#well anyways gotta go clean and prepare everything for tomorrow

[xxlelaxx]

My daughter is in a screaming phase. She just spends the whole day shrieking and screaming and I have had the most terrible headache. The last night's she cried for a Minimum of two hours because of the teeth and today everything was fine. I did everything I could and it was fine. We fell asleep. I wake up 45 minutes later to her screaming again and I just can't take it anymore. I've had too little sleep and I've been around her for the last 3 days... Even when I was interacting with her she was still in the same room screeching. My husband complained after two hours and honestly next time he does I'm gonna tell him to shut up about it. I haven't stopped crying for an hour cause now I can't sleep again cause I'm so agitated. I hate mother hormones. I hate not being allowed to sleep. I hate headaches. I don't want to get up and finish all the chores.

[papercorgiworld]

Christmas saviours

Blaise, Draco, Enzo, Theo and Mattheo

A bit of an angsty beginning because of some Christmas loneliness, but you need not worry our most handsome Slytherins will save Christmas Eve with fluff and kisses.

Warning: only kisses and maybe some suggestiveness

Not proofread, feedback always welcome.

I planned on finishing another fic, but ended up writing Christmas fluff. I hope you enjoy it! I wish you all a wonderful Christmas and for those who don’t celebrate Christmas, I wish you a most wonderful day.

Christmas, you loved it! Every year you celebrated with your family and created some lovely memories. Although you knew this year would be different, you were confident that also this year you would manage to create wonderful memories.

You had only recently moved to the UK and this was your first year at Hogwarts. You were definitely the odd one out. Everyone in your year already knew each other for years and then there was you: new and permanently lost in the castle. You had made some friends, but also weren’t gonna win any popularity contests any time soon.

The news that your parents had to work this Christmas made your stomach turn and your heart physically hurt. However, you were already in the Christmas spirit so you were hopeful that you could still figure something out. You consoled your parents by telling them that it would be good to spend Christmas at Hogwarts to make friends.

And that was the plan. You invited everyone you had ever talked to at Hogwarts and also everyone from your year. And you learned a lot, like some people really need to learn how to say no in a polite way and most people go home for Christmas. Now Christmas eve was only a day away, two people had confirmed they were coming and there were two people left on your list who hadn’t responded. Possibly four people would show up, worst case scenario two.

Being hopeful and in full Christmas spirit you did your shopping, preparing everything for an unforgettable Christmas eve. On your way from Hogsmeade one of your invitees came running towards you. “Hey (y/n), so glad to catch.” You smiled brightly. “Here to help me with the groceries?” Your friend smiled. “Uhm, no, but I’ll help.” You’re pleased you can let go of some of the heavy bags. “I was actually looking for you, because I got great news, my parents made it back in time after all. So, me and my brother are leaving in half an hour. I'm really sorry we gotta miss out on your Christmas dinner.” Your smile fades, but you immediately force a fake one onto your lips.

Walking into the room of requirement you finally fall apart. You watch as Hogwarts conjures the most picturesque Christmas scene you’ve ever seen. Tears softly make their way down your cheeks, but you don’t sob, you try to ignore your misery. With shaky hands you put everything you bought in its designated spot. When you kneel down to set the four small Christmas gifts you bought under the tree you finally admit to yourself that you’ll be spending tomorrow evening alone, unwrapping your own gifts. After your moment of self pity you make your way down to your dorm.

The next morning you decide that there is still hope! Though the chances are slim, there’s still a chance one of the two who haven’t responded yet will show up or maybe both. You try and find them throughout the day, but fail. Around 5 you start dressing up. Around 6 you light the candles for your grand Christmas eve party.

Your heart twists and turns as it's hurting terribly, like it would rather stop beating than suffer another minute of agonizing loneliness. You stuff your face with delicious snacks. “What was I thinking? Like someone was gonna show up. I watched too many mushy Christmas movies. Christmas is overrated anyway! I’m turning into the grinch! Uh, I’m talking to myself! I’m going insane, might as well steal everyone’s Christmas next year.” You stop ranting and grab a plate, ready to start cleaning up and go to bed at 7.

Blaise

Suddenly the door opens and you stare in disbelief as Blaise Zabini walks in. “I was in the neighborhood, though I would stop by.” Like a deer caught in headlights you stand still. “Early? Aren’t I?” He looks around the empty room and continues. “If you want I can help you prepare.” You look down at your feet wondering what to say. “You look absolutely stunning, by the way.” “Thanks.” You put down the plate you were holding and manage to gather enough courage to be honest. “Everything is ready. And you’re not early. No one showed up.”

Blaise seems shocked by the news and makes his way around the table to you. “What? That’s horrible. All your effort.” His hands rest on your arms, giving you comfort. “I’ll live.” You say playing it down, but your glassy eyes betray you. “But why are you here? I expected everyone to be at their respective parties.” Blaise’s lips formed a line and you could see he was in deep thought for a second. “I am.” You looked confused at the Slytherin in front of you. “I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.” You frowned and smiled at the same time. Happy with the news but not quite sure what to think about it.

“So… what’s for dinner?” You wanna question everything he’s doing, but his excitement distracts you and you start telling him about all that you had prepared. You two have a lovely dinner together. Blaise is his most charming self as he wants nothing more than to make you forget that no one else showed up. To any outsider it would look as if you two had planned to spend Christmas together. But you kept wondering why he was here. You had to ask. “Why were you in the neighborhood?” A lot of stutters escaped a normally always easy talker, which made you question whether he was in the neighborhood at all. “There was no reason for you to be here, was there?” Realizing it was pointless to come up with excuses, he confessed. “I know I told you I wasn’t coming to your party but I have a little something and that’s why I stopped by.”

You found his choice of words odd. “A little something? Like a gift?” Blaise thought for a moment. “No, not really. Stand up for me will ya?” He got up and you did the same as he requested. He signaled you to come closer and when you still stood too far away he gently tugged your hand until your chest almost met his. He smiled a little goofy and only after a moment did you realize he was nervous. Blaise reached for something in the inner pocket of his jacket. You watch him carefully pull out a branch of mistletoe. He held in between the two of you. “I brought mistletoe.” You laughed as he stated the obvious. “Isn’t it supposed to be above the person you wish to kiss?” He nodded and reached for his wand.

Casting Levioso made the branch float above the both of you. Blaise reached for both your hands and you in return took a step closer. You were now pressed against one another. “Merry Christmas, (y/n).” He leaned in. “Merry Christmas, Blaise.” You whispered against his lips before kissing him.

Draco

The door slams open and you’re shocked to see Draco Malfoy of all people. Is he lost? He looks around smugly, one hand in his pocket and a smirk on his face. “Quiet the party, new girl.” Gesturing towards the empty room. “Trust me the atmosfeer was great until you came in.” You immediately snapped back. He simply huffed and walked towards the table examining all the different dishes. “So where are you guests?” He asked sincerely but without looking up from the food. “I guess everyone had other parties to attend. Understandable.” Your voice was so soft and defeated it made Draco look up at you worried that you might start crying any moment.

He wasn’t really good at situations like these so he quickly made his way over to the drinks. “May I?” He asked politely, gesturing to a bottle of champagne. You nodded. “But it’s probably too cheap for your taste.” Draco gave the bottle one look, shrugged, and opened it anyway. “I’ve already had expensive champagne and cheap company today. Got bored. So I decided to come here for cheap champagne and better people.” You take the glass he offers you. “I’m sorry, it’s a ‘cheap champagne and no people’ kinda party.” He takes a rather large swing from the glass and looks at you with a softness you’ve never seen before. “I’ll take you and your cheap champagne over my family’s horrible Christmas party anytime. So, will you have me as your guest?” You nod with glittering eyes. You quickly explain all the different options your table offers.

He tastes everything and overflows you with compliments. His table manners are exquisite and he even teaches you some little details of fancy dining. But most of all you spent your time laughing at all the ridiculous parties his family organizes. It helps him vent and your laugh makes him heal, like it’s all alright now that you agree it’s just as absurd as he thinks it is. After you’ve finished dining you turn to the tree and the gifts underneath. “If you still have time I’ve got four gifts under the tree. It’s just little trinkets, but to leave them unopened just feels horrible.” The Slytherin stares at you with wide eyes as you make your way to the tree to pick up one of the gifts. When you turn around with a gift in your hands he gets up from his seat in a hurry. “I can’t stay.” Is all he says as he picks up his scarf.

“Just one gift.” Your voice is almost a whisper and Draco closes his eyes for a moment. “It’s just, I have nothing for you. I come barging in, eating all the food and now gifts, while I have nothing to give-“ “You showed up! You saved my Christmas. You’re like my hero.” Draco feels like he’s going to burst with emotion at your words. He… a hero, it made him feel like a whole different person. “Truth is, (y/n) you saved me and not just my Christmas, all of me.” Only now you realize how close together you are with only the gift between you two. He looks so fragile and that’s probably why you suddenly felt the courage and need to go in for a soft kiss. He was shocked for a moment with eyes wide, but surrendered to your warmth and kissed back, his hand reaching for the back of your head to deepen the kiss.

“Will you now open a gift?” You ask again when you break the kiss. He smiles sheepishly. “Yes, anything for my princess.”

Enzo

“I’m here!” You stare at energetic Berkshire as he comes through the door announcing his presence. “Might have nicked something fancy that might just save your Christmas.” He holds a bottle of expensive firewhisky up. “What are you doing here?” You asked, confused by his presence and enthusiasm. His smile softens and he puts the bottle down on the table. “I had a suspicion that the new girl’s Christmas party wasn’t going to be a great success.” You felt horrible hearing him say the obvious. He walked around the table towards you.

“I’m here to keep you company.” You huff at his offer. “I don’t need your pity. I’m sure you have plenty of other places to be.” Enzo grabs your hand as you try to turn away from him in an attempt to hide your misery. “You need my pity, this is a pitiful party.” You try to force your hand out of his grip but he has a surprisingly tight hold of you and you end up closer to him. “And also, there’s nothing for me at the other parties, because the cute new girl isn’t there.”

You look in his gentle eyes wondering if he really means it. “You want to spend Christmas eve with me?” You ask, almost afraid of the answer. He nods and an adorable smile tugs at your lips as you no longer can contain your happiness. During dinner Enzo catches you up on all the latest gossip. But after a while you get worried if people gossip this much at Hogwarts then for sure they will talk about your lame party. It’s this concern that leads you to ask for a favor. “Uhm. Enzo, about my party… could you not tell anybody. Like I can just say that I canceled it. I mean.. I really don’t want people figuring out about my lame Christmas party.”

“Can’t.” You stare at him as he swallows a bite of his desert. “If your party didn’t happen then where was I. I can’t have people thinking I was alone.” “But telling people you were at the new girl’s lame party won’t do your reputation any good either.” Enzo shakes his head and gets up from his seat opposite of you to take a seat next to you. “Darling, this is not a lame party. It’s a lovely party. We’ve got amazing decorations, delicious food, firewhisky, gifts under the tree and each other. Are you not happy?” You turn to him, feeling a bit embarrassed that you were so caught up with what people would think rather than when you think. “Of course, I was being stupid. This is a lovely Christmas, thank you Enzo.”

His smile turns cheeky. “Yeah, I kind of saved your Christmas eve. Didn’t I?” You nod and give him a kiss on the cheek. “Yes, yes you definitely saved my evening.” Enzo licks his lips in a mischievous way. “A kiss on the cheek?! That's all a guy gets for saving Christmas?” You laugh at his dramatics. You fake a scoff and get up from your seat. “Enzo, have you no shame.” Suddenly he grabs you pulling you into his lap, a giggle escaping your lips. “No.” He states and wiggles his eyebrows. “Fine.” You kiss him softly and bite his lip softly while purposely pressing your chest against his, giving him more than he bargained for. The kiss deepens and his hand slips to your thighs resting there and gently squeezing. “I definitely know some guys who’re going to be jealous when they hear about this party.” “Shut up, Enzo.” You say playfully before kissing him again.

Theo

Theodore Nott? Unbelievable? To avoid any snarky comments you decide to diss yourself before he gets the chance. “Welcome to the most boring Christmas party ever.” Theodore simply snorts at your fake enthusiasm. “Pretty sure, I just came from the world’s most boring Christmas party.” You huff. “Wow, I suck even in organising lame parties.” Theo looks around. “Pretty sure this doesn’t qualify as a party.” You narrow your eyes, how does he manage to always have the last word.

“What are you doing here, Nott?” You ask as your frustration with Theo beats the sadness over your party. “If I remember correctly you said my Christmas enthusiasm was as overrated as my academic skills.” Theodore can’t help but roll his eyes. women and their need to remember every stupid thing he says. “Sounds like me, probably was me. But clearly I’m desperate… so, do you take in strays?” Your attitude disappears as you look at him, he was in his way sincerely asking if he could stay.

“Of course. You’re very welcome.” Your voice comes out with a little more doubt than planned, but Theo takes your welcome anyway. You both sit opposite of one another. “You must be really desperate if you came to my party?” You ask softly, no snarkiness in your tone. “You must be really desperate for a guest if you let me in, after all I’ve not been my kindest self around you.” You look at the food on your plate. “I’m really desperate, since obviously no one bothered to show up aside from you. But also I can see the humor in most of the insults you throw at me.” A warm smile appears on the slytherin’s face, feeling understood and a little less bad.

For the most part your evening is filled with humorous insults and snarky comments, but as time passes your rivalry ebbs away. The conversations get more serious and Theo almost exclusively has words of endearment for you. His softness envelopes you and your Christmas joy finds its way to Theodore. After lounging on the couch for a while you pull yourself back up. “Gifts? I’ve got four and they’re all for you.” He growls gutturally. “I don’t like gifts, plus I don’t have one for you.” You frown. “Who doesn’t like gifts? You absolute weirdo.” Theo laughs at your unfiltered opinion of him. He pushes himself to sit straight and watches you pick out the first gift. You don’t see how fragile he looks as he watches your gentleness.

When you go sit next to him and joyfully present him the gift he looks in your eyes. “Come on.” You urge like an impatient child. “Fine, but me first.” You frown and purse your lips. “You said you didn’t have anything.” Out of his pocket a fumbled piece of paper appears. “It’s not something I wanted to share, but it’s Christmas right, so why not.” He nonchalantly pushes it to you, waving the paper impatiently, like he wants to be rid of it. When you take it he looks away avoiding your confused gaze. You ignore his bizarre behavior and gently unfold the paper, revealing a sketch of you: you paying attention during class, probably transfigurations.

Theo’s still looking at anything but you. You shuffle closer to him and cup his cheek, turning his face to meet yours. “You drew this? I love it. Thank you.” “You’re a bit of a distraction during class. Probably why I’ve been picking on you.” A soft laugh rolls over your lips when you hear his confession. “And how do I distract you? As you can see all I do is pay attention like a good student.” You hold the sketch up to him as proof. “You do a lot more than that, (y/n). You get me thinking.” You can’t contain your smile. “I get you thinking? How awful of me.” He hisses at your mockery, but when he closes what little space there was between the two of you, your confidence fades. “You have me thinking about doing this” His lips catch yours, he kisses you with so much passion your whole body goes crazy for him in an instant. When he finally releases you, your head feels hazy. “What’s that all about?” Theo grins, enjoying the obvious effect he has on you. “This is my Christmas spirit, I’m feeling generous.” Is all he says before he pushes you to lay on the couch and continues to kiss you with unrelenting passion.

Mattheo

You hear noise at the door and turn to look at it slowly open. You hold your breath, still holding the plate as Mattheo Riddle walks in. Holding flowers in one hand and a gift bag in the other. He looks at you, but you just stare quietly and then he looks around the room. “Oh, I’m too late. I’m so sorry.”

Mattheo Riddle, Slyhterin bad boy, Slytherin trouble maker, son of the dark lord, most handsome guy in your year - maybe even all of Hogwarts - show up to your lame Christmas party with flowers and apologies. Weird. You had indeed invited him, when you announced that everyone was welcome during potions class but you were pretty sure he was among the people making fun of you.

You snapped out of your thoughts, someone was here, you were in no position to be picky about who it was. “No, you’re not late.” He looks confused at the empty seats. “Then where is everyone?” You look around feeling exposed, but look back up at his questioning face. You bite your lip, trying to think of a lame excuse but finding none. “Uhm, no one showed up, except for you.” You eventually manage to say, eyes getting glassy. Mattheo makes a soft ‘oh’ sound and you quickly try to get rid of the awkward situation.

“There’s plenty of food if you wanna stay. And also four gifts for you, since you know no one showed up.” Mattheo stays silent for a few seconds. “But you don’t have to stay, this probably isn’t your ideal Christmas eve.” The slytherin simply shrugs. “It’s not like I have anything better to do and the food looks divine.” You can’t help but chuckle as the awkwardness ebbs away. “Flowers for the hostess.” He offers you the lovely winter bouquet he had been holding. A blush creeps up to your cheeks as you take them and conjure a vase.

Dining together has you feeling like you’ve known Mattheo your whole life. You’re surprised by so many things he tells you, but most of all by how easy it is to talk to him. After the desert you make your way to the couch near the Christmas tree. With the table between the two of you gone things feel different and you both fall silent. “You were actually the last person I thought would show up and yet here we are. I hope you’ve enjoyed yourself so far. Because I definitely have.”

Mattheo stares at you fondly but doesn’t say anything. “Anyways let’s start with the gifts.” As you stand up to reach for one of the gifts Mattheo pulls you down. You now sit so close that your hips are touching and he’s still holding on to your wrist. “This whole evening has been wonderful. You’re wonderful, (y/n).” It sounds like a love confession and you hold your breath. “And at the risk of ruining this evening, I would like to kiss you. Is that okay with you?” Your heart melts, you can’t believe this and no one at Hogwarts will ever believe this. You nod softly, insecure about what you’re getting yourself into.

His hand holds your cheek and you lean in as his lips reach yours, light as a feather his lips brush yours. Ever so slowly Mattheo deepens the kiss, making you go crazy with desire for more. When you lay your hand on his leg for support he sees it as a signal that you are comfortable with him and snakes an arm behind you to pull you closer. Only when the kiss ends do you realize you’re laying in his arms. “When I said let's start with the gifts I didn’t know one of the gifts was wrapped up with a tie and good looks.” You joke as you undo his already loose tie. He smirks as he watches you all comfortable and confident in his arms.

His free hand reaches for your leg urging you come sit on his lap with your legs on either side of him. He pulls you in for another tender kiss. “I did actually bring a gift for you. So if you really want to unwrap-“ You cut him off by slamming your lips into his with passion and eagerness. He complies and pulls you closer into him until there’s no space left. “And here I thought you were all innocent and cute.” Mattheo says, clearly entertained by your enthusiasm. “I’m, I’m just being a good hostess by making sure my one and only guest is having a good time.” Mattheo’s face lights up with genuine happiness. “No doubt you’re a good hostess, pretty sure you would make a wonderful girlfriend as well.”

[baileys-3]

New Chapter (#41) of The Secret Dating Era now on AO3

Sneak Peak:

The evening spent with Aunt Amy goes by quickly. As expected, she has a lot of fun cooking with her aunt and Tamara. This time, they decided to make won ton soup which contains pieces of dough that can be filled in various ways.

While cooking, there is a small accident and flour gets all over her face. Although she had planned not to think about Tim for at least one night — it is kind of ridiculous that he is in her mind ALL the time — memories of his baby powder prank now come to her mind, making her think about him at that moment. Well, there goes that plan out of the window. Giving in to the thoughts of Tim, she heads into her aunt's small bathroom to wash the flour off her face and arms, but before doing so, she takes a selfie.

She opens their text thread and sends him the picture with a text.

Lucy: Wheat flour is definitely easier to wash off than baby powder😉

When she is done cleaning every last bit of flour from her face, she leaves the bathroom and returns to the kitchen, where the dough is being rolled out.

Her phone vibrates, so she looks at it first before continuing to help with the cooking.

Tim: Always looking good Officer Chen

She can’t help but grin at the small screen. She quickly types out another text.

Lucy: I know 🤭 Do you like Won Ton soup?

She pours herself a glass of water, waiting for Tim to text back while he is still on his phone.

Tim: What's that?

How is Tim not familiar with won ton soup when it can literally be found in nearly every Chinese restaurant? The control freak in him probably stopped him from trying real, authentic Chinese food. Well, that has to change.

Lucy: Something delicious 🍛

Lucy decides to text Tim the details of the soup she made anyway. Saving herself from any unnecessary sassy comments from him.

Lucy: It's a soup with noodles, prawns, and stuffed dumplings. Want me to bring some for you?

Tim: If I say no, will you let it go, or are you still bringing it anyway?

She rolls her eyes. Typical Tim.

Lucy: Bring it anyway.

Tim: Then no 😉

She actually loves Tim's text messages. Because they're just like Tim, simple a nd direct.

Lucy: Miss you, though 😘 Gotta run – filling the dumplings. How about a jog tomorrow before work?

It's clear from the last question how much she misses Tim, as she willingly goes jogging with him and even offers to do it herself —something she would never have considered before.

Tim: Sure thing. Meet me at the same spot as last time. 7 am?

She really has to wrap it up now as she is almost done with her water, and Tamara keeps throwing glances at her. Luckily, the teenager is quite occupied rolling the dough out while her aunt prepares the filling.

Lucy: 👍see you tomorrow, then ❤️

She pauses for a moment as she sees the three dots appearing, indicating that he's typing a response.

Tim: Lucy?

Lucy: Yes

Tim: Miss you too 💚

Tim can be really sweet when he wants to be. She's feeling a bit cheeky as she types out her response, but what she writes is genuinely harmless, considering everything they have done so far.

Lucy: Do you plan on showing me exactly how much on Friday?

Tim: Repeatedly 😉

[fangirlingfromdownunder]

No Comfort in Solitude

Summary - Part 13 in the Comfort series

Pairing - Dean Winchester x Reader, Reader x Sam (platonic), Reader x Bobby (father-figure)

Warnings - slight angst, mentions of pregnancy, 

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

A/N - G’day guys, I just wanna start by thanking you for all the likes, reblogs and follows since my last post, I really appreciate it. I hope you like this one too. And remember my inbox is always open for requests or even if you just wanna chat. Until next week, enjoy! 

When you finally pull up in the salvage yard you’re beyond exhausted. You call Sam again before getting out of the car. 

“Hey, I see you got there,” Sam says when he picks up.

“You can finally enjoy that PB&J you wanted,” Dean calls out.

“I’m too tired now. I don’t want it.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I promise I’ll replace what I eat and not put the empty jars back.”

“You will…you always say that and you always do it again.”

“I am sorry.”

“I know.”

“Okay, lovebirds break it up. Dean focus on the road, and Y/N go inside the panic room and get some sleep.”

“Fine. I’m going inside now. I gotta pee again first and then I’ll go down to the panic room. I’ll tell you once I’m in there.”

“Sweetheart, check the trunk!”

You grab what’s left of the groceries you bought, along with the knife and gun before quickly making your way to the back of the car. You open the trunk as instructed and find a bright blue duffle bag you pull it over your shoulder and lock the car. You quietly go around the back and pick the lock, letting yourself inside, locking the door behind you.

“You really prepared me for everything, huh?”

“You know I worry about you. I have accepted that I can’t protect you from everything, but I’ll never stop doing everything I can.”

“Thanks, Dean.”

“You can brush your teeth, shower if you want, and I’m not sure what you’re wearing but I put some comfy stuff in there for you. Along with more ammo, salt, a first aid kit, and cash.”

“I love you, Dean. I’m too tired to do much tonight but I’ll really appreciate it in the morning.”

“Go do what you need to do and let us know when you’re in the panic room,” Sam says.

“Alright. I’ll be quick.”

You quickly go to the bathroom and brush your teeth and wash your face before locking yourself in the panic room downstairs. You push off your jeans and slip out of your bra before laying down on the hard bed, pulling Dean’s flannel tightly around yourself and resting one hand on your stomach. 

“I’m all snuggled up in bed now. Safe and sound. I’ll talk to you guys tomorrow. Drive safe, I love you both,” you say.

“I love you too, sweetheart. Stay safe. Hopefully, Bobby should be back there with you by morning. Sleep well.”

“Goodnight, Y/N,” Sam says before hanging up. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

You wake up in a relatively dark room; the skylight filters minimal sunlight into the room. You grab your phone and see that it’s 8 am. Your tummy grumbles so you push yourself out of bed and grab your bag and head towards the door. You crack it open listening carefully. You’re met with complete silence, so you open it wider and slip out and upstairs. You make yourself the PB&J you’ve been craving and then go for a much-needed shower after sweating in the hot, stuffy room all night. You’re mildly surprised and super grateful when you find your favourite shower gel, shampoo and conditioner in the bag. Once you’re sufficiently relaxed and fresh you get dressed into one of the comfy outfits Dean packed you: a sports bra, black t-shirt, black leggings and one of his red flannels. Just as you’re leaving the bathroom, your phone rings.

“Good morning, my love,” you say picking up.

“Morning, sweetheart. How’d you sleep?”

“As well as can be expected in that sweat box. But I feel better now that I’ve showered and changed into these clean clothes. You have no idea how grateful I am for this.”

“Anything for my girl. Anyways, Sam and I got to Lebanon around five. We’re back at the bunker now. We’ve checked everywhere for traces of sulphur and any signs that anyone was ever here, but there’s nothing. Everything looks normal, but it’s always better to be safe than sorry. I’ll always prefer that you be over cautious than under cautious, especially for our little bean.”

“Yeah, I agree. Normally I would’ve just gone in there and handled it, but I’m not just responsible for myself anymore.”

“Yeah…You know I understand what you’ve been saying about this cold, lonely bed. At least it smells like you. I can’t wait to have you back in my arms again. You have no idea how much I miss you and the things I want to do to you.”

“I think I can guess…I miss you too.”

“We’re gonna check out the town today and see if we can find that demon. Once it’s safe we’ll come and bring you home.”

“Just let me know when it’s safe and I’ll drive back. You don’t need to make the trip for nothing.”

“You’re never nothing. But I see your point, I’ll let you know.”

“Stay safe, baby, I love you.”

“You too.”

You lay back down on the hard bed missing Dean even more now. You rub your hand over your tummy trying to find some comfort in the lonely cement room. As you lay there staring up at the ceiling your mind wanders. Bobby should have been back by now…is something wrong? Is he okay? Did the demon find him? Why couldn’t they find the demon? I could’ve sworn someone was in the bunker. What about the cashier? 

Before you know it you’re hyperventilating and clutching at your chest. You feel someone shaking your shoulders. You can faintly hear a voice but you can’t make out the words through the fog in your mind at first.

“Hey, kiddo, breathe for me. You’re safe, it’s me.”

“Bobby?”

“Just breathe. Calm down.”

You take a few deep breaths until you feel your heart rate returning to normal and the tightness in your chest dissipate. Bobby just sits with you quietly until you settle down.

“So, what was that? What happened to you really? Dean said you thought you saw a demon but that was the panic attack of someone who’s been tortured.”

“I’m fine, I wasn’t tortured. I just started overthinking and panicking. Dean said there was no sign a demon was ever there. What if I imagined it all? What if it was all a trick or a trap?”

“They’ve walked into worse traps before, so have you, everyone’s gonna be fine. We just gotta do what we can to stay a step ahead.”

“I’m sorry you had to come home and see me like that. I’ve been doing so good to keep my anxiety in check, for the baby, but I don’t know what happened.” You run your hand over your stomach, it’s slightly tender but you put it down to hunger and your panic attack.

“You’ve been through a lot. Most of us drink away our anxiety and nightmares but you’ve had to be sober for a couple of months now, it’s gotta be taking its toll. Maybe you should ask for some pregnancy-friendly pills to help on the bad days. I honestly don’t know any other way to live with the memories and thoughts attached to our gig.”

“I guess more than anything right now, I just want Dean. Despite not managing his own issues well he always knows how to make me feel better.”

“You know he says the same thing about you? I really think you’re soul mates. Why don’t you come upstairs and take a nap in the spare room, that bed’s comfier. No need to stay down here now that I’m back.”

“Thanks, Bobby.”

“Anytime, kiddo,” he says as he pats your leg. 

You grab your stuff and follow Bobby upstairs before continuing on to the spare room. You lay down on the bed and your stiff muscles instantly feel better. It doesn’t take you long to drift into a light sleep, the panic attack really took the energy out of you. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

You wake up to a dull throbbing pain in your abdomen, “no, no, no, no, this isn’t happening!” You sit up and throw back the blanket checking for blood, thankfully the sheets are clean. This could be normal, don’t freak out. Manage your stress. You try to calm yourself down before going downstairs to find Bobby. As you get to the bottom step you feel a sharp stabbing pain right in your uterus. The pain brings you to your knees as your groan.

“Bobby! Bobby!”

“Kiddo, what’s wrong?”

“It hurts. My stomach. Something’s wrong with the baby!”

“Grab onto me, let’s get you to the hospital.”

As you stand up you feel something wet between your legs. “I think I’m bleeding! Bobby!” You start to cry as Bobby helps you out to his truck. The pain comes and goes in waves all the way to the hospital. If you were further along you might’ve mistaken it for labour contractions, but you know pain at this stage can only be bad news. Bobby asks if you want him to call Dean, and you tell him to wait until you’re in the ER. After what feels like an eternity he finally pulls up in the emergency bay. He rounds the car in record time helping you out and into the ER. You do your best to explain the situation to the nurse while Bobby moves the car and calls Dean. The nurse takes you into a room and helps you up onto the bed. 

“I’ll check your vitals and a doctor will be in to chat with you in a minute.”

The nurse hooks you up to the monitors and takes some notes before walking out to fetch a doctor. She returns moments later with a middle-aged woman wearing a white coat labelled ‘Obstetrics’. 

“Hello Miss Y/L/N, my name is Doctor Lopez, nurse Spencer tells me you’re experiencing some pain in your lower abdomen.”

“Yes, it started about half an hour ago and comes in waves but it feels like someone’s stabbing me in the uterus. I am about eight weeks pregnant. I also think I’ve been bleeding, I haven’t checked but it feels wet.”

“Okay, well let’s get you something for the pain and an ultrasound and figure out exactly what’s going on.”

The nurse helps the doctor set up the ultrasound machine and instructs you to lift your shirt up a little. The doctor squeezes some cold gel onto your stomach and moves it around with the wand. You turn your head to try to look at the screen. You had been so excited for your first ultrasound but now you’re terrified. As she keeps moving the wand and looking at the screen the doctor asks you to slide your pants down a smidge so she can get a better look at your uterus and fallopian tubes. Once you do as she asks she puts the wand back on your stomach and moves it around some more. You start to feel dizzy and lightheaded and your vision goes black. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

A/N: I am so sorry about this ending, I swear I have a plan. But like in the show there's more heartbreak before we can get there. I guess I am an author like Chuck...sorry again for this.

Tag list: (Leave a like or comment on this post or let me know below if you want to be added to the tag list for this series)

@bitchwitch1981, @muhahaha303, @justrealizedimmascifygurl, @mcdowell-123, @leigh70, @marvelsmarauder, @losa12308, @tapedeck-hearts, @luvjaida, @peachtxa, @ambearsstuff, @shadow-of-a-cloud, @slut-for-buck,

[videostak]

gonna try to spend tomorrow and the next few days b4 new years just cleaning lightly and might go to the thrift and record store tomorrow tho idk. def gotta organize everything and i want 2023 to start on a aclean slate and for me to continue my job hunt calmly w/o much stress. dont kno when the colecovision is coming def b4 new years i think but probably sometime like around friday or so not exactly sure but regardless i wanna do some cleaning b4 it comes. kinda convinced myself it’ll work but also should remember to be prepared for if it doesnt. well it probably will right? i mean the seller said it did sooo ya. anyways wanna spend the next few days being productive sorta

[mushroomlupin]

A Big Misunderstanding

Pairing: sirius black x fem!reader

Summary: sirius and reader have a date night scheduled, though things take a turn when reader gets her period and is too scared to tell sirius

Requested: yes or no (please feel free to send in some requests!)

Warnings: sexual situations, mentioning of oral sex, menstruation, brief mention of period sex but blink and you'll miss it

Word Count: 1,371

Masterlist & A03

You weren't sure why getting your period was such a big deal. You figured that everyone with a vagina experienced monthly periods–and this specific kind of people made up half of Hogwarts. So, what was the big deal exactly?

Well, there was that one time in third year when Gwynivere Haywood asked Professor Flitwick to go to the lavatory and whilst exiting the classroom, her tampon fell out of her hand. All of the boys began laughing and muttering a chorus of "ew"'s and "that's so gross". And there was that other time in fourth year when Mary Maconald got her period on the Hogwarts Express and a 7th year had to use a cleaning spell to get the stain out of the seat. People called her Bloody Mary all year.

Alas, you were absolutely horrified when you found out that you'd have your period for you and your boyfriend's date night.

And your boyfriend was none other than Sirius Black.

He was notorious for being a womanizer at Hogwarts, but the both of you had been taking your relationship slowly. It'd been five months and you had yet to have sex–though this didn't exclude other stuff. When the two of you scheduled a specific date night, this meant that one of you had an empty dorm for the night. And on these said date nights, the two of you would be having oral sex. This made things exciting, and something he managed to remind you of throughout the week, making your cheeks redden in front of your friends.

He'd bend down to your ear at breakfast: "Mmm, can't stop thinkin' 'bout the taste of you. Can't wait for tomorrow night," and walk away as if those dirty words had never escaped his mouth.

You'd been giddy about it all week, crossing your legs at the thought of his mouth against your sex. Throughout the school days, you could feel his eyes undressing you, observing your bottom every time you stood up and when you walked. Sometimes, he would pinch your bottom or give it a light smack just to make you squeal. "'M sorry, couldn't help it, babe." Your face would turn as red as a tomato.

The afternoon before the big day, the two of you had been watching James and Peter play wizard's chess. His hand rested innocently on your knee for a moment, before traveling up your thigh. You couldn't help but insistently open your legs for him. He chuckled, removing his hand from your flesh. "Not today, love, remember? Gotta wait until tomorrow night."

You'd been tossing and turning all night, butterflies fluttering inside your stomach. And when you awoke, you froze at the red stain that'd bled through to your pajama pants.

"Bloody hell," you muttered aloud.

"Literally," one of your roommates joked.

You face-palmed, unsure of what the hell you'd tell Sirius.

You decided to skip breakfast, you didn't have an appetite anyway. In potions, you felt Lily Evans tap on your shoulder.

"James says that Sirius didn't see you at breakfast and he was worried that you were ill or something," she whispered. "Is everything alright?"

You nodded quickly before returning your attention to Professor Slughorn. You heart was hammering in your chest now. Fan-fucking-tastic. How does one explain to their partner that they can't attend to the plans you'd been making for weeks, because you got your period? You swiftly left class as soon as Slughorn dismissed you all, attempting to avoid any further interrogation from Lily.

Once dinner came, you made an appearance, sitting as far away from your boyfriend's view as possible. You stuffed your face with as much food as possible, your stomach aching from not eating all day. And when you felt as though your skirt couldn't possibly be any tighter against your stomach, you returned to your common room.

You headed up to your room, sat in the empty dorm on your bed, and opened up a book in your lap. You waited for his secret knock.

Knock. Pause. Knock knock. Pause. Knock. Pause. Knock.

Your pulse quickening, you closed the book and walked to the door. You opened it slowly, revealing your boyfriend with a soft expression on his face.

"Hey," he greeted.

Usually, he would have pounced on you already and kicked the door shut behind you two.

"Hi."

He looked around the dorm, as if he'd never been in there before. "May I come in?"

You nodded, standing aside as he entered the room.

He took a seat on the edge of your bed, patting the space next to him. You took it nervously. Once you'd sat down next to him, your gaze rested on the floor. You had no idea how to tell him and what his reaction would be. Would he be upset? Would he leave?

You felt his finger brush against the bottom of your temple, gently pushing strands of hair back behind your ear. You blushed, your eyes landing on his blue ones.

"Hey," he whispered, his thumb going to your chin to softly caress it. "What's goin' on, hm?"

Suddenly, the waterworks unleashed.

Your hormones were at an all time high, and for some reason, they decided that now would be a good time to let it all out.

"Oh, Sirius," you sobbed, throwing your hands onto your face to conceal yourself.

He instinctively wrapped an arm around you, rubbing your back in soothing circles. He kept himself together, though he hoped you couldn't hear his heart hammering in his chest. Ignoring him all day and now crying in front of him? He was almost sure you were going to break up with him.

"I was looking forward to this night for weeks, and I'm afraid I've ruined it," you groaned, wiping your eyes with the sleeves of your sweater.

Your boyfriend furrowed his eyebrows. "How could you have ruined it?"

You looked up at him, loosing a sigh as you built up the courage to explain yourself. "I got my period this morning."

The room fell silent as he cocked an eyebrow. "Is that it?"

Your stomach dropped. What?

"Well, I mean, yes but–"

"Babe, I was worried you were going to dump me!"

Your eyes widened. "Dump you?"

He shrugged. "You've been acting strange all day, and you looked so upset when I came in here," he gestured to the door. "I was prepared to get on my knees and beg you not to."

Your shoulders hunched in relief.

"Were you afraid that I'd be upset you got your period on our date night?" he questioned softly.

You weren't sure what to say. "I don't know," you began, picking at a loose thread on one of the sleeves of your sweater. "I suppose that I did expect you to be upset. It's just that when we have date nights like this, we usually...you know," you felt your cheeks redden.

He brought his hand to your cheek, turning your face to look at him.

"I would never be upset about that, Y/n. Never," he used his thumb to stroke your cheekbone. "And, we don't always have to do that stuff when we have date nights. I don't want you to ever feel like you have to do anything sexual. We can just hang out like this and you still manage to make me feel like I'm on fucking cloud nine."

You couldn't help the grin that spread across your face. You reached up to peck his lips, nudging your nose gently with his after. He mirrored your smile, taking your hand and bringing it up to his lips.

"I guess it was all just one big misunderstanding."

"Yeah," Sirius sighed, letting go of your hand. "Oh, and if you ever wanted to try having sex on your period, just let me know; I'm not afraid of getting a little messy." He winked.

You grabbed your pillow and threw it at his head. He merely dodged it, but fell off the mattress in the process.

"You just had to ruin it."

He grinned, his hair a mess. "Yeah, but that's what makes it fun, right?"

He groaned as another pillow was thrown at him.

[myckicade]

Prompt: Ok so we all know Coco is touch starved, and would be clingy af in a relationship. What about Coco x wife!reader, while she’s trying to do basic errands/chores and Coco is her shadow?

A/N: I’ve been waiting for this one. I really have. Hee hee. I just adore Coco. <3 . This piece sort of follows the story of the last two Coco x Reader pieces I have written, but it will stand-alone, just fine. And, I swear, these things just have a mind of their own. I can continue to apologize for length, and content, but, in the end... I let the story tell itself. ;) . <3 .

As a warning, I come from Vermont, where we have a plastic bag ban. Last I knew, California was the first state to have one. I don’t know how that would translate to Santo Padre, but… When I mention fabric bags, I mean reusables, and the ban is why. ^^;;;;.

Title: Worthwhile

Teaser: He’s a little rough, your Coco, foul-mouthed, and quick to anger. Untrusting, and bitchier than a woman, on his best day. But, once you have his love, you have it. All of it.

“Okay…” you murmur, slowly, eyes scanning over the paper in front of you. Fifteen items, nothing crazy. Shouldn’t take you more than an hour, tops, and that includes travel to and from the store. “I think I’ve got everything we need… And, specials included your beer, and those little frozen cream puffs.”

Beside you, Coco groans, deep and guttural. “Fuck, I love those things.”

You giggle, but keep reading. Your man is too damn cute. “Feminine products.”

“Do those count as special?” Coco genuinely sounds thoughtful, as he steps up behind you, where you are leaning over the counter top. He wraps his arms around your waist, chin coming to rest on your shoulder. “Kinda’ a necessity, ain’t they?”

Tipping your head, you glance to your husband. Seriously. This man is a treasure. “Why don’t you run for political office?” you tease, pleased when Coco chuckles.

“Yeah, my record’ll look great, on the campaign trail.”

You shrug. “You can tackle pink tax, and tax evasion, at the same time.”

Coco grins, and steals a peck off your lips. “What else you got on there, muñeca?”

“Hmmm, let’s see…” You turn back to your list, tapping the pen against your lips, thoughtfully. Spying the next item on it, you try not to let out another giggle. He’s not going to like this one. “Letty asked if we could have that cauliflower pizza thing for dinner, tonight.”

As expected, this groan is decidedly not from food lust. “Fuckin’ vegetarians. When the hell is she gonna’ get over this shit?”

“It’s just a phase, Coco,” you remind him, for the… Well, honestly, you’ve lost track. It started shortly after the wedding, Letty’s change in diet, and you’re still not convinced the two aren’t related. You’re just not entirely sure how. But, two months in, and she’s still looking healthy, so you won’t send up any alarms. “It’s very popular at her high school, right now.”

Coco scoffs, disgusted. “When the hell’d she start copyin’ other people, anyway? My girl ain’t no follower.”

The words send a shot straight to your heart. He’s a little rough, your Coco, foul-mouthed, and quick to anger. Untrusting, and bitchier than a woman, on his best day. But, once you have his love, you have it. All of it. The love he has for Leticia is the greatest proof. They may carry on like cats and dogs, but when push comes to shove, there is nothing they won’t do for one another. My girl. It brings a warmth to your soul, and a smile to your lips.

You shake it off, enough to formulate a response. “She’s figuring out how to be her own woman. Trying new things.” You shrug, not wanting to make a big deal of it. You were Letty’s age, once, of course. And, a girl, to boot. Some things, Coco just won’t be able to understand. “It’s a process.” He hums, still disgruntled, but doesn’t push out another word. “You want anything else?” you ask, holding up your list. “I’ve gotta’ get going, before I run into the football widows.”

Before you can even take a step away, Coco tightens his arms around you. “You sure you gotta’ go, though?” he asks, leaning in to brush his lips against your neck. “With the house all to ourselves, like this?”

“If I don’t go,” you start, as Coco’s touches gain intent, becoming teasing kisses. Damn him. It feels nice, you won’t lie, but there are other things on your mind, right now. Priorities.

You’re just… having trouble remembering what they are.

Oh. Yeah. Shopping.

“If I don’t go, we won’t have anything for dinner.”

Another kiss, accompanied by a barely-there swipe of tongue. You shiver, and Coco moves his lips to your ear. “We can order in,” he whispers, breath so invitingly warm against your skin.

Oh, this asshole.

“And, what are we supposed to have for breakfast, tomorrow?” you try, again. “Half an Eggo, and a pack of Skittles?”

Coco cuddles you closer, again. “Ain’t you never heard about livin’ on love, baby?” Some of his smoothest work, that is. And, it’s almost convincing. Almost. You can imagine the afternoon ahead, if you give in. Your clothes will come off, and won’t be back on until the last second, before Letty walks back through the front door. By that time, you’ll be too tired to roll your ass off the bed, let alone go grocery shopping. And, you promised Letty you’d talk Coco into that cauliflower pizza.

“Great as that sounds,” you agree, preparing to capitalize on the truth. You ease yourself away from Coco’s stubborn hold, and give him one more smooch, just to soften the blow to come. “I don’t think Letty will appreciate the sentiment.”

A third groan. You must be going for a record. “C’mon, (y/n).” Oh, he’s whining. It’s so cute, it’s unreal. “We’ll find some place that delivers that rabbit food shit.”

Unfortunately for Coco, you’re already grabbing your bag. Lucky for you. You’re still two seconds from giving him what he wants. (He just doesn’t need to know so). “I’ll be back in a while.” God willing. “If you think of anything else, call my cell.” You rush out the front door, and don’t look back. If you see the look on your husband’s face, you know you’re as good as done.

*

Well, what the shit? Coco stares at the front door as it closes, you on the wrong fucking side of it. His arms are at his sides, palms turned toward the ceiling. That went so well. He kind of can’t believe you just walked away, like that. Left him alone, and wanting. In your big, empty house.

He probably should have volunteered to tag along, instead of just chasing you off.

Fuck.

Glancing around, Coco tries to find something to do. Something to clean, at the very least. But, that’s the trouble with having moved in with you, after the wedding, he supposes. Ain’t nothing to tidy up. Not that the three of you don’t have possessions. They’re all just in their proper places. Probably Leticia’s doing, in the end. He’d had a long talk with her, before the move, that she absolutely has to keep her shit where it belongs. Your house isn’t like their house. There aren’t burn marks in the carpet, or gouges in the coffee table. Dishes go in the damned dishwasher, not left to pile up on the counter, or in the sink. Beds get made. Laundry gets folded, and put away. No more wrinkled heaps in the clothes basket. So far, the kid’s been doing good. Real good.

Coco, though? He’s never felt so unnerved in his life.

It was different when he just visited. Spent a night or two, here or there. He’d almost felt at home, then, stupid as it sounds. At home, with the knowledge he wasn’t staying. But, now? Now, the reality has settled in, and he feels so-so… out of place. There’s so much he’s struggling to adjust to.

You have a purified water system installed under the sink, where Coco is used to buying bottled water.

You have a dining room, where Coco and Letty are used to eating on the couch.

You have an extended cable package, whatever the fuck that is.

You kind of have it all, here, certainly by comparison to what Coco is used to. The best of everything. Which really makes him wonder – not for the first time – what the hell you’re doing with a dirt-poor biker for a husband? You’ve had this conversation, on multiple occasions, and you’ve explained yourself, every time. But, this time… This time, you’re not around to give that speech. You’re not around to hold him, and kiss his face, and reassure him in a way that only you can. No, you’re at the grocery store, shopping for Coco, and his kid, which was apparently a better offer than staying home with him.

Oh, nope. Nope, he’s doing it, again. He can feel it. You love him, he reminds himself. You’ve got his ring on your finger, his last name, and – God-willing – his baby in your belly. By choice. All by choice.

Coco takes a deep breath, in. Lets it back out, slowly. Tries not to get sick, for all the nerves coming up to greet him. He wraps one arm around his own torso, free hand moving up to cover his mouth.

Fuck, he hopes you get back, soon.

*

You let out a deep sigh, as you park your car in the garage. Oh, it is so good to be home, at long-last. Talk about Old Home Week. You’d run into everyone, and his brother, at the grocery store. Shopping had taken nearly twice as long as you’d meant for it to, and you just know Coco must be losing his mind, by now. You hate to think about it, in such terms, but, sometimes… Well, sometimes, Coco reminds you of a new puppy. You can’t really leave him alone, without some kind of separation anxiety creeping up on him.

Ah, well. At least he isn’t ripping down the drapes, and shredding the couch cushions.

You blink. Well. That you know of.

Shaking your head, you climb out of the car, mentally preparing to unload armloads of bags. Maybe, if you really, really try, today will be the day you can finally get all twenty bags in, in one trip.

Right. And, shortly thereafter, you can have both forearms set, and casted. Be a real turn-on, in the bedroom.

You’ve managed to grab half a dozen bags, when the door to the mud room opens. “Hey, don’t grab too many!” Letty warns, as she comes hopping down the steps. “Let us help!”

Glancing up, you smile. For having had such a rough start, Letty can be a sweet girl. You know she gets that from her father. “Well, thank you,” you reply, resting a few, fabric handles onto her outstretched hands.

Letty grins, lowering her hands to her sides, before leaning in. “Did you talk him into it?” she whispers, conspiratorially.

You snicker, and whisper back, “He isn’t getting a choice. He’s outnumbered.”

“Yes!” Her hiss of victory is hardly subtle, catching Coco’s attention as he pokes his head out the door.

“You two plottin’ against me, again?”

“Yes,” you and Letty reply, in unison, leading you to erupt into a fit of giggles.

Coco is all grins. “’Course, you are.” He strides closer, he and Letty dancing around one another as she moves into the house. You lean into the car, and retrieve a few more bags. If Coco’s out here, he might as well assist. He’s peering into the car, once you stand back up, and lets out a low whistle. “Damn, (y/n)! You buy out the whole store, or what?”

“Hardly,” you reply, dryly. You hold up your hands, offering Coco the bags. “Here you go.”

“Oh, don’t mind if I do.” Thankfully, your hold on the bags is solid. Instead of grabbing the groceries, Coco’s hands are suddenly groping all over you. One hand is settled firmly at your ass, the other sliding into your hair, at the back of your head. He wastes no time diving in for a slow, deep kiss, and, damn, does his timing suck. He could have at least let you put the bags down, first. The contact makes you tingle, and has you regretting your decision not to stay home. Coco pulls back, after a few seconds, and hums. “Mm. Best delivery ever.”

You can’t help the small snort of amused laughter that leaves your throat. “Good try, Coco,” you praise, easing back far enough to offer him the bags, again. The look of disappointment on his face is just pitiful. “I’m not banging you in the garage.”

He has the grace to mock gasp. “I’d never!” It’s a crock, and you both know it. He looks too amused to be repentant, and you look too aware to be angry. You just raise your hands, slightly, in a third offer. Coco sighs. “All right. All right.” He takes the bags from your hands.

“Thank you.” You grab another load for yourself, rounding the open car door to follow Coco’s lead, into the house. One more trip for each of you, and you should have it covered. So much for only buying fifteen items.

Coco might be right about buying out the store.

*

Watching from the dining room, Coco has a good view of you and Letty unpacking the last of the groceries. Damn kid, she’d thrown him out, about ten minutes prior.

“Less groping, more helping, Coco,” Letty had warned him, after he’d tried to pin you against the sink.

It had been his last warning. Now, he’s been banished. Not the worst thing in the world, not really. Over the last few weeks, he’s really learned that there are some tasks he’s not so fond of. Pruning roses… Yeah, he’s pretty sure you’ll never let him do that, again. And, hey, nobody told him what to fill the bird feeder with. Unpacking groceries goes on that list, somewhere between line-drying laundry, and a streak-free mirror. He’s not sure why. Goodness knows, it makes him feel like a kid at Christmas, most times. Since being with you, though…

Since being with you, he feels like he’s taking advantage of something.

Yes, groceries are a strange place to let that feeling land, but he can’t help it. Coco’s been responsible for feeding himself since before he cares to remember. The only time anyone provided his meals was during deployment, and half that shit barely passed for edible. You, though… You keep the house stocked with more food than he’s seen anywhere, outside of a corner market. Letty always has options to take to school, and there’s a nutritious dinner on the table, almost every night. (Some nights, he actually does win the battle for delivery). If Coco goes on a run, you send him along with snacks for the road. And, yeah, he kinda’ likes that. He also likes the energy bars you picked out for him, last week. Something with cherries, and dark chocolate. He wonders, for a second, if you picked up any more. Come in handy during his mid-week trip outta’ town.

Coco blinks. Then, he does it again, just for good measure. That’s it. That’s what’s so fucking weird about this whole thing.

It’s you.

Okay, no, it’s not you, you. But, it’s you. It’s you, taking care of him. It’s you, seeing to his needs. Letty’s needs. It’s you, being his wife, his partner. It’s you, slotting into the place of role-model for his teenaged daughter. Welcoming them into your home. Not treating it like it’s your home. It’s you, being so fucking perfect for him, it’s taken his mind all this time to catch up with reality.

Coco doesn’t get perfect. Perfect doesn’t want him.

Except, now, it does.

Before he knows what he’s doing, Coco strides into the kitchen. He doesn’t wait for you to put the box of pasta in the cupboard. He just takes it from your hand, ignoring your confused look, as he tosses it onto the counter.

“Coco!” Letty admonishes, but it’s no use. He’s already lifting you off the floor, arms around your perfect backside. The kid gives a long-suffering sigh, he hears it, but pays it no mind.

Nothing – nothing – is going to keep him from holding you in his arms.

Your own arms go around Coco’s neck, and you smile down at him, surprise still lingering in your eyes. “Uhm… Hi, there.”

Coco grins. “Hey, muñeca.” Leaning up, he pecks you on the lips.

“Can I help you with something?” you ask, to which Coco shakes his head. Closes his eyes, as your fingers play in his hair.

“Nah. Got all I need.”

*

Pulling a package of mixed vegetables from the half-unpacked shopping bag, Letty rolls her eyes. You two… God, you’re gross. Coco always has his hands on you, no matter what you’re trying to do. It’s a wonder you don’t carry a damned fly swatter around. Actually, it’s a wonder you ever accomplish anything. He’s always smooching, and smiling, and snuggling at you. It’s disgusting. It’s pathetic.

It’s so damned cute, it’s sickening.

Really, Letty’s enjoying seeing Coco so happy. Like, genuinely happy. Not the false pride he carries around with his kutte. He’s more relaxed, nowadays. He drinks less, and he spends more time at home, both of which mean he’s not hanging around with those skanks at the clubhouse. He eats more, he’s healthier… Nothing to complain about, there.

And, hey, she has no complaints about you, either. You’re pretty cool, all-around. A woman who takes care of herself, and her family, and doesn’t bitch about either one. You’re not using Coco for money, or status, none of the shit she’s always been worried her father would fall into. There aren’t arguments, every night, not even between herself and Coco, as of late. No hostilities, nothing to avoid the house over. Just good dinners, and movies, and a new fish tank in her room. (Okay, so, you’d earned some major points with that birthday gift. She hadn’t actually expected to get one, when she’d mentioned it). For the first time, she understands what a peaceful, happy family feels like. It feels nice. It feels like home.

Glancing back to where Coco now has you perched on the counter top, stealing the most syrupy-sweet smooches… Letty can’t help but smile. Home is A-okay by her.

*

The sound of the air conditioner humming in the bedroom usually lulls you right to sleep. Tonight, it’s just providing you with white noise, a low background track to your thoughts. You don’t mind, not really. It gives you a few minutes to reflect on the day that’s just ended. To plan your day, tomorrow. To weave your fingers through Coco’s hair, and listen to him breathe. That, alone, makes it worthwhile.

Coco has been asleep against your shoulder for nearly an hour, now. Your arms are wrapped around him, comfortably, his own around your waist. You’d urged him up to bed, after he’d fallen asleep on the couch, his head in your lap. He’d snoozed from the middle of the movie, to the end of the nightly news report. Letty had tsked, and complained that no one had any business, whatsoever, in falling asleep during Zombieland. (How he’d stayed asleep was still a wonder to you, both, for how hard you’d been laughing at Tallahassee). With your fingers in his hair, Coco had been blissfully unaware for a couple of hours.

Glancing down, you take in the sight of your husband’s sleeping face. He looks so damn peaceful, the kind you’d outright murder to preserve for him. Coco’s still struggling with sleep, and relaxation, even though you’d hoped it would ease up, once your nuptials had passed. Most of it, you know will never go away. Anxiety doesn’t have a magic wand, or some perfect little on/off switch. And, all things considered, today wasn’t a terrible day. You’d been able to leave the house, with minimal panic on Coco’s part. Granted, it had taken extra time to get the groceries put away, and dinner made, but… You understand, as much as you are able to, that Coco needs the reassurances. It doesn’t cost you anything to carve a few moments from the day, every here and there, to give him what he needs.

Okay, so it did cost you that first batch of pancakes, this morning. They’d burned on the stove, and set off the smoke alarms, when he’d insisted on a dance through the living room. But, Coco loved the song you’d been playing on your Spotify, so there was really no denying him.

Oh, and… Yeah, you’d missed that phone call from the bank, the week before. Your husband had slipped up next to you, on the porch swing, and snuggled you to within an inch of your life. An easy fix, and you still got the business loan, but…

And, sure, you’ve been late to work, on numerous occasions. Coco has a habit of sneaking into your morning shower. And, after that… Well, hell, you own the company. It’s not like you have to explain to the boss that you’re late to your shift, on account of baby-dancing. (Fucking forums).

Point is, you’re more than happy to take care of Coco’s emotional needs. It may take you an extra hour to pay your bills. Daily tidying may have become every-other-day-if-you’re-lucky tidying. And, your ass may have gone numb, tonight, while he slept on your thigh. During which time, you could have loaded the dishwasher. Taken out the trash. Any number of tasks that have been neglected, in the name of Coco. They can wait.

Leaning in, you press a tender kiss to your husband’s forehead, before settling back in, and closing your eyes. Yes, chores can wait. Work can wait. The whole world can hold it, with both hands. So long as you’re around, Coco’s well-being will never have to take the back seat.

*

P.S. If Coco denies it, he’s full of it. He fucking loved that cauliflower pizza. Fucking vegetarians, indeed.

Masterlist | Request | Tag List

[biographydivider]

Spicy ‘n’ Sweet Bookshop Firting Goodness right here

THIS CHAPTER WOULDN’T LEAVE ME ALONE UNTIL I POSTED IT AND I NEED TO WORK ON MY NOVEL SO HAVE SOME FLUSTERED PANCITA-HAVING BRUNO OKAY GOODBYE

(the beginning of the story is here)

"Now stay on your stool," Tia Julieta warned, pointing the wooden spoon in his direction. "This pot is really, really hot, and I don't want to burn you."

…

                Antonio sat still as a statue, watching his tia stirring the pot of thick, delicious, sweet-smelling arequipe. The smell was one of his favourite things in the world. "Did you know," he asked her, "that I really, really like arequipe?"

                "I know you do, mi vida," Julieta laughed, tossing in a stick of cinnamon. "But this isn't for us. I'm going to make up a jar for Estelle; she told me the other day she loves anything with caramel." She turned away from the pot for just a second and winked. "But she's never had arequipe the Madrigal way before, has she?"

                Antonio shook his head, curls bobbing.

               “So tomorrow, when it’s nice and cool, I need someone to take this jar to the bookshop for me while I work my clinic in town. Maybe I could ask Dolores? Hm, or maybe Mirabel is free…” For a while, as Tia Julieta chatted about nothing, Antonio just sat there quietly; listening to the scrape of the spoon on the bottom of the pan, the spit and bubble of the arequipe caramelising. Then, he said;

               “Señorita Estelle is nice, isn’t she?”

               “I think she’s very nice.” Tia Julieta reached over for her special box of sugar and sprinkled a little into the pot. “She’s been very good to you and your Prima Mirabel, hasn’t she?”

               “Mm-hmm.”   

               Somewhere outside, Antonio could hear Prima Isabela and Camilo arguing. As usual.

               “Hey, Tia?”

               “Antonio?”

               “Why do you like giving food as presents?”

               “Well,” Tia Julieta said, “I like seeing people happy.”

               “An’ you like seeing us happy ‘coz you love us, right?”

               “That’s right. I love you and your brother and sister and primas very much –”

             “And Tio Agustín?”

               Tia Julieta smiled at him, tilting her head quizzically. “…yes, and your Tio Agustín.”

               “He gets a lot of your food presents, doesn’t he?”

               Tia Julieta laughed. “He does. He needs them.”

               “’coz he needs to know how much you love him, right?”

               “Well, that’s partly why.”

               Antonio nodded to himself, thinking very hard. “Hey, Tia Julieta? Can I get down, please?”

               “If you go slowly, and don’t run out of my kitchen.”

               “Okay.”

               Antonio slipped carefully off his stool, taking about thirty seconds to hit the floor. He crept slowly out of the room, keeping an eye on the bubbling pot the entire time, until he crossed the threshold into the hall. Then, he bolted up the staircase, yelling…

…

               “TIO BRUUUUUNNOOOOO!

               “Antonio! Inside voice, please!”

               “Sorry, Mamá. Tio Bruuuunoo….”

               “I’m outside anyways, kiddo.”

               "Okay I'm on my way!"

               Bruno had been trying to meditate a little. He was trying to get into the habit of doing it once a day, even just for five minutes. It helped. And he was feeling less, um, jumpy than he had. But, clearly, that time had come to an end. Instead, he flopped onto his back and prepared himself for the sobrino-tackle coming his way. Sure enough, Antonio fell on his stomach, making him wheeze.

               “Oof. Thanks for that, kid.”

               “Tia Julieta says you gotta go into town tomorrow.”

               “Oh she does, does she?”

               Bruno sat up, dislodging Antonio. “Well, maybe I’m busy tomorrow. Your tia doesn’t know about everything I do.”

               “What’re you doing tomorrow?”

               “Oh, well.” Bruno counted off the list on his fingers. “I gotta clean the rats’ dens out, gotta do my morning stretches, deep-condition my hair – y’don’t get these sultry locks naturally, y’know…”

               He tapped his chin thoughtfully. “After that? Yeah, I could go to town. Why?”

               Rule number one of dealing with a Madrigal; Bruno thought to himself the next day, standing outside Nettle & Daisy, clutching a jar of arequipe and his last frayed nerve, always make sure you know what you’re signing up for.

               Juli had seemed really pleased that he agreed to venture into town with her gift for Estelle. Really pleased. Some would say almost surprised. He wasn’t that much of a hermit, right? That his sister would be shocked he’d agree to help her out while she healed, like, the entire town? But then, he supposed he’d agreed before he knew exactly who this present was for.

               He stared at the door for a good thirty seconds. His hand twitched. He didn’t need to do it. Why would he need to do it? Just dropping off a package. No luck needed, right? Calm down, Bruno. Just open the door. It isn’t a big deal. It isn’t. Just do it. Do it. Do it do it do it do it –    

              The knot of anxiety in his stomach tightened. Was he really breathing that hard? His right knee was bouncing, that was never a good sign, why was he so nervous, she –

               Nope. He needed to.

               “Knock knock knock knock knock, knock on wood,” Bruno whispered to himself, shoving the jar under one arm, tapping the doorframe, bopping himself on the head and taking in a massive breath seconds before the door opened.

…

               Was…was someone knocking on her shop door?

               Estelle stuck her head out the open doorway of her stockroom-slash-kitchen to see a certain familiar, fluffy-haired silhouette just…standing there. Not coming in.

               You’re cute, Bruno Madrigal. But you’re definitely strange.

               So we officially think he’s cute?

               Shut up, brain.

               Estelle crossed the shop and opened the door to see Bruno standing there, fingers crossed beside his head, his cheeks puffed out, his eyes bugging.

               “…what are you doing?”

               The air escaped Bruno in a sound not unlike a balloon deflating. Estelle didn’t entirely know what was happening, so she said nothing and waited for the situation to explain itself.

               It didn’t.

               “I…” Bruno juggled a huge, glass jar from under his arm and held it out to Estelle like it might explode. “Julieta, m-my sister? She…this is for you, apparently.”

               “Oooh!” Estelle said, snatching up the jar, “is this arequipe? Oh, she’s such a sweetheart, I didn’t mean she had to make me some…”

               “Oh, well, heh, you don’t have to try hard to persuade my sister to, y’know, cook something.”

               Estelle read the little note tied to the lid with a smile; ‘To Estelle; for those days when you need a little pick-me-up. Julieta x.’ She knew all about Julieta’s gift; one of the first things she’d been told to do by Alma was to call on her oldest daughter any time she felt under the weather. She wasn’t about to do that – suffering stoically was The English Way, after all – but a lovely big jar of caramelly goodness wasn’t going to be turned down in the Nettle & Daisy. All the best bookshops ran on a healthy supply of sugar, after all.

               “So,” she asked, turning back to Bruno as he trailed after her into the shop, “how do you guys eat arequipe up at La Casa Madrigal? Oooh, it smells so cinnamon-y!”

               “Oh, I mean…” Bruno fidgeted with the spinner by the door, turning it this way and that with one finger. “Well, Juli puts it on cakes, sometimes. We eat it with fruit, on toast…” One of the books flew out and he caught it with a fumble, shoving it back in place with an awkward grin that made Estelle’s stomach flip. “I sometimes catch the kids just eating it with a spoon, heh.”

               Estelle paused. She looked down at the jar. She looked back at the open door of her stockroom.

               “Be right back.”

               “Wha – Estelle?”

               “Mind the shop.”

               “What?!”

                Estelle ran into the back, a huge, silly grin splitting her face. She used to do this all the time with her Aunt Daisy; sneak into the larder, find a jar of the sweetest, stickiest, loveliest stuff and just eat the whole thing with two spoons and zero guilt. Mother would go ballistic when she found out. But Mother wasn’t here.

               She set the jar down on the counter, uncrewed the lid and sent it flying into the sink, clanging against her morning teacup. She dug around in a drawer until she found a teaspoon, sunk it into the arequipe, and –

…

               She. Licked. The. Arequipe. Off. The. Spoon. With her tongue.

               Everything suddenly went white-hot; Bruno’s chest felt like someone had put it in a vice and the only sound he could hear was the blood pounding in his ears and a voice in his head saying ‘Yep. That’s it. You’re a lost cause, Madrigal. You’re gonna be thinking about that every time you close your eyes for the rest of your life.’

               Estelle sighed happily, head tipped back just slightly, eyes closed, free hand on her chest. “Ohmigosh, that is so good. That is literally the best thing ever. Mmm.”

               Bruno swallowed hard. Knocking on wood had either given him the best luck ever, or the worst. He’d work out which later.

               You know if you kissed her right now she’d taste sweet, yeah?

               Ay, Dios – stop that.

               Hey, was it suddenly really, really warm in here?!

“That was such a good idea, Bruno,” Estelle said, fishing around in the sink for the lid. “I’ll try it on toast in the morning; though I suppose I’ll have a sugar crash by…eleven…”

               Over by her till, Bruno was wrestling with his ruana. Like basically everything that had happened in the past five minutes, she had no idea why. It was already over his head, and as he pulled on the hem Estelle caught sight of more of that maroon undershirt he wore. Only this time, it was the ends of the shirt being pulled up by the ruana as Bruno struggled with it.

               He was skinny, but not quite as skeletal as she’d feared. There was a rounded softness to his belly, the barest hint of a curve, with a light dappling of stretchmarks moving down his hips. Before she could stop herself, Estelle imagined exactly what they’d feel like under her palms as she pressed her hands against those hips. The rest was smooth, warm skin, only interrupted by a trail of dark hair leading from his belly button to…to, um…

               Oh.       

               Estelle was suddenly really, really glad no-one else was in the shop. If seeing his collarbone had flooded her mind with thoughts of lips and skin and breath, this was something more akin to a dam breaking. This powerful rush of feeling that was probably going to drown her. She stood no chance at all. And he had no idea.

               In the same second that Estelle finally realised that she had a huge, raging crush on a customer, Bruno wrenched his ruana over his head. It landed in a puddle at his feet, and he straightened; hair flying, eyes wide, lips slightly parted. His face was flushed redder than she’d ever seen it – from wrestling with his ruana, she supposed – and it was the stupidest, cutest, prettiest thing she’d ever seen.

               The two stared at each other across the bookshop. Estelle took one tiny step forward. The bell above the door jingled.

               “Estelle! I’m just wondering if there’s any word on Kingmaker, Volume Seven…? Oh, hi Bruno.”

               Bruno didn’t turn to acknowledge Osvaldo. Didn’t actually take his eyes off Estelle. “I should…go,” he said, in a low, quiet voice.

               Please don’t.

               “…okay,” she breathed.

               Bruno stooped to pick up the ruana, took two small steps backwards, the green mass of material bunched up in his arms. Then, he bolted.

               “So,” Osvaldo said to Estelle, as she watched Bruno leave with a sinking feeling in her chest, “have you heard anything about –”

               “Fantasy’s in the corner, Osvaldo. That’s all I’ve got. I’m just going in the back to…”

               Binge-eat more arequipe and think about my life choices?

               “To, um, book in some stock. Shout if you need me. Please don’t need me, though.”

[garbagevanfleet]

Brightest Blue (series)

PART THIRTEEN

Pairing: Josh x reader Warnings: light sexual content, feelings Summary:  Things are changing. New state. New school. New roommate. You just pray things are going to click into place.

Notes: SURPRISE! My depressed ass is back and I missed fawning over this fic. Thank you to everyone that stuck around. I love you guys.

Big thanks to my girlfriend and beta, @lantern-inthenight​ <3

taglist: @valleyd0ll @satingrass-maidensfair @guitarfingers @thebohemianpenguin @peaceisouranthem @oblvions @hansonobsessed @myownparadise96 @anditsmywholeheart @kill-fear-the-power-of-lies @bigblack-catattack

MASTERPOST

When you woke the next morning, it was to the sound of a muffled melody. The room was cast in a fiery orange glow as the rising sun peeked in through the window. You sat up in bed, straining your ears to listen. 

Noticeably missing, was Josh - the side of the bed he had been sleeping on was turned down, but you placed your hand on the sheets to find them cold. 

The chill on the hardwood made your toes curl as you padded across it, first to your bedroom to pull on a pair of sweatpants, and then back to Josh’s room to slip one of his sweatshirts over your bare chest. 

Once you were no longer naked, and a little more awake, you quickly figured out that the music was coming from under the closed bathroom door, and you stopped in front of it to have a listen. 

The sound of Josh’s voice carried well into the hall, though he was keeping it quiet, probably for your benefit. 

You placed your fingers over your mouth absently as you listened to the notes rise to a lovely height and then dip down again. You couldn’t quite make out the words, but you didn’t need to. 

It shocked you enough to make you flinch when he opened the bathroom door abruptly - you had figured he was just taking a pause in the song. 

When he spotted you, he jumped back, letting a curse fall from his lips. “God, I didn’t think you’d be awake yet - you almost gave me a heart attack,” he blurted through an exasperated smile. 

“I’ve never heard you sing before,” you said, just above a whisper in the quiet space. “Your voice is so lovely.”

He looked you up and down for a second, his face turning peachy. “I haven’t wanted to for a while. Outside of school, anyway.”

You let a smile find your lips at the implication of his words, and it fell silent between you again. He was standing, posture unsure as he, undoubtedly, tried to gauge whether everything was still okay after last night. 

The temptation to touch him was too much, especially once you realized he probably needed all the reassurance you could give. His skin was warm as you reached out and ran your fingertips lightly over the pink skin on his cheek. He careened into your touch, turning his head just enough to press a kiss into the meaty part of your thumb. The gesture made your chest feel tight. 

“Come back to bed,” you suggested through a whisper and watched him suck his bottom lip into his mouth, teeth visibly pressing into the plush skin. 

“I can’t,” he replied breathily as you took his chin between your thumb and forefinger. “I don’t have the time.”

You nodded back at him with a teasing smile. “Sure you do.”

“Don’t tempt me, babe,” he pleaded from low in his chest. “I have a show at noon.”

You breathed a laugh, threading your fingers through his hair. “Call me that again,” you said against his ear. It was you dragging your teeth over his earring that made him groan. 

“Please - for the love of god - keep this energy for when I get back tonight.”

You hummed, pressing a kiss to the peak of his cheekbone. “Okay. Can I help?”

“Oh, yeah, for sure. Just wait for me here - it’ll probably help save time if you’re naked ahead of time-”

You smacked his shoulder, pulling a delighted laugh from his chest - always excited to say something stupid. “With the show.”

 “If you’d like to, I’d love to have you. But you’re going to have to hustle and get dressed,” he instructed. 

You scoffed. “Not the noon show-” You turned back towards his room and looked back over your shoulder. “No, right now I’m going back to bed.” 

+++

You hadn’t put any thought at all into what you’d wear for the other two shows you’d be attending - you knew you could recycle the dress once on Sunday if you paired it with something else, but for Saturday evening’s show, you were stuck crawling to the only other person you knew whose clothes would fit you. 

This time when you approached Kate’s house, you had come prepared with a milk-bone, which was good, because it was her huge dog that greeted you. When he stood up on his hind legs, he was able to look directly into your eyes through the glass on the door, his tail wagging. 

You watched Kate round the corner into the entrance hall, wearing a knee-length black robe, the silk shining as she moved in the sunlight. She gave you a puzzled look, cracking the door. 

“Sorry to show up unannounced,” you said with an insincere smile. “Can I give your dog a treat?”

She laughed at you, opening the door the whole way and letting you slip in. 

“I’m going to assume that you’re not just here to make Yeti fat.” Her voice sounded a bit too knowing for your taste. 

“You’re right! I’m also here to raid your closet, if you’ll let me,” you replied. “I need an outfit for the show tonight.”

She started down the hall and towards her room, ushering for you to follow. “You’re going again?” 

You nodded, though she wasn’t looking directly at you. “Yeah, of course.”

When you got into her room, you sat on her bed, and you absolutely wouldn’t have noticed Jake if Yeti hadn’t instantly trotted over to him to sit by his feet. He was sitting at a little circular cafe-style table in the corner of her room, a mug of something hot in front of him. 

You glanced over at him and were met with a cheeky little smirk. 

“You - uh. Yeah, I’m going to help with the show tonight,” you said after you decided you weren’t ready to address that situation yet. 

“Ah,” she started, and though she was facing away from you into the closet, you could hear a matching smirk through her voice. “I really only have clothes that match my style, which I would define as ‘mildly tramp’.”

You hummed contemplatively. “Let’s start with the most professional ensemble and then work our way back. Maybe something you’d wear to a wedding?”

“You don’t want something I’d wear to a wedding,” she teased but pulled out a few garments all the same.

“So, uhm. Am I interrupting something?” you finally chanced, sneaking a glance back at Jake. 

“Not at all,” Kate replied, unhelpfully. “Now go try some of these on and tell me what you think.”

In the end, the only thing she owned that you deemed acceptable - and also even remotely your style was a thigh-length, black dress - form-fitting. 

You stared at it dubiously in the mirror. 

You’d have to put a coat over it, but you thought you could make it work. 

“Are we going to talk?” Kate asked, a little smirk playing on her lips as she held her nails out to inspect them. They were unpainted but perfectly manicured.

You chanced a glance over at Jake - who was now sitting on the floor with Yeti nearly in his lap. He was working his fingers through the thick, white fur as he met your eyes. 

“Yeah, let’s talk about it,” he agreed, flashing you his teeth. 

Luckily enough, you found the moment more humorous than embarrassing, so you just scratched absentmindedly at the back of your neck. 

“Well,” you started and then paused as you tried to figure out how much was appropriate to disclose. “I’m going to his show again tonight. And tomorrow.”

Kate huffed, feigning impatience. “Yeah, okay, but that doesn’t tell me anything because you’d do that anyway.” 

You gave her a playful shrug. “That’s all I got for you right now. But I’ll tell you all about it when I’ve processed everything.”

“Ooh, shit. That sounds juicy.” Her eyes lit up as she spoke, making you chuckle. You turned your attention to Jake again then. 

“And I’m sure you’ll hear all about it,” You flicked your eyes back over to Kate in an accusatory look. “One way or another.”

+++

That night you sat in the audience alone - well, not alone, but without Kate or Jake. Most of the seats were filled again, at least partially with faces you remembered seeing the night before. 

The show was just as fun and entertaining as the last, except this time, when Josh walked out onto the stage at the end, he met your eyes for a moment, letting them linger before tugging a couple of his kids into a side hug and smiling wide for all the parents. 

As soon as most people had dissipated, he met you at your seat, but before he could even open his mouth to greet you, a parent of one of the kids was shaking his hand. The dad poured his praises, thanking Josh for working with his daughter - you guessed maybe it was Alice, but you had nothing to base that guess on. Josh handled it effortlessly, charming as ever. 

By the time the parent had left you, you and Josh were some of the last people still lingering. 

“I’ve gotta grab my stuff backstage,” he informed you, tiling his jaw up in that general direction. “Wanna come?” 

With a smile, you nodded an agreement and let him offer you a hand as you made your way out of the tight seats. 

Backstage was infinitely more chaotic than it was when you’d last seen it. Set pieces were strewn about - not unorganized, but everywhere. You had to weave through them to get to where his backpack was propped against a folding table, costume accessories spilling off the surface of it. 

“Do you want me to help clean up back here?” you asked, eyeing the messes. He hummed through a smile. 

“Nah, I’ve got a system,” he informed you, and then after you gave him a doubtful look, he added, “Seriously. And until you’re directing a cast of children in a play that you produced, I don’t want to hear your objections.”

His teasing tone made you bite back a grin. “It’s amazing - really. I’m just offering my help.”

The backpack looked heavy as he slung it over his shoulder, holding the strap across his chest with both hands. “Then take me home,” he requested playfully, flicking his eyes to the back exit. 

“Happily.”

+++

On Sunday, after the very last matinee show, you spent an hour helping him sort all the costumes - every tiny piece in a garment bag and labeled accordingly.  The rest, he insisted, he would work on during school hours the following day. 

You suddenly wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him in for a hug, resting your temple on his shoulder and taking a moment to relish in the fact that you’d taken him by surprise.

 “I want to take you out tonight - a congratulations of sorts,” you said as you leaned back far enough to see his cheeks flush a flattering peachy color. 

“Really?” 

“Only if you want to.” You paired your sentence with a casual shrug. 

He flashed you a pleased smile. “Of course I want to. I’d love that,” he agreed. 

You let him pick the place, and in the end, he landed on a hole-in-the-wall diner that he swore was the absolute best place to get pancakes in the middle of the night. Even though it was close to nine, you both sipped on coffee as you waited for your order. 

“I can’t believe it’s over,” he said as you watched his fingers idly rub across the ceramic mug in his hands. “There was so much lead-up and drama that it feels weird for it all to be behind me.”

“It was really incredible, Josh. I honestly can’t believe that you pulled it off with all that went wrong.”

He looked up at you through his fan of lashes. He looked tired, but not uncomfortably so - just enough that you knew he worked his ass off. 

“We pulled it off. I could have never done it without you,” he stated, charmingly earnest as always. 

You huffed a humorless laugh. “That’s not true - If I hadn’t moved in, you’d never have lost your assistant in the first place.”

His expression melted away until his face was blank. “I-”

He paused, visibly trying to figure out how he wanted to word the next line out of his mouth. “That wasn’t your fault. I didn’t really know what was happening until it was too late to change it.”

“I know, I just. I’m happy that it ended up this way, I just wish it hadn’t almost derailed your whole production.” You could feel your features slip into something mournful, making him frown. 

He was quiet for a moment before speaking again. “How do you even know about that?”

You hummed. “Kate told me. Jake told her.”

He glared off into the distance, but on him, the look was completely unthreatening. It was so out of place that it made you giggle.

“I’m not sure I like how close they are,” he grumbled through a smile he couldn’t hold back. 

“Yeah, I hear you. I went to her house this morning to rummage for this dress-”

He cut you off, eyes raking over your form. “You look amazing, by the way.”

You gave him a pointed look and a little eye roll, though you had to admit you were flattered. 

“Yes, well, Jake was at her house this morning. Petting her dog.”

His eyebrows lifted, lashes blinking a few times in surprise. After a moment, he cleared his throat and spoke again. “Well. I suppose you got what you wanted then, right?” 

The irritation that was evident on your features was unwarranted - you knew that in your heart, but it didn’t stop you from letting out a childish huff. 

“Yeah, but I didn’t think you and I would be-”

You cut yourself off just as his eyes flicked up at you over the rim of his mug. 

“You and I would be what?” he asked coyly. You took a moment to admire the fact that his cheeks and the bridge of his nose were still a bit tanned despite it now being well into winter. A little like a bronze statue. 

“I didn’t think you and I would be...a thing,” you finished simply, keeping your tone light. 

He quirked an eyebrow at you, all too suspicious for your liking. “No?”

A puzzled look flashed across your face. “No,” you agreed. “Why? What does that mean?”

He took a too-long sip of coffee, holding your eyes just to fuck with you - you were sure. He cheekily bit his bottom lip as he figured out how to word what he wanted to say. “Nothing really,” he assured, though you were unconvinced.

You were going to press the topic further, but your thought was cut short when the server showed up with a tray of your food and another carafe of hot coffee. He made light conversation with Josh as he filled both of your mugs near to the brim, and you watched the steam rise off of it as you pondered which flavored syrup you’d drown your pancakes in. 

The sound of the little metal cup of creamer being slid across the tabletop toward you got your attention, and your eyes lingered on Josh’s hand as his fingers brushed past yours. 

“Cream, babe?” he inquired, though he was well aware of exactly how you took your coffee. 

Your heart skipped a beat as you processed what he’d said. That was the second time he’d called you that in the months you’d known him, and it had the same effect on you this time that it had the last time. You met his eyes, catching his fingers with yours for just a brief second, forcing a mischievous smile to his lips. 

You poured a bit of cream into your coffee and stirred it until it was a medium brown. 

“You can’t help yourself, can you?” you asked fondly and watched him bite his bottom lip absently to try and keep his smile from stretching into a grin. 

“Help myself from what?” His tone was cheeky, informing you that he knew exactly what you were talking about. It was evident that the two of you were playing a game now - something light and coy. You paused to take a bite or two of your food, happy enough to leave him in suspense for a moment longer. 

“Calling me that.”

He hummed, low in his throat. “Is that not alright?”

“Doesn’t it seem a bit out of place?” You watched as he reached across the table to stab at a piece of your pancake, bringing it to his mouth and chewing it before giving his answer. 

“Why would it? Are we not on a date right now?” 

A look of genuine shock flashed across your features. Not caring how rude it was, you asked through a mouth full of food, “Are we?”

There was a long pause in the conversation as he ate, and you wondered for a moment if you had upset him until he looked back up at you. He was biting back a smile as he leaned back in his seat. 

“Back before the musical, you were complaining about the cold - do you remember?” 

You frowned in concentration as you searched your brain. “Which time? I pretty frequently complain about the temperature here.”

He breathed a laugh. “Yeah, you do. I thought you were going to freeze to death at first. But there was something you said that glued itself to my frontal lobe.”

You gave him a questioning look, prompting him to continue. 

“You said, ‘if we move away from here, can we move somewhere warm?’.” He just held your eyes for a moment as your heart beat suddenly inched toward erratic. “We.”

You took a deep breath, suddenly feeling a little jittery and took another bite of pancake before you could say something truly stupid. 

After a moment of silence to let you process, he spoke again. “So, I think maybe you knew we would end up being a ‘thing’, right?”

“I don’t know a whole lot, Josh,” you admitted, reaching out and placing your hand on his and lightly running your fingers over his skin. “But, I do know that since the moment I met you, I wanted to be close with you. You’re magnetic. I truly think you could have anyone you wanted if they listened to you talk - just once.”

Despite having been the one to start the whole conversation, a peachy pink tint surfaced across his cheeks and nose at the compliment.

Clearly not interested in continuing such an intimate conversation at a busy diner, he placed his palm flat on the table and asked,  “Are you ready to get out of here? I think if I drink any more coffee my heart might give out.” 

“You could just switch to decaf,” you suggested, smirking at him as he squinted back at you like you had personally insulted him. 

He stood and leaned across the table until his face was only six inches or so from yours. “I’d rather die, thank you.”

[cleoirvine]

♡It was his arrogance. The way he spoke with a slight drawl, his words dripping with narcissism. It was how he walked, his back straight from years of holding himself upright, believing he was better than everyone else. Or maybe it was the way his eyes glistened with unbridled determination, the want, no, the need, to be the best. He was selfish, manipulative, and quite frankly, had his head shoved so far up his own ass that you-

“Maybe you should take a picture, it would last longer.”

Atsumu looked at you with a slight smirk, a volleyball tucked beneath his arm, a bag slung across his shoulder.

“Maybe you should try a different hair color, that way people won’t call you piss boy behind your back.” You said with a snort, averting your gaze elsewhere.

He had half a brain to spike that ball right at your face. But he simply rolled his eyes and brushed past you, making his way into the gym where the rest of his teammates sat stretching. Slipped between the clasp of your hands was a clipboard, the stats of each player displayed on clean even lines. Your notes took up the margins of the pages, your job as manager for the boys volleyball team becoming more of a hassle with every snarky comment that left the older twins mouth.

“If you’re going to be manager, then ya should at least pretend to make yourself useful.” Atsumu had said halfway into practice. As you passed around water bottles and reviewed upcoming plays, he had snatched the clipboard from beneath your elbow and dangled it above your head.

“Are you a 12 or something?” You retorted, crossing your arms over your chest. The blonde had grinned, a devilish smile laced with ill intent rolled over his features.

“Come on, manager. All ya gotta do is reach. Not up for a little fun?”

“Keep it. I have everything on there memorized anyways.”

But Atsumu was never one to give in easily. Golden boy, whether that name was a play on his hair color or not, was a powerhouse of a player; he was loved by many, adored by more, and envied by most. He was capable, and overwhelmingly diligent in his plays and his teasing mannerisms, and so what if his manager of all people didn’t give him the time of day? Why should he care that you were able to shut him down so easily, with the wave of your hand, the roll of your eyes, the quirk of your eyebrow. There were hundreds of other people who would love to be in your position. Thousands of people who would love to be acknowledged by someone like him.

“So ya wouldn’t mind if I ripped it up? Or maybe if I poured water all over it? How about that?”

Your movements were deliberate. The way you stood with one hip jutted out just slightly, the tilt of your head and the crease in your eyes to signify your annoyance. You tapped your foot on the hardwood floor of the gymnasium, the sound echoing off the walls around you. In your head, you weighed your options. 1) You could give in, beg him to hand back the clipboard, and return to your seat like a humiliated dog with its tail between its legs. No, you couldn’t give him the satisfaction. 2) You could get the coach involved. There’s no way Atsumu wouldn’t give it back then. But did you want to risk sounding like a cry baby? Like a snitch, even? 3) You could do the only reasonable thing you could think of- treat him like the child he is.

“I’m going to count to 5, Miya. And by the time I’m done, that clipboard better be back in my hands, or else.” You extended a hand, fingers firmly stuck together, face stoic and void of anything other than impatience. Like a mother with her toddler in a grocery store, you waited for him to stomp his feet and curl his hands into fists as he always did when he was embarrassed.

“Or else what?”

You paused. You hadn’t thought that far ahead. Atsumu sucked in a breath and gripped the notes a little tighter. He knew he had you cornered.

“Or else I’ll quit. And you can find yourself a new manager. How would your team feel, knowing that you’re the reason they no longer have me around?”

“Why should I care? Leave if ya want, no one’s stopping ya. Door’s wide open, sweetheart.”

You felt your heart beat erratically in your chest. Were you really going to quit over something as stupid as a clipboard? But if you stayed, Atsumu would win, would he not? Was winning and losing all that really mattered at the moment? No, your pride was on the line. Your dignity. Maybe, you had just as much of an ego as him. You couldn’t stand to see that smug look on his face for just one more second. You hated the way he laughed, as if he knew how much the bickering truly got to you. As if he could hear you physically swallow each time he called you sweetheart or when your shoulders brushed against each other on the way to practice. You feared the way his eyes watched your every movement, as if predicting and calculating exactly what you were going to do next.

But right now, Atsumu sat still, arm extended above both your heads, contemplating what exactly was going on inside your mind. Would you actually leave right now? Walk out that door, turn in your resignation letter and never return? He tried to picture it without you- the bus rides void of your terrible singing, the benches empty of your presence. You wouldn’t be there to comfort him after a loss, or praise him after a win-them, he thinks. The team, not just him. But god does he want it to be him. So bad. He knew you hated him. He knew you despised him down to the very atom. And maybe this was the only way he could get you to look at him, even if it was for only a second.

“Is that what you want?” You ask, voice uncharacteristically quiet. Your eyes drop from his for just a second, and you feel yourself inching towards the door. Atsumu doesn’t even take a moment to think before replying.

“No. Not at all. I want you to stay right where you are.” His mind is yet to catch up with his mouth, and his hands are moving before he can process it. He tosses you the clipboard, and dips beneath the net to prepare for another practice round. It’s only moments later does his face begin to grow red from embarrassment, with the realization of his actions settling on him fully.

He waits for you outside the gym doors. Kita helps you put away any stray balls and stacks the chairs against the back wall for you, before making his way into the late afternoon. As you find yourself stepping out as well, Atsumu’s hand grips at the junction of your wrist, his touch light, desperate, far from his usual demanding demeanor. He pauses, scratching at the back of his neck and running his hands through his hair as he glances at your shoes merely inches apart.

“I’m sorry-about today. I got a little carried away.” His voice is small, and you can see the apples of his cheeks glow pink in the fading sunlight.

“It would really suck if ya quit on us. Not for me-but for the team, ya know.” The silence between you is deafening, and you feel your heart hammer against your rib cage as you watch him remove his hand from where it was positioned on your arm. The loss of touch has you chasing him back, gripping his hand tightly in your own, before entwining your fingers together.

“I’ll stay for you too- I-I’m staying for you, I mean.” He looks up at you then, eyes wide in shock, before they turn to amusement.

“Oh really? Good to know-” You retract your hand from his, moving to walk ahead of him up the street.

“Nevermind, I take it back.”

“Noooo where are ya going? We were making progress!” His hands slip around your sides as he twirls you back towards him, his grip on the front of your backpack straps keeping you secured in place.

“Does this mean you like me, manager?” He asks with a playful lilt to his voice.

“I mean I don’t hate you-”

“Aw come on, can’t ya just say it? For me?”

You pretend to act oblivious, struggling against his hold.

“I haven’t a clue what you’re talking about-”

“I like you, ya know.”

You stop then.

“I tease ya because I think your reactions are cute. Especially when you go from slightly annoyed to angry, cause then you look super hot-”

“Miya-!” “Astumu. Please call me Atsumu from now on.”

He releases his hands from around your bag, and turns you back towards the road. In front of you, you watch as it forks down the middle, Atsumu usually taking the right to get home. But as you hurry on, you feel his presence behind you. “Your house is that way.”

“I know, I’m walking ya home.” There’s a beat of silence before he speaks again.

“At least tell me you like me a little bit. Come on, it ain’t fair to leave a guy hanging-”

“And what if you’re lying. What if tomorrow you don’t feel the way you do now?”

Atsumu shook his head with a laugh.

“I liked you yesterday. And the day before that, and the day before that. Trust me, I can’t get rid of ya even if I tried. Not that I would want that, though.”

You stop, and in the dimness of a dying sun, you catch his stare, eyes holding yours with careful assurance.

“I like you, Atsumu.”

He moves quickly, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you tight against his chest as your voice is muffled in his shirt.

“But I swear to god if you ever try that with me again-”

“We were having such a good moment, why’d ya have to go and say that!” there's a pout on his lips as he pulls away for just a moment.

“But you look really pretty right now, so I’ll forgive you.” You can’t help the smile that spills over your features. You clutch him close to you- the boy who’s overwhelming arrogance caught your attention. The boy who teased you too much, pushed not just the right buttons, but all your buttons, until his presence was nearly impossible to ignore. He was yours, and only yours. His image was shared with hundreds, but you were the only one who could hold him in such a way, the only one to see him crumble beneath your touch. He was yours, and yours only.

[ggukkiedae]

Can I request some angst to fluff with Sungchan and Shotaro, please? If it doesn’t feel natural, or you need to switch it up in any way, that is totally fine. Whatever you feel like will work out the best. (:

hi bub! after how long, i’ve finally got this done! though i’m sorry if it’s not up to par since all the writing i’ve been doing for the past three weeks is academic writing 😭 anyway, here you go and i hope you enjoy 💖

TAGLIST: @1-800-enhypenbibi @strwberrydinosaur @sunflower-0180 @caratinylyfe @1-800-minji @woopetals @kimhyejin3108 @starlighthwa @akshverse

notes: bold means it’s spoken in japanese

Hannah wasn’t prepared.

With the amount of promotions she had gone through in the year, as well as a SuperM concert, she felt as if she didn’t prepare enough for the release of Sticker. It was bad enough that she felt like she couldn’t do her best during recording, so she needed to make up for it through dance.

Which is why she was practicing in her living room, furniture all pushed to the side, curtain that covered the floor to ceiling mirrors pushed to the side.

It probably wasn’t her best idea considering one of the others could wake up at any given moment, but she took all the precautions. Practicing using bluetooth earphones and holding them in place with in-ear tape, wearing thick fuzzy socks that Jaemin had bought for her with the bottoms lined with a small grip, double checking if everyone’s actually asleep, and keeping Minnie in hers and Mark’s room. Everything was set, and she’d just put everything back into place by three in the morning and shower then go to sleep.

So maybe it wasn’t the healthiest thing to do considering the busy schedule her day had in store for her, but it was a necessity to show her best side as much as possible.

The sound of a door opening reached her hears through the soft volume of her music. She quickly took her earphones off as a dazed and slightly confused Shotaro walked out into the living room.

“Hannah?”

“Hey,” she placed her earphones to the side, “what are you doing up?”

The Japanese boy rubbed at his eyes before approaching her. “I was just thirsty. Hannah, it’s two in the morning. What are you doing up when you’re busy tomorrow?”

Two in the morning? A quick look at the clock was enough to confirm what her friend said. She had thought it was only midnight, not two. Her mind instantly started calculating how much time she’d have to sleep if she just continued practicing and slept on the couch by five.

“I’m just practicing.” Her voice held just the slightest hint of a yawn, which made Shotaro frown. “Gotta be prepared, you know?”

“But you are prepared.” Shotaro lightly grabbed her wrist and pulled her over to the kitchen. “Come on. We’re drinking some water, then we’re going to sleep.”

Hannah had no plans of sleeping while she still felt unprepared, but she let Shotaro pull her along. The least she could do was keep him company.

She watched in silence as her Japanese friend pulled out two mugs from the cupboard and filled them with water from the fridge. No words were exchanged between them until he took her used mug and placed it with his in the sink.

“Come on,” he tugged on her arm, “let’s go sleep.”

Hannah let out a loose chuckle and lightly removed his hand from her arm. “I’ll stay back and clean up.”

She was met with his contradictory hums and head shaking, some things she found endearing about him.

“No,” her arm was in his grasp once again, “you’re gonna stay up still. I don’t even know why you need to when you know this dance by heart at this point.”

“I just have to stay prepared and show the best sides of myself on stage.” She paused after saying that.

A glance at Shotaro made her hands curl up in the slightest. It was no secret that he had been feeling bad about not really being that active while it seemed everyone else, even Sungchan, were quite busy.

At that moment, there was just the smallest bit of silence as the boy pulling her along seemed to wake up even more.

“Roo, I’m sorry.”

“No,” he sighed, “it’s fine. I know that the company has different things planned for me.”

Hannah lightly pulled her arm out of his grip and brought him over to the couch. This action made him shake his head at her.

“No, we are not talking about this right now.”

“Might as well.” A slight grunt escaped mouth her as she threw herself on the couch. “You don’t think the company’s treating you badly, do you?”

“I mean, I’ve posted content recently.”

She cut him off. “But you haven’t been performing. Which is what you came here to do, perform! You work just as hard as all of us, I think you should be given your own performances, too.”

Shotaro only shook his head at her. “It’s not really a big deal. Sungchan doesn’t perform either.”

“He’s an MC. That’s a performance in its own way.”

“You would know. You were supposed to be MC, and you were excited, too.”

A silence rose in between them once again. Ever since she was given the news that Sungchan would go to Inkigayo instead of her, she never really talked about her almost-role. The whole of NCT knew how excited she was because she took her own steps forward to be less introverted, but the company took it away from her. They all knew how disappointed she was, which is why Sungchan clung onto her for the longest time after that.

Shotaro placed a hand on her knee, bringing her out of her thoughts. She pressed her lips together into a tight smile before placing a hand on his.

“It’s for the better,” she shrugged. “I have way too much going on, anyway, with all the units and SuperM having activities. Not to mention the collaboration early this year.”

The Japanese boy squeezed her knee. “I’m surprised you’re still up on your feet.”

“So am I. You know, I wish I could share my projects with you. Maybe then I’d get a longer break and you’d be on stage more.”

He only gave her smile and shook his head. The same thought ran around their heads. That’s not how things work. In the industry, you’re either overworked or hidden away, especially in their company. She already knew Shotaro was just grateful to be doing youtube content and posting on his instagram.

Shotaro scrunched his nose before tossing a few pillows on the floor. She watched curiously while he stood up and grabbed the quilt that they always had folded at the end of the couch and spread it on the floor.

“I don’t want us to talk sad,” he began while pulling her to the makeshift bed he created, “I want to sleep, and I want you to sleep instead of practicing, so we’re sleeping out here.”

She laughed but settled next to him on the floor. “Want me to play a soft playlist?”

“Yes, very much.”

That’s how Sungchan found them merely a few hours later. The two were curled up on the living room floor, and he made it just as the music cut out from Hannah’s phone dying. The younger boy shook his head in amusement before going to the kitchen to prepare breakfast. It was a good thing they had leftover takeout from the day before. This way, he could make sure his hyung and noona rested longer.

[displacedentities]

Night Out

My quickfic for @doodledrawsthings​ Coffee Shop AU! In truth I had this in the books for months and just never got around to finish it ;u; Unfortunately only the muse can decide when it’s time to slap me with enough serotonin to work on this, so I rode the high from recent art and wrapped it up! It’s not as clean as I wanted, but you know what, have it anyway.

-Myst -----

Finally. Another shift in the books.

With a heavy sigh, Luka stretches his back as the clock chimes up on the wall over the glass doors. Deft fingers untie the back before he slips the fabric apron over his head. A light snap of magnets punctuates the white noise of steaming coffee machines, and Luka stuffs his nametag into his pants pocket.

Luka was embarrassed to think about how much of a struggle it was to steady on for the entirety of the workday. Stress ate at him all the time, over so many things. Harriet was priority number one - did he remember to prep her meals for the day? Was she still ok, back in the apartment? Was Professor Popcorn in need of more repairs? Luka would happily handle such a task, of course, but...

He wasn't guaranteed to have thumbs when the evening finally came. There was his time limit to think about.

"Hey Luka?"

Damn, but being cursed was such a pain. Chopping vegetables was a particular bane of his existence. How could he trust himself with a knife like that? Ugh. He hated to make Harriet do it - no child should be wielding a knife before the age of 13, for any reason. He'd just have to MacGyver a solution or something.

"Luka..."

And on top of that, he had the upcoming bills to fret over. Rent was due in a few days, and he'd made a decent amount in tips, but they could not afford to have their upstairs neighbor burst a pipe again. He and Harriet had spent the entire afternoon toweling up their poor carpets to avoid getting mildew. Or worse, bugs. Luka was a fan of bugs, but not in his carpets, or sneaking into the mattress where they could bite his daughter.

"HEY!"

This time, the voice manages to pierce the haze of worry writhing in Luka's brain. Jolting to attention, the auburn-haired adult turns around, blinking owlishly at his colleague, Clover.

The braided redhead is giving him a wan smile, her brows furrowed in worry as she sets down a large bag of coffee beans under the counter.

"You spaced out again, buddy. Did you hear a word I said?" the barista asks, folding her arms over her stained apron.

"Uhh... you said my name," Luka replied, feeling a bit awkward as he chuckles once. "Sorry, I probably missed anything you might have asked me."

"I was asking if you ever go out."

"Ah- what?"

That was unexpected. Go out?

"You know-" Clover holds up her hands to gesture to the world in general, and beyond the coffee shop doors "-out! Like, with friends or anybody?"

Ah.

Luka laughs once, rubbing a hand on one side of his face.

"You mean since I moved into town? Nah, not really. Me and my daughter have only been here a few months - can't say we made many friends just yet."

Nor was that a risk they could take. Who knows how long they could stay here, before he was inevitably found out? One could argue it was a risk just- doing what he was doing now. Trying to hold a job, staying in an apartment; a semi-permanent living situation. They'd been on the road so long, old habits were quite hard to break. And if he was entirely honest with himself, Luka didn't know yet if he felt safe, even six months past the first day he arrived in the rural town of Subcon.

Clover's frown deepens, her arms dropping back to her sides. Her dropped guard betrays her worry, before she tries to play it off with another lighthearted smile and upbeat words.

"Oh come on, it can't have been that long since you've just done something fun for the sake of it. When was the last time you went out with friends and enjoyed yourself?" she asks.

"Why is this important?" Luka asks, his own guard slowly rising. He didn't quite see where she was going with this, but he wasn't sure he'd like it.

Oops- maybe not the most polite way to phrase that, as he sees an awkward flinch on Clover's face. Quick, recover! Luka chuckles once, also trying to lighten the mood.

"You and MJ never really asked me that kind of stuff before. I thought I was hired to serve coffee, not tea."

"We serve both, ya doofus," Clover smirks, rubbing one of her well-muscled arms with the other in a self-conscious gesture. "You should know that, since you've been working here almost four months now. And uh- well, MJ just kind of noticed you always seem very tired whenever you leave work."

Luka smiles back, but it's forced. Careful. Don't give any hints that it's anything serious. Don't be suspicious.

"Oh, that? I uh- I'm not used to the retail scene. I'll probably adapt to it soon."

Clover doesn't seem convinced. Still, her expression is sympathetic, rather than judgmental or suspicious. She leans her back on the counter, looking over Luka's exhausted demeanor and baggy eyes with a skeptical smile.

"I'm sure you will." She rests her hands on the counter. "In the meantime, you should go out for bowling with me and MJ! We were planning this outing for about a week, and maybe you'd wanna come with?"

Luka stops mid-folding of his apron. He turns toward Clover with surprise.

"Bowling? As in- knocking over pins in an alley, bowling?"

Clover rolls her eyes, amused. "No, as in rolling cereal bowls. Yes, that kind of bowling, Luka. It'll be fun! Eat some cheap pizza, knock over pins, watch the uncanny valley animations on the TV screen, the whole shebang. You up for joining us?"

"I uh- I didn't know there was a bowling alley here?" Luka says, his voice pitching up as he gives a sheepish laugh. "I- I don't know..."

Shit.

He could already feel the first touches of his curse starting to well up. A quick glance to his hands- okay, no purple yet. But it was coming.

Luka tucks his hands behind his back just in case.

"I'm not sure, I have Harriet to worry about..." he fumbles, rushing to think of excuses. It hurts his heart a little when he sees the disappointed expression Clover wears.

"Are you sure?" she asks, her tone gentle. "It'll only be a for a couple of hours - I could ask Cookie next door if she'd be willing to handle your daughter for the night. She's a fantastic sitter, and your daughter would have Mu to play with."

Luka opened his mouth, preparing to turn it down- then closed it again, brows furrowed as he chews over the thought.

Only a few hours... hm. His curse's current time limit was somewhere a little short of eight hours, he was sure. As long as he didn't have to pick up a shift at work, he would have most of his day free to spend out of the motel. An outing to a bowling alley couldn't possibly last eight hours, though he'd... never actually gone bowling before.

"I.... don't know... I've never been bowling, I'll just hold you back-"

"Nonsense," Clover says, waving off his excuse immediately. "MJ and I aren't professionals or anything, Luka - it's just for fun! You've never been?? That means you've gotta try it, at least once. Please?"

...mmh. Luka would be lying if he said he wasn't very tempted. But he had so much to worry about! His daughter, his curse... keeping his job, being able to support the two of them. Not to mention, getting used to his slow camaraderie with Clover and MJ. That sort of outing would throw their friendship into first gear.

"It's ok," Clover interrupts his thoughts, standing back up straight as she grabs a rag and finishes wiping down the counter. "You don't have to come, we just thought... you know, it might be fun. You look like you need some serious time to unwind, dude. All we ever see of you is showing up to work, dealing with customers, then you leave. And hey, if you change your mind, the offer's still open."

Luka curls his fingers, foot tapping the floor in small fidget.

"Well, I'm gonna start closing up the back," Clover says, tossing the rag into a laundry bin next to the employee break room. "I'll see you tomorrow!"

"Wait!"

Clover stops, turning around with the laundry basket.

"What day were you planning to do it?"

What am I thinking?? I can't go on an outing with them!

Unaware of Luka's silent stresses, Clover beams, her smile lighting up once again.

"Saturday! Would that work for you?"

"Mnhg- maybe?" Luka concedes, forcing his own sheepish smile despite his brain screaming No nO this is a bad idea! His mouth continues to run away from him. "Saturday is my errand day - me and Harriet go out for groceries in the morning, and eat out at whatever lunch restaurant she picks. I wouldn't be open until the evening, and Sunday's game day for me and my daughter."

Bad idea, what are you doing?!

"That's perfect!" Clover says, delighted and still not privy to Luka's inner struggle. "If we close the shop at five, we can drive to the bowling alley around 5:30, play a game or two and eat. Should go until about... eight-ish? How's that sound?"

Say no, say NO!

"Sure, sounds fun."

AGH!

"Great!" Clover says, a skip in her step as she lopes off to the back room with the laundry basket. "I'll text MJ to let him know - he's already gone back to his apartment."

"Yeah, I'll uh- I'll text him too," Luka chuckles, scratching behind his head with one hand- and immediately putting a stop to that action, as he feels the points of sharp claws dig at his scalp. Both arms are dropped and tucked behind his back, a big smile on his face. "Gotta give him the full details and everything, haha..."

"No problem- see you!" Clover bids Luka goodbye, waving one hand as she cheerily hauls the laundry bin off into the back.

"Bye!" Luka says, his voice cracking from nerves.

Oh thank god she's gone.

Luka pulls his hands back out into view, and sees the telltale purple staining begin to creep up his flesh. Peck. It was already starting- Clover left just in time. He could already feel the sharp ends of his canines starting to poke into his bottom lip. He didn't have much left of the day in human form- he had to get home right now.

Snatching up his belongings from his locker, stuffing his work apron inside, Luka loops his bag over his shoulder and leaps over the service counter. He missed the rack of sugar packets this time, thankfully, his sneakers squeaking on the tile floor as he bolts out the door. The bell rings as the glass entryway opens and shuts, signaling his departure. Car keys are whipped out of his bag, a slowly deforming finger just managing to push the button to unlock the vehicle as he clambers inside. Just five minutes- he could make five minutes.

The engine of the car roars to life, and Luka zips off out of the employee parking space, trying his best to ignore it as his fingers swell and fuse together, and his eyes reflect golden light in the rear view mirror.

------

MJ's car putters up to outside the bowling alley, fixing his blue-dyed hair with a sigh. Clover, in the passenger seat, drums her hand on the door handle with excitement.

"This is gonna be so much fun," she says, turning to look over her shoulder at the stiff and uncomfortable Luka in the backseat. "I'm so glad you decided to come, Luka- we'll show you the ropes of bowling!"

"Great," the young man says, putting up another shaky smile as his fingers tense around his kneecaps. "Can't wait!"

"That's the spirit," MJ speaks up, giving Luka a quick smile of his own before twisting the key in the ignition. The car's engine dies down, the doors unlocking as MJ shifts the gear into park. "Clover told me you were nervous about hanging out, and that's completely fine by me - if you feel uncomfortable and don't want to stay, just let us know, ok? We'll drive you back to the apartment building, no hesitation."

Luka inhaled deeply, letting out a heavy sigh from the back seat of the car. It felt like his nerves were trying to shake him apart. A glance at his watch-

Was he really going forward with this?

...Yes. He was. As much as Luka worried, Clover had been right. It'd been far too long since he'd taken 'me' time.

Luka puts a hand on the door and pulls the handle, stepping out of the car before he has a chance to psyche himself out.

It's just a couple hours. He still had plenty of time, after his midday outings with Harriet.

Stay calm. You can do this.

The sign above the brick building shines with neon lights, saying 'Pins & Cushions' in bright blue and red. The backdrop is a painting that Luka can swear was painted in the 80s, displaying a bowling ball as it barrels into pins and knocking them askew with a cartoony impact mark.

"Pins & Cushions?" he says aloud, smirking a little bit.

"Kind of silly, right?" MJ speaks up, locking the car behind him with a click. "Sounds more like a sewing parlor than a bowling alley."

"It's because they boasted having cushioned chairs," Clover says, snickering. "You've never been, but most bowling alleys have these awful plastic chairs that hurt to sit on for too long."

"You mean like the chairs in high school?"

Luka's joke earns a quick bark of a laugh from Clover.

"Couched seating areas in a bowling alley was, sadly, a craze that never caught on," MJ says, ascending the concrete steps up to the building. "But this one did, and the place is like forty years old and too stubborn to change, so your butt will thank you later."

When the doors open, Luka is immediately washed with a cocktail of smells he didn't think could- nor should- ever go together. First and foremost is the thick smell of plastic and rubber, followed by the chemical odor of cleaning sprays, and the sizzling smell of burning cheese. Air conditioning blasts them from above as the three young adults enter the bowling alley, the doors sliding shut behind their backs. The sounds hit next - a cacophonous mix of rubber soles squeaking on polished floors, heavy objects falling and rolling, and the clatter of pins falling into the trap at the far end of the establishment.

It was loud, smelled strange, and the carpet looked lifted straight out of an arcade.

Luka was torn between anxiety, and a strange sort of excitement he hadn't felt in a long, long time. This was something new, something unfamiliar- he had hours to enjoy himself, and spend time not worrying about stresses of life. Harriet had a sitter, paid in advance with an alarm for when he would return, and he was out with- friends? Had him accepting this invitation solidified their friendship at this point? ...the thought made a happy butterfly flutter in his stomach.

This would be a great evening, he could feel it.

"Earth to Luka." MJ's amused tone causes Luka to jump. "Something on your mind? You're smiling."

"Oh- uh- nothing," Luka says, scratching behind his head sheepishly. "Just- thanks. For inviting me. I think I really did need this a lot."

"YEAH you do!" Clover thumps him on the back with one hand. "Come on! You have to give your shoes to the clerk so they can give you your bowling shoes."

"Ah, what? I have to take off my shoes on this carpet?" Luka complains, lifting a foot with distaste. "I feel like I'm stepping on twenty-year-old candy."

"It's part of the charm!" Clover sings, already removing one of her sneakers. "It's either this, or slip all over the place on the actual alley floor. You're getting the full bowling experience whether you like it or not, coffee boy."

"Ex-CUSE me!" Luka says with a dramatic gasp, hopping on one foot as he works to remove his own shoes. "I think you will find I'm a coffee man, thank you."

"Coffee twink," Clover counters.

"No, that's MJ."

"HEY! I will call lion's share of the tips for that one," MJ shakes a sneaker at them both in a mock scolding gesture.

"YOU'RE BOTH COFFEE TWINKS," Clover declares to the entire establishment as she fights off her last sneaker, racing for the counter before the others can catch up. "HURRY UP, COFFEE TWINKS, WE NEED TO PICK OUT BOWLING BALLS."

"I have dibs on the galaxy patterned one!" MJ yells after Clover.

Clover gives MJ an evil grin as she takes her bowling shoes and pays the rental fee, tying them before sauntering over to the racks of bowling balls. Her hand hovers over the selection, giving a teasing pause over the bowling ball made with swirled star plastic.

"Don't you dare," MJ hisses from the counter, pointing an accusing finger at Clover as he hands over the money for both his and Luka's rental shoes.

"It's either the tips share, or the bowling ball! You decide!" Clover yells back, drumming her fingers on the coveted starry bowling ball.

"Fiiiiine," MJ says with a dramatic tone, though his smile gives away his mirth. "You know I wasn't going to take the tips anyway, Clo."

"I know~" she says, giggling while she moves on to a different rack of bowling balls. "And you know I wouldn't do that to your poor weak arms, either, Moonie."

Luka finishes tying his rental shoes, thanking MJ before he makes his way down the small stairway to the alleys. It's very bright in this section of the building, with cushioned couches surrounding tables and standing consoles. Metal railings and a chute of some kind were positioned at each alleyway, some with bowling balls sitting idle atop the metal racks.

"So, what now?" Luka asks, the excitement of wading into unknown waters welling in his chest again.

"Pick a bowling ball!" Clover says, gesturing to the racks of heavy plastic spheres. "You'll want a heavy one, but not too heavy for you to lift and throw."

"Go easy on us, Clover." MJ shakes his head as he picks up his favorite starry ball. "Ms. Gun Show and her fourteen-pound bowling ball."

The redhead leans over and scoops up a swirled green bowling ball, hefting it on one arm and pumping it like a weight.

"You might get some guns yourself if you helped me landscape and move sod around my garden, Coffee Twink #1," she says, flexing a bicep.

"I refuse to acknowledge that nickname."

"Sorry, it's our team name now," Clover laughs, "the Coffee Twinks!"

"Hey, I thought our team name was the Comets?!"

"That was before Luka joined the team - now it's a 2-to-1 twink majority, I don't make the rules."

Luka just has his face in his hands, laughing through the whole exchange as he leans on the metal racks.

"You're just as bad as Harriet!" Luka laughs, pushing his hair back out of his eyes with one hand. "I don't even know where she learned that word - Cookie's daughter, probably?"

"Definitely," MJ says with a thousand yard stare, earning more laughter from Luka. "Go pick a bowling ball, I'll get the console up and running for our game."

Wiping tears from his eyes, chuckling under his breath, Luka turns to the racks and peruses the selection. The bowling balls come in all colors - most are black or dark brown, but there's a rather delightful mix of brighter hues like pink, blue and yellow. Some are marbled, some have glitter in the plastic, and a few very beat-up bowling balls have graphics of cartoon characters that were popular in the 90s. Well-loved by the children who patronize this establishment, he was sure. Harriet would love the Scooby-Doo ball - oh no wait. The one themed after a Pokeball, for sure was her poison of choice. And clearly the pick of the litter for many other children, as it was covered in scratches and dents from decades of use.

Ah- there was one themed after a jack-o-lantern! How fitting. He loops his fingers into the grip holes of the bowling ball, and heaves it off of the rack- only to almost crush his toes as the weight yanks his arms to the floor.

That was- heavier than expected!

"Oooooh, nice pick," Clover says, spinning her own bowling ball in her hands. "You sure you can carry it, though? That's a 10-pounder."

"I'll be fine-" Luka says, grunting as he lifts it back up with both hands this time. "Just- caught me off guard, is all."

"Alright, game's all set," MJ announces from the console.

Above their heads, a large tube television flashes blue before displaying a score board.

A loud k-chunk k-chunk k-chunk of machinery draws Luka's eye toward the other end of the alley. Metal rigging and machinery descend from the covered roof of the pin trap. Resembling a large soda crate, the rig drops an array of ten white bowling pins, before unclamping and ascending back into the darkness of whatever creation of god resided in that ceiling.

"You're up first, Clo," MJ says, waving a hand to indicate she should move forward.

"Watch and learn," Clover throws Luka a smile, the competitive taunt dampened by her genuinely helpful tone. "You want to throw the ball so it rolls like this-"

Stepping forward onto the squeaky, smooth polished wooden platform, Clover lifts her bowling ball to her chest. With a quick inhale, she lopes forward two steps, swinging her arm back with the bowling ball, before reeling it forward on the last stride and underhand throwing it into the aisle. The heavy green bowling ball lands with a tHDD before skidding its way down the oiled track, rolling in a long, smooth line. The swirled green sphere smacks into the bowling pins with a loud tHWAKK!!, sending all but one of the pins flying into the darkness beyond. The ball disappears into the hole, and Clover puts her hands on her hips with a huff.

"Damn, almost got a strike." Clover snaps her fingers, shrugging. The green bowling ball clatters back up the chute. She grips her fingers into the trio of holes again, and goes for another throw.

The bowling ball rolls down the course, straight as an arrow for the last pin. The pin spins off the wooden platform into the darkness, earning a whoop from Clover.

"Nice, got a spare!" Clover declares, throwing her arms up in triumph. She sashays her way back to the couches. "Who's up next?"

"I'm up," MJ says, standing from the console. Looping his fingers into his own starry bowling ball, MJ rolls his shoulders and steps up onto the oiled wooden planks. "I'm going to get the first strike of the day, just wait."

"Sure you will," Clover snickers as MJ winds up.

When he releases the ball, it rolls at very high speed- before curving halfway down the track, the topspin he put on the ball causing it veer off course and land in the gutter.

Face flushed, MJ coughs into his hand, suddenly very invested in fixing his shirt as Clover grins. The galaxy ball returns to the trough, and MJ pointedly picks it up again, winding up for his second throw. The bowling ball rocks down the course, and knocks over about six pins, leaving a corner of the triangle still standing.

"Woo!" Clover cheers, clapping as MJ returns to the seating. She reaches over and nudges Luka on the shoulder. "You're up, Luke! Show us whatchu got!"

Heart in his throat, Luka stands from his seat and steps up.

The bowling ball grins up at him, daring him to chicken out. It was heavy in his hand. Still, he walked up onto the polished floor, feeling the rubber on the bottom of his shoes as it grips the oiled surface.

Fighting the weight of the heavy bowling ball, Luka takes a step forward, swinging his arm back before bringing it back around like a pendulum. The ball hits the track with a heavy thDD as it’s released, sent rolling off down the track. Around the halfway point, it spins off course and lands in the gutter with a clunk.

“Aww,” Clover says, leaning over the chair cushion. “And you had such good posture, too.”

“It’s ok,” MJ speaks up, seeing Luka’s visible embarrassment. “It’s your first time bowling! Nothing to be ashamed of. You have another shot before we rotate players.”

Disappointed, Luka rubs at his arm. Well, that was a less than encouraging performance. But he noticed the angle of the spin on the ball. Maybe he could fix that.

The ball clatters up the chute back into the return trough. Luka picks it up with a huff of breath, holding it to his chest as he does mental calculations. If he turned his wrist at just the right point...

Stepping forward, Luka swings back and releases the ball, putting a top spin on the ball at the last possible moment-

The jack-o-lantern face rockets down the alley, the path straight until the very last second. It curves to hit the front pin from the side, knocking every single pin into the abyss beyond.

"OHHHHH!" Clover and MJ exclaim, clapping with enthusiasm as Luka looks stunned.

"You got a strike!" Clover says, applauding with a big grin. "You were totally pulling our legs about being a newbie to this, huh??"

"I think I just got lucky," Luka tries to play it off, feeling an uncommon shyness as he smiles.

Clover shakes her head, not having it.

"Luck nothing! That was pure talent, and you got a strike, dude!"

"Technically that was a spare, but still a strike in my book," MJ says as he rotates the turn order on the console, giving Luka a smile and a thumbs up.

"Oh let him have it, Moon Moon," Clover laughs as MJ throws her a pout. "Our new boy's got game!"

Luka hunches his shoulders, an awkward smile curling across his cheeks as he walks back over to the couches. Clover jumps to attention and makes her way to the track, picking up her green bowling ball for another round as he sits down.

This was... much more fun than he had expected it to be. The background noise of the bowling alley was surprisingly pleasant. He found he could get used to the dull odor of plastic and cleaner- and honestly, that hot cheese smell from what must be the pizzeria was tempting his stomach. But best of all was the camaraderie he could feel sparking between him, Clover, and MJ. Were they officially friends now? Or had they been already, and he was just- in denial? If Luka was entirely honest with himself, probably the latter. MJ and Clover had been nothing but kind and understanding, to him. His sporadic hours and excuses had done nothing to faze them with regards to their treatment of him at work. They still offered him drinks and invited him on this outing, offering even to pay for his expenses, didn't they?

"Hey Luka!" A call from MJ breaks him out of the small reverie. "You're up, again."

"And after this round, we can hit the arcade! I bet I can out-dance you on DDR, Coffee Twinks," Clover smirks.

"No betting. I know you can."

Maybe- maybe he had nothing to worry about.

---

The evening is going fantastic.

The first bowling game had been a pretty close match between Luka and Clover. Clover had the arm strength to pull off some mean and fast throws, but Luka had developed a system. Figuring out how to spin the bowling ball just the right amount had made up for his noodle arms and less weighty bowling ball. It wasn't long before he figured out how to roll a pretty straight record of spares and strikes, with the occasional 7-10 split. After bowling around, they went into the arcade section, with an entire paper roll of quarters to blow on games. A vicious Ms. Pacman multiplayer match had led to MJ smoking all three of them, and as predicted, Clover out-danced both of the boys on the DDR and Stepmania machines. Luka had to collapse over a nearby chair with exhaustion after his matches. He'd finished off the arcade run with a very lucky pull from a claw machine, winning a black cat plush with big yellow eyes that he was definitely going to enjoy giving to Harriet.

The three of them sat around their table at the bowling console again, laughing over a hot cheese and pepperoni pizza.

"No way, you didn't!" Luka gasps, wheezing for air.

"I did! I punched his goddamn lights out!" Clover laughs, slapping one knee. "The guy was being a huge creep, so I introduced him to my fist."

"I hope you didn't get in trouble with the cops or something for that." Luka tilts his head, giving her an impressed and worried look.

"Can't get in trouble if nobody reports it," MJ chimes in, smirking past his soda cup. "He complained to me, but I had the security tapes AND plausible deniability because I wasn't on the floor. Corporate took our side on this."

"Nobody from the city wants to drive all the way out to podunk Subcon for a random dudebro's complaint." Clover sits back on her cushioned seat, chomping into her pizza happily. "Mmmmm- delicious melty cheese."

Luka chomps into his own pizza, exhaling and blowing on it as it nearly burns his mouth.

"Easy, tiger!" MJ smirks around his own mouthful of pizza.

"I know, it's just so good," Luka says, laughing into his hand as he sips some of his cola. "But in like- the way you know it's not that great? Does that make sense?"

"Night in the Woods taught me the Pizza Scale, and I stick by that," Clover says, crunching through her crust to grab up another slice, washing down the bread with some soda. When she reaches for another piece of the pie, she pauses, and lets out a huff. "Oh, that sucks. I guess they didn't clean the bowling balls that well this time. Gross."

"Hm?" Luka says through a mouthful of pizza.

"Your fingers are all oil-stained from the finger holes on the bowling ball, Luka. Big Al needs to wash the bowling balls properly."

Confused, the law student shifts his attention down.

The ends of his fingertips are discolored with ebony purple.

Luka can feel as his brain zeroes in on the first sign of his impending transformation, and begins to shift into emergency mode as it relays the steps he must take in order to avoid further exposure. He'd gone over this information with himself many times over the past five years. It was ingrained in his mind, what he had to do, the information practically screaming at him. But he can't hear it. His ears are filled with buzzing as reality breaks into the facade he'd slowly built up over the course of hours.

No-

No no no-

His pizza slice drops to the paper plate as he fumbles with his bag, pulling out the cell phone from the liner pocket. Shaking fingers tap the screen with frantic speed, trying to turn the damn thing on-

9:17?

They'd been here nearly four hours?!

He'd spent the morning out with Harriet, doing their grocery shopping and walking around the town's outdoor mall as much needed father-daughter time. Eight hours of being in disguise had long since passed.

His time limit was up.

This couldn't be happening. Yet the numbers stare back at him from the glare of his cell phone screen. They even have the nerve to tick over to 9:18 right before his eyes.

This wasn't happening. This wasn't happening! It wasn't fair!

"Luka, you ok? You're turning pale..."

Clover's question just barely manages to pierce the haze, causing Luka to jolt in his seat. Posture stiff and breath shallow, he lifts his head to meet Clover's questioning eyes. She's staring at him with building concern, her smile becoming a frown of worry.

The tension is palpable in the air as Luka struggles to find words. Finally, he manages to say something.

"It's- it's a quarter past nine-"

"Oh shoot-" Clover says, sitting up abruptly as she grabs her own phone.

MJ checks his watch, wincing. "Oof. Sorry, Luka. I guess we lost track of time passing. I'll apologize to Cookie for the overtime, we can finish this round and go-"

"Don't feel good- going to the bathroom-" Luka wheezes, scrambling to his feet as he scoops all of his belongings into his bag and races past MJ's seat.

"Luka!" Clover yells after him, her heightened concern audible in her voice. "Ok, we'll- we'll start cleaning up! Let us know if you need-!"

Her words are cut off by the slam of the bathroom door. Luka's bowling shoes slip over the slick tile floor, his hands gripping onto the cold porcelain of the bathroom sink to steady himself. He brings his shaking hands up to view in the mirror. The blackening purple skin was spreading up his finger joints, reaching his palms.

No- not now! Why now?

Luka clenches his fists and his jaw, focusing every ounce of his will on making the purple go away. He can almost feel a vein pop on his forehead- if he still had veins, anymore- as he strains to make his unwilling body follow his desires. The purple starts to recede at a caterpillar crawl... but it slows. And the harder he tries, the more he can feel his arms struggle to hold their shape - becoming less solid.

"No- no!" he whimpers, clenching his hands into the sink again. The action splatters small droplets of purple sludge against the porcelain, which vanish moments later as the purple staining once more consumes his fingers - and now his palms. "Stop it! Just- let me be human! Please!"

He lifts his head to the mirror. Despair fills his gut as he sees amber eyes staring back at him in the reflection, and the beginnings of an inner glow fighting to come out from the back of his throat.

Luka lets out a wordless sound of sorrow, lifting an arm to pound one fist against the mirror in vain. The reflection is unfazed in its destitution, tears beginning to gather at the edges of its eyes and mouth set into a sob of clenched teeth. The reflection's canine's lengthen several inches as the eyes stare back, accusingly. The purple was starting to spread up its neck, just poking out the collar of the shirt.

"No..."

This wasn't him. But it had been, years ago. This was SUPPOSED to be him.

He curls his fist, watching as the fingers start losing their shape. Fusing together, becoming single digits and his thumbs vanish back into the purple sludge of the limb.

"I was finally-..." Luka whimpers, "...I finally felt human again."

-bang bang bang-

The sound of a fist knocking on the bathroom door causes Luka to yelp and jump back from the mirror.

"Luka? You ok in there?"

It was MJ.

Peck!

Grabbing his bag, Luka books it into the furthest stall of the bathroom. He slams the metal door behind him, fumbling to lock it with his swelling mitten fingers. Alarm shot through his gut as his shirt felt tight around his torso. Already?? This was faster than usual! Had he really pushed it that much?

"Hey man, are you sick? Clover and I are really concerned. Do you need any help in there?"

"NO! NO I'M GOOD!" Luka yells from the bathroom stall, clapping a two-fingered hand over his mouth as he hears the slight reverb echo to his own voice. Dammit! "I'M JUST- I'LL BE FINE!"

He was not fine, he would most certainly not be fine!

"Luka, you sound croaky." It was Clover this time, probably a short distance behind MJ. "Dude, are you sure? MJ, maybe you should go in and check on him-"

"NO!"

No, the reverb was stronger!

"Luka, I'm coming in."

"MJ it's fine!"

Luka could hear the seams of his shirt starting to stretch and strain. The seconds were ticking by as strings started to pop at the neck.

Shit, shit!

Luka turned left and right, the stall cramped and uncomfortable as the ruff of fur around his neck thickens and threatens to burst his shirt open. He needed a way out!

Aha! A small window, to the outside! Wow, that was probably the worst location for a window. And it was so small-

The door creaked as MJ started to turn the handle.

NO TIME!

Luka makes a dive for the window. His fingers catch on the sill, and he hauls his body up onto the tiny ledge, his head pushing up the glass and emerging out into the open air. Squeezing through the narrow space, he struggles to pull his feet through, kicking off the bowling shoes and hearing them clatter to the tiles below.

The door comes unlatched, and MJ enters the bathroom, looking around with a frown.

Luka was gone. And for some reason, his bowling shoes were abandoned on the questionably cleaned bathroom floor.

Just outside the window, tucked next to the wall of the alleyway outside the bowling alley, Luka is panting with adrenaline. He can feel his chest expand further with each breath, the fur mane around his neck already splitting apart his shirt. His fingers had fully lost their human shape by now, coalescing back into the familiar mitts he hated so much. A reminder that, no, he wasn't human. No matter what those people in the bowling alley thought of him, and what he thought of them in return... no matter how much he wanted to be human, again.

"Luka?"

His entire torso now fully drenched in purple, Luka hangs his head, listening as he fights to strip off the shirt suffocating him.

Footsteps, in the bathroom.

"...Luka? What the-... Clover, he's not here?"

"What?? But he- went into the bathroom! He was just-!"

"His shoes are here..."

"His shoes??"

Luka forces himself to stand, wobbling a bit further away from the window as he focuses all of his efforts on keeping his legs. He can't lose his ability to walk, not in the middle of town!

God dammit... god dammit! Why couldn't he just enjoy his night? Now he was wandering alleyways, half transformed, and MJ and Clover were no doubt worried to hell and back. What could he even say? 'Sorry, had to take a break to wolf out in the bathroom'?

-brrring brrring-

The buzz of the phone in his pants pocket- which was getting tight against his waist, he noticed. Luka quickly extracts the phone before it can be damaged by the fabric.

MJ's caller ID stares back at him from the screen.

The decision to trust these two with his information was biting him in his rapidly purpling behind. He'd been so careful not to slip up, and the ONE TIME he makes a mistake... He had another decision to make. He could not respond, and just be a complete asshole, but he could protect his secret a little safer, for just a little bit longer. Or he could pick up, and... he didn't know. Bullshit something? Would they even believe whatever malarkey he could cook up in seven seconds for bailing out of a bowling alley restroom? God, he was terrible at improvised excuses! He was a lawyer, not an actor! But if he answered the phone call, maybe- maybe he could hold on to that feeling again. The warmth of companionship of peers his age, that he hadn't felt since law school. Since... Vanessa. But he couldn't think about her right now. What mattered was his safety- his daughter's safety.

Peck. He didn't even think about that part. Could he really rip Harriet out of a somewhat stable home life, again? She was just starting to get along with Cookie's daughter, and he didn't want to take that precious first friendship from her.

Luka was only pulled out of the downward spiral by the vibration of the phone, which he only now realized had registered a missed call, and was now on the second call. It was still MJ, the picture of him in his Horizon employee cap still smiling from the bright phone screen.

He had to do something. He could feel his legs protest the form they was struggling to hold.

Survival instinct set in. First, he had to get away from the scene.

Stumbling to his malforming feet, Luka jogs away from the alley, ducking away from the Pins & Cushions and avoiding the bright neon sign on the side of the building.

As he walks, a headache hits, and Luka just knows his face was losing more of his familiar features. Didn't need a mirror to know that he was definitely the shade of a bruised plum, and that his eyes were glowing like gold beacons. The sharp teeth at the edges of his mouth were digging into his bottom lip as he dodges and weaves to avoid line of sight from storefront apartment windows.

The woods were so close by, just a few more blocks.

Faster. He had to run faster. But his legs- were fighting him! Already he could feel his steps become lighter, movement more fluid. It was a struggle to keep a walking stride, rather than just- leap into the air. No way was he going to fly a block from pecking main street.

His phone continues to vibrate, threatening the call to drop.

Right when he reaches the sidewalk, Luka pants for breath, collapsing beside the pole for a street lamp while avoiding the amber spotlight. Taking one last rueful look at his phone, he sighs, and presses the answer button with a doughy purple finger.

"Luka?" MJ's voice patches through. The reception isn't great, but it's sufficient. Maybe that was a lucky break, considering what his voice was going to sound like in a second.

"Hey," Luka answers. Yep. He sounded like a toad that swallowed a brass tube. "Sorry- about that."

"Dude, are you ok?? Where did you go?" MJ spoke so quickly it almost interrupted Luka, concern clear and evident in his voice. "You ran or something and- you left your shoes at the counter, and the cat plush for your daughter. Clover got them for you-"

"It's ok," Luka says, wincing. "I can pick them up tomorrow. I- don't feel well, and I have to go get Harriet."

"Luka, we could have driven you home for that," MJ responds, a hint of hurt and confusion. "You know you can tell us if you're uncomfortable, and want to leave, right?"

"No- this- I was having fun," Luka responds, cupping a hand over his mouth to try to muffle the echo. He had to wrap this up. His voice was getting less natural by the second. He really hoped the poor reception would mask it. "Look- I'm sorry MJ. But I really had to go."

"You're not getting kidnapped or something are you?" Clover's distant voice suddenly patches through in the phone. MJ must have his phone on speaker. "Because if you are, I'll hunt them down! Just yell where the car is taking you!"

"I'm not- look, I'm sorry, but I just had to go, ok?" Luka says. "Harriet needs me."

"I thought you were feeling sick?" Clover says, her worried tone now tinted with... suspicion. "You ran to the bathroom, and we were all worried about you, dude." Her voice becomes just a bit distant, as she turns to speak to MJ, but the phone picks it up. “Actually, did we ever hear anything from Cookie...?”

"No- I am-" Luka can feel his lies crumbling, nearly becoming true as he experiences a sensation similar to his stomach heaving from the anxiety. "Thanks for the wonderful evening, I'll pick up my stuff later- bye!"

"Wait-!!"

-click-

MJ's protest is cut off, and Luka set the phone down on the grass, putting his head in the other hand. That was terrible. But he couldn't back out on it now. He would just have to deal with the consequences of that phone call tomorrow.

Not like having shoes or not bothered him, anyway.

Exhausted and resigned, Luka slides away from the lamp post into the chaparral, and begins rapidly pulling his shirt over his head. No way was he going to lose another shirt, not after the last one. This was his last nice shirt, and he intended to keep it as long as possible!

A quiet gasp jolts him out of his frantic folding.

Luka whips around, shirtless, half de-pantsed, and his body a full shade of deep shadow purple. His golden eyes glow in the reflected street light as he freezes on the spot, making eye contact with another human being across the road. It was the stocky mustachioed man from the coffee shop- the regular who came by and sketched quietly in a corner. Pinstriped suit- which seemed to be the only outfit anyone ever saw him wore- an apron, and grey khaki pants. The thick glasses would make it difficult to tell where he was looking, if the man wasn't standing with his square jaw hanging down at his chest, head angled directly toward Luka. Everyone dismissed him as a paranoiac, a hermit who stopped by for his morning caffeine fix and quiet atmosphere to indulge in his imagination. Rumors flew that he used to work for some sort of tabloid magazine, and was fired- or promoted?- for how crazy his stories were.

Whatever the reason, this man was now standing, groceries dropped to the pavement, and staring at Luka. A very half-naked, absolutely not human-looking Luka.

Face suddenly burning hot with embarrassment and fear, Luka grabs his belt loops and bolts into the trees.

The movement causes the man to only gape more, making a wordless noise of astonishment before the forest breaks their line of sight and Luka retreats into the safety of the woods. Luka just barely remembers to grab his shirt and belt from the bushes. Vanishing entirely from sight, stumbling over debris as his transformation takes full hold of his body, Luka wheezes as his heart beats in his chest. After all that, he was seen! Peck! Did he just ruin everything because he wasn’t paying attention? But- but it was just the local hermit, the resident conspiracy nut. That wouldn’t be so bad, right? This wasn’t as catastrophic as being spotted by a teen with a cell phone open. Surely, this was the safest possible person in town to accidentally spot him mid-transformation. Repercussions would be minimal.

Thank god the man didn't have a camera.

[something-tofightfor]

Magnetic: Chapter 3 - The Mandalorian

Pairing: The Mandalorian x You (Sort of. You meet him.)  (female reader insert; no ‘Y/N’)

Word count: 6,635

Rating: None necessary. 

Summary: Your journey across the galaxy to meet the Mandalorian with Grogu is well underway - but what will you find when you reach Nevarro and come face to helmet with him for the first time? ... And where will you go from there? 

Author’s note:

Check out the earlier parts of this story by visiting my Masterlist

Here we go! I know the first couple chapters have been build up, but ... it kicks in here. Thank you all so much for reading this one and sending messages and leaving comments. I can’t wait for you to see what’s coming. I’m still adding people to the tag list, so if you want on ... LMK. 

* Cara Dune is mentioned in this chapter and in future chapters, but the only physical detail I mention is her hair (I think) - so just imagine her as someone else if you need to. I get the controversy over the actress, but I love the character and she needed to be there because Reader needs another female to speak to about Mando that’s going to tell it like it is.*

(banner made by @malionnes)

For the third morning in a row, you were curled up on the floor in the cargo hold of the light freighter transporting you from the Academy’s planet to Nevarro. Your destination was a barren planet located smack dab in the center of the Ash Worlds sector, and you’d never been so far from home. 

 It was a long trip, even traveling through hyperspace, and you were growing anxious. But it’s the last day. You sighed, stretching out, and were surprised to see that Grogu wasn’t next to you anymore. I wonder where he… But you figured it out quickly, following the sounds of laughter into the cockpit, where the child was sitting in the copilot’s seat, staring out the front window of the ship and into space. “You’re not bothering Terys, are you, kid?” He turned his head up and toward you and the woman laughed, shaking hers. 

 “He’s not. He climbed in here all on his own, but he’s just been sitting and watching.”Good. You weren’t uncomfortable on the ship, but were looking forward to stretching your legs when you landed, breathing fresh air and figuring out what came next.For both of us.  “We’ll be dropping out of hyperspace in about an hour, and then it’s only a few more from there. We made good time.” 

 “No, Terys, you made good time.” Sliding around the seat, you reached down, picking Grogu up and settling him in your lap, facing forward. ‘I’m surprised they let you pilot us out here, I’m sure you have so much more to do, you’re the -” 

 “I wanted to.” She turned her head toward yours, a mischievous look in her eyes. “Never seen a real Mandalorian before.” You laughed at that, feeling her excitement, though you’d been practicing keeping yourself more closed off in preparation for meeting him yourself. You’d told Grogu what you were doing, telling him that you didn’t want to overhear anything you weren’t supposed to, but he wrapped his fingers around yours, squeezing. Harder with beskar. 

 You hadn’t even considered that. Beskar was exceedingly rare, and the only time you’d seen it in person was when you’d handled the pendant Grogu wore around his neck; gleaming silver in the shape of a Mythosaur. You knew it was strong, knew that it was valuable, and also knew that the Mandalorian was covered in it, mainly as a result of the spoils of his assignment to find and return Grogu in the first place. But Grogu could read him, at least partially, because he …  “You might not even see one this time, Terys. He might not be there when we land, there could be delays, or -” 

 “Master Skywalker sent a transmission. He’ll be there, he’s already landed.” You couldn’t help smiling at the thought that within a few hours, Grogu would be reunited with the man, and your adventure would begin. “I’m going to land the ship and head into the town with you, spend the night, refuel,  and then leave tomorrow. There has to be a reason I’m there, so I can’t just touch down and then take off.” She was right - but you didn’t reply right away, focusing on Grogu, who was babbling away on your lap, one hand clutching the pendant, the other resting on your forearm. Keeping yourself occupied, kid?  “He … they trust you, but I’m supposed to make sure that -”

 “That the kid’s safe, right?” You looked down. “I get it. He’s important, and he’s … it makes sense.” You knew that once you left the ship, you’d need to keep it with you at all times, but your lightsaber was tucked into your bag, along with your cloak and the few other things you’d brought from the Academy. Essentials, you thought. Packed light, just like he … Since you didn’t know how long you’d be gone, you’d cleaned out your quarters, storing everything you didn’t take in one of the unused lower rooms. You carried more credits in your bag than you ever had before in your life, and you knew that Grogu also had his fair share tucked away, packed by someone else while you took care of everything you needed to. “Gotta make sure everyone’s who they say they are, right?” 

 “Yeah.” Terys settled back in her chair, rotating it slightly toward you. “Marshal on the planet’s name is Cara Dune, I’ve been in contact with her, and she -” But you widened your eyes, looking down at Grogu. Cara! Your friend! You bounced him on your lap a few times, hearing the sound of his laughter. “She’s excited to see him again, I guess she was there when Master Skywalker found Grogu.” Of course she was. 

 It was fuzzy, because he’d been groggy, but Grogu’s memories were filled with the people that had been on the ship - and in the room with him - when he first met Luke and the shiny blue and white droid that rarely left the man’s sight. You knew their names and faces well, knew how he felt about each of them, and were ready to meet them yourself, if given the chance. “Who wouldn’t be excited to see him, hmm?” Grogu’s grip on your arm suddenly tightened, and you went quiet, thinking. Use the fresher, change clothes, get Grogu ready. You knew you had time, but you were restless after waking, and weren’t ready to eat. Go. Fine here. He was making noises again, turning on your lap, and only a few seconds later, Grogu was looking up at you, hands hanging at his sides. “What?” He blinked slowly, tilting his head, but Grogu didn’t reply - and you didn’t catch a single one of his thoughts. 

 --- 

 The drop from hyperspace hadn’t been as sudden as you thought it would be, and by the time you’d begun the landing process, you were giddy with excitement. Everything’s new. Everything is … I’ve never done any of this before. Grogu was in his floating cradle in the cockpit, giving you the opportunity to gather all of your things together, but you were somewhat concerned with how quiet he was. You ok, kid? Pausing as you loaded the bags next to the ramp, you concentrated on him. You’re quiet. Fine. There was a pause. Scared. Dropping the last bag, you quickly went back to where he and Terys were, scooping him out of the container and sitting down again, strapping yourself in. Why are you scared? Been too long. “Oh, Grogu.” You dropped your head, kissing the top of his, and saw that Terys was pointedly trying to ignore the two of you, hands on the navigational equipment as she guided the ship toward the planet. What if -

 You could feel that he was nervous, the apprehension making his tiny body rigid. Oh, no. You have nothing to worry about. He’s gonna be so happy to see you. He relaxed - slightly - and you continued to think, keeping your eyes forward. He’s your dad, kid. He loves you. He missed you. You’ll see. He didn’t answer back, and though you couldn’t hear his actual thoughts, you realized that you could still feel his emotions. You hiding from me now? A single word came back - the force of it surprising you. Yes. Well fine, then. You kissed the top of his head again, holding back a smile. I didn’t want to know what you were thinking anyway. He laughed at that, and you watched Terys turn her head toward you, smiling too. “You talking to him?” 

 “Yeah.” You sighed, eyes still on the planet in front of you as it came into focus. You were beneath the clouds, but high enough to keep you well above the jagged peaks of the arid landscape below you, and it was unlike anything you’d expected. There aren’t any trees, there’s nowhere to… The planet that the Academy was on wasn’t as forested as your home planet, but this was a drastic difference from both. Instead of trees and water, you saw only scrubby brush and cracked, dry ground - presumably from the lava fields you knew ran across the planet. There’s water somewhere, though. Otherwise … “Yeah, it’s easier to think sometimes, just makes the conversation go faster, you know?” She nodded in agreement. “I’m so used to just thinking when I’m with him, not having to speak, and it’s going to take some getting used to since the Mandalorian isn’t …” 

 “I’ve heard they’re hard to handle.” Terys pressed a few buttons above her head and the ship began descending slowly. “Especially this one. He’s got a reputation. People don’t … people don’t cross him.” You stayed silent, waiting. “And how that he’s King of Mandalore? People talk. I hear a lot when I fly between planets, and I think that between the two of them?” She gestured to Grogu with one hand. “You’re gonna have your hands full.” Considering her words, you rolled your eyes. 

 “I’m not here to have my hands full of anything except this little one.” You tightened your hold on Grogu briefly. “The Mandalorian is an -” 

 “He’s waiting for us.” She paused. “Well, for the two of you.” Squinting your eyes, you saw that she was right, and you felt your heart rate increase. “Looks like there’s a couple speeders, too. At least we won’t have to walk.” You locked your eyes on the single figure in the distance, watching as it grew larger by the second. There he is, kid. Grogu grew restless as you got closer, and by the time you were able to see the sunlight glinting off the top of his helmet, he was struggling to get off of your lap, the sounds coming out of his mouth a combination of frustration and excitement. 

 “Hey, buddy. Hang on.” You tried to comfort him, even though you knew it was useless, and as soon as you felt the gentle thump of the landing gear making contact with the planet’s surface, you were unbuckled and out of your seat, heading for the door. “I think we can leave the bags for now, and maybe his carriage too. We’ll get it all later.” Down. Down. Down. Terys’ reply was lost in Grogu’s high pitched squeals, and with a short laugh, you crouched down, setting his feet on the floor and tugging his robe - the one he’d come to the Academy in - back into place. “Please be careful. The last thing I want is for you to trip and fall, and for him to think -” I’m fine. He shuffled closer to the ramp, and before you could say anything else, it began to lower, the hot, dry air rushing in. 

 Grogu moved as soon as he could, following the ramp as it descended, you only a few steps behind him. You’d never seen him move so quickly, and even though you wanted to call out to him, telling him to slow down, you didn’t, hanging back and crossing your arms over your chest as you followed his footsteps through the dirt and dust toward the Mandalorian. He’d moved too, in the time that it took you to land and settle in, and you figured that the man was only twenty yards away from the ship - but you didn’t focus on him, instead watching Grogu’s path. Go get him, kid. 

 He wasn’t yelling; instead, as he moved, he made a noise you’d never heard before, a series of coos and warblings that rose in volume the closer he got. Close your mind. You let out a deep breath, reminding yourself that you weren’t here to listen to others - there was no reason to - and you didn’t want to intrude on their reunion. 

 When Grogu was only a few yards away, you finally glanced up, watching as the Mandalorian’s cape fluttered in the breeze, the man dropping to one knee and holding an arm out. “Grogu.” You didn’t need to read his mind to know what he was thinking; it was perfectly clear in the single, heavily modulated word, the last syllable catching in his throat. The child’s head barely reached the man’s knee level, but he kept his arms stretched out, ears flapping with each step as the final gap was closed. You felt the moment that they made contact with each other; a blindingly joyful reunion, and your lips parted, one hand reaching up to cover them as your teeth dug into the muscle between your thumb and forefinger, not wanting to make any noise. Oh, stars. 

 The Mandalorian stood after gathering Grogu into his arms, and you finally took a few more steps closer when you saw the child reach up with both hands, fingertips touching either side of the helmet as the man lowered his forehead toward the child’s. He’s so tiny. He’s never looked this small before. They stayed like that for long moments, heads bowed together, and though it was brief, you saw the shake of the heavily armored shoulders, the rise and fall of the man’s chest as he took in deep breaths. How it should be. This is … “Thank you.” You sucked in a breath, hand dropping to your side as the Mandalorian straightened up, tilting his head to the side and looking in your direction around Grogu’s head as he said your name. “For bringing him ho… here.”

 “Of …” You swallowed hard, moving closer. “Of course. I’m more than happy to…” Glancing between the two of them, you watched as he shifted Grogu effortlessly into the crook of his elbow, the kid facing you once more. “And look how happy he is. Totally worth it.” The man glanced down at Grogu and then back at you, wordlessly. “Right, kid?” His ears down, Grogu only looked at you for a few seconds before he stared back up at the man holding him, his grip on the gloved fingers and forearm tightening. 

 “Your things, are they on the -” You heard the tightness in his voice, the man hesitating when he spoke. “Are his -” He doesn’t want to do this now, he just wants … 

 “They are.” You gestured toward the speeders, noticing that only one was a single rider. “But go.” He cocked his head slightly, waiting. “Terys - the pilot - and I will load everything. Take him and go back into town. You guys have some catching up to do. You need some privacy.” The Mandalorian shifted on his feet and then turned, taking two steps toward one of the speeders before he glanced back over his shoulder, the side profile of his helmet almost more intimidating than looking at it head on. 

 “There’s a small cantina, next to the inn?” You acknowledged the words. “Go there after you’ve settled into your room, I’ll… we’ll meet you there.” That isn’t enough time for you.  

 “Mandalorian?” You finally spoke, willing your voice not to shake. “Take your time. How about … I’ll meet you at sundown? That’s a few hours from now.” He didn’t answer, and you spoke again, reaching up to rub at your outer bicep, your skin warm and dry beneath your fingers from only a few minutes in the bright sunlight. “There’s no rush.” You didn’t think that he would speak again, but he surprised you and did, after giving you a single nod and then turning his head to face forward, toward the arch leading into town. 

 “No, there isn’t.” Staying in place, you watched as he carefully loaded Grogu into one of the side bags, tightening the straps to make sure he didn’t fall out. Starting the speeder, the Mandalorian took off in the opposite direction - without looking back. Bye, kid. See you soon.

 “Well that was something.” Startled, you spun back around toward your ship, seeing that Terys was standing a few feet behind you, both hands on her hips and her eyes following the plume of dust from behind the moving speeder. “Guess we’re on our own?” She was amused, you could hear it in her voice and see it written on her face, but she wasn’t mad. She still didn’t get to meet him.

 “They needed time. And obviously, this is … he planned this. We’re close enough that we didn’t need the speeders, but he…” You felt yourself smile and you looked down at the ground, nodding. “He did this for Grogu.” You had seen countless memories of riding speeders from Grogu’s point of view; the landscape flying by, almost able to feel the wind against your skin. “It’s fine. We don’t have much to load, and that speeder’s plenty big enough for both of us.” You turned to face her, a wide smile on your lips. “I’ll buy you a drink once we get into town and get our rooms.” 

 “Deal.” 

 --- 

 A few hours later, you and Terys were sitting at a table in the corner of the small cantina, cups of ale in front of you. You’d already eaten, and though the food on the ship wasn’t bad, it was nice to have a freshly prepared meal in your stomach, something both of you agreed on. “How is it, for you?” She lifted her cup to her mouth, taking a long drink. “Are places like this worse than the Academy, because everyone’s just -” I didn’t … no. You blinked, realizing that even though there were plenty of people in the room, their thoughts weren’t overwhelming you. “Actually …” You took a drink of your own, eyes moving over the others gathered in the space. “When I was in training, before I stopped?” She nodded, waiting. “One of the Masters told me that everything depends on how … prevalent, I guess, the Force is.” Explain it better. “It doesn’t matter how many people there are somewhere, because it’s everywhere, it just… there are certain places in the galaxy where it’s stronger, where more people … are aware of it?” You stopped. “I’ve never really explained it before, because I’ve only really been a few places for longer than a few days at a time. But it’s not as strong here, so I can sort of feel what people are thinking, but I’d have to really concentrate to hear them clearly. At the Academy, I have to actively close myself off just to keep myself from overloading sometimes.” It had taken time, but as the months passed, you found it easier. People still get through, like Bari, but … “Since everyone there is… at a different level, I guess? When it comes to using the Force? Some people can keep their thoughts from me on their own, and others … can’t.”

 “That makes sense.” She chewed on her lower lip. “Can you still feel Grogu here, though? Wouldn’t it be dangerous to send you off knowing that, if - “

“I can. I can always feel him.” You took another drink, the liquid cold against your throat. “And I think it’s because we’ve been so close for the last year. But like I said, I’d have to really work to have a conversation with him at this distance in a place like this.” Luke and the other Masters were much more knowledgeable than you, and you figured that they knew what they were doing sending the two of you off. If it was dangerous, it wouldn’t have happened. “It’s good, though, it gives him … them privacy. And they deserve that.” 

 “They’re here.” She widened her eyes. “Listen.” You did, not understanding at first, but then you got it. The room had gone almost silent at the entrance of the Mandalorian and Grogu, who was once again nestled in his floating carriage, which you and Terys had dropped off at the inn’s counter. He’s got a history here, but they’re … they’re afraid of him. You turned in your seat, making eye contact with Grogu, who peered over the edge of his carrier, waving at you. Hi, you. “I don’t know why I’m so nervous,” Terys whispered. “It’s not like ... “ Not like what? 

 Others would likely have felt at a disadvantage if they were suddenly unable to read the room entirely, but it was almost a blessing to you. Sensing the emotions of those around you, you could handle. But constantly hearing their thoughts at random? I’m glad for the break. The Mandalorian stopped next to your table, and out of instinct, you reached for Grogu with both hands, freezing as you realized that you didn’t have to. Oh, I … Fighting back a frown, you winked at the kid instead, lowering both palms to the tabletop. This is going to take some getting used to. “Can I sit?” His words surprised you, but you didn’t hesitate. 

 “You don’t need to ask permission.” You looked up, shrugging your shoulders as your eyes landed on the darkened T-shape of his visor. “This is more your town than mine.” 

 “It’s not.” He lowered himself into the seat with more agility than you would have thought possible for someone covered in so much beskar, hands resting on his lap. “Not … not anymore.” Slowly, the conversation in the room began again, but the Mandalorian didn’t speak, and neither did you, instead turning your attention back to Grogu, who’d settled down, head turning back and forth between you and the man. 

 Unsure of how to fill the silence, you glanced at Terys, who shrugged, and then back at Grogu. “Have you eaten, kid? We can order you something.” 

 “We did.” The modulated voice came again, the Mandalorian’s head angling down toward the carriage. “I don’t know when he usually -”

 “Set mealtimes, but he snacks a lot.” You admitted it, finally reaching for Grogu and rubbing your thumb over the back of his hand. “I’m sure you know how much he loves eating.” He does. It was a relief to hear Grogu’s thoughts again, even after only a few hours, and even moreso to hear how relaxed he sounded. “Can’t blame him though, he’s really busy all day, so -” You saw the Mandalorian lean back in  his seat, your gaze rising from Grogu to the man. Oh, I should introduce … “This is Terys, by the way. She’s our pilot, and -” 

 “You made good time.” He spoke directly to the woman without addressing her, and even though you couldn’t see his eyes, you knew by the shift of his head’s position that he was looking at her - or at the very least, was looking in her direction. “Have you flown to Nevarro before?” 

 “N-no.” She straightened up, the tremor in her voice audible. “Flown a lot of places, but mostly mid and inner-rim lately. I used to exclusively fly in the Core, but …” She lifted her cup again, gesturing with it. “Things change.” 

 “They do.” His tone gave nothing away, and you found yourself leaning slightly toward him, just watching. “Fast.” You wondered how quickly his life moved in his mind, what it felt like to be the man, how much he thought about all of the changes that had taken place throughout his lifetime. Ask. Your attention snapped back to Grogu in surprise. No way. You glanced at the Mandalorian and then back at the child. I wouldn’t ever. 

 “So.” Terys cleared her throat, still holding her cup in one hand. “You know Nevarro well?” She was focused on the Mandalorian, her eyes on his helmet. “I hear it’s changed a lot in the -”

 “It has.” You looked up and toward the source of the new voice. “I’m Cara Dune, Marshal of Nevarro for the New Republic.” She stuck out her hand and you reached up to shake it, grinning at the woman. Pulling her hand from yours, she gave Terys a quick nod but didn’t offer to shake her hand, instead leaning over and scooping Grogu out of his carriage, lifting him up as she squealed in happiness, his arms waving. The Mandalorian followed the movement with a subtle shift of his body, the lower edge of his helmet engled upward. “Oh, you little womp rat, you got big.” Cara moved to the other side of the man, sitting on the bench seat and keeping Grogu close. “Wanted to come see you earlier, but I got told no and so did Karga. He’ll be here soon, it’ll be like -” She glanced at the Mandalorian, wrinkling her nose as Grogu’s fingers closed around a loose lock of her hair. “Like old times.” 

 “Karga’s coming? Tonight?” The Mandalorian let out a breath. “Dank farrik. I thought -” 

 “He wouldn’t miss it, Mando.” Cara tweaked Grogu’s nose with her fingers and then leaned over, placing him back atop his blankets. “You know how he is. Plus I thought -” 

 “I do.” It was only two words, but you heard the finality in them. “Can I … talk to you?” He swiveled his head toward you, one gloved hand landing on the tabletop. “Outside?” Though confused at the abrupt shift in conversation, you nodded and then stood, draining the rest of your drink and telling Terys to order you another if she wanted. He stepped away from the table and you followed the Mandalorian back through the cantina, trying to ignore the looks you got from the other patrons. Once outside, you glanced up at the slowly darkening sky, smiling at the sun setting in the distance as you walked next to the Mandalorian, headed slowly in the direction of the ships. “I wanted to talk to you.” I figured, otherwise… But you stopped yourself, realizing that you needed to disregard everything you assumed about the man, waiting for him to reveal the truth to you. 

 “That’s probably a good idea, since we’ll be in … well, since we’ll both …” The Mandalorian stopped suddenly, turning his entire body toward you. His hands hung at his sides, and you stared at him, waiting. You noticed the blaster at his hip, the bandolier across his chest, a smaller one secured around his boot. He would have been imposing without the ammunition, but it added to the overall effect - you knew it and he knew it, though you didn’t think he considered it much. It’s just his life. 

 “I’ve heard about you.” He paused. “About people like you, that can … like him, like Ahsoka.” You waited for him to continue, and after a few seconds, he did. “I know Grogu can talk with you, but Skywalker also warned me … can you read my mind?” It was blunt, but you appreciated the candor from him. “Do you know what -” 

 “Can I try?” It was bold of you, but you knew that sometimes, the non-Force sensitive could feel when you were listening to them, and you didn’t want to shock him if that was the case. “You might feel a -” 

 “Yes.” Turning your attention toward the Mandalorian, you looked again at the visor, thinking. Wait. 

 “If there’s anything you don’t want me to know, try to … not think of it. It’s… Sometimes I just see everything, and I…” You swallowed. “I know that your name isn’t something you give freely. I know that to see your face is … unacceptable.” He straightened his shoulders. “Grogu’s … I know he’s seen your face, and he’s kept it from me this whole time, even without me asking, so you don’t have to …” He stood still in front of you, and when he didn’t speak, you lowered your head, sighing. “Alright. Anyway.” You brought your eyes back up and looked at his head again, focusing. 

 You could feel the man’s presence when you concentrated, a low, thrumming energy, and you realized that he was tightly coiled, though his posture didn’t betray him. He’s always ready, he’s always on edge, and he’s … You felt that he was relieved, too, but there were no solid thoughts, nothing in focus. Frowning, you took a deeper breath, still eyeing him, and even though you picked up on some of the people around you, you couldn’t get a read on the Mandalorian. “Well?” 

 “I …” You lifted a hand, head shaking back and forth. “Can I touch your arm? Or maybe your hand? Even through the glove, it …” He didn’t move for long seconds, but then he lifted his right arm from his side, turning his palm up toward you. You didn’t hesitate, reaching up and placing your hand flat atop his and closing your eyes in concentration. The emotions were stronger, and you sensed more anxiety, discontent deep within the man, but still no clear words or thoughts except - “Grogu.” You opened your eyes, pulling your hand back. “All I can … I can feel you, but … the only thing I know you’re thinking about is the kid. I think it’s the beskar, it interferes with …” You chewed on your lip. “Your thoughts are safe, Mandalorian. I’ll be … the stronger your emotions, the more likely I am to feel them, but I… oh, stars, it’s going to be amazing traveling with you. The kid’s trying to hide more of his thoughts from me. I can’t read you. It’s going to be silent for once, and I won’t have to -” 

 “I thought of him every day.” His voice was quieter than it had been. “I promised him I’d see him again, but part of me thought …” His arms were crossed over his chest, head turned to the side. “I … thought -” 

 “Well he’s here now. And he will be for a while. I’ll try to keep out of your way as much as possible. This trip isn’t about me, and I don’t want -” 

 “He needs you.” The Mandalorian’s helmet was facing forward again. “You’re here because he needs you. I saw you reach for him earlier, and then stop. You don’t have to do that.” I do. I do, because he’s not … 

 “If you say so.” You shrugged, deciding to follow his lead. “Did you bring me out here just to make sure that I couldn’t read your thoughts? Or -” He chuckled, or at least you thought he did, and then went quiet again. 

 “You aren’t afraid of me.” It wasn’t a question, but he didn’t give you a chance to reply before he continued. “I’m glad. But … why? Have you met other -”

 “No, you’re my first Mandalorian.” You rubbed a hand against your cheek, looking down and then back up. “But the kid, he … he’s told me a lot about you, and I guess… he trusts you. So I do, too.” 

 “Trust is earned.” The Mandalorian said your name, taking a half step closer and ducking his head slightly. “It has to be. Otherwise it means nothing.” He was right, but you were steadfast in your resolve, at least on your end. I have no reason not to trust you. Luke wouldn’t have sent us here if there was reason to doubt you. “Then I hope to earn yours.” You smiled at him, reaching up to push hair behind your ear. “Also, I … I know I asked if I could call you ‘Mandalorian’, but I didn’t even consider … you’re the Mand’alor, so should I call you that instead? I don’t want to -” The last thing you wanted to do was offend him, so you figured getting things out into the open as quickly as possible was the best call. 

 “You can call me Mando.” He straightened up, and you watched him look around at the still busy street. “When we get back to Mandalore, that may change, depending on …” He stopped. “But we aren’t going back to Mandalore right away.” We’re not? But I thought … “Meeting on Nevarro wasn’t just because it was convenient. I’m here to …” Eyes widening, you glanced down as you felt him growing excited, the anxiety slipping back slightly. Oh, he’s here to… “I didn’t want to talk about it in front of the pilot, because it’s not her concern, but …”

 “You’re here for bounty pucks.” You whispered  the words, feeling your own heart rate increase. “But I thought you wanted to spend time with -”

 “I do.” He sighed again. “If we go back to Mandalore right away, I won’t get to … when I’m there, things are … more political.” Of course they are, you’re  the King, and you’re expected to … “But here, or up there?” He pointed toward  the sky. “It… isn’t.” 

 “I understand.” You did, and hoped that he knew you were telling the truth. “And he hunted with you before, so…” You shrugged again. “You’ll keep him safe, Mando.” Saying it for the first time, you felt the sound of it pull at your lips before you smiled again, closing your eyes. 

 “No.” Your eyes reopened, head cocked to the side in question as he stared at you. “We will.” 

 --- 

 After returning inside, you’d gone back to your table, sliding back in and lifting the new drink, toasting with Cara and Terys, the Mandalorian again leaning back in his seat silently. By the time Karga arrived, clapping a hand down onto the other man’s shoulder and introducing himself loudly to you and the pilot, you were feeling more at ease than you’d ever felt out with the others from the Academy. It’s because there’s no pressure. I don’t owe any of these people anything, aside from Grogu, and … it feels good. 

 Cara and Terys stepped away to play darts, leaving you, Mando, Karga and Grogu at the table, the little one climbing out of his cradle and toddling over the bench to the second man, climbing into his lap and settling there for a few minutes, the newcomer welcoming him excitedly. He really does have friends here. You smiled at the sight, introducing yourself and striking up a conversation with the man while Mando again sat back, letting the two of you talk. It hadn’t taken long for Grogu to climb from Karga’s lap and into his father’s, and even as you continued your conversation, you saw the man’s gloved hand rise, his thumb stroking over the top curve of the kid’s ear. He doesn’t even realize he’s doing it. 

 Grogu nodded off after only a few minutes, but Mando made no move to put him back into the cradle, instead asking Karga directly for the discussed pucks, one hand curled protectively around the kid’s body. “She knows. I told her earlier. You don’t need to hide them.” 

 “I don’t need the Jedi on my tail.” Karga eyed you. “You won’t -”

 “I’m not a Jedi. And it’s not like I’m checking in with them daily, either.” You shrugged, finishing your drink. “You don’t get a reputation like his without being good at what you do. As long as they know the kid’s ok, they don’t need anything else.” You looked at the Mandalorian, giving him another smile. “And you don’t have to worry about me saying anything about what he does, or what you do.” 

 “His reputation?” Karga laughed. “I have one too, you know.” But he was still smiling, reaching into his deep pocket and pulling out a handful of the pucks, quickly stacking them and sliding them toward the man that sat to your left. “Five of them to start. You know the rules. I picked mid-tier, just to -”

 “That’s fine. Standard payment?” Karga nodded. “Good.” He reached for the stack, picking it up and glancing at the discs before reaching down and securing them in one of his waist pouches without flipping through them.  “We -” 

 “So, Mandalorian.” Terys was back at the table, Cara a few steps behind her. “What -” 

 “Terys, stop.” You whispered the words, reaching forward to touch her arm. “You don’t -” You could feel the interest rolling off of her, and you were irritated that you hadn’t picked up on it earlier. She wants to go to bed with him, that’s… “You’ve had too -”

 “I have not.” She cleared her throat and you watched as Grogu was shifted from the Mandalorian’s lap and back into his cradle, the sides closing with a few punches of the buttons on his vambrance. “I just know what I want.” I tried. She dropped back into her seat and propped her head on her hand, eyes bright. “You’re a man under there, right? So you -”

 You watched as Cara’s eyebrows rose and she turned away from the table, headed for the bar, Karga not far behind her. Oh, boy. How do I … “I’m not… interested.” His voice was even, but you heard no emotion in it, the Mandalorian’s visor pointed directly at the pilot. “It wouldn’t … no.” She pouted for a few seconds, and you took the opportunity to stand, looking down at where the man still sat. 

 “I’ll see you in the morning? Which ship is yours, I can meet you there.” You glanced at the carriage. “We -” The Mandalorian’s attention shifted to you; the whole upper half of his body turning along with his head.

 “I’ll need to unlink his carriage, otherwise -” What? No. 

 “He’s staying with you tonight, Mando.” You gave him a gentle smile. “Not me.” You watched the set of his arms tighten, keeping the smile on your face. “So just tell me -”

 “But you said he comes to your room at night. What if he wakes up and -”

 “He won’t.” You were sure of it. “If he wakes up, he’ll know you’re there, and won’t even try to find me.” He doesn’t need me anymore. You caught Cara’s eye and the woman tilted her head toward the door, one eyebrow raised. I’m trying.  “Goodnight, Mando.” Holding a hand out toward Terys, you laughed again, helping her to her feet. “Let’s get you to bed. You’re gonna need sleep to fly out tomorrow.” 

 As the woman stepped around the table, she reached out with one hand, settling it on the Mandalorian’s shoulder briefly. He stiffened immediately, but you doubted the stumbling woman noticed. He doesn’t like to be touched unexpectedly. Good to know.  “I’m in room 5 if you change your mind.”  But she let you lead her from the bar, and you waved goodbye to the other two before stepping out into the darkness of the street. “You shoulda helped me. Did you see the size of him? He would have -” 

 “You just met him, you can’t expect…” But the woman laughed, the two of you headed back for the inn, and though it was only a few steps away, it seemed to take forever. It’s a good thing we aren’t sleeping on the ship.

 “He’s a bounty hunter turned King, he has to live in the moment.” She sighed and unlocked her door. “Maybe he’ll show up.” Yeah, I doubt that. “Could you read him?” She leaned in the doorway, frowning. “What’s going on in that head of his? Could you see what he looks like under there?” 

 “I don’t know. I couldn’t really see anything.” You wrinkled your nose. “And I have no idea. I don’t want to.” That’s a lie. “Goodnight. I’ll see you before we go our separate ways tomorrow.” She closed the door and you walked to your room, locking the door behind you and laying down on the bed without even changing. There’s no point. I’m just … 

 Stretching out, you realized how exhausted you were - and how much you appreciated the small but soft mattress. Back onto a ship tomorrow. Hopefully there’s a bench large enough for me. Sighing, you closed your eyes, replaying the day - and your interactions with everyone on Nevarro - in your mind. What a busy few hours. But that night, you dreamed about the man’s eyes again - and this time, you could see the skin at the outside corners of them - both sides deeply creased, as if he was smiling. 

 ---

Magnetic/Din Djarin Tag List:

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[may-day-voice]

Prom Night Lights - The Beginning

Katsuki Bakugou Timeline | 172732014

please do not repost, but you have permission to reblog :)

• Watch/ Listen on YouTube: https://youtu.be/8SB9fJZ5a7s

• Read on Wattpad: https://www.wattpad.com/1112396862-katsuki-bakugou-pro-hero-au-172732014-prom-night

It was supposed to be a simple day. A simple, normal day filled with anticipation and excitement. The day when you stepped into the real world outside from the safety net. But you never prepared for what was to come, for the hurt that would inflict, for the dark to overshadow.

You weren’t prepared for your heart to break.

You grabbed hold of hands that grasped onto your fingers, hanging upside down in the air while maneuvering yourself a safe distance from the crash site. Out on patrol with fellow interns turned into a rescue mission when a massive traffic incident occurred in one of the most populous intersections in Musatafu. Cars and trucks were mangled or destroyed, billowing smoke into the air while emergency personnel made headway in tending to the wounded.

Meanwhile you floated towards the borders of the intersection, carefully dropping a casualty towards medics on the scene. Your hands were covered in blood and soot, having to pull those who were trapped within the metallic wreckage.

“That’s number three,” you called, still dangling aimlessly in the air.

“Impulse! We need help here!” Called a fellow intern from amongst the crash site.

With a click of your ankles, you landed onto the ground to push yourself back into the air, soaring towards your teammate above the fire and smoke. His large hands lifted part of a car, revealing a young woman in the crash, her eyes searching above while she breathed erratically.

“Don’t know how long I can hold this up,” warned your teammate, his usual stoic gaze now concentrating on keeping the mangled car lifted for access to the woman below.

“Here, grab my hand,” you ordered, floating slowly into the maw of the wreckage while reaching for the woman inside. The look in her eyes caught yours, finding the fear written all over them, terrified.

A slip of your teammate’s feet caused the car to creak, almost snapping onto you from above, your hands immediately pushing against the heavy wreck in reaction. Your eyes searched in his, concerned about the situation only to notice he found his footing again.

“I’m okay,” he reassured, holding the car back once more. “Go.”

You drew back to the woman, spotting her body recoil back inside in fear. With a deep breath, you slowly floated back in, hanging upside down with your hands outstretched towards her. “Come on, let’s get you out of here,” you coaxed, your open palm inviting her in.

Slowly, her shaking hand reached out, grabbing hold of yours. With both your hands securing her grip, you slowly floated out from the hole, taking the woman with you, her weight pulling at your arms before you spotted her feet clearing the maw.

“Let go now,” you called, watching your teammate finally relieve himself from the strain and the piece of metal crash into the wreckage that trapped a casualty.

Two hours. It took two hours to help clear casualties from the crash site. The aftermath left you and your teammates to be checked out by medics before being discharged from the incident, followed by your supervisor Kido back to the agency for a debriefing on today’s activities.

It felt like a quiet day, which was good for the most part. You scratched two hours of the day, plus another hour for debriefing and cleaning up. It allowed less strain on your body, and more focus on other events you had penciled in ever since-

“Man, you? A plus one? Lucky,” spat a classmate of yours inside the locker rooms. “I would kill to get past those gates.”

“You really don’t mean that,” you replied in jest.

“Oh no, I do. Truly, happily.”

“Have you figured out what you’re dressing in?” Spoke another, the same one who helped you on the rescue. “You should talk with him about that.”

“Coordination is key,” chirped the other.

“Guys, it’s a first time thing, okay?” You reassured. “They’re in the middle of graduating right now for all we know.”

“But to be invited to a prom of all things in UA? Whoever is the event coordinator is a genius.”

The vibrations of your phone caught your ear, spotting a text message appearing on your screen. A sneak peek of the message was the usual - an ETA for tonight. That was all. You noticed the messages were getting shorter and sharper with your beau. It has been over the past year. Still, being the final year in UA was probably a stressful time for students from across the board. You had felt the pressure yourself at your schooling.

“You think if I could catch Todoroki’s eye maybe-“

“Stopping you there,” interrupted one of your classmates, his drowsy aloof eye staring at the other. “He’s probably taken.”

“You don’t know that!”

“He talks about someone from his school very frequently. I think he’s taken.”

Another buzz from your phone caught your ear, checking the screen to spot a message from someone unexpected. Eijirou Kirishima’s name was emblazoned in the text box with a video attached. Watching your classmates bicker between themselves gave you the perfect opportunity for you to view this message without their attention, opening it to reveal the stage of the graduation. Perhaps this was very recent, considering the time of day it was before a familiar blond student walked up to the podium. You couldn’t hold back your smile, watching Katsuki Bakugou be congratulated on his graduation day, and turn irately towards the camera following Kirishima’s loud and rambunctious celebratory yell from the crowd.

“Did your beau send something juicy?” Chirped your classmate, turning to find a coy smile on her face.

“What? No!” You deflected, placing your phone away. “I gotta make tracks anyway.”

“You better take photos or it didn’t happen!”

You waved both of your teammates goodbye, hoisting your backpack onto your shoulders to add more weight to your less than convenient gravity. Stepping out of the agency, you tapped your toes before making your way towards the tall white gates of UA. Despite the lack of information you gave to your teammates back at the agency, you had already picked out your formal wear. You had planned to make a day of UA’s graduation for their students, knowing your own from your establishment was happening first thing tomorrow morning. The more time you could spend with the city’s foremost Pro-Hero candidates equaled sacrificing one night of preparation for your graduation, at least you convinced yourself as such.

Everything had been planned ahead of time, thanks to your beau’s meticulous need for timing. However, you had other plans ahead of his own, ones you had announced to him during his plans which, to your dismay and unsurprising predictability, did not please him. Reassurance wasn’t his strong point, and you’ve learnt it wasn’t yours as well. At least when trying to ease his passive aggressive tantrums.

Another buzz of your phone caught your attention again from those thoughts, picking it up to find a text message from Izuku Midoriya of all people.

Can’t wait to see you again! You’re on the way?

Actually, I’ll be another 20 minutes. How was the ceremony?

It was great! Everyone’s excited here at the dorms. I’ll be setting up Gym Gamma for tonight, so meet me there?

And Kaachan can’t wait either.

You chuckled at the words, wondering how Bakugou must be feeling after today. It made you wonder about the months leading up to today. In fact, it seemed a bit odd, watching him at the agency being almost cold and aloof, answering you in short and distancing himself half of the time. Again, UA was a prestigious academy. You thought the same way that the stress must be getting to the students.

Further fact, that short text felt like-

Yeah, I’ll meet you at Gym Gamma. Let Bakugou know I can’t wait either.

Lately it had been this way, communicating with other students rather than Bakugou himself these past months leading to the end of the school year. You’ve heard from Midoriya, Kirishima, even Denki Kaminari spoke to you a few texts here and there. Bakugou however had gone dark some of the time. You recalled a few times in your second year having constant late night calls with him, some of those nights being a saving grace when the both of you were too busy to just stop for a coffee or a shake. But nowadays, he had been-

Hey! You coming over soon? Kaminari is practically begging for a player two on his team.

I’ll be there. Just stopping by somewhere first. Maybe another 25?

You better hurry up. Bakugou’s practically wiping the floor with him in this game.

Well, another thing to slot in, but nothing that detracted from your original plans. With a smile, you continued on your walk to UA, hands on your straps while you felt the strain on your shoulders once more.

——

Soon, the familiar white gates appeared. As per usual, you stood by the entrance, waiting for some time before being verified to enter the grounds. It took a while for this process. At first, you were accompanied by your beau when he came along to invite you, or when he had to make it for Management classes. However, over the years, it became an infrequent visit with the Hero students. Lately though, it was between how quickly the guards could phone a friend. Even more so, it was less your beau, and more so one of the Hero students, whether it was Midoriya, Kirishima, or even Shouto Todoroki of all of them. It used to be Bakugou, but even he had been slow to answer.

After being granted entry, you immediately made your way to Gym Gamma, watching the large group of students prepare for the night. You had not seen so many fairy lights in your life while they were being strung up high across the pathways and into the auditorium. It was a mess, but it was organized chaos while you traversed between wandering students and piles of decorative materials for the festivities to follow.

“Midoriya!” You called from across the auditorium, spotting the green-haired boy ahead. His eyes turned towards you with a smile, lightly jogging his way through the auditorium.

“Hey, how are things?” He asked with a hug, his large arms engulfing you.

“Pretty good, we were in the middle of a rescue mission in the city,” you replied with a smile. “But that’s all the excitement today.”

“You’re not excited about tonight?”

“I mean, yeah, of course I am! Congratulations! Think I can collect my clothes?”

“Oh, right, I don’t have them on me because of everything happening right now, but they’re at Heights Alliance.”

“Then, why did you ask me to come here first?”

“I wanted to say hi.”

You chuckled at his reply, happy to see Midoriya well. There had been some controversy with all that happened throughout the years, things that you felt were considered taboo, however, stories came with time. You noticed the extra scars across his body, also recalling the scars Bakugou had received during Musatafu’s darker times. The worry that drowned you was immense, only subsiding after months of silence, and that one phone call from Todoroki surprisingly.

With a goodbye, you left Midoriya to his devices in the auditorium, leaving him behind for Heights Alliance. Eventually both shoulders felt sore from the weights in your backpack, deciding to only hang the bag from one shoulder and feeling your toes scraping the ground. According to the predetermined ETA, you had a few hours to spare. Still, it felt like you had very little time left until you stood before Class 3-A’s dorms. Midoriya had explained he left your formal wear with Bakugou, who by his description of the event, reluctantly agreed. With a heavy sigh, you made your way up the stairs, only to bump into somebody walking out from the dorms.

“Oh sorry!” You blurted.

“No, you’re good!” Quickly piped the student before they walked away from the stairs, lightly jogging towards the large pathway towards the school. You watched them take flight, trailing with a dress suit on their shoulders only to shrug it off and continue into the dorms, knocking on the door.

Luckily, that student left it ajar.

“Hello?” You called inside, spotting very familiar faces by the lounges in the foyer.

“Yes! My player two!” Yelled Kaminari, quickly running up to you and pulling you inside. “Kaachan keeps whipping my ass!”

“That’s because you suck, Dunce face!” Growled Bakugou, his red eyes flashing towards the door before they laid on you.

“You made it just in time. Kaminari was getting desperate,” voiced Kirishima with a toothy grin.

You nervously giggled while being dragged inside, noticing how careful Kaminari was to keep your feet on the ground. It had been a couple of years now, but ever since that scare, you figured Kaminari had learnt his lesson. Otherwise, by the way Bakugou was, it came as no surprise that Kaminari was just being more careful around him. You smiled at the irate blond before Kaminari handed you a controller, soon convincing Kirishima to join in a game of teams. It was a whirlwind of a greeting, suddenly being sucked into a game of wits and fun with the Hero students. It was the release you needed filled with laughter, for at least a good hour losing to Kirishima and Bakugou.

After admitting defeat and a quick conversation with the students, Bakugou led you to his dorm, taking the elevator up to the fourth floor. The ride was silent, leaving you to wonder what was going on through his head, stopping yourself a few times to speak until the doors opened on his floor. From the corner of your eye, you noticed a familiar dual-haired student speaking with another by the stairs with quiet voices before being led to Bakugou’s door, watching Bakugou unlock it-

“Congratulations,” you finally spoke, catching his ear. “I got to witness your graduation, kinda.”

“What do you mean?” He asked gruffly while allowing you in.

“Kirishima sent me a video.”

“That Shitty Hair sent it to you?”

“I thought you knew.”

“I’m gonna kill him.”

“Please don’t.”

A grunt escaped Bakugou’s lips before he made his way to his closet, pulling out your outfit already packed in a large box. You smiled up at him, taking the box from him and placing it on his bed.

“Thanks Bakugou, I really appreciate it,” you warmly said while you opened the lid.

“What are you doing?” he asked with genuine confusion.

“Getting dressed.”

“Here?”

“Well, Midoriya offered to help but since he’s been put on the event committee I have to do it in your room.”

“So the nerd was going to dress you?”

“Do you want to help me?”

The look on Bakugou’s face was one of confusion, anger, and frustration - a fairly normal reaction for the most part. However, unbeknownst to you, he felt a flush of heat wash through his cheeks. This was never discussed between Midoriya and himself when he agreed to hold onto your outfit for tonight. In fact, the getting dressed part was never mentioned. His thoughts held his focus until he glanced your way, already stripping off your shirt.

“Wait a goddamn minute, Lightweight!” He yelled, stopping you from stripping any further. “At least, let me turn my back on you.”

You soon found Bakugou’s back indeed turned to you, looking out his window instead. You couldn’t help a small giggle before you walked up to him, grabbing hold of his wrist. “I just need your hand on my shoulder,” you reassured, placing his hand across the crook of your neck. “Just ground me. I won’t take long.”

Bakugou grumbled under his breath, but still kept his eyes outside of his room. Every movement you made caused his fingers to slip on your skin, feeling the tension in your muscles. He figured you had that backpack on for some time to keep you from flying away, but he also felt something else other than that. The short amount of time you spent with everyone downstairs gave him an odd feeling. Even the elevator ride up to his room was tense. Bakugou knew he hadn’t been keeping contact whether at the agency or on call, but today he saw something that you wanted to say.

It bothered him.

“Okay, you can let go now,” you said, allowing Bakugou to release his fingers and turn around to see you now fully dressed in your attire. What surprised him the most was that you were on the ground without any apparatus to hold you.

“Bracelets,” you explained, showing off metallic braces on your wrists. “And anklets. It took a while for support to come up with something practical for social outings.”

“Um… you look… good,” he complimented, taking you by surprise.

“Thanks, I’m glad you think so. Anything that’s good for Lord Explosion Murder-“

“Shut it with that name! It’s Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight!”

You giggled again, finding the joy of pushing his buttons sometimes before you noticed the time - close to the ETA.

“I’ll see you tonight, God Dynamight?” You asked with a smile. All you received was a scoff, enough of a response from Bakugou before leaving his dorm room and heading for the elevators. On the way, you walked past Todoroki, greeting with a quick hello before disappearing into the elevators, eager for the night to start.

Bakugou couldn’t stop this feeling that had him aloof and frustrated. He had tried to tell himself otherwise, focusing on his studies and his credentials to become a certified Pro-Hero. But with every phone call, every text, every passing moment he saw you, something stirred. It felt good, but it was wrong. You were with someone else - that Management student - that he knew did not treat you with the respect you deserved. The number of late night phone calls were proof of that, and yet, you still stayed with the man.

He couldn’t fathom your choice. And he hated it.

“Are you busy?” Asked Todoroki by his open door.

“Does it look like I’m busy?” Spat Bakugou.

“No.”

“What is it, Icy-Hot?”

“Are you going to do something about it?”

Bakugou eyed the dual-haired man, filled with anger from his thoughts, but silent without a scoff or a grumble. “What’s it to you?” he questioned with a sneer.

“We all know he’s bad news,” continued Todoroki. “Nepotism at its best.”

“Look who’s talking Half-and-Half, son of the Number One.”

“The point is that he’s rotten, never worked a day in his life, and was given a silver spoon. All signs of an arrogant, spoiled, hand-fed individual. And he doesn’t deserve them.”

Bakugou turned his glare onto Todoroki, noticing the seriousness in his eyes before he walked away from the door, leaving Bakugou with his last words. The blond stood in his room, contemplating on Todoroki’s words and the number of conversations to and fro about this feeling. He knew that the Management student was a bad egg, someone undeserving, yet he knew he couldn’t actively try to convince you. Even though he had time and time again called your beau a moron, it wasn’t enough.

For once, he hated not being direct over these years.

He grumbled while he rummaged through his closet, pulling out the outfit Kirishima had picked out for him for tonight. Perhaps seeing you later would ease the tension headache that persisted.

——

Night fell across the sky with the dying light of oranges turning into purples and the stars twinkling in the clear. The number of students that made their way to Gym Gamma came in waves, including the Hero students who came as a group. Despite his friends trying to persuade him to join, Bakugou advised he needed some time to get ready, earning a teasing jeer from Kaminari. Bakugou cared less about what words were shared, preferring to keep himself hidden after a majority of students had made their way to the prom planned for their graduation.

He was left to his thoughts, hoping that you had already made your way to Gym Gamma with your date for the night. He didn’t want to see that picture of you in his arms, knowing you chose him. That frustration brewed, coming to terms with his want of asking you to the event for months, and not going through with it.

After some time to his thoughts, Bakugou made his way, walking alone on the grounds of Heights Alliance. The quiet was deafening despite the loud music catching his ear ahead in the auditorium. He felt trapped in this emotional limbo, desperately needing to do something to satiate his need to see you. Pulling out his phone, he located your number, immediately texting without any hesitation.

I’m expecting a dance.

He smirked, feeling some sense of pride in himself, and hopefully reprieve from his own emotions until the sound of a phone caught his ear, one that immediately received a text. Bakugou stopped, turning towards the entrance of the school lecture halls, past the shoe lockers that lined the room. The closer he made his way, the louder the sobs, finding your cries echoing in the empty halls.

“Lightweight?” He called, catching your attention before you quickly tried to wipe away the tears that stained your cheeks.

From around the corner of the stairwell, you found him climbing towards you, his red eyes glaring at the sight of you sitting on the stairs, leaning underneath the railings.

“What did he do?” He quickly snapped.

“Nothing,” you spoke through your tears, attempting to calm yourself down. “He did nothing.”

“Like hell he didn’t!”

“No, Bakugou, just-“

“I’m gonna kill him.”

You saw a rage unlike anything you had seen in the blond. Despite your emotional state, you had gotten used to Bakugou’s anger, even understood it. But this was almost unspoken of, seering through his very core. Bakugou lost control. His own emotions spilled upon seeing you torn and worn, used and spat out as opposed to how happy you looked hours ago. Whatever frustrations he held, they were unleashed with a furious rage.

“He broke up with me,” you admitted, gaining Bakugou’s attention from the whirlwind of emotions he felt. “He didn’t want me to drag him through the mess that I am. I didn’t save enough. I wasn’t fast enough. I couldn’t-“

You held your head in your hands, trying to keep the tears at bay until you felt large hands grab hold of yours, pulling them away to reveal yourself to Bakugou, his eyes glaring into your red sore ones.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Asked Bakugou, his voice painted with a calm tone despite his gruff voice.

“… am I a Hero?” You asked, sniffling while your eyes looked away from his. “Am I good enough?”

Bakugou was surprised and yet confused by the question. He was still trying to understand his own feelings, this abrupt need to protect you everywhere you went despite your own independent and wayward nature.

“Five. I only saved five in two hours,” you continued. “And there were more bodies-“

You stopped your breath, holding your tears back from the thought, before the realization dawned on Bakugou. He had kept up with the news recently, a way to pass the time while waiting in his room earlier that night. An incident occurred in Musatafu involving multiple cars in a massive crash, and he recalled the body count.

He held onto your hands tightly, now realizing your hesitation to speak or start conversations. It would’ve been at the forefront of your mind, only masked by the smile you had all day for UA’s graduating classes. The next thought to follow left a bitter taste, wondering what that Management student must have said to you to think this way. With what Todoroki and he had discussed earlier that day, Bakugou could only fathom the disgusting nature of your interaction with someone who looked down at failures.

Tears continued to well up in your eyes. They wouldn’t stop. You couldn’t until you felt a large pair of arms hug you close, pushing you against the stairs but closer to his chest, engulfed in his embrace.

“You’re more than good enough,” whispered Bakugou in your ear, comforting your head against his shoulder. “You don’t need my approval or anyone else’s for that matter. You make that choice for yourself. You’re smart, you have common sense, half the time, and… you’re one of the few people I can talk to.”

He pulled you away, his eyes now glued back on yours while you stared into his, swallowing the words you just heard moments ago.

“He doesn’t deserve you,” he slowly started. “You deserve better than that trash. You know I already call him a moron, because he is one. You-“

“You ground me,” you interrupted.

“What?”

“You’ve always grounded me Bakugou. You’ve kept me close. You’ve always looked out for me. Why?”

Bakugou choked, wondering what to say, almost feeling like he was cornered, surrounded by the emotions that had been drowning him for months. Was it right? Was this the moment?

“I’m sorry I asked,” you quickly quipped, trying to stand before you felt yourself pull back into Bakugou, his lips crashing into yours. It was a light kiss, despite the rush into it, almost hesitant on its touch before you eased into his rhythm. He was warm, tender, and it lit a spark that you wished would never stop while you held onto his neck. He pulled away slowly, caressing your cheek and embracing your breath on his, feeling every part of you while you sat by the stairs.

“You’re worthy to be a Hero,” whispered Bakugou. “And I’m proud to have you stand with me out there.”

“I’m worthy to be next to God Dynamight?” You asked with laughter breaking through your tears.

“Yeah, yeah, go ahead and laugh.”

Whatever sadness that broke your heart was mended in that moment, by none other than Bakugou of all people. Still, for all those moments the both of you shared, you felt a bond with him, one that incited jealousy from a growing toxic partnership. He was an explosive light that brightened the dark. He was the warmth that healed the pain.

“Still, the God Dynamight will always keep me grounded,” you continued with a smile. “Starting from zero.”

“Just call me Katsuki, dumbass,” he inferred with a growl, causing another giggle to erupt from you. “How about you come to my graduation prom with me, Twinkle Toes?”

Today was meant to be a simple day, but it wasn’t simple at all. It was more than that.

It was the start of something wonderful.

[defectiveconantoy]

Good Luck!

Fandom: Detective Conan

Pairing: ShinRan

Rating: K+

Prompt: Long Distance

Genres: Slice-of-life, Friendship, not enough Romance, a pinch of Angst

Word Count: 1,261

A/N: I once cried while drafting this. 😭 You’ll see why. I also had this one planned before @shinranweek was announced. The event was a convenient excuse to finally write it. 😏

Good Luck!

It’s dinnertime in the Mouri household. Ran, Kogoro, and Conan gather around the table to eat after a brief afternoon case.

On the table lies the main dish alongside rice and side dishes. Ran took about an hour to prepare everything. She seems awfully proud of her meal. Who can blame her when the food looks great?

“We’re having Buri no Teriyaki tonight,” Ran announces in a singsong voice. Everyone eats excitedly.

“Ahh! Really good! This hits the spot,” says Kogoro.

Conan chirps, “Thank you, Ran-neechan!”

“You’re welcome,” Ran replies with a cute grin.

She continues, “It’s chilly outside, so I figured we’d have some fish. And you know what they say about fish and how it’s good for your brain. Haha! Anyway, how was school today, Conan-kun?”

“Not bad. We learned how to count money today, which isn’t hard. I already learned about it on a coin collector’s book.”

Ran replies, “How nice! I’m glad the lesson comes easy to you. Wish I was on the same boat. I have an English exam in two days. I’ve studied for weeks but get scared of blanking out.” She cups her face with her hands in slight embarrassment. “But you know me. I’ll be okay,” she grins.

Conan helps Ran pile up the plates and clean up the table as he talks. After the dishwashing chores, he settles in the living room to watch television. Meanwhile, Ran quietly withdraws to her bedroom. “Hmm, must be the studying,” he thinks to himself.

An hour and a half passes. After leaving the living room, Conan tiptoes into the hallway beside her bedroom door. She should be close to sleeping by now. He instead hears Ran’s muffled whimpering followed by intense crying.

“I can’t take this anymore!”

Who is she talking to? He hears no other voice but hers.

“W-where are you? she sobs. I’m t-trying my best to take each d-day as it comes. I stay happy so nobody notices I’m hurt. This is too m-much. I try, I try, but it’s t-too much without you. C-come back, Sh-shinichi! W-when will you tell me everything? T-tell me what’s wrong, anything about that c-case you n-never talk about with me? I miss you! I need you! You’re my b-boyfriend, but I hardly s-see you. Pleeease, come b-back.” She continues crying.

His heart sank. “Is that how she really feels? No wonder she’s scared of that test. How can she study with my disappearance on her mind? What to do?”

He struggled sleeping that night. Ran’s crying makes Conan feel guilty about his distance and dishonesty. He’s the reason she’s in tears. If the Black Organization encounter didn’t happen, he’d be studying with her this week. But for now, a phone call tomorrow will do.

The next afternoon, Conan stays over at Agasa-hakase’s place to give Ran time to study and to fix his spare glasses, which are glitching and low on battery. He find a quiet place to dial his voice altering bowtie to his normal voice and call Ran as Shinichi.

Three tones pass. She picks up. “Hello!”

“Ran, it’s me. How have you been?”

“Ugh! Pretty stressed. I have an English test tomorrow, just the oral portion. Thank goodness! The written portion’s next week. For the oral test, our teacher and I are roleplaying as a bakery customer and employee.”

“I hate two-parters!”

“I know,” Ran replies. “I have no idea how many words I’ve remembered. I’m getting dizzy just thinking about it.”

Shinichi explains, “Well, think of it this way. For the oral part, just remember your favorite pastry and imagine how you would request that in another language. Otherwise, I think you’ll be fine. You’re great at studying.”

Ran is amused. “Thanks! I hope so. Wait! Are you saying I’m fat because I like pastries?”

“Haha! No. I’m just hungry, that’s all. The bakery situation brought that up, which reminds me, I gotta go eat,” he laughs again.”

“Good luck on your test tomorrow,” he slowly replies in English. “I think you will do fine.”

Haibara passes by him as he says this, then rolls her eyes and quietly giggles. Conan pouts and rolls his eyes back at her.

“Aww, thanks,” Ran responds back in English. “I miss you, by the way. Please, call more often, even if it’s for two minutes. I felt sad, with the test and you being gone. Almost felt like I was going to lose my mind.” She breaks into tears. “Hearing your voice makes my day. Your texts are not enough.”

Conan is at a loss for words. Should he apologize or not? That wouldn’t work, so he’s got a better idea. He begins speaking into his bowtie again, “You know what? I feel happy talking to you as well. I miss hearing your voice. Hey! Why don’t I call you tomorrow and talk about that exam? Sounds good?”

“Sure! That sounds nice. Well, I gotta go back to studying. Talk to you later! Bye!”

“Bye. Talk to you later.” He hangs up his phone, only to see a kiss emoticon on his text message alert. “This girlfriend of mine,” he thinks to himself smiling.

He heads toward the kitchen. Haibara is there preparing food.

“Heh! Quite the nice guy, aren’t you? Such a lucky girl, that Mouri-san.”

“Oi oi! That wasn’t for you. Mind your own business!” Haibara chuckles afterwards.

The next day, Conan walks down the street from his actual home, and Shinichi’s phone vibrates from his backpack. He pulls it out. It’s a text message from Ran. It read: “I did it! I passed with an almost perfect score. Thanks for your encouragement!”

“Congrats! I knew you could do it. So proud of you, Ran,” he texted. He heads over to Agasa-hakase’s house to give her a call, bowtie in hand.

“Good evening, Ran,” he begins in English.

“Shinichi! Thanks for calling me and for replying to my text. It means a lot to me.”

“No problem. So, tell me, tell me! What questions did you get on the oral exam?”

“Nothing about my favorite pastries, unfortunately,” Ran deadpanned. “But at least we talked about bread and cookies. Good thing I wasn’t hungry because I’d already eaten lunch. So, yeah. I had to greet the cashier and order what I wanted, all in English. It wasn’t too bad.”

“I’m happy for you,” Shinichi replied. They then talk more about her day and her upcoming written English exam.

“Wish I could have been your study buddy. Tell you what, next time we see each other, we could try your favorite pastries. And Ran, you can also text me too about anything, whatever is on your mind. We can also talk about next week’s written exam.”

“Great! Now, I can bore you with more food and school talk. Haha! But seriously, I’m happy you called today. This mundane conversation made my day. Even hearing your voice relieves me. Thanks! I miss you.”

“Of course! I’m glad I made your day. And I miss you too.” He briefly pauses. “Well, I gotta hang up. Talk to you later. Bye!”

“Bye, Shinichi!”

Calling her is not the same as being in person, but for now, making her happy to his best abilities is what matters to him most. Bit by bit, he gets closer to solving the case and returning to his old life. Then, he can make her happy every day until the end.

[queenofimagines]

Stranger from Out of Town

Summary: Arvin had no reason to be here. After the things he’d done, he had no reason to be blessed with an angel like you. But after spending so long on the run, after spending so long looking over his shoulder, he couldn’t help but fall in love with the one person who made him feel safe. All is well and good in Arvin’s life until one determined and obsessed sheriff decides it’s time to pay Arvin a visit.

Notes: Ya’ll, this one’s a doosey but I hope you enjoy it anyways. For the purposes of this pic, Bodecker is still alive.

When Arvin woke up that morning he could feel that something was different. Arvin’s life had been flipped upside down by his own actions that had ultimately been what forced him to live his life on the run. He had spent the better part of a year running, zigzagging across the country in the hopes of shaking the authorities off; first traveling down to Georgia, then up to Iowa, then back down towards Texas and so on before finally finding permanent resident. Arvin knew what the rest of his life would look like from here on out. He understood that he would spend the rest of his time on God’s green Earth looking over his shoulder and never finding the quiet life he longed for. Arvin knew that he was cursed, from the moment his mother had died he had been plagued with loss and he was sure he was one of the unlucky souls who had come to be the Devil’s plaything. Arvin had expected that his life would forever be riddled with rot and chaos, damned to suffer through conflict after conflict after conflict. But when Arvin opened his eyes today to the sun streaming in through window and the sound of bacon sizzling coming from the kitchen, he finally understood what it felt like to be at peace.

Arvin swung his legs over the side of the bed, hauling himself up and making his way down the hall. His steps were heavy with sleep, shuffling against the floor loud enough to alert the person in the kitchen to his presence. As Arvin drew closer, he began to hear the hum of a song that was unfamiliar to him, just barely covered by the sound of someone flipping an egg, prompting him to hurry his steps to arrive at the delicious smell and the lovely voice that had almost lulled him back to sleep where he stood. Rounding the corner, Arvin couldn’t help but grin at the sight before him. There you stood in front of the stove, still dressed in your nightgown, cooking a breakfast big enough for two. 

Two. Such a simple word with such little meaning. An insignificant word that made Arvin’s heart swell with delight. It wasn’t just him anymore, alone and scared, no, now it was him and you. To Arvin, it was hope. Arvin watched as you plated the food you had prepared before turning around and flashing him an earth shattering smile. You would never know how much it meant to him, your smile, and that you were here, right now. You would never know the kind of stability you brought to him. And he planned to keep it that way, to keep you in the dark about all the things he’d done. To keep letting you believe he was just the stranger from out of town who stole your heart.

When you met Arvin, he was just a newcomer, a lost soul who had found your quaint little town practically in the middle of nowhere. He had stirred up quit a buzz when he walked into your parents’ little diner, asking if there was any place he could stay the night, but seeing as your town was so small, small enough that it could safely be left off of most maps and small enough that tourism wasn’t a main source of income, the answer was unequivocally no. Your father, who had been Arvin had the luck of plopping himself next to, informed him that the closest motel was almost a three hours drive away. Arvin remembered staring out the window, watching the last rays of light vanish, his hope along with it. It would be impossible for him to get someone to see him this late at night, let alone actually stop for him. Arvin felt like he could cry in that moment, but your mother, ever the good Christian woman, had offered to let him stay at your house until tomorrow morning. Arvin was grateful that your mother had been so kind, and in retrospect you were too, but you remembered how much you resented Arvin when your mother told you he would be staying with you. At first, you were all for it, one night with an attractive stranger from out of town in your house wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world, but the next day both Arvin and your father came home in the afternoon after they had supposedly left to take Arvin to the next town over earlier that morning.

“Turns out this boy knows his way around a car,” your father had said, beaming.  He had later told your mother privately that he had offered Arvin a place to stay with your family and a smaller than average wage in exchange for his help around the shop. Your father owned the only car shop in town and was in desperate need of a new assistant, and seeing as you didn’t want anything to do with being a mechanic, your father saw Arvin as a golden opportunity, someone to possibly pass the torch to. Your mother was more than happy to let him stay, finding his handiness around the house useful, but you were less  ready to welcome him into your life. Arvin had garnered a lot of attention, especially from the female population, and most of the girls at your school would pretend to be your friend in the hopes that you would invite them over, just so they could get a glimpse at him. It only got worse when your parents had commissioned Arvin to pick you up and drop you off to school. The girls would stare, trying to get a closer look at Arvin, a few of them even having the courage to go up and talk to him. It made you sick, that attention he got and how much he seemed to enjoy it. You had convinced yourself that it was skepticism about his character, but now that you look back on it, it was nothing more than petty jealousy that bubbled in your stomach. It was stupid, really, to be jealous that a boy was giving other girl’s his attention, especially since you hadn’t seemed very keen on the idea of him even being in your town, but what you didn’t know was that it wasn’t the attention that Arvin enjoyed, it was the fact that in the people around him, in the kindness that people showed him, Arvin could see a future here; a future with you.

From the moment Arvin laid his eyes on you, he was smitten, he would even go as far as to say it was love at first sight. Arvin wouldn’t confess this to you until almost a year after you’d met when he tried to ask you to prom (with your parents’ permission, of course). It was honestly a train wreck and did not go at all how he had planned. Arvin had invited you out to the town’s gazebo, he had strung up lights as best he could and set up a nice little dinner for the two of you. He saw a figure slowly approach, thinking it was you, only to be disappointed when Susan Hall, who Arvin remembered you hated with a passion, stepped into the light and flung herself at him, telling him how sweet it was of him to do this and attempting to kiss him. You had seen the whole thing and, devastated, you ran away, Arvin chasing after you. He had caught up to you in the woods behind your parents’ property and explained what had happened, confessing that he loved you and only you. You believed him, and rightfully so, as you later found out that Susan had crashed your plans on purpose to try and steal Arvin from you.

Looking back on it now, with you leaning against his in the small house that you had bought the second you graduated high school with the little money both of you had saved up and some help from your parents, Arvin was glad he had ended up in your dreary town, no matter how complicated your relationship had been when it first started. He watched as you admired the ring on your finger, smiling at it as if you had been missing it all your life, the now empty dishes sitting in your sink waiting to be washed. It was times like this Arvin remembered why he had to keep his past life from you a secret. He loved you and often found himself wanting to tell you all about his past life. Every time you asked why he looked like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders Arvin wanted nothing more than to tell you everything, but Arvin loved you too much to let you go and he couldn’t bare to think of what would happen if you knew what he did.

“Darlin’, I gotta get ready for work.” He said, lips pressed against the crown of your head.

“Why don’t you call in sick today,” you suggested.

“I would but your dad would kill me.”

“You know he loves you Arvin.”

“Yeah, that’s why I don’t wanna disappoint ‘im.” With one final kiss to your head, Arvin stood up and made his way to your shared bedroom. You began to clean the dishes, not having to go into the diner until later that day. As you began cleaning the last pan in the sink, a sturdy knock came from your door.

“I’ll get it!” You yelled, hearing Arvin begin to hurry to the front door. You had opened the door just as Arvin arrived at the end of the hallway. In front of you stood a tall man with a sheriff’s badge pinned to his shirt.

“Mornin’ ma’am, my name’s Lee Bodecker,” The man said. “I’m looking for a man named Arvin Russell and I heard I might find him here.”

“Arvin?” You repeated, confusion written all over your face. You turned to look at your husband, eyebrows furrowed in a silent question. From where the sheriff stood, he couldn’t see Arvin, his figure being blocked by the door, but if he leaned ever so slightly to the left he might be able to peer into the house and see there was someone else there. You knew something was wrong, you had never seen Arvin look as scared as he did now, so without a second thought, you had gently closed the door so that your body filled the gap it created, leaning against the door frame in an attempt to feign nonchalance.

“I’m sorry, Mister, but there ain’t no Arvin Russell here. Whoever told you there was must have been misinformed.”

“You sure about that?”

“Sure as the hair on my head.”

“Oh, alright. Then may I ask who it was you called to just before you opened the door?”

“My husband.” You said after a long pause, caught off guard by the man’s question.

“Mind if I speak with him?”

“Well I don’t but I’m not sure how you’d feel about seein’ him naked. He’s takin’ a shower right now.” You began gently tapping your foot, your nerves beginning to get the better of you. You had never been all that good at lying, something about it made you feel wrong, dirty. But you needed to protect your husband, after all, it’s what he would do for you.

“Then would you mind if I waited.”

“Actually I would. I have to leave for work soon and, with all do respect, I don’t much like leaving a stranger unattended in my house.”

With a small nod and a tip of the hat, the man bid you goodbye, getting into his car and driving off. You closed the door and turned to Arvin. It was silent for a long time, you waited for Arvin to explain himself but Arvin didn’t know what to say. His worst nightmare was coming true and he was terrified that your love for him wouldn’t be strong enough to survive this.

“Arvin,” You said, as calmly as you could, not wanting to spook him or yourself anymore, though it proved a lot harder that you thought. “Why was that man at our door?”

Arvin opened his mouth as if to say something but for the life of him he couldn’t find the words. He was frustrated with himself, and from the looks of it you were getting pretty frustrated at him to.

“Arvin,” you said more firmly. “I just lied to a goddamn sheriff for you. Please, tell me what’s going on.”

Arvin took a deep breathe before explaining everything to you. He told you about Lenora, and how hung herself. About the preacher and Bodecker and about Bodecker’s sister and her crazy husband. He explained everything he had done with complete and utter honesty. And he cried, longing to reach out for you but knowing his hands were too tainted to be worthy of ever holding something as beautifully pure as you. You didn’t know what to say. On the one hand, you understood his reasoning. To you, it seemed like the people Arvin had killed had it coming. But on the other hand, your husband had killed people. It didn’t matter what the reason was, taking a person’s life was a sin, something unforgivable in the holy book. Despite your better judgement, your decision ultimately came down to this: Arvin was your husband, and you loved him.

You slowly approached Arvin’s shaking figure, gently wrapping your arms around his shoulders and threading your hands through his hair. Arvin broke down into sobs, holding you impossibly close to him as if he needed you more than the air he breathed.

“Arvin,” You said once he had stopped crying, your own tears beginning to fall as you realized that there was only one option left for you both. “Arvin, we need to go.”

“What?”

“We need to go.” He gently pulled away from you, looking into your eyes, checking to make sure he heard you correctly.

“B-but this is our home.”

“I know Arvin, but that sheriff didn’t believe a word I said and he’s gonna be asking around town for you. It won’t be long until word of what you’ve done begins to spread. We need to leave before it’s too late.”

You gently ushered Arvin towards the bedroom and told him to begin packing a bag, unaware of the figure lurking at your backdoor. Bodecker had listened in on your conversation, hearing every word you and Arvin had spoken to each other, preparing for the right moment to make himself known. It was now or never, he thought, hearing you tell Arvin to pack a bag. As quietly as possible, Bodecker broke the lock on your back door, slowly making his way towards your bedroom. The door was wide open, he could see you and Arvin darting around the room trying to find your essentials. It was almost perfect, how unaware you both were. How wrapped up you were in yourselves that you didn’t even notice a 6 foot tall man practically right in front of you. With a sadistic smile, Bodecker raised his shotgun.

You froze when you heard someone pump a shotgun behind you, whipping around to find Bodecker standing just a few feet from you, gun aimed at Arvin. Your heart was beating so hard you thought it might burst, the thought of losing Arvin only increasing the adrenaline that was currently coursing through you.

“You thought you could get away, didn’t you?” Bodecker asked.

“Please, your sister and her husband, t-they were gonna kill me I didn’t hav-”

“I don’t care! You killed my sister. My sister! You killed the only person I loved Arvin. And now, I’m gonna return the favor.” In one swift motion, Bodecker turned to point the gun at you, raising his gun higher to aim at you properly. You closed your eyes before hearing the bang of a gun. You waited, standing stock still as the terror of the situation slowly got to you, but you didn’t feel pain, instead you felt a set of hands holding your face, a voice softly telling you to open your eyes. You did as you were told, seeing Arvin in front of you, eyes frantic. You looked at the ground next to him, an unfamiliar gun next to Arvin’s foot. You came to the realization that Arvin must have used it to shoot Bodecker, your suspicion being proven correct when your eyes landed on Bodecker’s now lifeless body laying in a pool of his own blood.

“A-Arvin-” Arvin softly hushed you.

“It’s okay, you’re okay now.” Arvin pulled you closer to him, cradling your head and shielding you from the body. Soon you could hear sirens in the distance, the panic slowly rising inside of you again. You could feel Arvin begin to panic too, his breathing starting to pick up.

“H-his badge.” You said, pulling away from Arvin, scared that he would be taken away from you. “We-we need to get rid of h-his badge. A-and any identification he has. It has to look like an- like an accident”

“R-right. Right, okay, uh...” Arvin began searching Bodecker’s body, quickly finding both his badge and ID and hiding them in a small hollow under one of the floor boards where you kept your savings. You and Arvin quickly came up with a cover, agreeing to keep it simple. The police arrived not long after, conducting an interview and putting you both through due process. You told them what you and Arvin had agreed to say, that the man broke into your house and tried to rob you, but thanks to Arvin’s quick thinking, Arvin was able to get to his gun and shoot the intruder. The policemen interviewing you were  skeptical, wondering why neither of you called the police after killing the man. You blamed it on shock, saying that Arvin’s first instinct was to comfort you, the intruder did have a gun pointed at you, after all. The policemen eventually dropped the subject, seeing you begin to tear up as the adrenaline and shock of the day began to ware off. Your parents came to get you and Arvin, offering you both your old room at their house until they were able to get someone to fix your back door, an offer that the both of you readily accepted. That night you and Arvin held each other just a little bit tighter, neither one of you finding sleep to come easy.

“We can’t tell anyone what happened today.” Arvin said, rubbing your back in an attempt to soothe you.

“I know.” You replied, tightly clutching onto his shirt. “I love you, Arvin.”

“I love you, too, Darlin’”

You didn’t know what would come out of tonight. You didn't know if you were making a mistake by trusting Arvin after everything he had done. You weren’t sure if you were messed up for loving a murderer or if you were right in believing that Arvin was doing good, even if it meant doing some more than questionable things. But you knew one thing, you knew you loved Arvin and that he loved you, and that you both would always protect each other, no matter the cost.