the whole week there was no communication with the other party until half an hour before closing today, the day before they were expected to come in for a meeting?”, he rolled his eyes at you as covered his face with his hand in frustration.

“You think I did this on purpose? You don’t think I also want to go home?” , he snapped. Now you were rolling your eyes at him, you felt like this whole file was never going to get done and your efforts were pointless.

“Can we at least order some food?”, you murmured. To that, you actually heard him let out a chortle as he reached into his drawer for a few takeout menus. It wasn’t necessarily a full on laugh, but it let you know that he did have a sense of humor. You couldn’t hide your surprise and Yoongi seemed to notice.

“What? Are you surprised that I eat food…”, he questioned as he handed you the menus, “Pick one, I don’t really have a preference. They’re all good.”, you grabbed them, again briefly brushing your fingers against his own like earlier in the meeting room. You decided on Chinese and another half hour later, after Yoongi went to collect the food from the delivery man, you were both sitting on the couch in his office, just silently eating. At first you assumed it’d be awkward, just sitting there, but it was actually kind of nice since it gave you a chance to get your mind off of the file and your impending deadline. But then, Yoongi cleared his throat as he put down his food. “Can I ask you a question?” You were intrigued to see what his version of small talk was, so you immediately replied with a Hm. “Do you find me boring during the staff meetings?”, he let out a chuckle as he asked.

“What!”, you giggled. You were surprised at his question, you never assumed that he would ask something like that. “How would you be able to tell?”, you were surprised at his change in attitude. An hour ago, he was so frustrated and now he’s…trying to be funny? He smiled at you before he started explaining.

“Everytime I look over at you, you’re either playing with your pen, or doing that finger fidget thing. I mean, I get it, it’s boring material we’re going over, but c’mon, everything I talk about is boring?”, he asked, still smiling which signaled to you that this was all just lighthearted banter.

“Well, I mean, you have to admit, spreadsheets and deadlines aren't the most interesting stuff to discuss after the first 10 minutes of the meeting. I just think the meetings don’t have to be over an hour each, that’s all.”, you threw your hands up defensively, returning his smile. He shook his head playfully.

“You do great work here, but every time I walk past your cubicle, you have the most miserable look on your face. “, he smirked, replaying the times he’s walk past your cubicle in his head.

“That is not true!”, you responded back teasingly, “I put in 100% But, it’s not my fault that I have resting bitch face…Also I highly doubt every time you’ve walked past my cubicle I look like that.” He raised his eyebrow, still smirking.

“Yeah, you’re right. The other half of the time I see you, you're always staring at me.” Upon hearing that, you covered your face with your hands and Yoongi started laughing at your reaction.

“Stop”, you pleaded, fully embarrassed now. You had no idea he caught on to that, you always thought you were being discreet. But to be fair, you had no idea he knew you even existed. He never seemed to concern himself with you until today. You had even interviewed with him when you got the job, it was with a supervisor. “I had no idea you even knew of me. I just assumed I was another faceless office worker or something. I mean, you’re always so busy and you keep to yourself…”, you tried to cover your tracks, but you were doing a really bad job of it. “That’s not true at all”, Yoongi said, giving his tone a serious edge. If I saw any of the people I employ out on the street, I would recognize them.” “But would you go up and talk to them?”, you questioned, bringing back your teasing tone. When he didn’t respond, you laughed and he let out a dramatic sigh. “What, are you shy or something?”, you asked.

“I wouldn’t say I’m shy, but I’m a bit quiet, but I think you already know that. I guess you could call me an introvert.”, Yoongi said sincerely. You nodded in agreement.

“Yeah, I’m the same way. I prefer my alone time. No wonder we were so bothered at having to stay so late.”, you joked. Yoongi agreed with you as picked the remainder of his food. You looked down at your container and did the same for a few minutes, assuming you were almost done with your conversation. At least now you felt more comfortable around him. And it was reassuring to know that he did in fact have a personality. A sort of perplexing one at that. Before you had the chance to stand up to throw away your containers, he started speaking again.

“You know, I’ve had my eyes on you for a while Y/N. I just never had a reason to talk to you, but I’ll admit, when Smith called, despite how pissed I was about the mix up, when I saw your name on the file, I was looking forward to this.” And with that, those familiar nervous knots in your stomach returned. You really wanted to tell him that you had also been interested in him, that you also despite your frustration, working with him all night had softened the blow of missing your after work routine for once. But you decided to play it safe, after all, he is your boss.

“Well, I don’t regret staying to work on this with you.”, you responded back. Your eyes met, and you stared at each other for what felt like an eternity. No one made a sound, and you weren’t sure of what to do. You studied his features. He had the most kissable lips, but you knew that would be a bad decision. One that you’d probably regret. His eyes seemed sad, and you weren’t sure of why you got that impression. You wondered if it was something you had said, but now that you were thinking about it, you always thought his eyes seemed like that. He was a mystery to you, one that you never thought you’d get the chance to uncover, but now, the window was slightly ajar into the man that is Min Yoongi and now you were really curious.

[A/N: So I guess my way of supporting Yoongi through this stupid scooter fiasco is writing a fanfic…Anyways, this is loosely based on a fanfic from years ago I had read on tumblr that I always went back to reread, until last week I noticed the story along with the account was deleted and deactivated :( To make matters worse, the story had never been finished, so in a way I never got to read how the story ended. So to make my teenage self happy, I’m making my own CEO Yoongi fanfic because I have to let my inner Yoongi freak fly. I anticipate that this will be a series, but I’m writing this author’s note before I even started writing the actual story so, we’ll see.]

[bellaxgiornata]

The Devil at Your Window |3: A Show of Trust|

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader Word count: 6.9k

Warnings/Tags: 18+; fluff, flirting, sexual tension, light angst, pining, eventual smut, identity reveal, and lots of black suit Matty

Series Installment List & Summary

a/n: Nothing like an injured, soaking wet black suit Matt... Feedback is always appreciated!

Tag list: @danzer8705 @darkened-writer @keepingitlokiii @kezibear @dorothleah @sarahskywalker-amidala @1988-fiend @haruari @sleepysleepymom

The voices on the television show you'd been watching gradually began to blur together into a soft hum as your lazy Saturday night wore on late into the evening. Heavy rain pelted against your apartment windows, the night surprisingly just warm enough for it instead of the snow the city had been getting in abundance. You hoped most of the snow would be melted by tomorrow with how much it had been raining today, already tired of winter and ready for spring despite it still only being January.

The sound of heavy droplets rhythmically battering against the glass windows of your apartment only began to further lull you into a relaxed state on your couch, cozy and warm beneath your blankets. Eventually your eyelids began to feel heavy, inevitably beginning to slowly lower until they dropped closed. A few times you caught yourself beginning to doze off on your couch and your eyes flew back open, your body giving a slight jolt along the cushions. Though gradually they began to drop shut once more until you fell into a light sleep.

It was at the sound of loud, frantic pounding that you woke with a startle on your couch. Your eyelids flew open, your heart racing in your chest at the abrupt, harsh noise that had disturbed your peaceful night. You laid there on the cushions disoriented, wondering how long you’d fallen asleep for and what time it currently was as you squinted at your television. 

Another series of rapid banging had a gasp slipping out of you, your body sitting bolt upright on the couch. Your head spun in the direction of the noise only to spot the Devil once again standing on your fire escape. Except unlike the previous time he’d stopped by a few days ago, he was bent in half with an arm wrapped across his abdomen, clutching his side. From the faint light of your television screen illuminating him out on the fire escape, you could see the painful twist of his mouth.

He’d gotten hurt tonight. There was no denying it with the way he was carrying himself like that.

Throwing the blankets off of yourself in a rush, you rose to your feet, turning off the television before darting straight to the window. Your hands moving quickly, you undid the locks before pushing it up. Droplets of freezing rain immediately pelted you in the face and you tried to blink them from your lashes.

“Why the hell are you out in this?” you asked him, shouting loud enough to be heard over the rain as you stepped to the side. “Get in here!”

The Devil didn’t utter a single cocky remark this time to your surprise. Instead, he began to climb through the opening of your window as you headed over to the nearby lightswitch, flipping it on so you both could see better. At the sound of him emitting a hiss of pain between his teeth, you spun back around just in time to watch him drop to your worn wooden floors in a sopping wet heap.

“Shit!” you cursed.

In a hurry you sprinted back over, pausing only briefly to quickly slam your window shut, blocking the rain back out of your apartment once more. Then you dropped to your knees roughly, the fabric of your sweatpants absorbing some of the water that had already begun to puddle around him. The Devil continued to lie on his side, his mouth hanging open as loud, ragged breaths left him. You cringed at the sight of him lying there, suddenly feeling panicked and helpless.

“What happened?” you asked him. “Are you okay? Do you need a hospital or a–a doctor?”

“No,” he grunted out instantly. “No hospitals.”

You grimaced, your hands darting out to help him only to hover over his body where he lay in a heap before you. Eyes flying wildly around him, you did your best to search for any sign of injury, but you couldn’t seem to spot anything besides his soaking wet clothes now clinging to him even tighter than when they were dry. You couldn’t seem to spot any bleeding, either–there at least wasn’t any blood on your floor–but with how damp his clothes were and how dark the fabric was, it was impossible to know for sure.

“Well I don’t know how much medical knowledge you think I have,” you told him with a nervous laugh, “but it only extends to things I can fix with a bandaid. And I’m guessing that’s not what’s– shit !”

The Devil rolled onto his back before you with a loud, pained groan, entirely cutting you off. Eyes wide in panic, your hands still hovered uselessly above him. His breathing was labored as he lay in the growing cold puddle of water he was making on your floor.

“What's wrong?” you asked in a rush. “How can I help?”

“Baseball bat,” he breathed out, voice hoarse. 

You watched as his left hand lowered to his side, his mouth curling into a painful grimace as he gestured along the length of it. He’d gestured to the entire length of his ribcage, where each bone was unmistakable with how skin tight the wet fabric was on him. And while you weren’t a doctor, it appeared like something seemed off in one of the spaces. Had he broken a rib?

"Just–just needed somewhere safe,” he continued, breath still coming in sharp. “To try to heal. Barely–” 

A hiss of pain escaped his lips, his head rolling back along your floor. You began to gnaw on your bottom lip, your heart still hammering away frantically in your chest. Your body was still in a state of panic as you sat there on your soaked knees, not sure how to help the masked man before you.

“Barely made it here,” he finished.

Still nervously gnawing your bottom lip, you shook your head, unsure of how you were supposed to help him. “Why come to me? I’m not a medical professional, Devil!”

An amused huff of laughter broke on yet another wounded noise from him next. Worry only further filled you as you glanced back down at his ribs. Something definitely didn’t seem quite right.

“I can–can heal myself,” he began, voice still strained. “Sort of, at least. I just–just need somewhere quiet to meditate.”

“ Meditate ?” you asked in shock, the word flying out of you. “You’re going to meditate ? I don’t know if you know this, Devil, but yoga is not the answer right now! You need a hospital!”

Something like a smile faintly pulled at the corners of his mouth–the first one you’d seen on him this whole time. Somehow that only worried you further. Had he gotten hit in the head with that baseball bat, too?

“No, not yoga,” he told you. “But that was–was cute.”

Your brows jumped up onto your forehead, your jaw once again dropping. Hands falling back down to your sides, you sat there dumbfounded with this man once more. Who the hell was he?

“I’m sorry, are you flirting with me?” you asked him. “While you’re literally lying in pain on my apartment floor soaking wet from freezing rain? With most likely a broken rib?” You shook your head, beginning to rise back up to your feet. “Okay, I’m calling you an ambulance, you probably have a concussion and there’s–”

Something caught your wrist and you paused from your place halfway risen from the floor. Glancing down, you spotted a black gloved hand holding onto you with just enough strength to catch your attention. Slowly your eyes rose back up to where you figured his were behind the wet black mask. His head had rolled along the floor towards you, a despairing look on the lower half of his face.

“Please,” he pleaded softly. “Don’t. Just–just trust me. Please?”

For a moment you stood there in an awkward sort of crouch, your bottom lip once again caught between your teeth. You scanned him over as he lay there on his back, your eyes inevitably landing on that space where you assumed he’d broken a rib. Flinching, you focused back on his face, his hand still holding your wrist.

“Please,” he tried again. “I just need maybe twenty minutes. Then I’ll head to my place. I know someone who can help me better when I get there.”

“Then why not call them now? Or why not go there instead?” you asked him.

One corner of his lip twisted upward in something like a sheepish smile. “You were closer,” he answered softly. “And I’d rather not risk outing myself by bringing you both together.”

Eyelids falling shut, you pinched the bridge of your nose with your other hand. Gradually you felt him release your wrist as you tried to think through this situation. Everything inside of you was screaming to ignore him and to call an ambulance. If his rib was broken there was no way he was going to just walk out of here in twenty minutes feeling better.

But maybe there was something different about him. Like those other superheroes. Truthfully, you’d always wondered with every news story you’d heard about The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. Could there be something special about him? Like an ability to heal himself?

Blowing out a rough breath, you lowered your hand from your face and focused back on him. “You can meditate to heal?” you asked him carefully. “You’re not–not shitting me, are you? Because if you need a hospital I’d rather you go to one and not like, die on my floor or something.”

“I’m not going to die,” he assured you. “I can heal. Not completely, but enough. It’s…a sort of skill I learned a long time ago.”

“Seems like a pretty useful fucking skill,” you muttered to yourself, catching the small smile on his lips. “Okay, well you’ve got to be freezing with those wet clothes. Do you want some blankets?”

“I am incredibly cold actually,” he admitted, that sheepish grin returning. “Fighting the urge to start shivering is becoming quite difficult. But I was actually hoping for a favor if it wouldn’t make you too uncomfortable.”

Your eyes narrowed back at him curiously. “And what favor would that be?” you asked him.

“I need to be able to focus when I meditate,” he told you, grimacing as he spoke. “And let’s just say, for me, that’s hard to do with–with cold, wet clothes on my skin.”

It took you a moment to process what he was saying, your mind initially focused on trying to understand what he had meant by telling you that focusing would be hard for him to do with wet clothes on his skin, as if there was something more to it than discomfort. But then suddenly you caught what he’d meant. Breath catching in your throat, your eyes grew wide. Did he want you to take his clothes off?

“So you…” you began hesitantly, voice trailing off.

“Yeah,” he answered, an awkward chuckle falling out of him before it broke off on a gasp of pain. “But it’s not exactly easy for me to move, so I’d–I’d need some assistance getting the shirt and pants off.”

Swallowing hard, your eyes traveled down from his masked face and back towards his body. His very toned, very attractive body that you’d thought about a few times in a not so appropriate way since his last visit. And here he was, injured and asking you to take his clothes off in your apartment. Licking your lips, you tried to fight the heat that suddenly sparked low in your stomach–this wasn’t the time or place for that.

“If you’re uncomfortable with that, don’t worry about it,” he told you when you’d remained silent. “I understand. I can just–just try to work around it, it’ll just be more difficult.”

Shaking your head slowly, you told him, “No, no I can help. I just wasn’t exactly expecting you to show up injured and wanting to get naked at my place tonight.”

The smile you’d come to know him for returned to his face, the sight of it a minor relief. It eased your panic and fear a little, at least.

“Well I’m not asking you to take off the mask or the boxers,” he pointed out. “So I’m not really getting naked here tonight.”

“So the Devil wears boxers and not briefs?” you teased, hoping to hide your nerves with humor as you settled back down on the wet floor beside him again. “Guess you’ve answered a much-asked question for the masses of Hell’s Kitchen tonight.”

“Boxer briefs, if you want to be technical,” he replied, still grinning slightly. “But you’d have figured that out on your own soon enough, I imagine.”

Biting the inside of your cheek, you felt the heat beginning to creep up your neck at his comment. You knew he meant it in the way that you’d find out because you’d be taking his pants off to help him get warm and ‘heal’ with his meditation somehow, but still, you couldn’t help but wonder if it could’ve had another meaning.

“And does that mean you’re part of the masses wondering what I wear under this?” he asked, breaking you from your thoughts.

Cheeks flaming, you laughed a little nervously. “Now I’m really starting to think someone got you in the head with that baseball bat, too,” you replied. Clearing your throat, you tried to switch the topic back to the situation at hand. “So how am I supposed to…manage this, exactly? I imagine moving is painful, but I have a feeling your clothes aren’t going to just come right off with you being this wet.”

A rumbling laugh came from him, the sound mixed with pained groans and gasps as his rib clearly ached and protested the movement. Brows knitting together, you shot his masked face a concerned look.

“You should probably not be laughing right now,” you informed him. “Pretty sure that’s not helping. And it sounds painful.”

“I’m sorry, it’s just,” he began, a wheeze of laughter still coming from him, “in my experience, the opposite has always been true.”

This time your head tilted curiously to the side as you tried to work out what he meant. For a moment you sat there, replaying what you’d just said in your head. And then it hit you and your face flamed even further.

“Oh my God!” you shrieked, fighting the urge to slap his very solid thigh beside you. “It is not the time for this!”

His laughter subsided, but the grin remained on his lips. “I’m sorry, you’re entirely right. I’m not trying to make you more uncomfortable,” he apologized. “I’ll stop and focus. Promise. You’re just cute when you get flustered like that. I truly appreciate your help though, Miss…?”

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head at him. “Absolutely not the time for that, either,” you scolded him, doing your best to ignore how he’d once again called you ‘cute.’ “So focusing on the task at hand here, I’m guessing for this ‘meditation’ that you do, you sit up for that, right? Not just…lay in a heap on the floor?”

“Yes,” he answered. “Generally.”

“Okay,” you began slowly, your cheeks still feeling like they were burning as your eyes trailed down every visible muscle along his chest beneath his wet shirt before landing on his belt buckle. “I suppose that means removing your pants first would be the best course of action,” you mused aloud. “Probably easier to remove with you, you know, laying down as opposed to sitting.”

“Probably,” he answered, a hint of a smile in his tone.

You sat there hesitating for a few seconds, your gaze still on his belt buckle as silence filled your apartment. You could practically feel his attention on you, the hair on the back of your neck raising. It wasn’t like you’d never undressed someone before, but generally all of those situations were vastly different from this one. It wasn’t like you were taking off his pants so that you could sleep with him, yet somehow sitting here, staring at him on your floor like this–especially after the comments he’d just made–had this moment feeling oddly and unexpectedly intimate. Even with his injured side.

“So uhm,” you said, pausing to wet your lips, eyes still focused on his belt buckle, “I’ll just start there. I guess.”

“Here,” he murmured.

His gloved hands rose up from his sides, reaching down and working to unclasp his belt buckle. It was so quiet in your apartment as his hands worked that you could hear the clink of the metal as he undid it. Swallowing hard and trying to control your wildly beating heart, you watched as those gloved hands deftly undid the button of his dark pants next. The slide of his zipper downward afterwards was even audible as you sat there beside him, trying hard to think about anything other than how you wished his pants were coming off under different circumstances.

“If you could help get them off the rest of the way,” he said, his voice drawing you back to the moment, “that’d help. I can’t exactly sit up and take them off at the moment or I’d do it myself.”

Blinking hard a few times, you nodded. “Right,” you answered. “Yeah, of course. I’ll just–just…yeah.”

Something like a breath of amusement passed his lips as his hands dropped back to the floor at his sides. Your stomach began to twist nervously, realizing he was waiting for you to take his pants off now. 

Leaning forward, you carefully gripped the fabric of his pants on either side of his hips. They were incredibly cold to the touch, the realization of which helped ease some of that growing heat of your own because he had to be freezing right now. Though as you began to tug the black, wet pants down his thighs, trying your hardest to be gentle as you heard him gasp out, you realized this wasn’t going to be remotely easy or fast. 

To put it lightly, the Devil certainly filled out his clothes. 

With a hiss of pain he arched his back along the floor, allowing you to pull his pants down just beneath his ass after much effort. You muttered an apology, trying to focus your hardest on not hurting him further as you began to peel the soaked fabric down his thighs next. It took every ounce of your willpower to not stare at the way his damp, black underwear clung to him, revealing what was hidden beneath the fabric as you pulled his dark pants downwards past a particular appendage. 

As you continued to tug the wet pants down the lower half of his thighs, you became increasingly aware of the way your fingertips were dragging along the length of bare skin on his legs. The dark wisps of his hair brushed against your fingers and you grit your teeth, trying hard to remain focused on what you were doing and not how you were gradually beginning to feel. 

He quite possibly has a broken rib , you reminded yourself, trying to focus on pulling each pant leg down past his muscular calves. Stop it. He is injured. This isn't sexual. This isn't sexual.

After having removed his boots, leaving his socks on which were thankfully dry, you managed to pull his pants entirely off of him a minute later. You tossed the rumpled ball off to the side of you where they landed along your wood floor with a soft, wet thump . 

“Okay,” you said, attention returning to his face. “So maybe we should sit you up–even though that goes against everything inside of me if you do have a broken rib–so that I can get your shirt off?”

The Devil nodded, his gloved hands landing flat on the floor at his sides before he abruptly pushed himself upright, something like a distressed growl escaping between his clenched teeth as he moved. Your hands immediately darted forward, landing on his shoulders as you tried to steady him before you.

“Shit, I didn’t mean you had to do it like that ,” you chastised. “I could have helped you!”

“Well,” he breathed out, a grimace on his mouth, “little too late for that.”

Attention dropping down, they landed on his gloved hands. Those, too, were wet. And with how tight his shirt was, there was no doubt in your mind that you were going to have to remove those before removing his shirt.

“Okay, gloves next, then your shirt,” you told him. 

He obediently held up his left hand first, holding it out towards you. With far less hesitation than when you removed his pants, you began to undo the velcro strap around his wrist. The sharp tear of the velcro rang loud in your ears before you began to gently ease the glove off of his hand. Once you'd slid it off, dropping the glove onto the floor beside your knees, your eyes admittedly lingered on his hand for a few seconds longer than necessary, your own left hand still gingerly holding his wrist. 

He had big hands. You also spotted a few cuts where his knuckles had clearly torn from fighting. You resisted the urge to run your fingers over the dried bloody marks, though the sight of them didn't stop you from wondering what his hands would feel like gliding up beneath your own shirt, scratching you lightly with the callouses you noticed on his palms and fingertips. Your eyelids briefly fluttered shut at what your imagination conjured up, imagining them on your skin far warmer than they currently were as his palms ran up your sides and delicately over your ribcage.

But then you abruptly reminded yourself of where you were and what was going on. Chewing the inside of your cheek, you released his wrist, though you noticed the very faint tilt of his head just before you did. Feeling embarrassed, you undid his other glove faster than the previous one before removing it. Gathering both gloves in your hands, you tossed them over to the side of you where they landed just beside his discarded pants. 

Focusing back on him, you became aware that all that was left to do was to peel off his shirt now. Which would only end up revealing exactly all of that muscle you already knew was waiting beneath that thin black material. Your mouth felt like it was going dry at just the thought of seeing him even further undressed.

This isn’t sexual , you tried to remind yourself.

Sucking in a breath, your hands dropped down to the hem of his soaking wet shirt. Carefully you began to lift it up, still holding your breath as defined abdominal muscle after defined abdominal muscle revealed itself to you. You could feel the way your hands had begun to shake before you’d even managed to cautiously slip the wet material over his head, his arms raising up in an attempt to help you as he let out a faint grunt. 

Sitting back on your damp knees, you discarded his shirt off to the side by the pile of his other soaked clothes on your floor. Though this time when you returned your attention back to the Devil before you, he was wearing only his damp mask, black boxer briefs, and some dry, black socks. Releasing the breath you’d been holding, you tried to keep your voice steady as you rose back up to your feet.

“I’ll grab you some blankets,” you told him. “To help you get warm.”

Heading back over to your couch, you did your best to calm your breathing and once more mentally remind yourself of the situation the pair of you were in. Surely if he caught you staring longingly at his body you'd scare him away considering how skittish he seemed despite his flirtations with you. Besides, he was injured . That wasn't how you should be feeling right now, even if his body looked chiseled out of marble as he sat on your floor. 

Picking up the two blankets from your couch that you’d fallen asleep under not that long ago, you bundled them in your arms before turning back around. Making your way back towards the almost naked vigilante sitting on your floor, you noticed that he’d scooted away from the puddle of water he’d made, now sitting in a dry spot.

Stepping over to the side of him, you bent over and gingerly wrapped both blankets around his bare, broad shoulders. The Devil quickly grabbed onto the edges of them and hugged them tight around himself as he softly thanked you. You saw his body give a shudder just before he grit his teeth, a muscle flexing in his jaw as his mouth twisted in pain. 

“Hopefully that helps,” you said, straightening up and taking a few steps backwards. You gestured a hand towards the pile of his wet clothes on your floor. “I can take those down to the laundry facility in my building,” you offered. “It’s just a couple of floors down. I could try to throw them in a dryer to dry them a little for you while you're here.”

The Devil’s mouth curled into a soft smile as he shook his head gently. “No, that’s alright,” he replied. “They’ll just get wet again the moment I step back outside because it's still raining. And if anyone in your building were to see you with them, I’m sure they’d begin to wonder. I hear my clothing is…quite recognizable.”

A frown settled on your face as you stared at the wet clothing he would inevitably have to dress back into. “Right, yeah,” you mumbled, nodding. “That makes sense, I suppose. Though maybe I could lend you an umbrella?”

The Devil laughed lightly, but you spotted the grimace on his mouth as your attention returned to his face. The frown only deepened on your face and you wished there was more you could do to help him right now. He was clearly trying to hide the fact that he was in a lot of pain.

“I appreciate the offer, but I need both hands to get around out there,” he explained. “An umbrella would just get in the way.”

Sighing in defeat, you awkwardly wrapped your arms over your chest and glanced down at your bare feet. Now that he was sitting on your floor almost entirely undressed, injured, and wrapped in your blankets, you didn’t know what you should do with yourself while he did…whatever it was that he needed to do. 

“Should I just give you some privacy then?” you questioned softly. “For your meditation? Or…?”

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the Devil’s covered gaze drop down towards his lap. The movement appeared almost nervous, which had you glancing up curiously at his quiet form sitting there on the floor. 

“Actually, could I ask one more favor?” he asked. “Even though I know I probably shouldn't.”

Gnawing the inside of your cheek, you wondered what he meant by that. But nevertheless, you were willing to offer him whatever help you could–within reason, of course. Because someone needed to make sure he was taken care of after everything he was always doing for this city. It was becoming increasingly obvious to you that he certainly didn't take care of himself to the extent that he needed to, and you still weren't convinced that he wasn't lonely and in need of someone on his side. 

“What’s that?” you asked him.

“Could you, maybe–” 

He broke off on a nervous laugh which quickly turned into a groan of pain yet again. You winced, taking an involuntary step towards him.

“Could you maybe help keep me warm?” he asked hesitantly. “While I meditate, I mean?”

Your eyebrows instantly flew up onto your forehead at the question, but it was the tone of his voice that had you even more surprised. He always appeared so cocky and self-assured when he'd been here with you, but right now he sounded almost uncertain and nervous.

“It's just, the blankets alone aren't quite that warm enough for me to properly focus any time soon and–”

“Okay,” you blurted.

Your quick agreement to his request surprised even yourself as you stood there, staring at the Devil’s parted lips, his explanation left unfinished. Arms hugging your chest tighter, you suddenly felt self-conscious. Had you really just agreed to cuddle him half naked now? And so easily?

“It's okay if you're uncomfortable,” he assured you. “I realize what I'm asking you is a bit much, considering the circumstances.”

“No, it's–it's fine,” you replied, cautiously making your way towards him. “You have dubbed me your favorite space heater after all.” 

A soft smile pulled the corners of his lips upwards as he nodded slowly. He opened his arms, spreading them wide and revealing his almost naked body beneath the blankets he’d been wrapped up in. Both of his legs were crossed before himself as he patiently waited for you to join him beneath the blankets. The sight only had your nerves increasing yet again tonight, because this moment also felt far more intimate than it probably should have. 

“How would it be best for me to uh, lend you my body heat?” you asked, trying to keep your voice from rising a few octaves as you came to a stop directly in front of him. “I don't know what you need to do to heal. I don’t want to be in the way or anything.”

“If it's not too uncomfortable for you, you can just sit on my lap,” he answered. “I need to really focus on myself and tune everything else out. So as long as you're sitting fairly still you won't bother me.” A sheepish smile reappeared on his face as he added, “And we sort of need to be close in order to actually share body heat. Like before.”

You nodded, though you didn’t completely agree with him about this being like last time. Because before when you'd both cuddled together for warmth he had been fully clothed. 

“Right,” you murmured. “Just like before.”

You hesitated a second longer, eyeing the way he was still sitting cross-legged on your floor, his arms still stretched open for you. With a deep breath in, you lowered yourself down onto his lap without any further opportunity to overthink the situation. Moving carefully, you adjusted your position on his lap, trying hard not to hurt him as both of your legs straddled his hips. Facing him, your arms nervously wrapped around his bare waist, your hands awkwardly resting on his lower back. His skin was cold to the touch and you resisted the urge to rub your hands along him to warm him up. Surely that would be crossing a line.

The Devil’s arms wrapped the blankets around the pair of you once you'd settled, inevitably encircling you in a sort of embrace that drew you even closer to the front of himself. Your cheeks were on fire as you felt your chest brushing against his solid one. Just like the first time he'd appeared at your apartment and cuddled you for warmth, you were growing increasingly aware of your bra-lessness around him. Especially with the way your nipples were poking at the fabric of your sweatshirt each time they grazed his very firm chest. You desperately hoped he hadn't noticed. It was already difficult enough trying to ignore the feel of him beneath your ass because that wasn't helping you to keep your head right now, either.

“Is this okay?” you whispered.

The Devil cleared his throat, his face mere inches from yours now that you were in his lap. You were doing your best to focus on the picture on your wall just behind him because staring at his lips would only result in you embarrassing yourself further.

“Yeah,” he answered. “As long as you’re comfortable. I’m just going to try to focus–” he paused, clearing his throat a second time, “–so I’ll uh, need silence for a bit.”

“How long?” you asked.

You kept your eyes glued to the picture on the wall, trying to ignore the way his chest brushed against yours with his next inhale. Despite how cold he felt, you felt like your own body temperature was elevating.

“Twenty minutes?” 

Your eyelids fluttered at that deep, gravely voice just beside your ear, his warm breath grazing the side of your neck. You were going to be sitting in his lap for the next twenty minutes trying to resist the urge to kiss him? To grind down against his cock that you were positive you could just partially feel beneath you? To not bury your face into the crook of his neck and breathe in the scent of him?

“Hopefully I’ll be able to concentrate,” he said, voice strained.

“Sorry,” you whispered back. “I'll try to sit still.”

Silence fell between the pair of you, but your mind quickly grew louder than the room around you. You kept having to remind yourself to focus on staying quiet and immobile because you were doing this to help the Devil. That was what you needed to focus on and nothing else.

Eventually, as an unknown length of time passed while you both sat there on your floor, you began to feel his body relax against yours, as if all the tension was beginning to gradually ease out of his muscles. His breathing became something steady and rhythmic, which was when your thoughts finally turned to something less inappropriate. Because instead of that blazing heat that had been building inside of you ever since he'd asked you to help remove his clothes, something softer and less intense began to fill you as you sat in his lap, your own body relaxing in turn against him.

Shifting your head to the side just a bit, your gaze moved from the picture on the wall back to his face beside yours. You imagined his eyes were closed beneath the black fabric now as he concentrated on whatever it was that he was doing. You wondered what color they were beneath all that black. Gaze lowering, you studied the strong line of his jaw, taking in the little hairs of his dark stubble. Eventually your gaze traveled towards his mouth, attempting to memorize the shape of his slightly parted pink lips. You could still feel each of his soft exhales brushing over your exposed neck. Each breath of his faintly tickled your skin as you gradually found yourself breathing almost in sync with him.

For a while that’s what you found yourself doing, silently observing him while you took soothing breaths that matched his own. You noticed the subtle shifts of his mouth as he sat quietly beneath you, the faint twitches of his arm muscles against your back. At a certain point you became aware of how warm his body had become, no longer as cold as when you’d first plopped into his lap. 

You weren’t sure how much time had passed before he startled you with a very subtle movement. His head gradually lowered a few inches until his forehead came to rest against your shoulder. That unfamiliar warmth only grew inside of you, your heart fluttering in your chest at the unexpected display of his trust with you tonight. Smiling slightly, your own head tilted a little to the side, coming to rest against his as your own eyelids lowered.

You may not have known much about the mysterious masked vigilante who ran around the streets of the city at night, but you knew he had a good heart. Underneath the flirtatious comments and jokes was a man who deeply loved this city and the people in it. You just wished the city could give him literally anything back in return for the blood he clearly spilled for it. 

You must have briefly fallen asleep wrapped around the Devil because when he began to shift beneath you, you startled awake. Eyes slowly blinking the sleep from them, you pulled back and glanced at his face still so close to yours. The Devil was wearing a pleased grin, the sight causing your stomach to twist into knots. 

“Comfortable?” he teased.

“Shit, I'm sorry,” you apologized quickly, embarrassed. “It's just late and I'm tired, I didn't mean to fall asleep on you again.”

“It's okay,” he assured you, still grinning. “But maybe I should get dressed and let you sleep in your own bed now.”

“Oh,” you breathed out, disappointment creeping into you. “Right. So you're–you're done with your meditation thing?”

“I am,” he answered. “And feeling far better and warmer than before. So thank you.”

His arms unwrapped themselves from around you, the cold from your apartment suddenly hitting the back of you where you were no longer wrapped inside the blanket cocoon with him. Biting your lip, you carefully disentangled yourself from around him, your heart strangely sinking to your stomach as you did. 

Almost immediately after you'd climbed out of his lap, the Devil rose back up to his feet in a smooth motion, barely wincing at the fluid movement. He balled your blankets in his hands, your eyes drawn to the pull of muscles on his arms and chest as he moved with ease, looking nothing like the man who'd collapsed on your floor in pain not that long ago. He tossed the balled up blankets smoothly past you where they landed perfectly on the back of your couch. 

Afterwards he turned, crossing the few steps towards his pile of damp clothes still lying on your floor. With barely any show of pain, you watched as he bent down, grabbing his still wet pants and beginning to pull them on. You cringed as he began to pull them up his legs, aware they must’ve been cold and uncomfortable to dress back in, but a glance back at your window proved that it was indeed still raining. Even if you'd dried them he would've been soaked again in seconds.

“You're going to have that friend of yours check on you, right?” you asked him. “To make sure you're alright?”

The Devil looked over at you, his hands buckling the belt of his tight pants. That cheeky smirk was on his lips again, which must have meant he somehow really felt better, even if you couldn't possibly begin to comprehend how what he'd done had actually healed him.

“Still worried about me?” he questioned back. “I promise I'll be just fine. And yes, I'll have my friend give me a little check up, if that helps ease your mind.”

“It does,” you admitted.

Crossing your arms over your chest, you focused on the window you knew he was soon to slip back out of in an attempt to give him privacy as he dressed. That unfamiliar sinking feeling was back in your gut again, demanding attention. But you didn't have long to contemplate what it meant before the Devil was stepping into the space before you, now fully clothed in his attire once more. Except for his gloves, you noticed, which he was holding in his left hand.

“Thank you for your help once again tonight, angel,” he whispered.

His right hand reached out, unexpectedly and gently cupping your jaw. The pad of his thumb affectionately traced along the line of it with a tenderness you’d never felt before, stopping once it reached the corner of your lips. Feeling your heart skip in your chest at his touch and what he'd just called you, the question slipped right past your lips in a faint breath.

“Angel?” you asked. 

His thumb remained beside your lips, a faint smile ghosting over his own beneath his still damp mask. “Well you won't tell me your name,” he replied quietly. “And you continually insist on helping the Devil despite how undeserving I am, so I think it only seems fitting.” 

His thumb moved, just barely grazing your bottom lip. Your breath hitched, your face involuntarily inching forward towards his. 

“Sleep well, angel,” he murmured. 

Too dazed to even formulate a response, you stood there silently as his hand released your face. Turning around, he made his way towards your window, quickly sliding his gloves on before raising it back up. Without hesitation, he slipped through the opening and back out into the cold, rainy night. 

By the time you'd recovered from whatever that moment had just been, he was already closing your window after himself. A small smile tugged at his mouth before he turned and dove over the side of your fire escape railing. 

Heart still hammering erratically in your chest, your hand reached up, fingers gently touching the place his just had. Closing your eyes, you could almost recall the tender feel of them on you even now. 

And that's when it made sense. You weren't just eager to help the masked man because of what he did for the city and how much of a hero you thought he was. And it wasn't just because you believed he didn't really have many others in this city to help him.

It was because you were beginning to feel something for him. Something more than just physical attraction despite not knowing his name or his face.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

Am I the asshole for eating my sister’s food?

🥞☕️

(to find later)

I (15m) don’t have a lot of time to get ready for school in the morning. Neither does my sister (11f) My mom is aware of this, and buys us easy breakfasts at the grocery store when she does, usually Sunday afternoon. My mom is usually great about remembering to pick up food for the week, however the breakfast food in question (pancake cups, the Pearl Milling Company ones) come in a 4 pack. (My mom gets us a special breakfast Friday so we don’t have to worry about breakfast on those days)

This is where I may be the asshole. While I eat one pancake cup for every day of the week, my sister saves up her food for reasons she won’t share. Last Saturday as of posting, she had eight in our pantry. For some reason, that day I woke up with a horrible headache as I forgot to eat the night before, and went to look at making myself some french toast. We didn’t have any eggs. Okay, I had thought, what about making actual pancakes? No pancake mix. Waffles? The waffle iron is still broken. After around a half hour of trying to find something, I turned to my sister’s stash of pancake cups. As it were, she could have ate one every day that week up until next Sunday if she still wanted to eat the breakfast my Mom gets special for us Friday, and Sunday is the day we go grocery shopping. Plus, at that point if she *really* wanted to have that many my mom was going grocery shopping the next day, she could get more. My point is, I made sure she wouldn’t go hungry on some mornings. So, I heat up the pancake cup.

When my sister wakes up, she is fuming. I try to explain that I have a horrible headache and hadn’t eaten the night before, and we didn’t have a lot of food in the house (Realistically we just had stale cheezits and 12 grain bread I could have toasted) and I couldn’t make myself any of the other things she had suggested either due to equipment broken or not having supplies. I also explained to her that Mom was going grocery shopping tomorrow, and if she really wanted that many so badly our Mom would grab some. She still isn’t happy. When my mom wakes up (from my sister’s screaming) she sides with me and says that my sister had a lot. She had one for every day of the week including Friday, a day she was guaranteed breakfast, and I felt awful from the night before. She told my sister that she really should have been more worried about me, and that I wasn’t feeling good. My mom also agreed that if she honestly thought she needed that many we could buy more the next day, and she wasn’t going to eat all of the seven she had left before Sunday. My sister stormed off.

My friends and mom think I’m not the asshole considering the situation that morning, and believe my sister should have been more compassionate towards me considering I didn’t feel well. I, however, see why my sister may be upset as at the end of the day it was her food. But, I feel like my point stands, I only took one knowing she wouldn’t have to skip breakfast one day. And if it mattered that much she had more than seven, we could have bought more the next day. Am I the asshole?

Tl;Dr - Am I the asshole for eating my sister’s food even though she had more than enough?

What are these acronyms?

[octuscle]

Hey Cronivac Support,

I dont trust myself with the settings so i am asking you. I am Half German and half Moroccan, and I look German af. Brown hair, brown eyes, big smile and a really white skin. I am thinking what would happen if my appearance were based on my Moroccan genes.

Can you help me out?

Brother, chill out! Have a shisha. Just ignore that there's German shit in your body. Your dick is circumcised. You pray at least once or twice a day. Friday you also go to the mosque… It doesn't matter if there are still German genes in you.

Thursday morning. You will survive the last school year at the Gymnasium. What comes after that, you don't know yet. Something with languages might make sense. Your mother tongues are Arabic, German and French. And you are actually quite good in English and Spanish at school. But you also enjoy science. First lesson today is chemistry. Stoichiometry. Actually very interesting. But somehow you have more and more problems to understand your teacher. When he approaches you, you start to stammer. You can't think of the right words. "Youssef, you are welcome to answer in English, if that is easier for you." You sigh in relief. German is really a difficult language. And even though you have a German grandmother, German was never spoken much at home….

During the break, you hang out with your brothers. Talk about soccer, cars, the usual stuff. Smoke an e-cigarette to go with it. And you make an appointment for the afternoon at the gym. Then it's off to the workshop at the vocational school. Metalwork. Hey, you're not training to be a car mechanic so you can mill toys out of metal plates. You want to become a car tuner. And create really hot cars. Your vocational school teacher is from Syria. Fled a few years ago. He speaks much better German than you do. You've only been in Europe for two years. Your mother had the French and the Moroccan passport, so you could immigrate relatively easily. But you didn't understand why you had to move to Germany. Some of your pals now live in Marseille. You would have found that cool, too… But Stuttgart? Just because your father found a good job as an engineer here at Mercedes? Anyway, you're a fighter, you'll survive Swabia.

Lunch is at the snack bar of a former colleague of your father. He has saved up enough money on the assembly line for his own snack bar. And now he makes the best falaffels in town. On weekends, you help out a little. You can always use the extra money. And that way you also get the food cheaper. Since you've been in training, you no longer get pocket money from your parents. You are the eldest son, you now have to do your share to feed the family. And if you are the first to have a vocational qualification here, your chances of getting a permanent right to stay are also the best. If only it weren't for this terrible language…

Gym, auto repair shop, vocational school, Gym…. Your daily routine is somehow always the same. Your boss is also a Muslim, from Turkey, so you have tomorrow afternoon off to go to the mosque. But you also have to work on Saturday. But you are grateful that you have the job. And you can afford your car and the gym. It was not easy to come to Europe. It cost your parents almost all their savings. And now it's your damn duty to succeed and support your family. For that you learn to be a car mechanic, for that you sell falaffel on weekends. That's why you mop the gym floors and clean the toilets at night. You even study German for that. However, this has already brought you a few thousand followers. Your picture from the last workout has 800 likes after just half an hour. Let's see, maybe new opportunities to become rich and famous will develop. You have the right gene pool!

Pic of your latest workout found @tufas

[bigtreefest]

Chapter 3: Pick Up the Pace

From: The Rainmaker Series

Pairing: Mob! Steve x Forensic Scientist! Reader

Summary: You and Steve have been running into each other for weeks, just, now you’re starting to plan it.

Word count: 4,948

Content/warnings: Law enforcement and forensics themes, swears, eating dinner, clothes sharing, my low knowledge of suit brands, mentions of misogyny and misogynistic themes, snacking, being dressed down in a room full of fancy clothes, sneaking into someone’s trunk?, the lightest mob themes, DA (yes, he got promoted) Barber

Author’s Note: I hope you guys are chomping at the bit to see Steve x Decks as much as I am. Actually, I know you are, the polls support it and I love it.

I really liked this chapter, it just flowed. You can see that Decks is really back and forth on what’s going on… This takes place at roughly the same time as chapter 9 of YCMBWH in the Outta Nowhere AU

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

< Prev | Series Masterlist | Next >

To call you overworked would be an understatement. You were exhausted from the long week, your early Saturday shift hitting you like a train. The great thing was, you didn’t have to work tomorrow and were only on-call Monday, in case something especially heinous happened and they couldn’t handle it. Might as well be a golden weekend! But you couldn’t celebrate too soon, you still had half the day in front of you.

You had come into the lab even earlier than your schedule demanded today to get a few more results compiled for an important case that was set to go on trial soon. It seemed like almost everything was on the rise lately, causing you to have to take on more cases at once, and the same thing went for the DA’s office. That’s what brought you here, transporting important files a few blocks down, far outside your usual basement-to-crime scene-and-back domain.

Usually, detective Lang would take the evidence up to the DA’s office for whatever case was going on, but he wasn’t in today and this was top-priority. You knew how to do it, just never had to, so you were slightly tentative on where exactly you were going. But, either way, there was no way in hell you were going let Detective Walker even think about touching your files. You didn’t trust that rat of a man, which is how you found yourself walking up the steps to the DA’s office on your own.

It was a nice change of pace, at least. The air was slightly less stale above ground, although way more humid. The sun even peeked at you from beyond the dense cloud coverage. As you made your way through the DA’s office, you weren’t quite sure how they could all stand the amount of searing natural light that must pour through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Sure, your office could stand to have a little more non-fluorescent light, but this was too much. Plus, it probably cost a fortune, this new office having been built just a few years ago as one of the few actions of the office that you didn’t quite agree with.

One thing you did agree with, though, or at least hoped you did, was Andy Barber. He was seemingly a nice guy, but you had never met him. You voted for him for DA, so you were hoping he wasn’t that bad, but all you had to go off of was his case prosecution method and whatever the local paper had to say. According to them, at least you knew he’d be in his office over his lunch break, lining up with yours. DA Barber was notorious for working hard. It was something you and many citizens respected him for, although you were sure his wife and son thought differently.

You walked through the hallway towards his office, transporting the file that was clenched tightly in your hand, hoping you’d be received well. Distracted by checking the room numbers instead of peeking inside the offices, you removed a set of stiff knuckles from the Manila folder in preparation to rap on the door when the image on the other side sharpened into focus. You froze with your fist in the air as your jaw slightly dropped and your eyes shifted back and forth a the sight before you.

Two sets of blue eyes, attached to bodies dressed in suits, stared back at you through the glass, the one in the large desk chair holding mild confusion, yet intrigue, the other holding….maybe amusement and….was that…fondness? But definitively it was slight trepidation.

The man at the desk, DA Barber from the looks of it, gestured for you to come in. You did your best to will your body to move from your rigid position, swallowing thickly and lowering your arm to the door handle. Your feet felt nailed to the ground, weighed down by cement in the shuffling steps you took to get into the office. Your eyes kept wanting to shift to the man who sat opposite of the desk, the one you’ve seen around a lot lately, at work and in your mind, as his own gaze was glued to you.

Remembering where your were, you made a beeline for the DA, sticking out your hand. “DA Barber, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you, sir. I come bearing that evidence you asked for.” You introduced yourself as he shook your hand, nodding and smiling in acknowledgement.

He gestured for you to sit down in the other leather chair positioned in front of his desk before waving a hand toward the man who had been silent thus far, despite the way his clear blue eyes had practically been screaming at you since before you entered the room.

“Please, Andy is fine. I hear a lot about you, especially from this guy right here. You know Steve Rogers, right?”

You nodded, looking over at Steve, just to catch the way his gaze averted yours just for a second, before locking in again in the formal, respectful manner he always tried to hold.

“Yes, Steve and I have met. And you can call me Decks, if it’s all the same. I hope I’m not interrupting anything, I can come back later if you want to discuss the file once your lunch date is over.”

Andy laughed and nodded to Steve once again. “I see what you were saying.” He looked back to you, slight creases in the corners of his eyes from his smile as he raised his eyebrows at you. “You’re funny. But no need, Steve is involved somewhat with this case and can stay for the discussion.”

You simply gave a curt nod, all business, opening up the folder and turning the documents toward him before going through your results.

You had spent way longer in Andy’s office than you had anticipated, half talking through the case and half just getting along with the gentlemen in front of you. Honestly, it was nice to finally have a conversation with people who understood your line of work, not only the mechanics of it, but where that work led, even if you still weren’t exactly sure what Steve did or what this all had to do with him.

Before you knew it, it was time to head back to the lab so you could grab your stuff to go home. As you started running down the steps and out the front door to try and beat the rain that threatened to fall soon, you heard tapping steps behind you.

“Hey, Decks, wait up.” You stopped and looked over your shoulder to see Steve gliding down the staircase, long legs making the strides look effortless.

He caught up and you continued walking back to your lab as he joined you, easily matching your brisk pace. As you were about to open your mouth to ask him why he was walking with you, your stomach growled over the sounds of even cars passing on the street and interrupted your train of thought. You simply looked at him, the two of you sharing an owlish gaze before busting out into a small bout of laughter.

“So you’re speeding off to dinner, then, I assume?” You shrugged, swerving around a parking meter before looking back at him.

“I wish. I’ve gotta hit the lab to get my stuff and then head home, but I’m way too tired to make anything, so we’re looking at either takeout or leftovers…”

Steve contemplated for a second as the two of you reached the precinct, and opened the door for you. “So, that’s what, with Saturday night traffic and cleaning up your space, an an hour? Maybe two before you actually get food in you?”

You descended the steps towards the basement, pulling out your keys to unlock the lab space and letting Steve in in front of you. “Yeah, I guess so, and I can already feel the hangry coming on, but I mean, at least there’s no one around who’s going to have to deal with it. It’s just me.”

Steve stopped in the middle of the room and turned around to face you. “No, Decks. I do. I have to deal with it, especially now that we’re friends.”

You looked at him with a raised brow. “Steve, we hardly know each other.”

He shrugged. “Then get to know me. How about I propose you a solution? What if I told you I could cut that time in half? From right now to you having an actual meal. I’ll help you clean up the lab here and then you and I can go to one of my restaurants. I’ve got a couple that aren’t far at all. On me, and I’ll guarantee food will be in your mouth within ten minutes of sitting down.”

You grabbed a pair of gloves, tossing the box to Steve for him to put on his own. “While I appreciate the offer, and I will put you to work in here, I can’t ask that of you, Steve. Plus, look at me, I’m a mess right now. And I’m sure all your restaurants are fancy. Could I even wear this to one of them?” You gestured up and down to your body, clad in jeans, one of the few perks that came with working Saturdays instead of a weekday, a casual shirt, windbreaker overtop and hair slightly ragged from a mix of the wind and a long day.

“I think you look fine, but, Decks, please, let me do this for you. You deserve to eat a good meal after how hard you’ve been working. And if it makes you feel better, I’ll change out of this suit so we match. Sound good?”

You sighed, starting to clear the clutter all around and signaling for Steve to do the same. He wasn’t going to move, though. Not until you gave him an answer. His eyes were boring into your soul despite how soft they looked, the hopeful smile on his face adding a sparkle you couldn’t resist. You looked at him and cocked your head to the side in exasperation, the back of one gloved hand perching on a popped hip, the other pointing towards Steve’s nose. “Ugh, fine. But none of that fancy bullshit. I want actual food, like you said. I don’t have the brain power for high-brow culinary transformation right now. Understood?”

Steve beamed at you, elated with your confirmatory response and ever amused, happy to comply by your demands. “Understood. So how do you feel about pasta?”

Steve pulled your car up to the entrance of his restaurant and tossed the keys at one of the young valet attendants, the other opening your door. You stepped out and looked at the elegant, yet humble storefront, surprised that you had never been here before. Sure, you worked close and you loved pasta, but you never even dared to try getting a reservation and were often too tired to even think of going anywhere but home for dinner, especially here.

Out of the corner of your eye, you witnessed Steve’s Range Rover pull up to where your car was moments ago, an arm reaching out and handing him a duffel bag. Steve slung it over his shoulder and nodded at you, opening the door for you to go inside.

“Mr. Rogers and Ms. Decks. Right this way, please.” The hostess immediately greeted the two of you, leading you back to a booth in the corner of the room, able to see the entire space. On your way there, though, you could see the nice clothes everyone was in. Yours were nothing akin to theirs, but no one spared even you a glance, which was oddly comforting, but a little unsettling.

Steve whispered down to you that he was going to change and you nodded, picking up and perusing the leather-bound menu in front of you. You hadn’t even finished reading, let alone made a decision, before Steve was already sauntering back to the table, now wearing a pair of jeans, white t-shirt, and navy blue bomber jacket. Oh man, did that make his eyes pop. His outfit was quite similar to yours, but just fit him perfectly in every way.

He gave you a shy smile as he slid into the booth, nodding towards the menu. “Find anything good yet?”

Your eyes went wide as you blew out a breath. “Steve, it all looks good. I can’t even decide what I want.”

“Well, what’s your favorite?” You snorted at that.

“My favorite? I’m not quite sure…. I mean, I cook spaghetti for myself the most, but that’s because it’s easy, not necessarily because it’s my favorite. What do you recommend?”

Steve clicked his tongue before responding to you. “I think I know just the thing.” He hardly raised two fingers off the table before a waiter was at his side, listening to Steve’s instructions on a ‘tour of the menu.’

“And any wine pairings this evening?” Steve looked to you in deference of the question, before you simply shook your head.

“No, thank you. Just water for tonight should be alright.” The waiter curtly nodded and walked away.

Steve was right, you timed it on your watch. He guaranteed ten minutes for food to be in your mouth, it hardly took eight. Steve watched tentatively as the plates were set before the two of you on the table, letting you portion out what you wanted first. The second the first bite hit your lips, you swore it was heavenly. Your store boxed spaghetti and jarred sauce held nothing to this rigatoni alla vodka, or the simple scents you had gotten off anything else so far.

As soon as you swallowed, you looked across the table at a very knowing glance. “Holy fuck, Steve. This is delicious.”

He nodded, finally serving himself and sipping his water before digging in. “The greatest, right?”

You hummed, taking in the amazing food, paired with the atmosphere. The rain beat against the window, adding to the coziness of the restaurant and the comfort and satisfaction provided by the food in front of you. Damn, this was good pasta. If Steve was going to insist on being around you so often, you were going to make sure he brought this along with him every time. Now that you tried it, you were never going back.

The two of you opted for silence as you continued to eat, at least for the first few bites. When you thought about it, Steve probably hadn’t had anything for as long as you, although he was taking it much better.

As the meal went on, though, the two of you fell into an easy conversation. It almost infuriated you how well the two of you got along. It was like talking to an old friend, except one that never got too explicit about their job description. Steve knew all about yours, and you knew all about his life growing up with Bucky plus a few interests, but that’s pretty much where it stopped. It wouldn’t have been a concern if he worked an everyday 9-5 job, but he didn’t. Something just didn’t quite add up, but that honestly wasn’t your concern. If he wanted to own a bunch of businesses, at least they made quality goods like this linguini. You were still astounded by how much he was able to control the room, though.

“So, like…what’s the deal?” You interjected just as he was about to take another bite.

“I’m sorry?” Steve was caught off guard, even though he could see the flashes of gears turning in your mind sporadically throughout this whole dinner ordeal.

“Sorry, I actually didn’t mean to make that as harsh as it came out, but like…you can’t tell me there hasn’t been a pattern of behavior with you all day today. I just wanted to point it out.”

Steve set down his silverware to put his full focus on you. Everything he had told you up until this point had been honest, and he wondered if he was about to be persecuted. The conversation had been fine, and the two of you were having a good time, but he couldn’t blame you for being a little bugged by his vague answers and workarounds.

“I just feel like everywhere you go, you command people around. If it were anyone else, I feel like they’d be all cocky about it, making false promises, but so many people are out here lending you their attention like you run things. Sometimes even in my workplace.”

“Decks, I, uh…. I don’t know how I’m supposed to take that.” His eyes slightly narrowed at you, unsure of where this was going next.

“I guess, it’s, uh…. It’s a compliment? But really more of an observation. And I’m saying I feel like I’m the only one who sees it. Feeling like a regular old Lizzie Curry.”

Steve furrowed his eyebrows. “Um, am I supposed to know that name? Is it someone you went to school with? Is it one of your coworkers?”

You let out a chuckle. “God, no. You’ve never seen that movie? It’s an old western. You know what, come over and we’ll watch it, plus you can listen to the song it inspired, too. Steven, you uncultured dog”

He laughed and rubbed his neck. “Okay, okay, I get it. But you don’t mean like… right now, do you?”

You pushed your plate of food away from you, more than satisfied with the best meal you’ve had in months. “I mean, I guess? If you wanted to. I’m not working tomorrow. I’m not even on call, so sure, I could technically stay up. It’d be worth it to see someone else’s reaction to old film.”

Steve sheepishly smiled before sinking a little into the seat, signaling the waiter to come back and package the leftovers, sure to send you home with extra bread, too. “I would love to, but I actually have an important business meeting.” He checked his watch. “That I’m about six minutes away from being late for already. Tomorrow?”

You nodded, pulling your jacket on and accepting a bag from the waiter. “Yeah, tomorrow works.”

Steve slid out of the booth, sending a message on his phone before sliding it into his back pocket to put as much attention towards you as he could. “Okay, perfect, I’ll come by at seven.”

You vigorously shook your head. “No, way too late. Make it five.”

He looked at you incredulously. “Five!? Okay, fine. Let me make some phone calls. I’ll see what I can do. I can probably rearrange some things.” He sighed and pulled out his phone again, holding it up to his ear and sending you a wink and a wave before getting into the Black SUV that sped to the curb, meeting him as soon as he touched the sidewalk.

You spent the day Sunday cleaning your entire apartment. Sure, it was your normal cleaning day when it could be, but something made you feel like it needed to be extra spotless. You were in a zen, music blasting, dancing around with your mop, which was luckily the last thing you had to do.

You at least didn’t have to worry about preparing snacks or anything for Steve’s visit, texting him the command to get them on his way over, since you were already doing him the ‘gracious service of hosting,’ as you had said. He got a kick out of that one and obliged you, even texting Bee to get your preferences and personally picking them up instead of sending out a lackey.

He was surprised by how short Bee’s texts to him were, though, considering they usually had chipper conversations. Maybe he would call her later, or at least tell Bucky to since they had both been in a good mood the last time they’d spoken.

Steve pulled into your parking garage and went to the trunk of his car to grab his duffel so he could change into comfy clothes once he got up to your place. As the lift gate opened, though, Steve was terrified for the first thing he saw to be a shoe, attached to a leg clothed in Ralph Lauren pants. Steve took inventory of what was going on in his trunk as Bucky, the man attached to said shoe and pants turned over and groaned. Luckily, it didn’t appear that he was injured, but his eyes were quite puffy and his hair was in a mess, and not how it was back at the farm.

Bucky was wearing one of his junk suits: one that he didn’t care what happened to it. One that was marked as comfy, that he could throw it away in a second.

This was less than an everyday suit. Usually, Bucky wouldn’t be caught in anything less than Armani, even known for wearing Brioni almost every day. He must’ve really been going through it, especially since his hair has never been seen professionally without at least half an ounce of gel in it.

This was bad, and it was the last thing Steve needed right now, as the time was crunching and he didn’t want to delay your snacks or this date….wait. Was this a date? Was last night a date? Whatever, he didn’t have the time to think it over, though, instead looking down at the mob boss sprawled in the trunk and trying to gather information as quickly as possible.

“Bucky, what the actual hell is going on right now. Why are you in my trunk? Were you crying?” Tears were something Steve had only seen from his best friend a handful of times over their lives side-by-side, so for them to be so suddenly present was a concern.

Bucky sniffled before putting his best attempt of an angry face on, although it looked more like a pout. “I miss her, Steve. It’s only been a week, but I just can’t stand to be away. She’s stuck in my head and we were never even anything official. I’ve been trying to drown myself in work, but all I’m really drowning in is…sadness.”

He swung his legs to finally sit up under the tailgate. Steve knew Bucky had thrown himself into work, the man had been back for six days and had hardly been seen outside his office while Steve was sent out for all the in-person necessities. Steve slapped his hands on the shoulders of his best friend before meeting his gaze, then eventually pulling him in for a hug. “Okay, I get it. But she’s not gone. She’s only a few hours away and you can call her whenever.”

Bucky shook his head and sniffled. “No, I can’t call her. It’ll just make it worse. I just need a friend right now. Can I hang out with you?”

Steve sighed and placed his hands on his hips, questioning the plausibility of the situation. He had been getting along with you so well this weekend that the last thing he wanted to do was ruin it. And it would be indecent of him to cancel when he was already here, bearing snacks.

You were perched on the couch in your nice, comfy clothes scrolling through the TV to find the movie you had told Steve about. It had been awhile since you had seen it, but from what you could remember, it was hilariously ridiculous and you’d be happy if you could just get one person to share in the spectacle with you.

Of course, you didn’t mind that it was Steve, either. You rather enjoyed his company. It wasn’t overbearing or obnoxious, at least when it was just the two off you, and when he wasn’t trying to flex his knowledge. This weekend so far with him had just been… easy, though. And most of all, he listened. It was so hard to find someone who was like that, especially in your line of work. You were one of the best forensic scientists in the area, but many wouldn’t give you the time of day, mostly the shitty cops you worked with besides Lang. With Steve, outside of what had happened the first time he came into your lab, you felt as though your expertise was respected.

You were pulled out of your thoughts by a firm knock on the door, followed by murmuring on the other side. You opened the door to see Steve holding a bunch of grocery bags, along with his duffel. Behind him was another man in a suit, kicking his feet.

“Bucket? What are you doing here?”

Steve sighed for what felt like the hundredth time and walked through the door you were now holding open, towards your kitchen to set down the snacks. “He’s not doing super well right now. I hope you don’t mind that I brought him.”

Steve looked at you with anxious anticipation as he walked towards the bathroom door as Bucky spoke up.

“Yeah, Decks. I’m really sorry to just show up unannounced, but going back to work after a month in the middle of nowhere was a hard transition.” That among other things were racing through his mind, but honestly, you got it. Hell, even coming back after a single weekend was hard, so you couldn’t blame the guy. He looked about as bad as Bee sounded in your phone call with her the other day. You just nodded.

“You won’t even know I’m here.” He looked at you with pleading eyes, rivaling the most helpless puppy you could possibly dream up.

“Okay. That’s fine, just get changed and you get to arrange the snacks. Does Steve have a change of clothes for you? I’m instating this apartment as a business attire-free zone.”

You looked over to where Steve was still leaning against the door frame where he shook his head. “I mean, I’ve got extra pants for him, but do you have another shirt or sweatshirt I can borrow?”

Movie time found you and Steve on opposite ends of your small couch with Bucky in the middle, the three of you holding bowls stacked high with all of your favorites, and seemingly Bucky’s too.

Bucky wore Steve’s clothes while Steve wore one of your old, oversized college hoodies from the collection. He had picked it out when you took him back to your room to try to find something that would fit one of the buffest men you knew. During this time, Steve told you all about what was going on with Bucky, and you understood. Being away from a loved one is never easy, you missed Bee everyday, too.

To your surprise, and honestly a little annoyingly, the sweatshirt Steve grabbed fit him better than it fit you. You missed the smug grin he wore as he slipped it on, happy to be hugged by your scent.

You hardly got to enjoy the sight, though, as a brick wall of a man sat between the two of you, jaw constantly clenching with the way he had steeled his feelings and demeanor. Bucky would never let anyone but Steve see him cry, but you had no idea how much it meant that he had even let you have a glimpse at him feeling sad.

Watching a movie that was almost purely taking place on a farm probably wasn’t the best decision. That wasn’t technically your fault, though. You had already chosen it and Bucky’s surprise visit wasn’t going to make you change your plans more than you already had by him just being there.

About half way through, he paused it, getting up to make the three of you drinks from whatever was in your cabinets, giving you and Steve the opportunity to talk about what had happened so far.

“So how old is she supposed to be?” Steve pointed at the screen.

“My best assumption is late twenties, early thirties if they were trying so desperately to marry her off at this point and still expecting kids. But she looks a little older than that, right? She was like, fifty when this was filmed.” You popped another gummy bear in your mouth.

“Ah, makes sense. Yeah, I’ve been so thrown off this whole time. Old-time expectations and behaviors are…interesting? I guess I’m not surprised, but it’s also quite alarming to see it portrayed so casually on the screen.” You nodded in agreement.

“Oh definitely. But you have to agree it makes it a little funny. I don’t think I could make it through the whole thing if it wasn’t laughable.”

Steve gave you a tight-lipped smile before Bucky covered your view, handing the two of you drinks. Steve was grateful for the break in eye contact. He wasn’t sure how he could tell you that misogynistic behaviors like that were so prevalent in his and Bucky’s line of work, and they jarred him in real life just as much as on the screen. Neither of them wanted a life like that, though, even if they had been a little misguided by the models in their youth.

The three of you settled in again, you and Steve throwing your feet on Bucky’s lap after he had almost sat on top of them.

You finished your drink and the movie, falling asleep there on the couch soon after. You woke up hours later with a blanket over you, borrowed sweatshirt folded at your feet and house as pristine as could be, two men nowhere to be seen and your door locked.

Next >

Bonus A/N: Brownie points if you can tell me what movie they watched.

Series Taglist:

@evie-119

[verstxppen33]

After work.

genre: fluff

warnings: very rushed

who: racer!reader x charles lerclerc

summary: charles helps you relax after Qualifying, friends to lovers smh

note: MY FIRST FF YAYAYAY PLS GIVE ME SOME TIPS 😔

——————————————————————————

It was the saturday after qualifying, you immediately jump into bed. You did great, but still, pretty exhausted. After scrolling for some minutes on instagram, you got a message from Charles.

Hey! How are you, y/n? :)

You don't know why, but you had the urge to immediately respond to him.

Exhausted..hbu?

Only a few minutes later he replied with;

Would you like some company, mon amour?

You didn't even hesitate to answer with yes, not even caring a little bit that you're maybe too clingy.

Ofcourse! Come over at 6 :)

The rest of the evening was pretty a blur. You ate some scrambled eggs with ketchup for dinner, took a shower, changed into pjs, nothing special. As you filled up your cats foodbowl, a sudden ring on your door bell could be heard. You look into your peephole and see Charles grinning. Without hesitation you open the door and are immediately are greeted with an "Hello!!!" from Charles. "Hey Charles!" you answer him happily and step aside to let him get inside your apartment. "You look very tired, mon amour. I think you need to sleep earlier." Charles comments while he's taking off his shoes. Your response? A simple grunt. Ofcourse Charles would bring you earlier to bed, why couldn't you just stay up a little longer? Your thoughts were interrupted by Charles scooping you up. "Hey!!" you shout, trying to sound aggressive but you sounded more like a whining cat being picked up. "Y/N, stop being so ungrateful" Charles answered with a teasing tone while booping your nose and bringing you to your bedroom.

★ Continue reading!

He commented: "You look adorable in your pyjamas" You pout as Charles lays you gently on your bed, still holding you close. "I can take care of myself, you know," you mumble, though your eyes are already half-closed. "Of course you can," Charles murmurs, smoothing back your hair with tender fingers. "But everyone needs a little help sometimes."

The soft, rhythmic stroking of your hair is incredibly soothing. You feel the tension from the long day start to melt away as Charles continues his gentle ministrations. He pulls you closer, and you nestle into his embrace, feeling the warmth and comfort of his presence. "Thank you," you whisper, finally giving in to the fatigue. "Anytime, mon amour," Charles whispers back, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. "Now, sleep. Tomorrow is another big day." With Charles’s arms wrapped around you, the world outside fades away, and you drift into a peaceful sleep, feeling safe and cherished.

In the morning, you wake up to the gentle sound of birds chirping outside your window. The first thing you notice is the warmth of Charles's arm still draped over you. You turn slightly to see him still asleep, his breathing steady and calm.

Careful not to wake him, you slip out of bed and head to the kitchen. As you prepare coffee, the smell of freshly brewed beans fills the air, and you can’t help but smile, feeling a sense of peace you haven't felt in a while. Just as you finish setting the table for breakfast, you hear Charles's sleepy footsteps approaching. He wraps his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder. "Morning," he mumbles, his voice thick with sleep. "Morning," you reply, turning to kiss his cheek. "I made coffee." "Much better," you admit, sitting down to join him at the table. "Thanks to you." With that, you share a quiet, comfortable breakfast together, the morning sun streaming through the windows, promising a new day filled with possibilities.

As you both finish breakfast, Charles seems a bit quieter than usual. You notice him glancing at you, a thoughtful expression on his face. "Is everything alright?" you ask, reaching over to touch his hand gently. Charles takes a deep breath and looks into your eyes. "Y/N, there's something I've been wanting to tell you," he begins, his voice a bit shaky.

Your heart starts to race. "What is it, Charles?"

He squeezes your hand, drawing strength from your touch. "I've been thinking about this for a while, and last night made me realize even more how much you mean to me. I love you, Y/N. Not just as a friend, but more than that. I want to be with you, to take care of you, and share every moment with you." You feel a warmth spread through your chest at his words, and you see the sincerity in his eyes. "Charles," you whisper, feeling tears of happiness welling up. "I love you too. I’ve been wanting to tell you, but I was scared." Charles's face lights up with a joyful smile, and he pulls you into a tight embrace. "You have no idea how happy that makes me," he murmurs into your hair. You pull back slightly to look at him, both of you smiling. "So, what now?" you ask playfully. "Now," Charles says, his eyes sparkling with love, "we start our day together, as more than friends."

Hand in hand, you both step into the future, knowing that whatever comes next, you'll face it together.

made by @acesbakery

[chansslvr]

linked lines-hwang hyunjin x male reader

+hwang hyunjin+

+003, linked lines, hwang hyunjin, _chansslvr+

+genre; angst+

masterlist

©_chansslvr do not copy, translate or change any of my work

warnings: mentions of bl00d, beating the reader up, angst, divorced parents, abuse, swears (i think im not too sure lol)

m/n lived in a world where everybody had soulmates. they could communicate by drawing/writing on their body. most people found their soulmates, but m/n wasn't keen at all. in fact, he promised himself that he would never meet his soulmate, he would only drag them down.

m/n hated his life at this point. he was depressed, and if he said he wasn't he'd be lying. even though it was pretty severe, he was still popular. people did notice how he was usually upset or quiet, but nobody commented on it. he was popular due to his looks. did he like the attention? sometimes. and those 'sometimes' were very very rare. he was pretty, and everybody knew it.

m/n was currently in maths, and he hated the subject. hell, he hated school. what was the point? it wasn't gonna get him anywhere anyway. m/n furrowed his brows as his teacher kept on talking about algebra. how the hell did letters have anything to do with numbers? he looked down at his book, to be met with a few answers he copied from the person next to him.

with a sigh, m/n grabbed his pen. after a few seconds of hesitation, and thinking of the detention he was 100% going to get, he began doodling on his arm. it was small, nothing too special. it had loads of lines, like he was sketching. except it was on his arm. m/n continued doodling until he got bored. he sighed again and looked back at his book, deciding to focus on his work.

towards the end half of the lesson, m/n felt a tingling sensation on his arm. he pulled his sleeve up ever so slightly to see the words 'you're a good artist!' with a small smiley face. m/n furrowed his brows and picked up his pen, quickly writing down 'no i'm not.' he watched again as the tingling sensation came back. now the words 'don't think so badly of yourself' proudly presented themselves on his wrist.

m/n frowned and put his pen down, resting his elbow on the table and letting his head lean on his palm. before he knew it, the lesson ended. with a slight groan, m/n stood up and packed away his belongings before abruptly leaving the classroom, ignoring the yells from the teacher saying stuff like, "i didn't tell you to pack up!" and scoldings, along with the murmurs and whispers from the class.

it was now saturday, which m/n dreaded. tomorrow, he had a taekwondo competition tomorrow, which he was not excited for. he heard rumours that a group called 'stray kids' were going to perform. he shrugged it off, and sat at his desk. he put on his headphones to ignore the yelling coming from downstairs as his father yelled at his new 'girlfriend.'

his parents had gotten divorced when m/n was around ten, he remembered the day as if it was yesterday.

"i'm sick of this, minjun! we have been married for fourteen years and you're deciding to cheat on me now?!" m/n's mother yelled at m/n's father. m/n watched from behind the wall, tears streaming down his cheeks. his parents had gotten into fights, but they were never this bad.

"for the last time sun hee, i was not cheating!" m/n's father screamed back. the day was perfectly fine before m/n's father had brought someone home from work. m/n saw it too. he watched as his father made out with some young, ugly woman. 'doesn't papa only do that with mama?' m/n asked himself as he watched from the sofa, as his father was now unbuttoning the lady's blouse.

then, they went upstairs. m/n furrowed his eyebrows, before shrugging and turning back to the tv. after a few hours, m/n heard the front door open. m/n's mother entered, she looked tired as usual. she entered the living room after taking off her heels and replacing them with slippers."ah, m/n. has papa fed you yet?" m/n looked up at his mother and shook his head. m/n heard his mother sigh, probably from fatigue, and gently kissed m/n's temple. the gentle, loving gesture being cut by a loud moan. m/n's mother pulled away from his son's forehead and looked at the stairs.

"one second, mama will be back, okay?" m/n's mother ruffled m/n's hair and went upstairs. m/n looked at the stairs for a few seconds before looking back at the tv. all of a sudden, m/n heard his mother scream. it was more of a gasp, but the kid was nine, his imagination wild, what did you expect? m/n went upstairs, and watched from behind the door as m/n's mother stood, frozen in shock, horror, disgust and anger as she saw her husband sleeping with another lady.

"what the hell?!" m/n's father yelled in english, looking up to see his wife. he sat up and glared at her.

that's how they were in the situation now. after a few minutes of loud yelling, and the lady getting up, dressing herself and leaving, m/n's mother now grabbed a suitcase and began packing her belongings. "yah, sun hee! what are you doing?!" m/n's father yelled, standing up and watching as his, now, ex wife packing to leave. "i'm leaving. forget you and your cheating ass!" m/n's mother cursed as she opened the closet, grabbing all of her clothing. after what seemed like hours, m/n's mother left the bedroom, then noticed her son. she put the suitcase down so it stood up and kneeled so she was on the same eye level as her son.

she gently caressed m/n's wet cheek, dripping with salty tears full of upset and horror. "m/n, mama will be back okay?" she pulled m/n into a hug, but all m/n could do was stand there in shock. "mama, where are you going?" m/n managed to say, his eyes wide and lips trembling. "mama's gonna take a break from papa. be a good boy for mama, yeah?" m/n's heart broke as he realised his mother was leaving. for good.

"why are you leaving me, mama?" m/n asked, his little face now scrunched up in upset. "mama isn't leaving you. she's gonna be back when she can, alright? don't cry my baby." she brought m/n's head to her chest, caressing his scalp gently. all while this was happening, m/n's father glared daggers into his son. he was the problem, and he knew it. but he still blamed it on his good for nothing son. after a few minutes of m/n's whimpering, his mother pulled back, smiling slightly, her eyes red from crying too much. she kissed m/n's forehead and stood up, dusting off her skirt and leaving. m/n ran downstairs, he couldn't let his mother leave him. no way. his heart got shattered into millions of pieces as his mother walked out, not even looking back once.

then, m/n just grew up. he was hit, by his father, but also hit with the emotional trauma and depression he had got gifted. now and again, m/n's father got a new side hoe, m/n was so grateful for those times. then, he wasn't hit. instead, it was the women who got his pain.

m/n shivered as the memory bubbled back up from the deep dark depths of his mind. he looked down at his arm, still seeing the writing from earlier. he scrubbed his arm with a wet tissue before giving up and starting on his long pile of homework. after completing three assignments, one being of art and the other two science (more specifically chemistry and biology), he felt the tingling sensation on his arm. he looked down and saw a few sentences. m/n's brows furrowed as he read through them. it clearly read 'hey, yk we are soulmates and all, right? i was wondering why you never write. like, the only time i hear from you is when your doodling all over our arms, and then writing random letters.'

m/n groaned and picked up a pen before clearly writing 'i don't want a soulmate. i don't want you, and you shouldn't want me either, okay? i'm not interested, alright? and also, why don't you get it? if im not writing, it's pretty clear i want nothing to do with you. leave me alone and don't write to me.' m/n could feel his heart wrenching when he wrote that. he didn't mean to word it so harshly, he just didn't want to make his soulmate feel depressed because of his pity story. he rubbed his eyes, tears now threatening to fall. he played his song louder to drown out the yelling from his father and starting his english essay.

*hyunjin pov*

hyunjin felt his heart breaking as he read the words his soulmate wrote. he was in the practise room, he was sitting in the corner, leaning on the wall. the other members were drinking, more like gulping, down water. hyunjin, however, thought that this was the perfect opportunity to communicate with his soulmate. seungmin eventually noticed hyunjin's heart broken expression and sat down next to him and glanced at his arm.

*sorry i don't rlly know what to write here- but it's basically all the members finding out that hyunjin's soulmate was a 'bitch'*

m/n sighed as he pulled off his shirt to change. it was now sunday, which meant he had a huge taekwondo competition. he was in the changing room, and was getting changed. his coach was trying to hype up m/n with shoulder pats and words of advice. basic stuff like, "you're my best student kid, you can do it." and "i have faith in you."

after changing, and being introduced to one of his many opponents, the competition began. m/n was quite a thin boy, due to the basic lack of nutrition his father provided, but still managed to beat the other, much bigger and muscular, guy. m/n put his pain and trauma into every punch and kick. it wasn't like anybody was rooting for him. why was he even doing this in the first place? all these questions bombarded m/n's mind and before he knew it, the second round was over. with a few pants for breath, m/n bowed to his opponent before his coach came into the ring and patted m/n's back with a proud grin.

"m/n, i knew you could do it!" m/n looked up to his coach and smiled slightly. for once, he seemed slightly proud of himself. he was brought to a bench to recharge for his last and final opponent, he was pretty big so m/n had to work pretty hard to win. there was a short break and stray kids came up on stage. m/n raised a brow as he began drinking his water. so the rumours were true. stray kids began to perform venom and maniac. through the performance, m/n was sat next to his coach, who was telling m/n how proud he was, and stuff like that.

m/n's coach was the only type of father figure he had, and his coach understood m/n's situation and had loads of sympathy for the boy. m/n's coach was nice, friendly, the middle aged father figure everybody needed once and a while. m/n could remember those nights where he couldn't handle it anymore, and whose arms did he run into? his coach. m/n knew his coach since he was five, where his mother and father brought him to a taekwondo class. his mother said it was needed in case m/n was in a risky situation, but never expected m/n to get a brown belt when he was nine. his father, however, couldn't give a shit.

m/n rested his head against his coach's shoulder. "hey, who organised the whole performance thing?" m/n asked curiously as he watched stray kids perform maniac. "oh, one of the directors, i believe." m/n's coach replied, watching the performance too. "ah, okay." m/n nodded slightly, sitting up and drinking some of his water.

after the performance, stray kids sat back down in their seats, the next and final match beginning. the members had to admit, that the h/c boy was pretty good. especially if he took down all those bigger guys he had to go against. after a few minutes of throwing punches and kicks at each other, m/n's opponent finally fell to the mat. m/n looked up, panting, and looked at his coach who was grinning so hard his jaw probably ached.

"l/n m/n has won the competition." the presenters announced through the black speakers located around the hall/stadium. m/n's coach practically burst into tears as he watched m/n's arm get raised by the referee (im not rlly sure, i don't do taekwondo, please correct me if i'm wrong). after m/n's win was announced, m/n's coach quickly ran up to m/n and hugged him tightly. "m/n! you did it! i knew you could!" m/n could hardly hear his coach as the crowd erupted into screaming. m/n smiled slightly, just slightly and was brought off the mat. he was given his bottle of water and a few minutes later, had to go back up to receive his award by the idols.

chan gave m/n his medal with a smile and congratulating him. m/n muttered a small 'thank you' as he received the award. when m/n reached his arm out to be handed his medal, all the members then saw the writing that had also been on hyunjin's arm. hyunjin's smile just faded and the same thing happened with the rest of the members as they were now slightly glaring at m/n. after he received the award, m/n's coach approached m/n and brought him back to the changing rooms, now pulling him into a sort of side hug.

now m/n was by himself in the changing rooms. he pulled his shirt off of his shoulders and shook his head, trying to get some of the sweat out of his hair. he was about to change, but he was suddenly pushed to the lockers, the lockers banging loudly against each other. m/n's breath hitched as he looked up at the guy who he thought was going to kill him. to his surprise, it was the guy who gave him the award.

"shit." he curses and began struggling against chan's grip. "what the hell? get off of me." he tried to push chan off, but his grip tightened. all of a sudden, m/n felt blood coming out of his mouth, and leaking from his nose. it took him a few seconds to realise he just got punched in the face by one of the other members. 'fuck, i'm going to die today. twice.' m/n thought as he realised he was probably going to get beaten up here, then get beaten to a pulp at home by his father, who was most likely already beginning his drinking cycle.

he tried to kick the two members off but only got met with a punch to the stomach. m/n shook his head and began to feel lightheaded. he was used to it, though. his body just got used to the beatings, but some places weren't quite prepared. as soon as he felt another punch in the shoulder, he knew he was gonna faint or die. whichever came first.

before he knew it, his head just lunged forward as he lost consciousness. chan immediately let go of the boy, his body going limp and falling to the ground, unfortunately for m/n, head first. "chan, what the fuck did you do?!" minho whisper yelled as he looked at the now bleeding boy. "i didn't punch him! it was changbin and jeongin!" minho turned to the two boys who just stared at the unconscious boy laying on the, what seemed to be, concrete floor. "fuck, we're going to prison." felix said and shook his head before trying to grab the boy. seungmin nodded slightly and helped felix, now laying the boy on his back so he was facing the ceiling.

well, if he was alive anyway. chan, along with the rest of the members leaned in ever so slightly to see the boy's injuries. han flinched and took a few steps back. to say they were bad, would be an underestimation. m/n now had a bleeding nose, blood literally oozing out of his mouth, a bruise on his temple and a cut on his forehead. "shit." chan whispered. "someone check his pulse." felix suggested and changbin quickly brought two fingers to the boy's left upper side of his neck. "he's alive. i think." seungmin rolled his eyes and put his hand on the boy's now bruised chest. "yeah, he's alive."

word count; 2803

[plussizefantasia]

Little Stinker

Flufftober Day 30: Pumpkin Carving

Steve Rogers x f!mom!reader

Word Count: 1.7k

AN: This is a continuation of Day 21's Story: Good Punkins. Steve and Little Dude have my whole heart I stg. I can't believe that we only have one more day! This was such a fun experience and I think I'm a much better writer than I was when I started. Reblogs and Feedback are always appreciated. I'll see y'all tomorrow for the last day of Flufftober!

divider credit @royallaesthetics

Your little family had gone to the pumpkin patch on Saturday, little dude had been so tired that he passed out in his car seat on the way home and didn’t even stir when you lifted him out of his car seat and into the house.

However, in all of his five and half years on this planet, Caleb James has never slept past 7:00 am. That is why you were not at all surprised when the door to yours and Steve’s shared bedroom creaked open at about 7:05.

“Momma.” Caleb had whispered. Trying to climb up onto the very tall bed that you and your husband shared. “Momma gotta get up. Gotta put faces on our punkins.” 

“CJ, it’s too early to carve our pumpkins. We can do that in the afternoon, okay baby?” You pulled him up from his armpits and swung him over your body. Landing him in the space between you and Steve. “Plus, Mommy needs her cuddles. Can I have some cuddles, baby boy?” 

“Course Momma, I loves your cuddles.”

“And I love yours, baby.” 

“Do I get some cuddles too?” Steve’s sleep-coated voice rasped from beside you. His large arm curled around your waist and pulled both you and Caleb into his chest. His other arm came around from his side and trapped you and the little man in a bear hug.

“Daddy!” Caleb giggled. “You’re squeezing me!”

“Am I?” Steve asked. Squeezing the two of us a little tighter.

“Yeah, Daddy you’re squeezing too tight!” Caleb fought to say in between his giggles. Steve loosened his arms just a little bit, still holding firmly but allowing some space. 

“Cuddles for a little bit then I’ll make breakfast and we can talk about what to do with the pumpkins okay?” You asked your boys.

“Otay Momma,” Caleb said as he snuggled deeper into your chest. Slow mornings like this were your favorite. Just being able to exist with the people you love most in the world made everything worth it.

Your family sat in bed for another hour or two, Caleb drifted in and out of sleep and you and Steve just watched each other and your baby in content silence. 

Eventually, your husband's super metabolism caught up to him, and his stomach started to growl. He looked sheepish and a little bit upset that he had ruined the moment. You just laughed and kissed his forehead and your son’s before slipping out of bed and making your way downstairs to start breakfast.

If there was one thing Caleb had inherited from his father it was his appetite. Your boys would go through mountains of food if they could. For this breakfast, you made pancakes, some with chocolate chips for Caleb and some with banana slices for Steve. You cooked some scrambled eggs and fried up some sausage and bacon. You cut and peeled fruit to make a fruit salad, juiced oranges, and set the table. By the time you were done, your kitchen looked like a photoshoot for a cookbook. 

All that food only lasted your boys about thirty minutes though, before the table was cleared and Steve was up and cleaning the dishes and countertops.

“Can we put faces on our punkins now Momma?” Caleb had asked. 

“Sure baby, why don’t you go upstairs and get dressed while Daddy and I bring in the pumpkins from the car?” You had barely finished your question before your little man was racing up the stairs toward his room to get himself ready for the day.

You laughed and finished the last bit of the coffee left in your mug before you slipped on some shoes and made your way out to your car. You grabbed a pumpkin under each arm and started heading back inside. Before you made it more than three steps your show-off husband had taken them out of your arms and back inside.

It seemed like Steve wouldn’t let you lift any pumpkins this year, even if it was just from your car to your house. 

You had begun to get the kitchen table all set up for carving pumpkins. You covered the table in newspaper and grabbed three mixing bowls from your cabinets. You grabbed Sharpies and tape, some paper to draw on, and all the different kinds of knives that you’d need. 

By the time everything was set up, Caleb was making his way downstairs, fully dressed and practically bouncing with excitement.

“It’s punkin time Momma!” He yelled.

“Yeah baby, time to carve our pumpkins.” Three pumpkins were sitting on the kitchen table. Two of them were pretty large, with one flater side perfect for carving. Those were the ones Caleb had picked for you and Steve. His own was slightly smaller but taller rather than wider. 

“What do you want to carve on your pumpkin little man?” You asked Caleb after helping him up onto the chair, making sure that he was okay to stand and wouldn’t fall.

“Uncle Tony!” 

“You want to carve Uncle Tony’s face on your pumpkin?”

“No Momma, not his face. His mask, the one on the suit.”

“You want to carve the Iron Man face baby?” 

“Yeah Momma, and you can carve Auntie Nat’s widow and Daddy can carve his shield!’

“You want us to have Avenger pumpkins buddy?” Steve asked. “I thought you wanted faces?”

“Mine will have a face. Uncle Tony’s mask has a face.”

He had a point. “Okay little man, let's look at how to draw Uncle Tony’s mask.”

Twenty minutes later, Steve had finished sketching each design on your pumpkin, you had forgone doing Nat’s symbol for doing an actual spider. You’d made sure to include the signature hourglass shape on the back of the sider though, just to keep on theme.

Steve had grumbled the whole time he was drawing Tony’s mask. “He’s my kid?” “Why does he want Tony’s mask?” “My shield is so cool.” All muttered under his breath.

“Steve honey, to Caleb you’re just dad. You’re not Captain America, the first super soldier. You're the man who makes dinner and takes him to the park. He thinks Tony’s mask is cool, sure. But he loves you.”

“How do you always have the right words?” Steve asked you, sharpie still gripped in his hands.

“You have your powers I have mine.” You teased, kissing him chastely. 

“Momma help.” Caleb had called out from the kitchen table.

“What do you need help with baby,?” You moved across the room towards him.

“Can you cut the top open so I can get the guts out?’ he asked.

“Absolutely buddy, I’ll cut off the top and then you can use your spoon to get in here okay?” You grabbed the serrated knife from the table. You began to see at the top of the pumpkin, making sure to keep it as neat as you could. So that the lid could be put back on when you brought them back outside.

Steve stood back and watched you help Caleb with his pumpkin. Overwhelmed with love, he took out his phone and sent a picture to the group chat. 

Avengers-themed pumpkins, courtesy of little dude. The text message read.

He snapped a few more photos of you with your tongue sticking out of the side of your mouth like it usually did when you were focused. You finished cutting the top off of Caleb’s pumpkin and started on yours. Eventually moving on to Steve’s as well. 

Steve and Caleb were on scooping duty, given that you absolutely couldn’t stand pumpkin insides. They smelled and looked horrible and you just couldn’t deal with them. While the boys were scooping, you were warming up some apple cider that you had bought at the farm yesterday along with the pumpkins. You weren’t expecting to be ambushed by your husband when you returned to the table though.

Steve held in his hands a spoon piled high with pumpkin insides. He and Caleb were both giggling like children and Steve counted down from three before chasing you with the spoon.

You shrieked and ran away, hearing the cackling of your little boy from somewhere behind you. “Steve!” You ducked and dodged. “Steven Grant! I swear to all that is holy.” He continued to chase him, laughing along with Caleb who was still perched on his chair at the dining table. You managed to circle Steve and dashed towards your son. 

You grabbed onto Caleb and held him in front of you like a human shield. “What’s your move, Rogers.” You raised your eyebrow at your husband. “Drop the spoon and nobody gets hurt.” You pulled Caleb closer to you. 

"You wouldn’t dare.” Was Steve’s response, matching your raised eyebrow. 

“Watch me.” In one fell swoop, you dropped your hands to Caleb’s sides and started tickling the little boy. His laugh increased in pitch and he started trying to wriggle out of your hold.

"It’s up to you Honey, I don’t know how much longer he can last.” You laughed and continued to tickle your little boy, making sure that he was still having fun at the same time.

“You’re an evil woman you know that?” Steve asked you before theatrically placing the spoon down on the table. You stopped ticking Caleb as soon as the spoon was down and both you and Steve chuckled to yourself as his giggles died down and he tried to catch his breath.

“That was funny Momma.” He told you.

“What was funny, Daddy chasing me with yucky pumpkin guts or all the tickles?"

“Both.” 

“Oh yeah?” You blew a raspberry on the side of his cheek. “You’re a little stinker.”

“The stinkiest” Steve agreed.

Caleb began to laugh once again and you and Steve followed suit.

Moments like this made all of it worth it. Steve's mind echoed your thoughts from that morning. Having both you and Caleb was like a dream come true. He would do it all over again if it meant that he would have you. That much he was sure of. Even if his son wanted a Tony Stark pumpkin for Halloween.

[nenelonomh]

hello, loves

good morning! happy saturday! i have a coffee and some coffee-flavoured oatmeal by my side this morning as i write this post. usually, i only have a drink, but i woke up earlier this morning and so naturally, i was hungrier earlier.

i've been racking my mind on how to come up with good content to post when i return to school and honestly, i considered going on a break until next holidays. luckily, i didn't stick to that idea. i'm going to be sticking to a posting schedule (still daily queued posts), but i'm only going to be posting larger posts on monday, wednesday, saturday.

this change is because i didn't get the grades i'd hoped for last term, so i need to focus more on school than the blog. the food blog will still be running wednesday, saturday posts.

fortnightly, i'm going to be releasing an issue of 'the elonomh times', which will be a cute digital magazine that will include the fortnights (and bonus) posts and learning. at the end of each issue, there will be some journal prompts and activities!

anyways, back to today. this morning i woke up and stretched for half an hour. i'm definitely grateful that i have stretching routines from previous sports because it allows me to be effective without using my laptop so early in the morning (e.g for a youtube follow along).

i haven't been doing proper training this week, since i'm on my period and honestly,, it's worse than usual (the period part). i have been going on long walks in the evening to make up for the lack of training, though.

today i'm going to smash out all of my to-do for today and tomorrow, to give me a chance tomorrow to rest (even though i have to go to work).

here's a little list: ☐ meal prep for the school week ☐ finish ALL holiday homework - maths homework q's - physics homework q's ☐ go for a walk ☐ message charlie (a friend i haven't spoken to in a while) ☐ vacuum bedroom ☐ change bedsheets ☐ spanish daily study

i hope you all have an amazing day!

❤️joanne

(images are from pinterest)

[eyelessfaces]

packing

santiago garcia x reader

summary: you're moving out. santi helps you packing, and it's the perfect occasion to finally talk about everything unsaid between the two of you.

warnings: mentions of sextoys for some reason....... don't look at me like that. sexy times mentionned and implied, the fic fades to smut so it kinda starts but nothing too steamy

tags: f!reader, mutual pinning, friends to lovers

word count: 1.8k

masterlist | taglist | ao3

“Heard you needed help. I’m your man” were Santiago’s words before he winked at you and stepped into your half empty apartment.

You moved out at the beginning of next week, and because the laziness got the best of you you now had to rush to finish packing your stuff. 

You had started when you were determined, all energy gone once your back hurt at the end of your first day of packing, and you hadn’t continued since. And this was your mistake.

You could have been wiser and you could have started packing gradually, a bit every day but no– procrastinating had sounded so much better to your “it’s cool, I still have time” ears. 

You had started panicking when you realized it was Saturday already, so you had called your friend group in hope that they could help you get this covered, except they all happened to be conveniently busy. Except for one of them.

“I heard Santi’s available” was Frankie's casual reply when you called him to ask for his help, and you swore you had heard him smirk over the phone when he said this.

You honestly doubted Frankie, Benny and Will all happened to be busy, and you firmly believed that for a good reason; they had been doing their best to isolate you and Santiago since you had kissed at Benny’s birthday party.

Even though you had tried to resonate with them by telling them that you were both drunk and that this kiss probably didn’t mean much to Santiago, they had been actively keeping on trying to get the two of you to have a conversation about it.

Except as of now, packing was your priority. 

“Thank you for coming to help me. I’ve been procrastinating doing this and I don’t know if I’d be done by tomorrow night doing this all by myself” you sighed, picking up an empty cardboard box and throwing it to Santiago. 

He caught it and pinched a smile.

“No problem hermosa, you know I’m more useful helping you here than watching TV naked on my couch. Where do I start?” he asked, walking through your living room and looking at the boxes you had already packed used to support the TV, since you had already emptied and packed your TV stand.

“Would be nice if you could finish the bookcase next to the couch. You can put the CDs with the books, just name the box with both” you instructed, picking up the marker from the floor and handing it to him.

“Yes ma’am” he smiled taking the marker from your hand in a swift motion, determined to start his job and to do it right. Maybe the other boys not being here would actually profit you and you would be faster with your task, no distractions around.

“You know you’re not getting out of here without explaining why you watch TV naked” you said going back to the kitchen where you had started packing all your cooking tools. It was a kitchen opened on the living room, so you were not far from each other.

He chuckled. “Well because why not” he replied as he sat on the floor to empty the lower part of the bookcase.

“Why” you insisted, placing your cooking tools strategically in the box so everything would fit perfectly.

“You know I’m not the only one who does it. I mean– staying home naked. Frankie does it too. Well not anymore since his daughter was born but he used to do it”

“Bless that kid” you chuckled. “Still doesn’t answer my question” you asked looking back at him.

“It’s comfortable” he shrugged. “Things swaying freely” he said turning to look at you, a smirk on his face.

“Okay I’ll stop asking questions” you laughed shaking your head.

An hour and a half later Santiago had finished packing your living room, leaving only the couch and TV surrounded by cardboard boxes. You were also almost done with the kitchen except for a few cabinets and of course still leaving out the essential: a few forks, knives and spoons, and a few glasses and plates.

“Need help for the kitchen?” he asked, sitting on the counter.

“Yep, I was about to empty my mug cabinets. I have a lot” you nodded. You grabbed another cardboard box and sighed when you looked around but didn’t find what you were looking for. “Fuck can you get me the bubble wrap? I must have left it in my bedroom when I was packing the perfume bottles in my drawers”

“Sure be right back” you thanked him before starting to get the mugs out of the cabinet, placing them on the counter waiting for him to come back to start wrapping them.

Santiago went into your room and searched for the roll. 

Walking towards your bed, he saw something looking like what he was looking for peeking out from under your bed, it had probably rolled and gotten under there accidentally. 

He kneeled down to pick it up, noticing a black plastic box placed under your bed. He chuckled to himself before the pain in his knees reminded him that he couldn’t stay in this position for long, grabbing the bubble wrap roll and standing back up.

“Nice sextoys collection” he threw with a smug smile as he came back to the kitchen, handing you the bubble wrap roll.

You almost dropped the mug between your hands. “Wha– don’t tell me you–”

“No, but now I have the confirmation that it’s really your toy box” he laughed, and even harder when he saw your startled and slightly embarrassed face.

“You want a medal or something” you chuckled, taking the roll from his hands, your own hands not even capable of functioning correctly. You would definitely be losing some mugs after that.

“Hey don’t be embarrassed” he nudged your side. “Ever used them with someone else?” he asked leaning against the counter.

“Jeez Santi” you laughed. You looked at him and rolled your eyes. “Tried to. The guy didn’t want to because he saw it as its enemy. Turns out its enemy did a way better job than him afterwards” you explained wrapping one of your least favorite mug so you wouldn’t regret it if it slipped from your slightly trembling hands. 

“Mh I see” he said reaching to grab one of the mugs to help you wrap them. “You just haven’t tried with the right guy yet” he sighed, turning to look at you.

You focused on arranging the box correctly to avoid his gaze as your cheeks heated at his words, trying to discard the feeling. “Probably” you mumbled. Probably.

—

Santi plopped down on your couch, a low grunt leaving his mouth as he did so.

You wiped your forehead with the back of your hand, exhaling in relief.

You were done. It seemed impossible, but here you were, everything packed.

“Wanna drink something as a reward?” you offered before you could sit down for good.

“Got a beer?” he asked raising his eyebrows.

“Yup” you said turning around to grab them from your refrigerator.

You uncapped them and sat down on your couch next to him, handing him his beer. He clinked his bottleneck against yours and you smiled, taking a sip before letting out another sigh of relief.

“Seriously, thank you. I couldn’t have done it without you” you declared smiling at him, and he finished his sip before smiling back at you.

“Eh if I hadn’t helped you who would have?” he rhetorically asked, chuckling.

“Right” you sighed, remembering the sarcastic exclamation point at the end of Benny’s message when he said he couldn’t come, Will’s fake pondering face when he did a quick review of his schedule when you called him on facetime, and of course Frankie suggesting Santi’s presence.

“You know they’re not really busy right” he questioned, turning to you and leaning his arm against the back of your couch. You threw a single nod before taking a sip of your beer. “You know they just want us to figure out what’s going on between us, right?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

You sighed and looked over at him. “I know. I think they made that obvious”

He scratched the light stubble on his chin and put his beer down on the floor before returning to his previous position.

“Then what’s going on between us?” he asked tilting his head, and he smiled when he saw you chuckling. “What? I think we should give them what they want or they’re never gonna stop” he shrugged.

“Okay.” you cleared your throat before going further. “Well, I don’t know what’s going on between us but I liked kissing you” you admitted, immediately taking a sip of your beer after delivering your words. You were almost embarrassed at how fast your heart was beating.

He smugly smiled and looked you up and down.

“As friends?” he asked playfully, throwing his chin at you.

“Dunno, you?” you asked, mirroring his smile, putting your beer down on the floor too. You looked back at him and he shrugged.

“Well all I can tell you is I was drunk but I think I know what I was doing” he said with a single nod, pinching his lips into a small smile. “And I enjoyed it.”

“That’s good to know” you replied playfully, your gaze going back and forth between his lap and his face. “You’d do it again?”

“Do what?” 

“Kiss me, idiot” you chuckled, planting your elbow against the back of the couch.

“Question or order?” he asked rhetorically, a smirk plastered on his face. You playfully hit his arm when you realized you had been tricked, and he nudged your side. “Answer the question”

Your face inched closer to his, and you tilted it slightly before answering. “Order” your voice was barely louder than a whisper. 

His thumb and forefinger grasped your chin after your implied consent, and it took him a very short time to press his lips against yours once he was sure you both wanted it.

He kissed you and he knocked the air out of your lungs, your hands buried in his graying curls and his hands traveling up and down your curves. 

You made out intensely, laying down on your couch, his body hovering over yours as he practically fucked his tongue into your mouth.

“If that wasn’t abundantly clear, not as friends, no” you panted against his slightly swollen lips once you pulled away for air.

“Good. Good choice” he said biting down on his bottom lip, laughing when you yanked his face down to kiss him again. He kneaded one of your breasts while his tongue plunged in your mouth, his thumb brushing against your hard nipple, and you moaned in his mouth as a result.

He pulled away from your mouth, his own shifting towards your ear.

“Hey I thought maybe we could make some use of that box under your bed. It’s not packed yet after all” he whispered, unable to cover the devilish grin on his face or the excitement in his voice. 

And in his pants, too.

—

masterlist | taglist | ao3

triple frontier taglist: @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @mystinky-butt @beccabecs521

[janicho88]

When It All Falls Apart - Chapter 9

Pairing- ex!Jensen x Padalecki Reader

Word count- 5,300

Warnings- Some language. Dealing with a breakup. Sad reader. Angst, If I missed something let me know!

A/N- Back at a convention we go. Someone lets the cat out of the bag here with the breakup. A little off canon, SPN ended after 10 years. We still got all the characters in during that time though. Thank you to @writercole and @leigh70 for your help with this. You two are amazing!!

Summary-Y/N Padalecki loved acting on Supernatural.  Working alongside your older brother and your boyfriend, but after ten seasons the guys have chosen to hang up the guns.  Now the three of you are moving on to other projects, but that’s all that needs to change right?  While you have moved to Austin to be closer to your family and boyfriend, Jensen is working elsewhere.  Distance is only the start of your troubles.

Series Masterlist

Turns out you really didn’t have a lot of time to think things over once you returned home.  Jared was at the studio, and Gen had her hands full with a wild child and a smelly dog.  You leave her with Tom and take Sadie outside for a bath.  When you come back inside Tom wants you to play with him.  

Jared comes home with your script for the first episode, they had to rework a few things for it.  Before bed you spend some time reading it over and making notes for yourself.  

When you wake up and go down to a late breakfast on Thursday, Gen starts asking about your flight.

“What flight?”

“Aren’t you flying out today, so you can be there all day tomorrow?”

“What are you…OH CRAP THE CONVENTION!”

Jared comes back from his run just as you finish yelling.  “What happened?” he asks, looking between you and his wife before you are dashing from the room.

“I think she forgot it was convention weekend, and that she is supposed to leave today,” Gen tells her husband.

“Got it.”

After a quick shower you are running around your room picking out clothes.  Someone knocks and you holler at them to come in.  Gen walks in looking at the clothes thrown on the bed and the open bathroom bag on the dresser.

“Do you have anything around for this weekend yet?”

“Um, no.  Do you remember ever seeing con pictures of me in this top?” you ask her, holding up a black dress shirt.

“Yes, but only because there is a picture of us together, I have.”

“Crap.”  Throwing that in the no pile you move back to the closet.

“What time is your flight?”

“4:15, should probably leave here around 1:30.  Which is oh, about two hours away now,” you reply with a grimace. 

“What can I do to help?” she asks.

“My bathroom travel things are in the bathroom cabinet.  I hope.  I don’t know why I unpacked that stuff.  Could you throw it in the travel bag please?  There should be hair crap, body wash, face cream, lotion. Whatever makeup is on the counter. Oh and toothbrush and paste.  Will definitely need those, no one wants to get close to the girl with morning breath.” 

Finally figuring out 2 outfits for the days you are there, and one for karaoke, you run out to the pool building to grab your swimsuit.  You never know if you will have time for a swim, but you would rather have it with you and not use it than leave it at home and have free time.   Throwing in some workout clothes and pajamas you are finally good to go.  You pack your carryon bag with your wallet, computer, headphones, a book and some snacks.  

Thirty minutes later your bags are sitting by the bedroom door.  “Okay, I think I’m good to go.”

“Only a small tornado left in your wake.”

Raising an eyebrow you look at Gen, not sure what she means.  She points her finger around your room and you look with a groan.  You currently have more clothes on the bed and floor than are likely in the closet.

“I’ll help you pick ‘em up.”

Half an hour later the room is back together and you won’t have to worry about it when you get home Saturday night.

“Gen, I ever told you you are a lifesaver?”  You ask your sister-in-law as you walk out of your room.

“Eh, it’s been awhile,” she jokes with you.  “But I’m happy to help.”

Taking your things downstairs, you find Tom and Jared on the living room floor building with legos.

“Aunt Y/N, wanna build with us?”

“I can for a few minutes.”

“Are you leaving again?”

“Yeah, I’m off to Orlando, Florida this time.”

“Where’s that?”

“East of here,” he just looks at you, “not that that means anything to you.”

He turns to his dad, “are you leaving too?”

“Saturday morning bud.  That’s in two days, and I’ll be gone for two days.”

“You’re flying out in the morning?” you question.

“Yeah, figured I’d come a little earlier.  They moved some of our stuff around to get more in on Saturday since you won’t be there Sunday.”

“Oh, thanks for doing that.  Sorry you had to.”

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it.”

After spending a few minutes building a Lego town, you all break for lunch before Jared drives you to the airport.  He tells you to have a safe trip and gives you a hug before getting back in the car and taking off.  

Once you clear check-in and security, you walk around the familiar space, before sitting down and pulling out your book.  It’s finally time to board and you are ready for takeoff.  You’re a little nervous about how this weekend is going to go, and the sooner it’s over with the better. 

After collecting your luggage at the Orlando airport, you look around for Mike and finally see him hurrying through the doors.  You wave at him to get his attention, he slows a little but is still moving quickly.

“Sorry, traffic was a lot worse than I thought it would be.”

“It’s no problem, I just got my bag.  How are you doing?”

“I’m good, thanks.  How about you?”

“I’m fine.”

The trip to the hotel took longer than usual also.  Mike was right about the current traffic.  While the convention and most of the guests were staying at the Doubletree Hotel, they had the cast at Embassy suites.  It was a few minutes away, but not too bad.

Mike had your hotel key with him, and asked if there was anywhere you needed him to stop before dropping you off.  You told him no, and he went right to the hotel. 

You found your way up to the room without any problem. It’s close to 9, and your stomach is grumbling.  You head down to the cafe in the hotel before it closes to grab something for dinner. The dining area is in the middle of the main floor. 

Looking up you can see the walkways on every floor around it.  Instead of sitting at the bar, you grab a table off to the side.  While you are picking at your sandwich, two hands clamp down on your shoulders and whisper “gotcha.”

You can’t help but scream out.

“Oh shit, way to go Bri,” Kim says as she sits down across from you.

You hold up your hand and repeat, “sorry, sorry,” to those still dining around you.  At least this late there aren’t too many people around.

Briana sits down next to you and picks a fry out of your half eaten basket, “sorry about that.”

“It’s fine, I didn’t even see you two walk in.”  You look at the pajamas they’re wearing, “how was the pj party?”

“It was good.  Lots of fun, like usual,” Kim tells you.

“Yeah, I get alcohol in there now, it’s fuckin great,” Bri agrees. 

“So what are you doing here so early?” Kim asks.

“I had to change my schedule around because I can’t stay on Sunday.”

“Oh something exciting going on?  Has to be to pull you away from Jay,” Briana questions.

“Not really exciting, I just have to leave Saturday.”

The girls look at each other, then back at you.  “You aren’t telling us something.  We’ll let it go for now, but we will get it out of you,”  Kim says in her best Carrie Martin voice.

“Okay, mom.”

Thankfully, they change the subject and talk about what has been going on with themselves the last few weeks.  You are pretty vague when it comes to yourself.  Before long, you are all calling it a night and heading up to your respective rooms.

The beeping of your alarm wakes you Friday morning, with a groan you get up to start your day.  It’s early enough, you can make your way to the second floor where the outdoor pool is located.  Hopefully a few laps will help you wake up.  Back in the room you go through your morning routine of making yourself presentable for all the photo ops you will have.  Your cell notifies you of an incoming text, letting you know Mike is on his way.

He drops you off at the convention hotel, at one of the back entrances.  Chelsea is waiting for you at the door.  

“Hey!” you greet her with a hug before moving inside.  “Nice to see you again.”  You never know who your handler will be until you arrive at the conventions.  You work with Chelsea a lot, but it’s not uncommon to have one of the other girls.  As long as it’s not Victoria, you’re good.

She hands you a coffee and starts going over your schedule on the way to the green room.  First up on the schedule is a 10 am Meet and Greet (M&G). She leads you down when it gets closer and takes her seat in the corner as you greet the fans and answer the questions.

As that half an hour winds down, Adam Fergus comes in the side door.  “Someone’s got an early start to her day.  I don’t usually see you around this early.”

“Yeah, my schedule is a little off this weekend.  I’m guessing if you’re here then our time is up.” With a frown you turn to the group of fans.  “I had a lot of fun with you all, thank you.”

You wave to them as everyone gets up and they are being led to the exit.  Walking over to Adam you give him a hug in greeting, you don’t have time to catch up because his M&G group is being brought in.

Back in the green room they have some pictures for you to sign. You hear DJ Qualls take the stage for the first panel.  Julian Richings, has the second.  He doesn’t make it to many conventions, so it is always nice to see him.  You mentally make a note that you want to get a picture with him before he leaves. 

You have various photo ops, and a panel with Kim and Briana later in the afternoon.  After the day programing wraps up, a good two hours of autographs.  It’s a little after 6, by the time you are finished.  Bri and Kim are already done, Adam and David are also finishing up, everyone else is gone. A group text had gone out earlier about ordering dinner to be delivered to the hotel tonight.  As the three of you get in the car to go back to the hotel, Bri lets you all know it’s on the way now and there are some tables by the pool where you can all eat.

Arriving back at the hotel, the three of you all head to your rooms to change before meeting them for dinner.  You throw your suit on under your clothes, and head to the outdoor pool area. 

Rich is still at the convention center for Dick chat, but you, Kim, Bri, David, Adam, DJ, Julian and Sam Smith are all back at the hotel.  Conversation flows a little more freely when there isn’t anyone else around.  They do have some questions about Jensen and his new suit you have to field.

“Did you get to see him in that suit when you were in Toronto?” Kim asks.

“What she really wants to know is, did you get to do him in that suit?” Bri interjects, and the guys all groan.

“No, I never made it to set, they keep things pretty tight up there,” you tell them.

“Yeah they do.  Suit couldn’t have been much tighter.”

“Not what I meant Bri.”

“Has he told you any behind the scenes secrets?” Sam asks.

“Nope, I know probably as much as you guys do.”

You do your best to turn the conversation to other topics and away from you or Jensen, when it seems to quit working you go hop in the pool.  Before too long you need to get ready to go back for Karaoke.  

Adam, David, DJ, Julian, Sam and you, all are going back.  Bri and Kim are bowing out of this one.  When you arrive back, the fans are still watching the screening of ‘Yellow Fever.’  There are a variety of drinks set up in the green for you all. 

Adam looks over the table, “what flavor of ‘apple juice’ shall we start with?”

“Something we aren’t going to regret tomorrow morning, would be great,” you tell him.

“Chicago was your own fault Lil Pad, you all were shooting them back a bit quick,” he fires back.

“I blame Bri,” you say with a shrug.

It isn’t long before the film is over and the stage is set for karaoke.  With your red solo cups the six of you make your way on stage, while Adam draws the first name.  Those that come on stage give it their all, and the crowd is singing along too.  Adam is all over the stage and starts running up and down the aisles as well, which keeps not only his handler, but others busy watching him as well. 

An hour and a half later, the event is winding down and you’re definitely ready to get back to the hotel and relax before bed.  Well, after you pack.  You aren’t used to leaving on Saturday afternoons.  

The next morning there are two cars to take nine of you over to the convention hotel a little after nine.  Adam, David and Jason don’t have to be there until ten.  There is breakfast waiting in the green room along with the group's Starbucks order.  Rob is talking with the band before looking for you.

“Y/N, did you text me the song you wanted to sing tonight?  I can’t seem to find it.”

“I won’t be at the concert tonight, sorry guys.  I head out this afternoon.”

“What?  That is unacceptable,” he jokes with you.  “Is your other half going to cover for you?”

“I have no idea what they are doing tonight.”

Rob, Rich and Louden Swain soon take the stage to start the day and then they call you, Bri, Kim and Sam to the stage.  Things are going well, you all are talking, joking, and occasionally answering questions.  At least until a little over halfway through when you get a question that catches you completely off guard.

A girl comes up to the mike and looks right at you.  “My question is for Y/N.”

“I know her, she’s right here,” Kim jokes, pointing to you.

“What do you have for me sweetie?”

“How could you break up with Jensen?”

The whole room goes quiet, you stare at the girl, and everyone else is looking at you. “What?” you finally stutter.

“He announced it this morning during an interview.”

Everyone is still looking at you,  Sam is one of the first to recover.  “Um, maybe this isn’t the…’

“Thanks, Sam, it’s alright.  I don’t know what Jensen said about this.  But we both have different projects we’re working on.  And um, I guess you hope things are going to work out one way, but sometimes life has other plans.  I would appreciate though, if um, there weren’t any more questions on this right now.  It’s supposed to be a fun weekend, let’s not bring it down okay?”

You try and focus on the last twenty minutes of the panel, but your brain keeps going back to that girl's question, and how could Jensen do that today?  Why did he feel the need to announce it during an interview even?

When Rob and Rich come back on stage with the band you barely wait for them to start singing you off before you are gone down the steps.  You see your brother right behind the curtain, he pulls you into a hug and walks with you back to the green room area.  

“Are you alright?” he quietly asks.

“Just great.  Have you seen the interview?”

“Not yet.”

You ignore Victoria sitting in the corner with a smug smile and go to the opposite side of the room with Jared.  Pulling out your phone you search for the interview.  Bri, Kim and Sam had been following you two, but they realize what you are doing and move to give you some room.  Finding the video you push play.

Jensen is with Karl, Jack, Chase, Anthony, and sitting right next to him is Claudia.  Watching the interview from this morning's talk show appearance, you aren't really paying attention to what’s being said, just trying to find the spot where Jensen throws you under the bus.  

The interviewer makes a comment about how some of them have said they don’t want their parents to watch, but what about their significant others? 

Claudia is the first to do anything, she laughs before speaking.  “Well, Anthony is the only one of us currently in a relationship, so he’ll have to take that one.”  

You notice Jensen makes a slight movement to look at Claudia out of the corner of his eye, and some of his castmates are looking at him as Anthony answers.  When he’s finished the interviewer turns it back to Jensen.

“Aren’t you dating your former co-star, Y/N Padalecki?”

Claudia speaks up before Jensen can say a word, “ not any more she came up here just to break up with him because he was working.”  She leans closer to your ex, and you can’t help but notice the way she is rubbing her hand up and down the top of his leg.  Yeah, you aren’t so sure something isn’t going on there.

“We’re so sorry to hear that,” Don, Dan, whoever says to Jay.

“Long distance doesn’t work out for everyone, and I guess we just wanted different things,” Jensen finally speaks up. 

The interviewer moves the topic back to the show and continues on.

“I cannot believe him.”

“In his defense,” your brother starts, “he didn’t really announce the breakup.”

“He had to have been talking about it with her, and he didn’t make a move to stop her, did he?  Didn’t take him long to move on.”

You turn around and notice your friends on the other side of the room trying not to look at you.  With a sigh, you drop your head back and know you have some explaining to do.  Before you can get very far, a nervous Chelsea comes and tells you you are needed for your VIP M&G and then photo ops.

 After your solo ops, you have photos with the ladies.  Even though they want to ask, there is no time for questions now.  Jared comes down for his ops with you, when those are finished you are done with photos for this convention.  You give Chris a hug and tell him thanks before you follow your brother and handlers out of the room.  The last of your autographs are next, it takes well over an hour for you to finish up.  There are some comments about you and Jensen, mostly I’m sorry to hear you broke up.  But a few rude ones, that couldn’t understand why you would do that.

Walking into the green room you notice almost everyone is in there, since there is a little bit of a break.  Grabbing a water you sit on the edge of a table, with Jared coming up next to you.

“I know you all want to know what’s going on, so here it is.  Yes, Jay and I aren’t together anymore.  No, I didn’t go up to Toronto just to break up with him.  It just happened while I was up there.  I’m just not really ready to talk more about it right now.”

They all nod, Sam comes over and gives you a hug, Bri and Kim are right behind her.

“This the reason for the schedule change?” Bri quietly asks.  You just nod.

Looking at the time, you make sure everything you were supposed to have autographed is done.  The few things you have gotten out of your bag are packed back up.  Jared is about to head to one of his M&G’s, you give him a hug before he goes.

“You alright?” he asks.

“Yeah.”

“Liar.  Have a safe flight.  I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

“Thanks.  Hope all goes well here.  Have a safe flight tomorrow.  See ya soon.”

You tell the rest of the group goodbye before you head out.  You still have a little time before your 3:30 flight, but you want to get out of there before Jensen arrives.  Once you are all checked in at the airport, you find a quiet spot to sit, and go through your phone.  You know you shouldn’t, but you bet the comments are flying about you right now.  You aren’t wrong.

Earlier that morning up in Toronto, Jensen is boarding the plane for Florida.  He finds his seat, throws his bag up top and sits down with a huff.  He hadn’t had the morning he was expecting to.  

His phone went off early this morning, someone from the show calling to tell him he was needed for an interview at the studio.  Jesse was sick and unable to make it, they were asking him to fill in.  He hurries to get cleaned up and make sure he has everything he needs to fly down for the convention.  

Everyone else is already at the studio, they do a quick hair and makeup fix on him. Karl comes over to see how he’s doing.

“Ready for ya trip?”

“I think so.”

“Ya talked to her since she left?”

“No.  But I don’t know what more she wanted from me. I haven’t figured out if I want to see her or not.  Haven’t talked to Jared either.  That’ll be interesting.”

“Maybe, ya just needed some time apart, and you two can work it out this weekend.”

“If it was space she needed, she wouldn't have broken up with me when she came up here.  We had plenty of space living in two different countries.”

What neither man notices is Claudia hanging around behind them.

When it’s almost time, they have the cast take a seat and the interviewer comes out and sits across from them.  Getting the cue from the studio they start rolling. Everything was going fine until the question about spouses came up and Claudia started talking.  Jensen is too busy trying to figure out how she knows to even speak.  He looks at her out of the corner of his eye before slightly looking at Karl, who is also looking at him.

Once his mind catches up he tries to shut the topic down before anymore can be said.  When the camera moves away from him, he moves Claudia’s hand off his leg.  By the time the interview is over, he can’t stay and question her about it, he has to get to the airport.   He sends Karl a text on the way.

Any idea how she knew that?

Karl and Eric are the only two up here he had talked to about this.  He gets a reply a short time later,

Not a bloody clue.

Once he gets to the airport, he doesn’t have a lot of time before the plane is supposed to take off.  He is hoping since a number of fans will already be busy at the start of the convention day, word of the interview will take awhile to get around.  There is nothing on his phone when he powers it down before takeoff.  Sitting back he spends the flight looking over the final script of the season.

Arriving at the hotel, Mike gives him his room key and Jensen tells him he'll be back down in ten minutes.  That gives him time to find his room, leave his bag, and change out of the airport clothes.

Clif is waiting at the back entrance of the convention center when he is dropped off there. He follows him up to the green room, where Victoria is waiting.

“Jensen, great to see you again. Hope you’re doing well.”

“Fine, thanks. You?”

“Good.  I’m happy to be here.  The suit reveal you posted on Instagram was amazing.  I can’t wait until the show premieres.”

“Thanks. So, what’s first on my schedule?” he asks when she doesn’t tell him.

“Oh, solo pictures in a few minutes, then with Misha.  You have a short break before the VIP M&G, then the regular one.”

“Ok. Do you know where Y/N is?”

“She’s around somewhere.”

He gets through his photo ops, and looks for you on his way to the M&G’s.  He doesn’t see you around anywhere.  It’s about halfway through the main M&G when someone mentions they are sorry to hear about what Y/N did.

He’s slightly confused, “what did she do?”

“How she came up to Toronto to, well you know…”

It suddenly clicks, the interview.  Guess word got around.  “Y/N’s an amazing woman, but unfortunately things didn’t work out.”

“How does this affect you and Jared?”

“If one of us comes on stage tomorrow with a black eye, you’ll know,” he tries to joke.

Finally making it through that half an hour he is escorted back to the green room.  Sam is the only one in the room and she is getting ready to go back to photos.  He grabs a water and sits at one of the tables, pulling out his phone and scrolling through it.  Opening twitter he receives a notification he’s trending, and so are you.  “If we’re both trending, I bet I know what that’s for,” he mumbles.

“Who’s fault is that?” a voice behind him asks.

Taking a deep breath, he readies himself to turn around and face his best friend.  Who also happens to be your older brother.

“Hey Jare.”

“Ackles.  You didn’t answer my question.”

He holds up his hands, “Look man, I never intended for that to come out this morning.  I don’t even know how she knew.”

“You didn’t tell her?  The two of you seemed pretty close.”

“The only two I’ve talked to are Karl and Eric.  I haven’t talked to you, because she’s your sister, so I didn’t know where that put us.”

“That makes two of us.  What happened between you two, Jay?”

“I don’t know.  I don’t know what more she wanted from me.  I thought we were fine.  Then she comes up to Toronto and tells me she can’t do it anymore.  Where did that even come from?”

“She’s been hurting for awhile, but the one person who was supposed to notice it, didn’t have a fucking clue.  In case you were wondering, that was you.”

“Then why didn’t she talk to me about it earlier?”

“Did you two even talk anymore?”

“Of course we did.”

Jared raises his eyebrows and slowly nods.  “Really? All I know is, I’ve heard her cry, both before and after she went to see you.  Gen and I were hoping going up to visit would have made things better, but it didn’t.  I’ve seen the hate she is getting today, she was blindsided in her morning panel because of your interview.”

“Where is she?”

“She’s gone.”

“Back at the hotel?

Jared looks at his watch, “no, she should be landing in Austin in about 30-40 minutes.”

“She left the convention?”

“Yeah.”

In that moment, knowing you were already gone, he had his answer.  He had been hoping to see you.  “Was it because of the interview?”

“No, she had already planned it.

“She didn’t want to see me.”

Jared shrugs, but they both know the answer.

“What about you?” Jensen asks him.

“Your mug is pretty ugly to look at.”  Jensen rolls his eyes before Jared continues.  “She keeps telling me not to let what happens with the two of you interfere with our friendship.  But it’s hard not to be upset with the guy that hurt my sister.  You have no idea how much I would love to take a swing at you right now.”

He nods in understanding, “I guess I could possibly deserve that.  But she isn’t the only one that was hurt here.  She blindsided me with that breakup,” Jensen tells him before he walks over to where Victoria is signaling him from.

The two men go out for their autograph sessions a little quieter than usual.  Clif asks them after what their plans are for the night, but both just opt to go back to the hotel and their respective rooms.  The next morning is a quiet ride with Clif back to the convention hotel.  

The guys are in the green room waiting for the start of the Gold Panel.

“I, uh, talked with Gen last night.  Y/N, got home safe last night.  She was still a bit upset at being caught off guard like that.  I told Gen what you said about the interview.  Not sure Y/N will believe us though.”

“Thanks, man.  Um, how’s Tom?”

“Good.  Keeps us on our toes, for sure.  I can’t imagine how crazy it’ll be with two.  He asked yesterday before I left when he could talk to you again.”

“I miss my buddy.  Wait.  Did you say two?”

“Yeah.”

“Gen’s pregnant?  Congrats buddy.”  Jensen moves to give his friend a hug.

“Thanks.  I thought we talked about this a month ago in Chicago?  Hasn’t Y/N said anything to you?”

Jensen is quiet for a few minutes, he can’t believe he missed this news.  Had the two of you talked about it?  Did Jared already tell him?  

They continue talking before going on stage.  The conversation doesn’t get deep, but they are trying to find their rhythm and work past this sinkhole in their friendship.  They have to make it work on stage very shortly.  It will take some time before things are like they were before, but neither one wants to lose a 10 year friendship.

The gold panel questions aren’t vetted first, so anything goes.  Which of course means there is going to be a question about the breakup eventually.

“Jensen we are so sorry to hear about what happened between you and Y/N, it’s just awful.  How are you holding up?” Someone questions.

He knows he needs to try and nip this before it keeps going.  “Thanks.  I will say this, and then I would appreciate it if there weren’t any more questions on this subject.  I had no intention of that coming out in the interview yesterday.  What’s going on is between Y/N and I.  Long distance can really suck.  You guys wouldn’t want to talk about your relationship troubles in front of hundreds of people.  I would hope you understand that we don’t either right now.”

When their afternoon panel comes around he has to make the same announcement at one point.  Jensen swears during photos and autographs that more fans than usual seem to be trying to flirt with him.

When they are finished for the day, Clif takes them both to the airport.  Their flights aren't too far apart in departure time.  Jensen tells Jared he’ll be back home in two weeks, and they talk about meeting up once he’s back in Texas.  After checking in, they head to their respective terminals.  

Jensen is waiting for his flight, feeling a little disappointed.  It would have hurt, but he would have liked to see you this weekend.  He’s spent a good part of the last 24 hours thinking about what Jared told him.  How you had been hurting for a while.  How had he not realized you weren’t happy any longer?

Thank you for reading!

Chapter 10

Tags

SPNForevers- @winchest09 @flamencodiva @whatareyousearchingfordean @waywardbeanie @deanwanddamons  @emoryhemsworth  @atc74 @sandlee44 @akshi8278  @fantasydevil2002 @writercole @440mxs-wife   @nervousfandom @lunarmoon8 @thoughts-and-funnies @downanddirtydean @katelyn--renee​ @that-one-gay-girl​ @lyarr24 @pineapleavocado @siospins2 @deans-spinster-witch​ ​ @ariesbabe1993​  @graciebear73  @stixnstripesworld​ @spnbaby-67  @treat-winchesterswith-kindness @charmed-asylum​ @winchestergirl2 @jawritter @hobby27 @amyzombie1013  @sexyvixen7 @leigh70 @krazykelly @nancymcl @candy-coated-misery0731 @kmc1989 @supraveng

WIAFA Masterlist

@woodworthti666 @spnfamily-j2 @stoneyggirl2 @creative-writing92 @kaz11283 @deans-baby-momma @let-me-luv-you @senjoritanana @itzabbyxx @djs8891 @tmb510 @perpetualabsurdity @mellyie @fiftyshadesgrl @jessicalynnann @prettyinplaid94

[milkywaydrabbles]

No Place is too Far

It was a long day.

It was a long fucking day.

And Shouta had just gotten home from what felt like the most grueling shift of his life. Why the fuck did all these petty ass criminals have to come out when he was on patrol, huh? He should have known something was up when he woke up late for school. And when the kids were particularly rowdy (why’s it always Midoriya and Bakugo? Sick of it). And when he was called out of the blue to take care of the shift because of some weird freak occurrence. He didn’t actually hear what happened, all he heard was that his night off was taken away and he would rather bash his head in than continue to stay up. Instead he actually didn’t do that, practically shotgunned an energy drink and power napped before the shift.

But now, Friday night was here--Saturday morning?-- and a ripe three o’clock in the morning and he was ready to simply collapse. 

“Sho? You home?” 

Instantly all his ailments and grumpiness cured. God, he forgot you were over. Thank God. 

“Mhm.” He barely had it in him to keep his eyes open, but he smiled at his sunshine nonetheless. 

It’d been a few months now of dating, and honestly it’s been pure bliss. It wasn’t difficult the way he always envisioned it being. The arguments with how late he works, the constant nagging because there’s never time together, even though they would know he’s a hero. Feeling insecure because he wouldn’t show them off, everything. He’d always been weary of everything that would come with the territory of dating. Even more so with ever dating another hero (god forbid it got out to the media). But instead he got the most perfect person he could have ever asked more. 

You.

It was easier than he imagined. You were a civilian, yes, but you had already been a sidekick once in your life. You followed his career, so you already knew what to imagine. And you living the hero's life knew what it was like anyways. You never asked for too much (though you could ask for the world on a gold platter and he’d fight tooth and nail to give it to you).

You shuffled over in your pajamas, which evidently was just his cat shirt and underwear, and wrapped your arms around him. “Welcome home, honey.” Sleep was evident in your voice. Seemed like you just woke up to see him home. His heart swelled.

Shouta gave you a kiss on the forehead, returning the embrace around your waist. “Why aren’t you sleeping, love?” He was soft with you, always, keeping his lips on your forehead as you spoke, “I just happened to wake up at the right time, that’s all.” 

Half the truth.

Truth was you were slightly worried about him. When you got the call that he had to work tonight he already sounded exhausted, and winded, and overall miserable. He told you that if you wanted to postpone the night to tomorrow you could, seeing as he wouldn’t be home until ass in the morning, but you were determined to still get your sleepover. “I’m still coming over, Shouta, you can’t get rid of me anymore I have a key to your place!” you retorted, sounding so sure in yourself with a huff. He chuckled at the memory, giving your forehead another smooch before looking down at you. 

“Lucky me, then.” 

With his second, or third, maybe fourth wind of the night he scooped you up over his shoulder, hanging over like a ragdoll. The only warning you got was his cheshire like smile that he still gives you when he’s feeling wild. “Shouta” you squawked out, pushing your upper body up as best as you could to give him a glare, albeit a bit playful. “Yes?” he kicked off his shoes and gave your ass a light tap before continuing on into his (might as well be yours too) bedroom and deposited you as lightly as he could on the bed. You huffed a laugh, and rolled your eyes before trying to crawl up on your knees. “What has gotten into you? It’s almost three thirty in the morning!” He shrugged, taking off his capture weapon and dumping it on the nightstand on his side of the bed. There wasn’t much of an answer, outside of the smirk he gave you before leaving you to continue to get ready for bed.

Which in this case, was a quick shower and coming out in nothing but a towel hung on his hips. Shouta knew what he was doing, he wasn’t stupid. He just wanted to see you riled up. And it worked. You glanced over from your phone and dropped it onto the bed, swallowing like you had molasses in your mouth and raking your eyes over his form. You’ll literally never get over the fact that you are dating what adonis is described like. You stared for a good minute, forgetting to breathe, before getting snapped back into reality when he spoke. 

“Something you like, honey?” What a little shit.

You recovered as best you could, still just as flustered as the day you met him all those months back in the gymnasium of UA high. “Nope,” you popped the p sound. “Nothin’.” What a liar.

Shouta continued on his little game, coming over to the dresser and promptly dropping the towel at his feet, entire ass on display for you to gawk at. 

He was feeling a bit playful tonight.

Suddenly he felt a smack and a squeeze on his left cheek, and he couldn’t help but laugh. 

“Sho, what’s gotten into you?” You ask again, voice low. You tipped your forehead to his back, other hand raking up and down his spine. “Come to bed, aren’t you tired?” You weren’t sure if you were anymore, to be honest. Aizawa turned around and you tried your damn best not to look down. Now wasn’t the time to objectify your very buff boyfriend. You could do that later. His arms wrapped around your waist, and he dipped low to the crook of your neck, you could feel his breath on you. It gave you goosebumps. 

“I missed you.” He kissed your neck, and you melted in his arms. You cradled his head into your neck, a hand coming to scratch at his wet hair that danced around him. “I missed you too, bubba. Come to bed, okay?” He thought you would just leave it at that, before feeling a hand trace down to his thigh, raking your nails up to his pelvis but never touching his very hard dick. 

Looks like you were feeling playful too. 

Aizawa scooped you into his arms, your legs wrapping around his waist immediately, his shirt bunching to your waist exposing your clothed pussy to his cock. The friction made you both huff out a moan, while he walked over to the bed and laid you down, him grinding on top of you.  “Today was a long day.” He whispered, continuing to grind down on you. “I need you.” His admission made your heart swell, doing your best to grind up to match his movements. 

Suddenly you hitched your leg up higher to his waist and flipped. Shouta blinked, seeing you above him. 

“I know, honey. So let me take care of you.” 

You scooted further down to the bed, face down to his groin. He held his breath as you kissed his thighs, his hips, the beautiful adonis belt and happy trail that led down. He only released it with a groan when you kissed his shaft, up up up until you licked a stripe on over the head. You looked at him with doe eyes, those same eyes that caught him months ago and the same eyes that made him fall in love with you. 

He spoke your name with such fondness, hand petting your hair as you continued to lick. You didn’t respond, simply closed your eyes and bobbed down on his cock. Shouta pushed his head back into the pillow, holding back a moan with a bite of his lip and kept his hand in your hair, pulling slightly. He didn’t want to push you, and did his best to make sure he didn’t. You continued to bob up and down, slowly, wanting to savor him. You were in no rush. If he had the time and energy to want to start something at this hour, you both knew you’d take your time. Whatever wasn’t in your mouth you covered with your hand, pumping in tandem with your sucking. Aizawa couldn’t help but groan, fingers tightening in your hair. 

He wasn’t very vocal in bed, not really, but certain nights he would just let go. And it was absolute music to your ears. You press on, pushing down as far as you could go, nose nuzzled in his pubic hair. With tears in your eyes you pull up for a gasp of hair, barely any time to catch your breath before he pulls you down to him for a desperate kiss. He says your name again, with a raspiness in his voice. “Sho, I’m right here, I’ll always be here.” You whisper against him, pulling down your underwear until you’re able to kick them off. You line yourself up to his cock, only pulling away from his chest when he pushes up on the shirt, removing it fully. “Let me...let me look at you, sweetheart.” He whispers, hands tracing up your stomach to cup your breast, loving the weight in his hands. He squeezes at them, pushing them together and pinching your nipples while you scrunch your face up in pleasure. You hadn’t even sunk down on him yet, and you feel like you could cum just from this. Slowly, painfully slow, you dropped down onto him, tilting your head back with a moan as he let out a shaky exhale. 

You grind down on him, before slowly lifting your hips and pushing back down. You find your pace, still slow and deep, wanting to feel every bit of him inside of you. “Sho, you feel so good, you fill me up so good, honey.” You praise, hands finding purchase on his chest. You had learned early on that the underground hero Eraserhead had a bit of a praise kink, and since then you always made sure to remind him how good he is. “You’re so perfect, Sho, fuck.” You speed up the pace, the sound of skin slapping and quiet moans filling up the air. 

Aizawa could feel his skin crawling from the praise, and he pulled you down again for kisses. This time they were all tongue and teeth, tongue invading your mouth. You moaned against him, letting him take control as his feet planted onto the mattress and he thrusted up into you. Your moans grew louder, as you tried to grind down to match his pace, feeling your orgasm grow quickly. “My love, I’m so close.” He huffed out, pushing you down as he thrusted up. He never let you go, needed to feel you as close to him as possible, as much skin against him. “Me too, me too, please.” You started babbling on, kissing on his chest and neck and anywhere you can get your mouth on. A sob escaped you when he thrusted up on the spot that makes you see stars. “Shouta!” You cried, clenching around him. You were so close you could feel it sparking up your skin like electricity flowing through your veins. He kept going, making sure to continue to hit exactly where you needed it. He wasn’t going to last much longer, and he needed you to get there first. He always needed you to get there first. 

“Let go for me, baby, I want to feel you cum around my cock.” He kissed your cheek, and then he felt you spasm around him. His words were enough to send you over the edge, creaming around his cock that was still pushing in and out of you. You still did your best to grind down on him, you were going to take care of him even through overstimulation. “Sho, honey, please come inside me. Please, I need it, I need you.”

And the same way his words threw you, he felt his peak immediately after. His hips stuttered, pushing deep into you one last time before his cum covered your walls. You stayed attached for a while, whispering sweet nothings to each other and kissing all over each other’s faces. “Shouta, how are you feeling now?” You asked between kisses. He smiled down at you, arms squeezing around your waist tighter. 

“Perfect.”

[horror-music]

Luztoye Week 2024 - Day 2: Weather

Today is a day of many firsts for me:

first fic on Tumblr and AO3

first fic out there in english (not my native language)

first time writing about a classic ship

first time writing for the bob fandom

I wrote it for the weather prompt and got inspired by the song Weather by RotFront.

If you find any grammatical or spelling mistakes, please let me know, I’ll try to fix it :)

Enjoy :)

All we talk about is the weather

Modern AU

Word count: 5,494

Pairing: George Luz x Joe Toye

Summary: It was the first time Joe went out in seven months.

It was the first time Joe saw George in seven months.

Yesterday it was six months ago since he got a text from George.

Today it was seven months since he last saw George.

Tomorrow it would be seven months since everything had changed.

Joe sat in his small apartment, smoking out the window, as the doorbell rang. Already annoyed that he had to get up again, he put his cigarette in the ashtray and muttered to himself when the doorbell rang once more. He got to his crutches and went to open the door.

Bill greeted him and without hesitation pushed himself beside Joe into his apartment. Joe sighed as he closed the door and turned around to his friend.

"Hello to you too."

"Yeah, yeah.“ He waved it off. "Have you thought about Saturday?" Bill plopped down on the sofa and looked at his friend waiting.

Joe rolled his eyes. He had secretly hoped that Bill had forgotten that he had asked him.

"Thought about it." Joe sat back down on his seat by the window to get the last puff of his smoke before it burned out on its own.

Bill turned around on the sofa to look at him and threw his arms up in frustration, "God! Joe! Just spit it out!"

For weeks, Bill had been trying to convince Joe to come to his birthday party on Saturday. They both knew it was unlikely that Joe would come. He hadn't gone out in over half a year.

Bill was the only one of his friends that Joe had seen face to face. For every other one, Joe always had an excuse not to talk to them for too long or see them in any way.

"I'm not coming." He stubbed out his cigarette and held the smoke in his lungs for a few seconds before looking out the window and blowing it into the warm spring air.

Bill's expression changed from annoyed to determined, "You know what? I don't care. You don't have a choice. You're coming! Even if I have to carry you there! No more of your crappy excuses." He pointed at Joe, sounding a little threatening at the end.

It didn't have the effect Bill had hoped for. Joe raised a brow and a half-smile crept across his lips. "You? Carry me?" He huffed. "Best joke in a long time."

"I'm serious. If you're not at my place by eight, I'll send someone to get you!" Bill still pointed at him as he got up from the couch.

Joe opened his mouth to say something, but Bill cut him off with a deadly stare, "Eight! And not a minute later!" With that he left Joe alone again.

He exhaled deeply and leaned back against the wall by the window. Joe was a little envious of Bill, though he wouldn't admit it. His friend walked and talked and was just like nothing had happened. Sure, he had a rough time too, but he got over it a few months ago. Joe, on the other hand, was the insecurity personified. Especially with his prosthetic. He only felt a little safer on his crutches. That's why he rarely left his apartment these days. He didn't want to feel the pitying looks of other people. Maybe there wouldn't be so many looks if he walked with his prosthetic. No one would see it if he wore long pants. But he limped too much with it to get by unnoticed. And after a while, it just hurt.

He lit another cigarette so he could focus on something other than his thoughts. When he was halfway through, his phone vibrated, signaling an incoming message.

Before his brain could make sense of the words on the screen, his heart skipped a beat, hoping that George had texted him.

As soon as his heart started beating faster, it was over and the warm feeling was replaced by a familiar sting.

The text was from Bill.

Who else should it be?

He reminded him that he meant what he said and gave him some unsolicited tips for his prosthetic. Joe didn't reply, he rarely did, but Bill knew that.

If George would be there on Saturday? Joe's thoughts began to wander again. Maybe he would, then he could see him again. Maybe Joe could even talk to him. Only that might make things worse. From the first day George heard that Joe was in the hospital, he made an effort to keep in touch with Joe. He texted him every day. At least for the first few months.

Deep down, Joe knew it was his fault that George had stopped texting him. Joe's replies weren't always much to start a conversation with. Mostly they were short sentences, to the point, without any further context. If it had been the other way around, Joe would have stopped texting much sooner than George.

With the knot that formed in his stomach at the thought of George, he put out his cigarette, closed the window and went over to his couch to watch some TV. He hoped that this distraction would help him more than smoking.

***

The days passed as usual and soon it was Saturday. First thing in the morning, Joe got another friendly, threatening text message from Bill about his deadline at eight p.m. Joe didn't answer.

Throughout the day, his thoughts circled around who would be at the party. If he should really go. If he wanted his friends to see him like this. If he wanted George to see him like this.

As the evening approached, Joe found himself in front of his closet with only a towel wrapped around his waist and his hair still damp from the shower. Minutes passed and he still couldn't decide on an outfit for the evening. He figured it would be best to start with some clean underwear and a sock. After several more minutes without picking out any clothes, he began to get annoyed with himself.

Why was it so hard to find something to wear? It was never difficult for him. He usually wore whatever was on top of the piles of clothes in the closet.

Maybe today was more special for him than he would admit. The chances were high that he would see George again, and every time he thought about an outfit, he thought about what George would say. Only the George in his head wasn't easy to please. If he had thought about the real George, it would have been much easier to decide on an outfit.

After an hour and a half, he was wearing a white T-shirt and his favorite black leather jacket.

This was a new record. That much time for such an ordinary outfit he used to wear more often.

The black pants he wanted to wear with it were on his bed, right next to his prosthetic. He wanted to put them on as late as possible to delay the pain as much as he could.

Joe checked the time on the oven as he walked back into the kitchen. He still had an hour before he had to be at Bill's. Just as he was about to sit back down by the window, his phone rang. He grabbed it from the kitchen counter where he had left it and took it with him, answering the call as he sat down and tried to light his cigarette at the same time.

"What?" Joe mumbled around the cigarette in his mouth. He saw Bill's face on the screen and decided he didn't need a proper greeting.

"You ready?"

"I've still got an hour!"

"Buck will pick you up in thirty minutes."

"Ey! That wasn't the deal! You said I had until eight to show up before you came to get me!" Joe replied loudly, letting his hand with the lighter sink to the windowsill.

"Don't make a fuss, Joe. You don't have to pay for an Uber and you can catch up with him. Just wait at the street in thirty minutes."

Joe exhaled the smoke from his current drag. "Why do you even care that I'm there tonight?"

"Because you're my friend. One of my best friends! And we've been through the same shit, and I don't want to see you shutting down more and more, and eventually not talking to me either. Life goes on, Joe, but you have to give it a chance to prove to you that it can be good,“ Bill's voice was both determined and frustrated.

Joe knew he was right and that he only meant well for him. That it wouldn't do him any good to go on living like this. But it was hard to believe Bill that things would get better.

"I'll be ready," Joe relented after a few moments of silence on both ends.

"Good. See ya."

"Yeah, bye."

They hung up and Joe's mind raced again. But this time he couldn't stop it. He just let the thoughts fly through his head and tried not to hold on to any of them. But it wasn't that easy.

Who would be there?

Would they still want to talk to him?

Would they treat him differently?

Would George still want to talk to him?

Would he treat him differently?

***

With his hands in his pockets, Joe stood in front of his apartment building waiting for Buck's car to show up. Five minutes late, he showed up and apologized for making him wait.

"Relax Buck, it's no big deal," Joe said as he got in the car.

"Good to see you Joe." Buck smiled at him with a pat on the shoulder.

"Good to see you, too." Joe returned the gesture and Buck merged back into traffic.

They had a light conversation about what had happened since they had last seen each other until Buck found a place to park his car. There wasn't a moment when Joe felt that Buck saw him differently or that they couldn't talk anymore. It gave Joe some of his confidence back.

The door to Bill's house was open, maybe because Bill was tired of going to the door every five minutes to let new guests in.

Joe followed Buck inside and looked around as casually as he could. An outsider would have guessed that he was looking for the birthday boy. The assumption wasn't that wrong, but the main reason for him was to see if he could find George.

He didn't find him, but almost everyone else was here. And soon word of his arrival at the party was making the rounds. The first person to come up to him was Babe. With a big smile on his face and a beer for him in his hand, he pulled him into a hug.

"It's so good to see you, buddy!"

"Yeah, you too."

Gene was next and from that point on it seemed as if nothing had changed. There was no accident, no suffering, no hospital, no rehab. Just friends at a party in a good mood, as always.

Joe managed to get to the kitchen between all the good-to-see-you's. He should eat something before he had another beer. Joe was looking at the different kinds of pizza on the table when someone from behind gave him a squeeze on the shoulder.

"I'm really glad you're here." It was Bill.

Joe nodded as he turned around with a slice of pepperoni pizza in his hands.

"Yeah, me too. It's not as bad as I thought."

"Told you! And it gets even better in-" Bill looked at the clock above the door. "In about ten minutes."

Joe's eyebrows met his hairline, waiting for an explanation that didn't come.

"Trust me," was all Bill said before grabbing a slice of pizza.

"Happy birthday, by the way," Joe called out to Bill before he could leave with his food.

Great. Trusting Bill was playing with fire. It could be really good or really, really bad. However, Joe didn't have enough time to think about it now that he heard voices approaching the kitchen.

Malarkey, Skip and Penkala entered the room laughing as he munched on his second slice. As soon as they saw Joe, his peaceful break was over. He hadn't talked to them today, so it was another good-to-see-you and a you-look-good from each of them.

He wasn't angry with them, they hadn't seen each other for a long time either, like everyone else.

Maybe they sensed that he wasn't in much of a mood to tell them about his life the last few months, so they told him about every little prank they'd pulled on the others. In at least every other story, George played a role that made Joe hang on their every word. Right now, it might be possible that George, like Beetlejuice, will appear if you say his name three times in a row.

Joe's focus was distracted when he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. Bill had sent him a rather cryptic message: "Ten minutes are up".

Confused, he shook his head and put the phone back in his pocket when he heard a familiar voice from the living room. It sounded a lot like Dike, their incompetent substitute teacher from college. But that wasn't possible, was it? Bill had to have invited him. That wouldn't happen in a hundred years. As the pieces fell into place in his head, he mumbled an excuse to the trio and headed for the living room.

There he stood, still the same as the last time. Maybe even better looking. His brightly patterned button-up shirt, with the first two buttons undone, matched his extroverted personality, Joe thought to himself as a small smile played around the corner of his lips.

George was surrounded by their laughing friends as he made another impression of one of their teachers. Joe's stomach clenched as he realized how much he missed George's laughter. His silly jokes, his impressions, his voice.

George hadn't noticed him, and Joe wasn't sure he wanted to. He felt like the biggest asshole on the planet for treating George the way he did. For keeping him out of his life when he wanted nothing more than him.

Joe stared, but when George started to walk towards him, his heart stopped, only to race three times as fast as normal afterwards.

"Hey Toye."

That was it. Nothing more. No "Good to see you." No "You look good." Nothing.

He really screwed up.

"Hey, Luz."

What hurt Joe the most was that George wouldn't even look at him properly. The day it all went downhill seeped into his mind as Joe tried to look as neutral as he always did.

It had been a week without a text from George. The days when he texted Joe at least once a day were long gone, but a week without anything was new. Joe told himself that there wasn't a constant stabbing pain where his heart used to be. That everything was fine. George didn't have to write to him.

It hurt him even more when George texted again, but it wasn't "Hey Joe" or "Hey Joey" anymore. It was "Hi Toye." They hadn't called each other by their last names when they were alone in what felt like forever. And it stung. He was too much of a coward to say anything. George called him Toye again, so Joe called him Luz. No big deal, right?

"If you don't talk to him, I'm gonna drown you in the sink!" Bill hissed at Joe, snapping him out of his thoughts.

Joe looked at him and quietly asked what he was talking about, but Bill just shook his head. "Cut the crap! We both know, and I'm sure we're not the only ones."

"It's really scary how much you know about me sometimes." Joe stepped around his friend and walked to the other side of the room. As far away from him and George as possible.

He sat down in the armchair in the corner, the pressure of the prosthetic on his leg immediately easing a bit.

It didn't take long for the next person to show up. Lip sat down on the couch across from him and offered him a beer, which he gladly accepted.

Lip started a conversation with him. At first it worked and Joe could concentrate on him, but as soon as George came into his field of vision, he didn't even realize that the subject had changed and that Lip was trying to convince him to talk to George. At the moment the latter was talking to Skip and Malarkey and their laughter made Joe's heart clench and swell at the same time. How much he wanted to be the reason for George's laughter.

As the evening wore on, Joe drank one beer after another and stared at George from a distance. Every now and then Bill gave his friend a meaningful look. And each time Joe rolled his eyes until he actually wanted to talk to George, but couldn't get him alone.

***

Joe was tired of staring but not being able to talk to George. He downed the rest of his beer and walked over to George, who was talking to Frank and Liebgott. His heart was racing from the second he got up. But he didn't care. Neither that George was in a conversation, nor that his heart seemed to be racing as if his life depended on it.

"Hey, sorry, but I have to kidnap our favorite jokester for a bit." Joe put his arm around George's shoulders and pulled him close before leading the way to the backyard.

On his way to the door, Joe grabbed a jacket from a chair and handed it to George. It wasn't his jacket, but it was still a little cold outside this time of year. He didn't want to see George shivering when he couldn't really put his arms around him to keep him warm.

The fresh air outside sobered Joe and caused him to drop his arm, realizing how stiff George was against him. Lighting a cigarette was the first natural act for both of them once they were out in the open. Neither of them spoke for a while. Normally George would be talking his ear off by now. That he didn't was a sign to Joe of how bad it was.

"It's not as cold as I thought." Joe's sad attempt at a conversation starter.

"Yeah." George took a drag of his cigarette.

"It was really sunny today though, maybe that's why."

George didn't answer.

"I'm glad it's getting warmer."

Again, nothing.

"The winter was colder than last year."

George huffed. "If you just wanna talk about the weather, go talk to someone else."

He was about to turn around and go back inside when Joe put a hand on his shoulder, forcing him to stop.

"What? If you have something to say, say it. I don't have time all night," George snapped at him.

How could he let this happen?

He remembered when they were almost like Bonnie and Clyde. When George knew exactly what to do or say to make him smile or calm him down. When Joe knew exactly what the other ate every morning and how many cups of coffee he needed after a night of drinking.

A time when they were so close that they even acted like a couple. Only without the romance, the touching and the open affection.

George made him do things he would never have done without him or with anyone else. And now it all seemed so long ago.

The plans he had before the accident.

Everything he had wanted to do with him or say to him had receded into unattainable distance.

When George came to the conclusion that he wouldn't get an answer, he sighed and turned around.

"I'm sorry, George," Joe let out, too fast and too blurred by the alcohol in his veins.

But George stopped in his tracks. "Yeah? And you know why?"

George knew it was easier just to say sorry than to say why. And Joe knew that George knew.

"Everything I did... or more, everything I didn't do.“

The smaller one still didn't speak, but he watched Joe, his brown eyes focused on him. Joe ran a hand through his hair as he sighed and looked down.

"I am sorry that I made it so difficult for you to keep in touch with me. I'm sorry that I never let you visit me. I'm sorry I tried to keep you out of my life. And I'm sorry it worked."

George's expression softened. "Do you really mean that?"

Joe nodded so fast he was afraid he might get whiplash.

"Then why did you do it? I just wanted to be there for you." His soft features turned to sad ones.

It occurred to Joe how unwanted he must have made George feel. His gaze focused on the tree somewhere behind George, at the end of the property. The pain in George's eyes was too much to bear.

It took Joe a minute and a few deep breaths before he replied, "I just... I... Goddammit." He couldn't form a proper sentence in his head, let alone say it out loud.

To collect himself, he wanted to take another puff on his cigarette, only to realize that he had already smoked it down to the filter. Frustrated, he flicks the cigarette butt away.

Even before Joe reached for his pack of cigarettes again, George silently offered him one of his own. Joe took it and placed it between his lips for George to light. The warm light from the lighter cast shadows across George's features. There was a kind of mystery about him that made him even more attractive in Joe's eyes.

"I was afraid that you wouldn't like me when you saw me. Especially when I was in the hospital. And I didn't want your pity either."

He paused, taking a deep drag of his cigarette.

"I was afraid that the accident and my condition afterwards would destroy everything we'd built up. Now I know it was me. I was selfish and afraid of the pain, that you wouldn't want anything more to do with me. I never gave you a chance. I'm sorry."

His eyes met those of the smaller one once more, and he tried to put everything into that look that he was not able to express in words.

For a brief second, George's gaze flickered from his eyes to his lips and back. Yet neither of them did anything.

George blew out smoke as he spoke, "You know I'm your friend because I like you and not your leg, right?"

"Wha... What?" Joe was clearly confused. He poured his heart out to him and between everything George could have said, he decided to make some kind of a bad joke.

"Just because your body is changing in some way doesn't mean I like you any less than before. As long as you are happy and you are yourself, I will not look at you any differently than before." He stubbed out his cigarette butt on the floor and looked at Joe with a slight smile on his lips.

"But promise me one thing, okay?" George locked eyes with Joe again.

"Sure. Anything."

"Next time, just talk to me. If your head starts acting up again and you're thinking about things too much for your own good, especially if it has to do with me, then just talk to me. Deal?"

Joe swallowed hard. He didn't want to start this whole thing over with a lie.

"Deal."

„Great." George smiled again and pointed towards the house. "Wanna go back inside or talk about the weather a little more?"

Joe chuckled briefly. "We can go back inside in a moment. But because of our new deal, there's one thing I need to say."

George focused on Joe again and nodded. "I'm all ears."

Joe took the last puff of his cigarette before throwing it on the ground and putting it out. "I thought about asking you out a few weeks before the accident, and I regret that I didn't. My mind was just too busy thinking of all the ways you could turn me down."

George's mouth hung open slightly as he stared at his friend.

"Ground Control to George. Are you in there?" Joe tried to joke and waved his hand in front of George's face.

"Stop that.“ George caught his wrist in mid-air and stopped him from moving. He cleared his throat as he lowered their hands. "Um... Would you mind rephrasing that into a question?"

It was dark out here, but Joe would bet that George's cheeks were turning slightly red.

Joe hesitated for a moment before nodding. "Would you like to go out on a date with me? Sometime?"

George let go of his wrist and Joe thought he would just laugh at him and walk away. That he had officially ended their relationship before it had begun.

George didn't laugh at him and didn't walk away either. He took his hand in his and looked back up at him. George's hand fit perfectly in his own and the feeling of skin against skin made his heart beat faster.

"I would love to."

Joe didn't even realize he was holding his breath until now, when he let it out in relief and smiled.

"Is there more in your head that you think about too much?" George asked him with a calming smile.

The other shook his head negatively. "Nothing that matters right now."

"Alright. Back inside then?"

Joe didn't answer, he just turned and started walking. George's hand was still in his.

As soon as they stepped over the threshold, Bill and Babe were waiting for them, a curious look on their faces.

"What were you talking about out there?" Bill asked straight out.

"The weather.“ George shrugged.

"That long?" Babe chimed in.

"Yeah, it's a beautiful night, isn't it, Joe?" George glanced to his side where latter stood, nodding in confirmation.

***

A few hours later, they were sitting side by side on the couch, shoulders lightly touching. Joe's eyes flickered over the wall of photos and stopped on one in particular. It was a picture of him and Bill, both of them on their new motorcycles. It had been a hell of a day, in the best possible way. They cruised around town until the sun went down.

It was the first time Joe had ever felt both free and at peace. And as he developed feelings for George, he knew he wanted to share those feelings with him.

"I always wanted to take you on a tour with me, you know? Just ride until our asses hurt and we have to ride back standing up," Joe mumbled in George's vague direction, but didn't take his eyes off the photo.

He almost thought George hadn't heard him, but then he felt a hand on his, squeezing it tightly.

The simple gesture was enough to encourage him to continue. "I wanted to feel your arms around me, your chest against my back, and just your weight with me on the bike. I hoped that you would feel the same sense of freedom and peace that I felt."

Another firm squeeze of his hand and George replied, "Your bike is still in Bill's garage, isn't it?"

"I think so. Why?" Joe looked confused and turned his head fully towards George.

"Then at least you could feel my arms around you and my chest against your back." George smiled at him.

Joe didn't move, his brain still processing what George was about to say. The alcohol in his system made it difficult for him to think at a normal speed. George stood up, dragging Joe with him, and headed for the garage.

"You goin' talk about the weather again?" Bill yelled laughing as he watched them walk out of the room hand in hand.

"Yeah! I haven't had a chance to check the weather in your garage yet," George replied with a grin over his shoulder, pulling Joe closer to his side.

Bill raised his eyebrows and pointed at them. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

The room brightened as George turned on the light switch.

There they were.

Both motorcycles, both still messed up.

But better than right after the drunk truck driver hit him and Bill.

Joe and Bill tried to fix them. It worked to the point where they could park them without fearing they would fall over any minute, but riding would never be possible again. At least with them.

George walked over to his bike and made a gentlemanly gesture for him to get on first. At that moment, Joe realized what George was up to. He grinned at George, but walked over and swung his prosthetic leg over the bike.

Joe had sat on his bike a few times since he had been out of the hospital. It didn't feel like it used to, but there was still a hint of the feeling he used to chase when he rode.

Everything that followed was like automatic. After shifting around a bit to find a comfortable position, he pulled the bike upright and folded the kickstand with his left foot.

He gave George a hand to sit behind him and when he was done finding a comfortable position for himself, Joe let go of the handles and leaned back until his back met George's chest. George leaned forward a little to keep from falling backwards off the bike and wrapped his arms around Joe's waist. He rested his chin on Joe's shoulder, who immediately responded by gently pressing his head against George's. After a few more seconds, Joe placed his hands over George's and drew little circles on them with his thumb.

Joe felt George's heartbeat through all the layers of fabric between them and his hot cheek against his head. He was sure that George could feel his heartbeat, too. It all felt like he had been missing it all his life, and now that he had it, his heart wanted to burst through his chest with happiness.

"And? Is it how you imagined it?" George whispered next to his ear. His breath tickled Joe and made him chuckle. "Not quite, but almost."

Silence returned.

"Thank you."

***

It was late, almost morning again, and Joe was standing by the side of the road with George, waiting for their Uber to arrive.

Since George didn't turn down his date request, Joe got a little bolder and, between two tequila shots, asked him if he wanted to spend the night at his place. George, already quite drunk, giggled and said yes, as if he were one of those clichéd high school girls who just got a smile from the handsome football quarterback.

If Joe had told him, George might have said it wasn't that far off.

But Joe didn't care. He said yes, and that was all that mattered.

"You know what?" George slurred, resting his head on Joe's shoulder.

"What?" Joe had to concentrate himself to get the word out clearly.

"We talked a lot about the weather today."

"That was just once, George."

"Uh-uh. We talked a lot about the weather."

"How drunk are you?" Joe tried to make George look up to meet his eyes, but he failed. He didn't move an inch.

A few seconds of silence passed, during which Joe thought George had fallen asleep.

"I'm not that drunk."

Joe just raised an eyebrow at him as George lifted his head from his shoulder to meet his gaze.

"We talked a lot about the weather in your head. All the dark clouds and rain and just bad weather up there," he poked Joe's forehead gently as he spoke.

"I didn't know you were a poetic drunk, Georgie." a smile played around the corner of Joe's lips.

"I'm always poetic!" George stuck out his chest to emphasize his point.

"Yeah, sure." Joe chuckled and ruffled the smaller man's hair.

He let his hand slip down the back of his head to rest on George's neck. The playfully arrogant expression on George's face softened as he noticed the other's lingering gaze. Joe's heart began to beat faster and he suddenly felt far too warm for a night in late April.

Without realizing it, he pulled George closer, his breath shallow. George leaned in as well, his gaze flickering from Joe's eyes to his lips and back again. George's warm breath brushed over his lips and for a brief moment he could feel George's soft lips on his own, even without touching them.

A car honked beside them and they jerked apart. The feeling of George's lips on his own was nothing more than a fantasy. At least for now.

[songbirdstew]

Well, Tom Petty, it turns out I DO have to live like a refugee.

We are back in evacuation mode. I guess a three and a half year break isn't bad.

Saturday, we woke up to half an inch of ice coating every possible surface.

Our power went out at 3 that afternoon.

Sunday, we woke up to an inch thick layer of ice coating every possible surface.

None of this is snow. It is all ice.

The outside temperature ranged from 23 to 27*F. By Tuesday, the inside temperature had dropped to 39, our power bank was drained, and our devices were near dead. Our immediate plan was to head to the Parks center, or if that didn't work, to City Hall (where our library is), both usually sound options for getting a cup of coffee and charging up. We would make contact with the outside world, check the weather forecast, make a plan, then head back home to grab essentials. But C's sister happened to text me right as I was gathering everything up, so we headed for her place instead.

The path from here to there was NOT GREAT BOB.

The roads were all coated in ice, still. Even in the middle of town, on the main thoroughfares, on the Priority 1 deicing routes. All along the route, there are power lines down, power poles down and broken, transformers exploded, trees down, trees snapped in half, trees sliced down the middle vertically. There are power lines dangling over the road, lying in the road, draped across people's driveways and over their front doors so they can't get out. Half the traffic lights were out.

So as soon as we got here, we decided to stay put for the night. The cats were loaded on food and water, and the house was safe and sound.

We quickly learned the entire East half of our town (where the Parks center is) and most of mid town and downtown (where the library is) were totally without power, plus the Parks center's parking lot was blocked by downed trees, so it was just as well we ended up skipping our initial idea and just came straight to Emma and Zev's.

Today, C&I went back to get things we'll need while we're here (we brought NOTHING with us yesterday). The temperature finally rose, so most of the ice had melted. Most of the traffic lights were back on.

But everything else is still the same, if not worse. Once the ice melted, everything that had been hanging by a frozen thread just crashed. Large parts of town are under orders to boil all of their water (remember, they don't have power). When we got home, we found a tree branch had completely shattered the rear window of C's car while we were gone. A huge hunk of ice fell out of the same tree and put a brand new dent in my fender while we were there. It was still only 37* at our house, even though it was up to 47 less than a mile away. The fuck?

The kitties were okay. Charlie seemed perfectly fine (like, What? You were gone?), and Glitch was well, but very, very sad. She HATES being alone (she doesn't even like being alone in a room when people are home). She HATES it when I'm not there. She could tell we were leaving again right away, and she was so unhappy. I set up her favorite blankets for her on the couch and on the bed. We gave them food and water for a few days, plus wet food with calming drops mixed in. We freshened their boxes, and we closed them in their separate spaces so that Charlie won't be bullying Glitch & stealing her food the whole time.

Curtis plans to go back out to the house on his own tomorrow, largely to further inspect his car and take more pictures for the insurance company. School is cancelled for the week. So far I have not had to go in to work, but tomorrow and Friday remain to be seen. My boss will let me know sometime in the morning whether she expects me to work or not, and then Curtis and I will decide if we think it's safe enough to get me there and back. We haven't been to that part of town, so we don't know how bad the tree damage etc might be. If it's anything like the rest of the city, I know I won't feel comfortable navigating that in the dark.

For now, we are good, and warm, and safe, with people we love. Emma and Zev are such good influences on Royal, that Royal actually ate something green today (enchilada sauce).

Please snuggle your kitties for me and kiss their stupid little heads, okay?

[gennyanydots]

Show me the way home, honey Ch. 10

Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x f!reader soulmate!au

AN: I have an obsession with Loungeflys and Disneyland and it’s going to show.

It had been a month and a half since you started talking to Bradley on the phone. You talk every day that you can. Some days it doesn’t work out due to his work but you understand and you’re happy to hear from him every time. In between calls there’s always texting going on between the two of you. Each phone call and text brought you closer and closer. The both of you falling deeper and deeper even though you had yet to meet. That was actually happening tomorrow and like every single one of your friends expected, you are freaking the fuck out. You can’t help it! The good news is you haven’t thrown up so clearly you’re off to a good start.

Your best friend decided she was coming with you. It was only going to be for a long weekend. You leave tomorrow ,Saturday, morning getting in late morning and fly back Monday afternoon getting in, in the evening. You figured since your work was closed Monday and both you and Bradley have been trying to figure out how to see each other, that this weekend was the perfect time to meet. It was much harder for him to fly to you than it is for you to fly to him. He has a spare room at his house that he said you and your best friend can sleep in. You’re kind of hoping you don’t sleep in there at all if you’re being honest. You’d much rather sleep with him. He had said you could star fish on the bed with him already so you might as well hold him to that, unless he went out and changed his bed to two twin size beds in which case you’d still rather sleep in the same room as him. You’re pretty sure you won’t want to be apart from him even to sleep.

Packing was not going well. Your bedroom was a mess. Every piece of clothing you own has been touched at least once by you as you decided whether it was good enough to come with you on the trip or not. You have half a mind to run to Target and buy all new clothes. You lay down in the middle of your room and take a break from packing to scroll on your phone.

It’s how your best friend found you not yet bright and early the next morning, passed out surrounded by clothes. Her laughter is what woke you up.

“You ready to go?” She asks.

You whine, “No. How much time do I have?”

“Enough time to shower and get ready to meet the love of your life while I pack for you,” she says throwing a shirt at you.

“Why are you the bestest friend in the whole world?” You ask sitting up.

“Because I am. Go!” She orders as she unzips your suitcase to start packing.

An hour later your clothes have been cleaned up and your bag packed. You were ready to go in your comfy but cute outfit for the plane. Didn’t want to be uncomfortable for your plane ride at the crack of dawn. The sun still wasn’t even up yet.

Your best friend’s dad dropped you both off at the airport with a hug and a forehead kiss for each of you as you both promised to keep him updated especially when you land.

You both quickly get your tickets then go through security ,not many people flying before the suns up, and grab a snack to sit down at your gate.

“Are you nervous?” Your best friend asks you.

“Yes and no. It almost feels like I’m going home? I’m sure that doesn’t make any sense but Brad Brad gives me a feeling of home. Like I’m supposed to be with him,” you explain.

“That’s fair. He is your soulmate after all,” she says with a smile.

You smile back then frown slightly, “I am nervous about the plane ride though.”

“Ironic that you aren’t the biggest fan of flying and your soulmate is an aviator,” she says with a laugh.

“Okay but it’s your fault! You made me watch Final Destination!” You huff, “And Snakes on a Plane!”

She starts laughing and says, “I have had it with these mother fucking snakes on this mother fucking plane!”

A couple people around you look over at her and she grins and waves. You roll your eyes and sink down into your chair.

They start to call boarding groups and you quickly text Bradley that’s you’re boarding even though since it’s a Saturday you know he won’t be up for a while. He doesn’t have to be. You’re about to be on the plane for a full five hours so he still has some time. To your surprise he texts back that he can’t wait to see you and your insides melt a little.

As your group is called you take a deep breath and grab your best friend’s hand and you both walk up and the stewardess scans both of your phones. You head onto the plan and sit down next to each other planning on trying to sleep a little bit the next couple of hours. You stayed up a little too late last night googling what it feels like when you meet your soulmate. Of course there were lots of articles on it. A few you read said it’s like a warm sensation almost like getting wrapped up in a warm blanket right out of the dryer. Some others said it was like they just knew, just being near that person made them feel whole. You wonder what you’ll feel. Right now you feel nervous and giddy and anxious and excited and calm somehow all at the same time.

The plane ride itself goes pretty quickly which surprises you. You napped a little bit mostly due to being over tired. You watched a movie on your iPad with your best friend who fell asleep in the middle of it. It was one you had both seen before but it was a comfort movie. Something you knew would help ground you before one of the biggest moments of your life. You played a couple games on your phone and before you knew it you were in sunny San Diego.

When you touch down you quickly shoot Bradley a text then wake your best friend up who looks around confused. “We’re here,” you tell her and she nods sitting up and stretching. It’s another half an hour before you’re able to get off the plane. By now your stomach is doing flips and you’re praying you don’t throw up. The online articles you read said nothing about throwing up and that would be a terrible first impression.

Your friend looks over at you noticing your distress and pulls you into the waiting area outside the gate you arrived at. She makes you sit down and shoves a water bottle into your hands, “Drink it.”

You nod and drink. You drink the entire thing. You sit up a bit straighter and she takes back the bottle as you shake your hands out a bit, “I’m nervous.”

“I can see that.”

“What if he doesn’t like me?”

“Then I kick his ass.”

“Be serious!”

“I am!”

“You can’t kick his ass.”

“Baby, I can kill him and nobody will find his body. I can surely kick his ass. Or maybe get Natasha to kick his ass. Plus let’s be real if I attempt to kick his ass I don’t think he’s going to try and hit me. He’s like a trained weapon and I sometimes go to the gym and walk on the treadmill. If he hits me back then he’s getting hit with an assault charge,” she says with a shrug.

“Could you not press charges against my soulmate?” You ask.

“I won’t have to as long as he loves you, which I have no doubt in my mind that he will. He’ll never love you as much as I do but he can try,” she says with a wink and pulls you in for a hug and gently rubs your back, “It’s going to be okay. I would never let anything happen to you. Plus pretty sure like biologically or however this shit works he has to love you. His body is hardwired to love you.”

You sigh and hold her tightly, “I know. I’m just… I dont know.”

“It’s normal to be nervous but I think you have a chicken waiting on you,” she says pulling away.

“A Rooster.”

“That’s what I said,” she says with a wink and stands up holding out her hand, “Let’s go pretty girl. Time to meet your man.”

You smile and grab her hand. She pulls you up and you walk through the airport hand in hand.

“Do you think we can convince the aviators to take us to Disneyland?” Your best friend asks seeing a sign for Disneyland.

“I don’t know. We didn’t bring our Disney things,” you say with a shrug.

“Oh my sweet summer child, you think I didn’t pack a potential Disneyland outfit for you?” She says giving you a look.

“Well now I’m thinking you did obviously,” you say laughing.

“Why would we go all the way to California and not go to Disneyland? Don’t be dumb.”

“Did you talk to Natasha about going to Disneyland?” You ask.

“Don’t ask stupid questions. You’re smarter than that,” she says sticking the tip of her tongue out at you.

You shake your head laughing, “I don’t have any of my backpacks.”

“Well good news. I checked and Disneyland actually sells Loungeflys so looks like you can get a new one. Plus let’s be real. Spend five minutes with Brad Brad and I bet he’ll be wanting to spoil you,” she says with a chuckle.

“But $90 backpack spoil me?”

“Have you seen your puppy dog eyes? Because I have and it has taken me years to be able to confidently tell you no,” she says.

“That’s not true at all,” you say with a laugh.

“Yeah but we can pretend.”

“I guess,” you say and shrug your shoulders. You feel vibration in your back pocket and quickly pull out your phone and see a text from Brad Brad and you show your best friend, “Brad Brad and Phoenix are waiting for us at baggage claim.” You let go of her hand and text back that you’ll be there soon.

She links your arms back together, “Well then we better get to stepping.”

The two of you follow the signs to baggage claim. Once you get there you both see some familiar faces and gasp.