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oneshotnewbie · 5 years

Note

Hey! Can you make a oneshot where baby danvers is like 16 or so and lives with Kara and Alex because Eliza died and they didn't wanted to have her in an foster family again? The woman from the youth welfare office comes home to them and ask them questions/look everything up and is unsure of her decision because both of her sisters work full time in and one of them is in a dangerous work and she thinks that they have no time for b!d? You can decide the end 🥰

Request 2: Can you do a oneshot where b!d is a teenager and Eliza dies unexpectedly so she has to move to National City tp live with her sisters?

A/N: I combined two requests in one because they both were the same. I hope you like it!

Words: 1.724

---

After your mother died in the lab due to a deadly misfortune, you couldn’t stay in Midvale longer and you have to get out of your house where you spent your whole life.

Beautiful but also bad memories tormented you in this house and it still hurt to connect them with your mother.

You had to get out of there, even the sight that once was so colour- and powerful was just a black and white and brought tears to your every time.

Also, the sight of old family photos, with Jeremiah, Eliza and you sisters on the terrace, the first one you actually shot when Kara came to earth, hurt and your sisters held them back from you, even if you would like to see them more than anything else and grieve.

They wanted to spare you the pain; these wounds were still too fresh. It was only a few weeks ago when you saw your mother for the last time, and you felt guilty.

Because on this day you argued with her before you went out the door to school and leaving her alone, standing by herself in the middle of the living room.

If only you had told her how much you love her, at least this one time.

----

It was one of the most important days in your life. Today decided if you could stay with your sisters or you had to go to a children’s home.

It was almost time; the woman form the youth welfare office had registered for today.

None of you could close your eyes tonight, no one could eat the breakfast in front of them and the fear was written on your sisters faces.

Kara had freed herself after talking to Lena about it today and was more than happy to know that when someone needed Supergirl, J’onn jumped in for her by turning into her and Lena also stood by her side.

Also Alex was not in the DEO today; too important was the appointment any you.

“I swear, when this is over and everything goes well, I’ll get drunk.” stated the eldest as she got up and left you both alone at the dining table.

You and your other sister started smiling even if you both didn’t feel like it. It still brought a smile to your face.

However, this was again driven away from the fear and panic in you. What if the woman tears you away from you sisters and puts you back in another family?

You wouldn’t go through that again.

You also stood up and put your food in the oven for later if you would get hungry.

Tears has built in your eyes, your hands balled into fist as you tried to fight against your emotions. But you lost.

Quickly you went to Kara who was still sitting at the table, with her thoughts probably completely elsewhere when you felt her jumping a bit while you hugged her as hard as possible.

As fast and well she could, she stood up with you, not letting you go. She turned to face you since you hugged her from behind. Now the tears ran unhindered down your cheeks and lay down on the blouse of the blonde.

She stroked gently over your head while she rocked you. The other arm wrapped around your shoulders and pressed you tightly against her.

“I’m so scared; I don’t want to lose you both.” You admitted between sobs.

“Shh, everything will be fine, you will stay with us, and we will do anything for it.”

You stood there for quite a time when you heard the squeak of the bathroom door in which Alex had recently disappeared. Small and soft footsteps sounded on the floor before they became louder with each step until they finally stopped.

You felt an warm embrace around you before a warm hand ran up and down your lower back and you couldn’t do anything than let out even more and stronger sobs as you clung to Kara even more.

“What happened?” the redhead asked in shock.

“Nothing, she is scared to lose us.”

Immediately Kara broke away from you and Alex came to the fore. One arm wrapped around your hips and together you walked to the couch where she sat you in and kneeled in front of you while Kara sat down next to you, rubbing little circles on your thigh.

The DEO agent cupped your face in her hands and looked deep into your eyes as she wiped your tears from your face with her thumb pads.

“Listen, to me kid. You will not lose us and you will certainly not be taken away from us either. We will prove to the know-it-all lady that we are good enough to take care of you. You have everything you need here, you have the superfriends which are your family who are fighting with us and even if that doesn’t work, we still have an ace up in our sleeve.”

You didn’t really wonder about the last sentence, your sisters always had a plan B and you knew that so you just nodded and looked at her. Your badass agent was close to tear up and you saw how much she fought and yet she didn’t show her true emotions and stood strong like you should be in this moment.

“Now stop crying because you will make me cry and I don’t want that cause we are strong. We are the Danvers sisters, we are stronger together.” She paused a moment. “And these two faces here,” she started, pointing with her forefinger at Kara’s and her face, “you will never get rid of those two faces. Never”

You looked between the two, sighed and started smiling. They always knew how to make you feel better.

Kara smiled back and Alex sat down next to the blonde, held her arms open, indicating you that you could sit on her lap if you wanted.

And of course you wanted. You three got into a hug. You lay on Alex while Kara was half on you, hugging you from behind. You quietly listened to the calming heartbeats and tried to calm yourself down with it.

After a few minutes from being in this position, the bell made you fell into reality again; you were so caught up in that moment that you almost jumped. Once again you all smiled at each other and nodded before Kara opened the door with Superspeed and the lady in front of you appeared.

“Good morning, my name is Mira Thompson. I’m from social services and had signed up a few days ago by calling you.”

“Good morning, Mrs. Thompson. I’m Kara Danvers and that’s Alex, my sister. Please come in.”

---

It was a long two hours of overpower and tension. Of talking and convincing. Of hope and fear.

The woman was hard to crack and you couldn’t see through her exactly.

Kara tried to buy her with coffee and cake, showed her the double bright side of her and showed her around the apartment that your two sisters had together.

She also looked at your newly redesigned room which you designed with the red and blond haired like you wanted. She paid close attention to the relationship between each of you, her eyes kept on moving to you and your charisma, how you behaved and how you looked between them.

She kept emphasizing how neat and tidy it was here and how happy you were, how your eyes radiated and your lips formed into a smile over and over again when your sisters where around and also the conversation that you had to take with her alone was good in your opinion.

That’s what you hoped, at least.

Again and again she wrote down note on her iPad which gave you panic but your sisters where there for you. She let Alex and Kara go through the toughest questions, hoping that the two would answer them correctly and to the taste of Mrs. Thompson.

“As far as I see this here, you’re in good hands, the confirmation that you already have some friends here and the papers that confirm that you have already found a school on which you could go soon would be nothing to restrict you from living with your sisters.” She started the conversation when you were called down and sat down between your sisters. “But..”

“But what? I thought everything is fine?” you asked nervously, your voice almost trembling.

“Kara works at the biggest media center in the world and often needs to be away in other cities for researches and interviews and Alex works at the FBI, which is certainly not without, I would worry that you would be alone too long or Alex would get hurt or worse while working.”

You swallowed hard and were unable to say anything, was it over now?

“We can assure you that we will be there for her whenever she needs us, we have good bosses who are our friends too and they would surely turn a blind eye when they now that Y/N is sick or otherwise.” Alex took over rudder while you collected your thoughts and emotions.

“Our friends we’ve been telling you about are taking care of her as well and would continue to do so – they’re are her family. Our family.” Kara intervened in the conversation.

“If that is so..” the woman stood up and you three followed her movements. “I would be ready to file in the documents and register you both as her legal guardians.” She smiled slightly and you were overwhelmed.

So overwhelmed that the tears started to ran down again and you fell around Alex’s neck while Kara accompanied her thankfully to the door and said goodbye.

After the door locked, you were still snuggled up to Alex and looked at Kara.

“We have to celebrate this. I will call everyone.” Said the blonde in a squeaky voice; cheering at the door and jumping around like a small child.

You couldn’t believe it. You did it.

For days there was a stone on your chest that made breathing a difficult task and a tornado raging in you. But you finally did it and you felt free.

You were allowed to stay with your family.

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covidchronicles · 4 years

Text

Putting up

I talked last time about what they didn’t have at the store. Here are a few of the things we did get, and the reasoning behind them. My condition is improved by a keto diet, but proteins and healthy fats don’t store as well as carbs, so I’m setting that aside for now. I suspect many of the shortages are continued supply chain problems as a result of our recent tornado and will resolve in time. Could be very wrong. The storage food I got is food we will eat eventually anyway, not disgusting MREs or “add boiling water to this bag of chemicals...”

Dried foods - I would have liked to get a BIG bag of rice, but the storage space we can keep bug-free is severely limited, so one pound in addition to the one I already have will do. I already had one pound of dried beans. That will last us a long time and I imagine those will stay in stores longer than canned. I only got four bags of coffee, that won’t get me through a month. Canned goods - Just one can each of peaches, pears, pineapple, etc. We can add to that weekly as long as they hold out. I really don’t like canned veg. But I got marinated artichoke hearts (YUM) for flavor and prebiotic fiber as well as olives (YUMMMM) for good fat. Picked up the last four-pack of tuna and a couple cans of sardines. I already have several cans of salmon. I have a nice stock already of coconut milk, which will sub in for milk until fresh dairy is back in stock. I also invested in a couple cartons of bone broth. The high-quality kind is so very expensive, but it’s such good nutrition. Baking stuff - I forgot yeast, but that should be available for a while. I already have a full complement of spices, flour, and sugar. Frozen - After losing the entire contents of my fridge and freezer after the tornado, I almost didn’t get anything frozen. But, a big bag of frozen berries is versatile and tasty. I also got a big bag of mixed veg. (I miss my garden SOOOO much.) Cleaning - We have a big jug of white vinegar for common cleaning and low-viral load disinfecting, and I’ll get another next week along with a bar of Fels Naptha for making laundry soap should it come to that. Yeah, that’s something I know how to do. Health and Beauty - Bought one big bottle each of aspirin, ibuprofen, and sodium naproxen. I have aloe gel at home for making homemade hand sanitizer. Next week I need to remember to pick up some lye for making soap. Yeah, I can do that, too. Paper Goods - Absolutely none to be had in the store except fancy paper dinner napkins. Got a big package of those to cut in fourths for tissues if needed. I could also sew up some handkerchiefs if necessary, but I don’t like germy things laying around. We already had some TP in storage, and we can easily do without paper towels when my stock runs out.

I have a big tub of protein powder and another of collagen powder, those might come in handy. Later this week I need to pick up some big bottles of Everclear vodka for making hand sanitizer and elderberry tincture. No evidence that elderberry is effective against covid, but it (along with other steps like adequate sleep and good nutrition) has kept me flu-free for years, There’s a big hole in what we know about covid, but it calms me to do what I know.

#covid19 #groceries #keto

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gvaf-radio-blog · 5 years

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I was laying in bed trying to not think about the rejection when the crying fit started, normally it goes away after a bit but this welled up and I felt an emotion like onto a rage induced tornado surging through me and I pounded the floor screaming like I lost a limb to a bear trap and started to pray to God, keep in mind I am a Satanist, to either help me find a way to get the love of my life back or to give me the means to end my life. Satan was very understanding but reminded me to call them first next time since Satan never told me I was damned for being born pansexual and they did turn me on to better fashion and literature, sorry Satan.

It had been going on like this for the better part of July and there were several things going on in my life at the time one of those was a firm belief that I had grown too old, too fat, too broken to be any use to anyone other than to make others feel better and be target practice for the Russian Cupidi who seems very intent on making others fall in love with me on the other side of the continent, little fuckers have surprisingly deep laughs I found out . There was a person I was convinced was the love of my life because they seemed to understand me, never made unreasonable demands of me ( I thought) and to put it simply we could not be in a room alone ever. We worked well together in fact each time we would meet it ended in us kissing and tearfully saying I love you to each other while holding each other head to head crying. Everytime I heard a slight Russian tinged laugh. We were for a short time had an almost family, an almost family is where things are just off and need adjustments. I wanted tp make us a full family badly I wanted this family to happen because these kids were at one time treated like mine own, I am a simple and boring man except for the Cupidi and a stalker with cat ears who keeps leaving dead birds on my front stoop.

So yes I was that fool everyone has laughed at in a heart break fueled misery that pop songs and movies lie to us and say “ AH but tis only the third act! The two distant lovers will be reunited and the love song with start after the credits”. I want to start rounding up the con artist that make a living by filling empty headed children with these notions of true love or that love conquers all and sodomize them with live lobsters. I don’t want to violate ethically challenged people with shellfish everyday, just on those days when I have to deal with the doll eyed masses, ok so basically every day I was trying to give myself the benefit of the doubt. The Ex had asked me if the reason I wanted to get back together was because they were a “sure thing” I told her that they were really a long shot but if I didn’t try then I couldn’t live with myself. Fast forward a few weeks and several insulting explanations later and I am now turning over all the reasons I am broken goods and that I should not rise above my station because I deserve to be alone, i’m scum, I’m why baby jesus cries and milk spoils when I walk into the room. I started taking pot shots at the local Cupidi with my compound bow but it was hard to aim with eyes full of tears and the edible kicking in finally. I don’t know how to say fuck you in Russian but I think I know the sound of the word.

Next we find me red eyed muttering some gibberish that’s been fueled by what I would find out later to be a suspected mental illness that is only half way being treated with medication and therapy. To give you a funny and disturbing visual. After not eating or sleeping for several days I looked like what could be described as a cross between a fat Reinfeld and a goth George Costanza , or Meatloaf on a bad day. I give you options for your visuals, am I not merciful?

It’s now sometime between one and five A.M and I am looking up the price of the least expensive .45 handgun because I’m poor and I’ll be getting some extra money soon because I turn thirty nine in a week I do not want to be thirty nine so I start looking for american style solutions, happy fucking birthday. I chose this caliber because having some medical training and studying the wonderful world of trauma I got to see in full detail what a self inflicted head wound looks like and what a person's life is when the bullet doesn’t take enough grey matter. I didn’t want to be alive then I sure as hell didn’t want to live as a joke character from a Garth Ennis story so I was going to get a bigger bullet . America, fuck yeah.

so I started to make my final birthday plan and feel at peace with having my last ride of Clove’s, bourbon and a good pub hamburger then, Tchüess. BANG! Obviously I didn’t buy the gun to end my misery and embarrassment as my brain was telling me I needed, because instead my brain going into OH FUCK mode was throwing everything it had at me to save the ship. Then it hit pay dirt. I rediscovered a natural emotional energy that put my mind into a laser focus clearing the fog and lies away just enough to stop my self destruction and restart the rebuilding I began in the winter. The emotional energy that saved me from turning my head into goo goes by the name of pure fucking spite.

I realized that my idiocy levels had reached a critical mass when the Cupidi in hazmat suits who seem to be , in Russian , bitching about extracting me to go get recharged . They came down to take me back to a containment unit that will refill my cynicism back to optimal and lethal fuck off capacity. After my IV of coffee and Monster™ grape was removed I was set loose again into the wilds of Southeast Portland to reconnect my brain with seething hatred that I somehow misplaced my hatred during the heartache attack between Southeast Division and Southeast Clinton street where I was bludgeoned with a baseball bat by the woman who was wearing cat ears. I was on a time limit because I had to do this quickly and retract my steps before my appointment with a Psychiatric Nurse Practitioner at two P.M later that day. I managed to find my hatred , my senses and a new found desire to attack any human with those fucking anime cat ears on their head and entered the office and was treated like a human being not a Cro Magnon sociopath who might try to kill people on the train, it was a nice change of pace honestly.

We talked about my past trauma and some of the diagnosis that where off base and some that came close to the mark but the main thing we talked about was the depression, the depression that had me looking for a gun as a treatment plan. This Nurse Practitioner pinpointed everything that I had to hide from others or train myself not to do in less than thirty minutes, Let me give you a bit of perspective.

Most of the mental health professionals I worked with in the past used a method I call flow chart counseling, example:

Therapist sees me walk into the door, therapist will ask if I drink if yes how many drinks in a week, if no move on to the next question. Therapist: Mister Cromag do you drink?

Me: yeah, I like a good beer, or wine I take a shinning to good bourbons as well.

“Therapist now flows to follow up questions”

Therapist: How many drinks per week?

Me: Well, I like to have a drink that pairs with my dinner and some weekends I’ll have a bit more during games or socialization depending on who’s around.

“Therapist now moves down to alcoholism”

Therapist: how long have you been an alcoholic?

Me: I’m sorry what?

Therapist: You binge drink Mister Cromag, more than four drinks per week means substance abuse.

Me: No it means I like the taste of a stout. “Moves down the chart to denial”

Therapist: We need to find you an addiction specialist.

Me: You think my drinking is bad, wait until I tell you about my porn collection.

After that exchange I was referred to a physical therapist to help with carpal tunnel and after a traumatized therapist had to call security all while frantically trying to find a flowchart for the psychotically horny they made a suggestion about me having an Oedipus complex.

So you now see what I mean, a lot of professionals never got to the heart of it and there are other stories where I’ve had the professionals all but sneer at me when my symptoms are presented. So this Nurse Practitioner was a nice change of pace and with the discussion about my issues, what I thought I might have been dealing with (sometimes people see that I do have some form of intelligence and not just hit thing with club real hard unga bunga) we then worked out what medication I needed to treat the thing I was dreading, being diagnosed with Bipolar 1.

Bipolar and ADHD share many of the same characteristics and as I’ve learned if you have one the other is more than likely there it just needs to be screened for. Bipolar is also a hereditary form of mental illness which makes it a bit unique where others are mostly trauma induced but Bipolar just kinda waits for something to happen and when nothing does it creates its own fun. To add to this good time Bipolar is classified as a “mood disorder” your highs are hyperactive boarderlining and often going into a full true manic state of mind and body, not nearly as fun as it sounds. Then the lows are soul crushing affairs that amplify the depression and then takes the lies you brain tells you and creates a story based on people around you, your fears, past trauma and then makes you this poisoned lullaby cake that tastes like candy feels like medicine until you fall to your knees paralyzed and the fangs sink into your back and you see too late what is having you for dinner tonight.

So that’s a quick and blurry on Bipolar 2, I have Bipolar 1 which means I get all of that plus the added fun of hallucinations, and not the type Terrence Mckenna taught us about. These are things that just manifest as if they are real life like if you were in a film and it was edited without warning and in this new situation you now have to improvise a reality, any reality, this is why I take *drugs prescribed and other. The other issue is that it feels like my memories get remixed and things that happened now have a new twist, a paranoid hurtful twist. Good example of this is when I was making a terminal wishlist and believed that there were people who truly wanted me to die because I interpreted their actions as malicious. Another example is I was walking home to the apartments around ten or twelve years ago, I was walking home at the time with groceries and when I got through the front door there was construction going on at the apartment above me. I sleep days and at best i’ll get four hours due to shit employer, new born child, a girlfriend that was Sybil the next generation who completely refused to get treatment because she was a psych major and thought she was the heroin to overcome all odds in a lifetime movie. So on top of this my mental illness is not in check, no insurance and if I mention medication at work I could get fired.

I wish this was a part I made up but I mentioned I was on antidepressants at one time and they removed me from two positions back to entry level until I got clean off celexa, Not allowed to do the fun drugs and then punished for using the boring ones no idea why I stayed there for eight and a half years.

Back to the construction, I get home try to put my groceries away and one of the workers says he needs to do something in the bedroom I tell him to get bent , he calls me a fat fuck and I proceed to beat him bloody! Except it never happened, I woke up beating my fist bloody onto the tiled floor of the kitchen where I had started to put away my groceries until I jumped into this other reality, I’m just happy the kid wasn’t home because it might have scared her and made her cry and knowing I made her cry hurts the worst, I would have attempted that second suicide earlier. This freaked me out I’ve never had an hallucination like this I was scared, when I told then girlfriend hoping to get support or at least pointed in the direction on where to look she labeled me a schitzophrentic started talking to me as if I was going to flip out and that I was even more dangerous. I let that turn around in my head for years thinking that this was the linchpin to me being broken and with the way she talked to me I believed I didn’t deserve help. This was one of the main reasons I had to kill myself after she took my daughter away.

Like a few million other miserable , confused people out there I didn’t know a blessed thing about what was happening, I remembered the mental abuse and emotional abuse from the church, and some had argued physical and neglectful abuse I recieved at the hands of my family or my mother’s husbands who told my mother to no provide for me but instead buy him a new toy car. My step sister who somehow hates the knot headed reprobate more than I do stole his precious camaro and rear ended a Semi. After learning she was ok I fell on the floor laughing because all I could think about was this NASCAR addicted stunted man child calling his mommy to whine about a broken toy, to add to this mental image he was wearing a blue jean diaper and clutching a plush Richard Petty teddy bear.

There’s more but I don’t feel the need to talk about school bus drivers and me losing memory of one full year of my life, bullying at the hands of adults and children alike. I feel like that would be redundant and unfortunately all too common a story I’ve heard from so many people in my life, friends, lovers , coworkers the fucking homeless people who talk with me after I give them beer money. Leaving some of the genetic issues aside you bastards need to understand how wide spread some of these traumas are for fuck sake my motley of misfits are all walking trauma case studies and instead of getting help YOU people ridiculed them, or gave them the greatest useless sentence in the english language which is :

“Just get over it.”

Do you know what I would like to see? I want to see all of us survivors roaming the streets like that piss poor movie they claimed was a horror movie the Purge and with a list not unlike the list owned by the man that comes around Johnny Cash sang about during his song of the rapture, and I see men, women, and nonbinary people going to the address of those passive aggressive twits and beating them within an inch of their life, then carving into their chest (backwards) “get over it” then we move on to the homes of the rapists and tell them “you asked for this” before destroying their cocks with battery acid. The screams in the night would be glorious with the bats acting like percussion and the screams keyboard swells it would be like Front 242 unplugged. Maybe then the sniveling pretentious nra members out there will learn a bit. At best, it would be fair warning not to be passive aggressive asshole and learn a bit of compassion and mindfulness or to just get their heads out of their ass about battles they know nothing about if they want to avoid severe head trauma that one can not just simply get over.

Living with mental illness is not easy at any level whether a small bit of depression after a breakup or full blown PTSD after a brutal rape that leaves one unable to leave their house. Whomever has these afflictions are the ones suffering and your feelings of inconvenience or fear of those sufferers need to be thrown into the Willamette river, I would say you need to follow suit but there’s enough garbage in this river you can fuck off into a trash compactor.

Living is the hardest thing I do but I keep finding ways to stop the thoughts from taking over and I will and have done whatever it took to not die and sometimes the only way I was able to beat the mental illness was being bat shit insane. Some people think I’m a drug addict, others just think I need to talk to my old invisible friend, a few well meaning souls have suggested psychedelics and these people are pure and I will castrate any who try and stop them from their holy work from the almighty Bob. what I do need is to find that bitch with the **baseball bat and introduce them to a proper bonfire that I’m going to roast one of those little commie Cupidi on, oh yes I want my revenge for St Louis.

*the drugs in question are cannabis for the most part, when I’m spinning hard it helps tune me down and when the depression hits it shuts up the thoughts that plague me. Not a cure all nor is it a replacement for proper medication and therapy. I like to think of it a supplemental medicine that has the added effect of making Tool sound even more epic and letting me sleep peacefully.

** all wildy violent, funny and or cartoonish descriptions written about are there to be funny and entertaining no Cupidi do not exist and the Cat ear person does but the assault was less bloody and didn’t involve a bat but it was far more traumatizing.

#gvaf #bourbonsexual #mental illness #suicide #abuse #Gonzo Journalism

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onebatch2batch · 6 years

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76. “I need you to pretend we’re dating.”

For @tuntematonkorppi, with love AO3

(Post-TPS Kastle...it’s literally all fluff. All of it.)

Karen Page’s office at the Bulletin is a living breathing disaster. The mess of it is almost anthropomorphic--every time Frank steps inside, he’s sure that a pile of papers or stack of sticky-notes is going to rear up and bite him. Today is no different. He’s sitting in one of the rigid chairs before her desk, balancing a cardboard coffee cup holder on his knee. He tilts his head to try and puzzle through the mess of papers on the wall behind her desk, waiting patiently.

Karen walks into the door with a gust of air minutes later, apology already on her lips. Frank rises to greet her. “Fr--shit, Pete. I’m so sorry, I don’t think I can do lunch today. I got assigned this piece and I have an interview in two hours to prep for and--is that coffee?”

His lips twitch upwards and he holds one out, like a peace offering. “Yeah. Extra shot.”

“Ahh.” She pauses. “You must forgive me then?”

God, he’d forgive her for anything when she’s got those big eyes staring at him like that. Frank clears his throat and shoves his free hand in his pocket. “Sure. I was gonna cancel anyways.”

Her eyebrows shoot into her hairline. “Got a date?” she teases, taking a seat at her desk.

Frank scoffs, watching her take a long pull from her coffee. “Nah. Curtis wants me to speak at group today. Couldn’t say no.”

She looks like she’s about to say something that borders between pleased and proud, but her eyes focus on the doorway behind him and widen almost comically. “Shit. Shit,” she mutters, pressing a hand to her forehead. “Quick--I need you to pretend we’re dating.”

Frank can’t help the dumbfounded expression that smooths across his face. “...what?”

Karen is already standing, yanking him around the desk by the sleeve. “The IT guy has been asking me out for months. Just--c’mon, stop looking at me like that. Just pretend we’re dating, please?” She glances over and then slaps a cringe-worthy fake smile on when a younger guy knocks on the doorframe. “Oh hi, Milo.”

Frank has never heard her sound so insincere, and it takes a moment to recover. He looks the guy over critically--young kid, blonde hair, with those thick rimmed glasses that everyone in New York seems to wear these days. He looks like a strong gust of wind could send him flying. The kid--Milo, Frank reminds himself--has his chest puffed out, haughty, but is sending the most love-struck look at Karen between glares at Frank and the coffees in their hands.

Yeah, me too, kid, Frank thinks, and then looks away and slides an arm around Karen’s waist. He leans over and presses a kiss to her temple, and tells himself her sharp little inhale is out of surprise rather than something else.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he says before Milo can respond. “I wish I didn’t have to cancel lunch. How ‘bout I make you dinner tonight instead?”

Karen’s eyes turn on him and for a moment, her fake smile falls away into something real. Something that makes his heart jump a little. He tightens his hand on her hip, raising his eyebrows, and she spurs into action. “Oh, um, yes. That’s--that’s perfect.”

He nods and takes a step away, feels the warmth of her leave immediately. The disappointed frown on her face matches the one on Milo’s perfectly, and Frank tells himself that really, he shouldn’t laugh, he’s got a part to play. He gives her a smile and then turns to pick up his bag from the chair. When he gets to the doorframe, he glances down at Milo and tilts his head. “Excuse me,” he rumbles.

Milo moves immediately. Frank feels only a little bad at the crestfallen expression on his face. He turns and gives Karen a wink. “See you tonight.”

He doesn’t think Milo’s gonna be a problem anymore.

Three days later, Frank steps into Karen’s apartment and raises his brows at the sight before him. “Uhh, Karen?” he calls at the absolute tornado of papers on the floor.

She lifts a hand from her prostrate position the couch. “Please tell me you have food,” she groans.

“What, the jar of pickles and jug of mayonnaise in your fridge ain’t enough?” He snorts, walking over to peer down at her. She glares up at him, but without heat. “It’s on the way. Called it in half an hour ago.”

She sits up and sighs, pushing back her hair. “You’re a monster, you know that?”

He takes the seat next to her, throwing an arm over the back of the couch. “What’d I do now?” he wonders, watching as she lifts her arms into the air to stretch.

“Everyone at work is talking about my broody scary boyfriend. I’ve had at least four people walk up to me and ask how we met. People I’ve never even spoken to, Frank.” She sounds a mixture of amused and exasperated. “I left at lunchtime to work from home, I couldn’t take it.”

Frank jiggles his foot, unable to help his laugh. “Tell ‘em to mind their own business.”

“You want me to tell a building of reporters to mind their business? Have you lost it?” Her laughter abruptly cuts off when the buzzer rings. “That’s gotta be the food. I’ll get it.”

Frank watches her go and decides it’s time for him to have a little fun. She did ask, after all. And Frank’s really never been good at half-assing things.

>>What have u done.

Frank reads the text on his phone with a wide smile. He hunches over to type out a reply, biting back a laugh.

>>Dunno what you mean

>>Dnt play coy w me Castle

A picture flashes across his screen--a bouquet of the gaudiest looking roses he’s even seen, perched at the edge of her desk like she’s afraid they’ll contaminate everything else. There’s a huge pink ribbon wrapped around the heart shaped vase. He can just barely make out the words on the card, although he knows exactly what it says.

>>”Hope you’re thinkin of me” he quotes to her. It’s better than he could have ever imagined.

>>Ull pay for this…

Frank’s smirk widens.

>>Oh, just wait.

Over the next two weeks, Frank pulls out all the stops.

He sends flowers so often, they take up every available surface in her office. He shows up with food every day and takes up her entire lunch hour. He brings in giant teddy bears and the most ridiculous Hallmark cards he can find.

Each time he passes through the Bulletin, there are whispers. And maybe yeah, he’s drawing a little too much attention and maybe yeah, he could cool it with the pranks, but…

Well, it’s too much fun. And Karen doesn’t seem to mind too much. She eats the food and rolls her eyes; she snaps pictures of the stuffed animals doing odd things around her office and sends them to him. She makes a flower crown of roses and daisies and forces him to wear it every time he shows up.

It’s fun, and more importantly, Milo hasn’t bothered her since they began “dating”.

At the end of the two weeks, he gets busy. He gets a construction job and starts to work through the day. Her texts sometimes go unanswered when he leaves his phone on silent in his pocket. He can’t make their lunches and instead eats the sad-looking sandwich from his lunch pail, staring out over the city. And god, he misses her.

He misses her up until he shows up at her door, a week later. When he steps inside, the lights are dimmed and there’s candles lit everywhere. He’s amused to see a pile of stuffed animals in the corner, and an array of take out food on the coffee table. Karen’s sitting on the couch waiting, and she stands when he enters.

“What did I walk into, ma’am?” he asks, raising a brow.

Karen smiles and walks over, and then the next thing he knows she’s got two hands fisted in his jacket and she’s kissing him. Frank makes a small, surprised noise, and rests his hands on her waist. When she pulls away, he can only describe her expression as wicked.

“I forgot to pretend,” she breathes, and then pulls him back for more.

#mine #kastle fic #thank y'all for the prompts omg i love you guys #my writing

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