#I’m probably gonna answer them one at a time. That way I don’t feel as stressed about it

[adelliet]

Joel Miller X f!reader

IN CONTROL

Summary: Joel comes back home really pissed, not even telling you why. You decided to tease him a bit and make him loosen up a bit, which worked, but does he deserved it?

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, strong language, dom! Reader (at the beginning), sub! Joel, handjob, fingering, mutual masturbation, eye contact sex, unprotected sex ( p i v ), lowkey aftercare

A/n: Hey! I apologize if some phrases or parts aren’t grammatically correct or don’t make sense, English isn’t my native language! <3 Anyway, enjoy!

You sensed it the moment his foot stepped into the house. He was mad. But not the usual kind of mad—where he explodes, complains about what pissed him off, then calms down and laughs again. No, this was different.

You greeted him softly, trying to be kind, but you didn’t get an answer. Just a barely audible grunt. This is gonna be challenging.

Sitting in the kitchen, sipping your coffee, you watched as Joel stomped angrily toward the couch and threw himself onto it. He didn’t even look at you, not even a quick glance. Nothing.

“Do you want a coffee? Or tea, or something?” Your voice was gentle, sweet, coaxing him to talk, to face you.

“No.”

No? His tone was cold, sharp, almost indignant—and he didn’t even say thank you? You understood that when he was angry, he wasn’t in the mood to act all soft and sweet, but basic manners shouldn’t require any effort.

Even though it frustrated you, you refused to let it ruin your mood.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” you asked, sitting beside him, your eyebrows furrowed as you gave him your best puppy-dog eyes.

“Nothin’.” His response was flat, his gaze never meeting your concerned face.

You took a deep breath, trying not to snap and instead keep yourself calm. Fine. You can play this game too.

“Alrigh’, I’m gonna take a shower,” you informed him, getting up from the couch and heading straight to the bathroom. You didnt even care if he was looking at you or not. You decided to let him cool down a bit by giving him some space alone.

After your shower, you stepped out, and it didn’t take long to realize that there were no towels left. Right. You had washed them all today. Well, at least this would make Joel think about something other than his anger.

“Joel! Could you bring me a towel, please?” you called out, your voice still sweet. You hoped he heard you, because you really didn’t feel like repeating yourself.

While waiting, you spent the time grooming yourself in the mirror, tying your hair up into a cute ponytail.

Suddenly, the door opened, and there he was, a massive man standing in the doorway, completely filling the frame.

You looked up at him, smiling as you took the towel from his hands, lipsyncing a silent ‘thank you’ in return.

Joel froze for a moment, clearly stunned, his eyes locked onto your naked, wet body. He looked mesmerized, but after a second, he cleared his throat, turned around, and without a single word he left, shutting the door behind him.

You couldn’t help but grin. He wasn’t exactly subtle about the obsession he had for you. You knew he was probably replaying the image of you naked over and over again, acting like he hadn’t seen you naked a hundred times before. Still, it was cute.

After wrapping yourself in a towel, you stepped out of the bathroom, fresh and clean.

“I’m going to lie down, I’m pretty tired,” you said before heading upstairs and disappearing from Joel’s sight.

You grabbed the first shirt you could find, not so coincidentally, Joel’s dark brown one, and slipped it on before crawling into bed. You let out a content sigh. Finally, the cool sheets and the most comfortable bed in the world.

Grabbing the book you’d been reading, you picked up right where you left off. But after just a few pages, the soft creak of the door opening caught your attention.

Joel peeked through the small gap he had made, then exhaled when he saw you.

“I thought you were asleep,” he said, explaining his mysterious way of entering, before jumping into bed after you.

He looked much more relaxed now, calmer. Like he had washed all his anger away somehow, being the dear old Joel again. But you won't break that easily.

Now, it was your turn.

He was lying on his stomach, both hands reaching for your legs. His fingertips brushed against your skin before he started stroking it softly, tracing small patterns.

You ignored him.

That didn’t stop him. He let out a quiet purr and placed a soft kiss on your ankle.

Nothing.

It didn’t get a reaction out of you. Or rather, not on the outside. Inside, you were already burning with need, and if you weren’t so stubborn, you would’ve tossed that stupid book aside long ago and pounced on him like a wild cougar.

But you stuck to your statement, letting him suffer for now. With a stony expression, you kept your eyes glued to the words on the page.

Joel, however, was undeterred. His eyes stayed locked on your face as he pressed another kiss a little higher up your leg. Then another. And another.

He trailed kisses all over your skin, not leaving a single inch untouched. Your body, unfortunately, betrayed you, a quiet giggle slipped from your lips.

You felt Joel’s smirk against your skin as he continued his path upward, his lips never stopping. His other hand massaged your other leg, slow and deliberate.

He was too good at this. His hands were always so skilled, rough yet soft at the same time. A combination that never failed to make your heart race and create a waterfall between your legs.

Even though his touches tickled and distracted you, you held your ground, refusing to soften. That’s why you stopped giggling as quickly as possible and refocused on your book.

“You smell so good,” he hummed between kisses, his hands slowly trailing higher.

He skipped over the part of your body covered by his t-shirt, aiming straight for your neck, but you dodged him.

He paused, considering his next move.

“Honey, I need you,” he murmured, dazed from kissing you, before making another attempt at your neck.

You dodged him again.

“Baby, please,” he whined, dropping his head onto your stomach, looking up at you through his lashes, his eyes full of need.

Without hesitation, you covered his face with your book. A bit rude, but undeniably brilliant. “Babe,” he groaned, hugging you and lazily caressing your leg with one hand.

He was trying hard, and for a second, you almost felt sorry for him, until you remembered how he had acted when he came home.

That thought reignited your resolve, and you steeled yourself once more, unyielding as a wall.

“No,” you snapped sharply. Joel sighed, finally realizing what this was about.

“I’m sorry, honey… I didn’t mean to upset you,” he murmured, his voice like the whimper of a guilty puppy. But your expression remained the same, emotionless.

“Please,” he whined, his hand slipping under your shirt, sneaking between your lower back and the mattress. Before you could even take a breath to protest, he grabbed your ass firmly, so hard that a low murmur escaped your lips, your eyes squeezing shut.

That was your limit.

You shut your book and set it aside.

Joel’s lips curled into a satisfied smirk, thinking he had finally won you over. But he was wrong.

“You want me, Joel?” Without hesitation, he nodded.

“And do you think,” you leaned in, stopping just inches from his lips, “you deserve it?”

He completely ignored your question and went in for a kiss, but you pulled away.

“I don’t think you do,” you teased, slipping out of his grasp. You were about to climb out of bed, but before you could, his hand wrapped tightly around your wrist, refusing to let go.

“Please,” he pleaded, looking devastatingly good while doing so, but you weren’t about to give in.

You yanked your arm free and walked around the bed. His eyes followed your every move, forcing him to roll onto his back while still lying down.

“If you really want me,” you mused, dragging a chair from the nearby table and placing it infront of the bed, “you’re gonna have to earn it.”

Joel’s eyes never left you. You sat down with a devilish smile, crossing your leg over the other. You both stared at each other for a moment, and Joel had no idea what you were planning.

“Take your clothes off,” you commanded, leaning back in the chair.

Joel hesitated for a second before he began undoing his shirt and pants, tossing them aside carelessly. Now he was only in his boxers, which perfectly outlined the shape of his hard dick.

Your throat filled with saliva as you sat up more comfortably, pressing your thighs together even tighter, to calm your throbbing pussy down.

You felt the heat spreading from your lower belly, slowly taking over your entire body. Your cheeks started turning red, but you still held your ground. “Take that off,” your voice wavered slightly, not as confident as before, but still carrying a hint of authority mixed with desperation.

Joel let out a deep breath, dropping his head for a moment. He shook it slightly before looking back at you, pure frustration in his eyes. Do you really want this? Do you really want to torture him like this? Yes, you do.

After realizing his pleading eyes weren’t working on you, he gave in and did exactly what you told him. He released his hard cock, that slammed against his stomach the moment he took off his shorts.

You took a deep breath, feeling the dampness between your legs seep onto Joel’s shirt, you couldn’t stop it. He was so big, every vein, every unshaven patch of him, perfect. Made just for you.

His eyes were filled with deep emptiness, as if they reflected the weight of the entire world. His brows were slightly furrowed, his forehead marked with faint lines of worry. His lips were slightly parted, yet no words came out, just a quiet, defeated breath.

His shoulders sagged, his posture slouched, as if even kneeling on the bed took too much effort. There was no spark in his gaze, only silent desperation.

The once strong, dominant, and fearless man, the one all of Jackson feared, whose mere sharp gaze sent shivers down the spine of anyone daring to hold eye contact, had been reduced to a pathetic mess, now kneeling on the bed, practically drooling over you.

He waited patiently, but it looked like it physically hurted him. He needed you, right here, right now, more than anything else.

“Touch yourself” you commanded with your chin held high and a sly look in your eyes. Joel exhaled, rubbing his eyes with his fingers. “Honey, I—” You didn’t even give him a chance to resign.

“Touch. Your. Self.”

He watched you for a moment, questions racing through his mind. Was this worth it? Should he just give up and spare himself the humiliation by you like this? But for you, it was worth it.

He slowly reached to his twitching penis, shivering at his touch, his gaze never left from your body. He carefully wrapped himself with his hand, his palms hot and sweaty. He groaned quietly, as he started lazily stroking himself.

It was pure torture for him, to see you and not be able to touch you, not to taste you. Every fiber of his being ached to grab you, to feel every inch of your body under his hands, but he couldn’t. All he could do was kneeling there, helpless, as you watched him, his breathing growing faster with every passing second and so did his pace.

For a moment he had to throw his head back and focus only on the feeling, the way his hand pumped, trying to imagine your tight wet pussy wrapped around his cock, instead of his own hand.

He snapped back to the present, his eyes scanning every inch of you. But you weren’t any better off, it was just as much torture for you as it was for him.

You wanted to feel him inside you, how deep he would go, how fast and hard he would pound into you, where his hands would wander on your body. Just from these images, your bottom started to tingle and your core clenched around nothing.

You couldn't take it anymore. You slowly opened your legs, revealing your dripping pussy. Joel's eyes immediately dropped down, watching as you traced your fingers against your folds, sighing whole holding eye contact.

The tension between you was unspeakable. The atmosphere was so thick it could be slices into milion pieces.

Your hips were moving along with your fingers, your breath getting louder with every second that passed.

Joel was nearing orgasm. His head was spinning and his balls were so fucking full. His tip already leaking with pre-cum, his hand movements slippery and absent-minded. If he could just feel you, just a little taste of your wetness, he would be happier right away.

,,Fuckk…” he groaned under his nose, his jaw dropped as he tightly shutted his eyes.

You pushed one finger between your folds, stretching your walls. Biting your lip, you let out a small squeak and kept your eyes fixed on Joel, while your finger curled inside you. Your other hand joined, making a small circles around your poking, sensitive clitoris.

Joel grumbled, the urge to watch you forcing him to keep his eyes open, but the need for relief was stronger. "Darlin' I-" his body tensed, every muscle was tight before he shuddered and soiled the entire sheets with his semen.

He growled really loudly from his lungs, before he finally relaxed and lay down on his back. Seeing Joel cum right in front of you moved you way faster to your edge.

You shut your eyes, slowly throw your head back and jumped on your fingers. Your teeth sinking into your lip, making a bloody mess on them. You whimper, your eyebrows furrowed and then, it suddenly hit you. The need to pee, the sudden cold that enveloped your whole body expcept the fire in your belly. A few more pumps and you released, cumming right on your fingers. Your juice seeped onto Joel’s shirt, the one you were still wearing.

Both of you were now trying to catch your breath, still in your places—you on the chair, Joel on the bed. But he didn’t give you much time, because his eagerness and desire for you had only grown stronger, after what had just happened.

He crawled toward you, the bed squeaking beneath him, so he couldn’t exactly sneak up on you completely unnoticed. But by the time you lifted your head and realized what was happening, you were already on the bed, pinned beneath him.

He wasted no time, covering your neck with his mouth. His beard tickled and scratched at the same time, creating a deadly combination you always adored. From the way he was aggressively sucking and biting at your skin, you knew there would definitely be bruises left behind.

But you didn’t mind. It was proof that you were his.

Your fingers, still slick with your own arousal, tangled themselves in Joel’s graying, wavy hair, tugging whenever he unexpectedly bit down. Each time, a gasp escaped your lips. It was music to his ears, fueling him to continue with even more intensity.

His hands couldn’t decide where to stay, roaming your body like he was trying to memorize every inch of your soft, clean skin. Finally having the chance to touch you, to squeeze you, he took full advantage. One hand slipped under your shirt, technically his shirt, and without warning, he cupped one of your breasts, rough and desperate.

“Joel-“

You purred, arching your back as you forcefully grabbed Joel’s face and crashed your lips onto his. He moaned into the kiss, his dick hardening again, as he started playing with you nipple.

He twisted it in different ways, took it between his thumb and index finger, gently squeezing it, careful not to hurt you. As a reaction to that, your whole body arched upward against Joel’s hot body, feeling his thick penis pressing against your inner thigh.

“I’ve been craving for this all day,” his warm breath brushed against your earlobe, sending chills down your spine. His hand never stopped teasing your nipple, while his other hand was planted firmly on the bed to keep his balance.

Despite how much he was teasing you, you gathered your strength and decided that tonight, he wouldn’t be the one in control. With a swift move, you wrapped your legs around his waist and flipped him onto his back, leaving him breathless and completely caught off guard.

“Woah, someone is-” Before he could finish his sentence while grinning devilishly, you interrupted him with a passionate kiss. He quickly responded, holding your head with his massive hand, his palm covering almost your entire scalp, while his other hand firmly gripped your hip, pulling you closer.

“I don’t think you earned the permission to control me tonight,” you whisper, your eyes full of hunger, your voice seductive and sly, while your lips, swollen from kissing Joel, are still pressed against his.

Your tongues were fighting against each other, lazily, even though no one really wanted to win. Your salivas mixes together, creating the most tastefull liquid, that both of you couldn't get enough.

The room was filled with both of your moans, that dissapeard into each other kisses.

Your ass, slowly, frantically, critically rubbing against Joel’s thick cock. You had to feel something, you yearn to feel him. Your chafing grew more intense, quicker and relentless, forcing Joel to stop kissing you and grunt through his clenched teeth.

“Fuck honey,” he sounds rough and hopeless, his eyes making it obvious, that he needs to be fucked, badly.

You adore his miserable face, his trembling hands gripped on your hips, their frantic pressure forcing you to stop moving and finally sink into him. His eyes sparkled with something you couldn't quite name, but it radiated desire, lust, and something much darker. Something like hunger and the thrill of the hunt.

For a moment, your fingers traced over his rough stubble, gently scratching him, before you decided to act. Your gaze dropped beneath you, as you adjusted yourself to drop yourself, without any unpleasant difficulty.

You wrapped his dick in your palm, not too hard but not to soft, making him gasp a little, before his tip touched your wet folds and steadily slipping between them. Finally, it felt so heavenly good to finally be filled, but he also make you remember how fucking big he is, that every time you doubt about making it fit.

And every time, he makes sure it does.

His eagerness refused to let him wait patiently, forcing him to lift his hips and push deeper into you, speeding up the process. Your eyes widened, a soft whimper escaping your lips, a breathless echo of his name.

“J-joel-“

You had to drop your palms against his hairy chest for some balance, claiming his veiny penis in. You bit your lip, trying to keep the moans inside but still, some of your cries slipped out.

Joel's jaw dropped while keep stretching your tenuous walls, until your pussy met his base, not leaving space for anything else. Despite your doubts, Joel proved to you, once again, that it fit.

It was all too much, and you didn't even start. The way you were so full of him, your wetness dropping on his cock, stopping on his balls, that longed to be emptied already.

You both waited, there was no hurry, no preassure, but you were both so aroused, that you couldn't wait any longer. When you got used to his length, you started, with Joel's help, moving smoothly back and forth. Initially slowly, to warm up, so that your persistent pulsating core would stop, but now, you were just tightly gripping Joel.

You listlessly threw your head back and closed your eyes, focusing all your attention only on Joel's cock, that was unintentionally rubbing against your weak walls.

"Mhm yeah, that's it," Joel growled, his eyes glued to you. He watched your every move, every twitch in your face, every shiver, he memorized it all, so during moments alone, he could remember this, remember you.

You were careful, slow and deliberate, but you enjoyed every moment you felt his tip twitch inside you. Your gaze met his, the weight of the eye contact was incalculable. It was so intimate, so romantic, so pleasurable. But you wanted more. You needed more.

Your ass begun to move faster, Joel's hands slid to your fat halves and gently slapped them, making you squeak. His playful slap gave you energy to speed up your pace. You used all your leg muscles to ride him, feeling his cock caressing your silk insides and poking your cervix from time to time.

“Jesus Christ baby,” he sigh, finally give in and drop his head onto the mattress. Your senses were evaporating away, the unyielding urge to take him deeper tickles your brain. Your body instinctively, out of necessity, began gently changing the direction, moving up and down and damn, this position will take you both to the grave.

Your gasps grew more ragged, the wet slapping sounds echoing around you, locking you into an invisible cage.

The heat between your legs was burning and you felt your muscles losing its strength, your lungs having lack of oxygen. Joel noticed it immediately, grabbing your ass firmly and making you jump on him, uncontrollably, rhythmlessly but damn hard.

He pulled himself fully out of you, before he firmly thrust into you with his full strength. Every time he sat you down, your throat automatically let out a wheezing breath, your breasts shift with gravity, just like your already tousled ponytail.

Joel clenched his jaw, still holding your weight, helping both of you reach your orgasm. The air around you both feels thick with anticipation, each breath syncing with the rhythm of your movements. The soft slapping sound of skin against skin fills the space, adding to the sensuality of the moment. The warmth of his body against yours, mixed with the heat from the room, creates a charged, almost intoxicating atmosphere.

It’s a heady blend of desire, closeness, and something deeper, making everything feel intimate and undeniably sexy. The way your bodies move together, the soft sighs and gasps, only heightens the intensity, making each second feel drawn out yet impossibly perfect.

Joel feels every movement, his body tense beneath the pressure as he holds you steady, his grip firm yet careful. His mind is a blur of sensation and restraint, every exhale heavy as he drinks in the sight of you, your skin, the way you move, the warmth between you both. The air is thick, heated, filled with the quiet sounds of breath and the rhythm you’ve fallen into together.

You feel his hands grounding you, his touch sparking waves of pleasure, yet there’s something else beneath it. Something softer, something unexpected. Every motion pulls you deeper into the moment, where instinct and connection intertwine.

It’s intoxicating, the way your body responds to his, the way every shift and sigh draws you closer. You feel strong yet vulnerable all at once, lost in the wild rhythm you’ve created.

“Mhm you're so fucking tight baby~” Joel groan, squeezing your ass, his nostrils flared with every thrust, his brows furrowed as he bit down hard on his lip, trying not to cry out your name across the bedroom, not wanting to seem weak.

The tension builds between you both, every movement pushing you closer to the edge. His grip tightens, fingers digging into your skin as his breath turns ragged, each thrust becoming more desperate, more precise. Your body trembles, heat coiling tight in your core, every nerve alight with sensation.

“Joel, oh god,”

You feel it before it happens. That dizzying moment of surrender, where pleasure overtakes everything else. Your gasp catches in your throat, your body tightening around him as a wave of ecstasy crashes through you, leaving you weightless, breathless, completely undone.

Joel follows right after, a deep, guttural groan escaping his lips as his body shudders against yours, lost in his own release. His hands hold you still, as if grounding himself in the moment, in you.

The world fades into nothing but heat, heavy breaths, the air between you thick with satisfaction and something unspoken, something deeper.

You collapsed dazedly onto Joel, your chest rising and falling rapidly, as you buried your face into his neck. You were both quiet, trying to catch your breath and let the moment settle. The whole room smelled like sex, even Joel, even you.

After a few minutes, Joel regained his strength, lifted his head, and realized he was still inside you. With a sigh, he let his head fall back onto the pillow, staring at the ceiling for a moment.

“You were in control until now.”

His voice was rough, wrecked, hoarse from restraint, yet thick with the remnants of pleasure. Slowly, he pulled himself out of you, a low growl rumbling in his throat as you let out a tired sigh, a deep sense of emptiness settling in.

“Let me take care of you now.”

You could listen to him for hours, lost in the gravelly warmth of his bedroom voice. The last thing you wanted was to leave the bed, but Joel had other plans. He wasn’t about to let you stay like this, not when a mix of him and you was still slipping from between your thighs.

Noticing your exhaustion, he carefully scooped you up, holding you against his chest like you were something delicate, something precious. Your limbs felt heavy, spent, but his warmth made it easy to sink into him as he carried you to the bathroom.

“Shall we take another shower?” Joel asked, and you just let out an annoyed purr, resting your head against his chest. You felt the slight tremor in his body as he chuckled softly.

“You’ll rest after, I promise.” He pressed a gentle, reassuring kiss to your forehead before carrying you both into the bathroom.

[letters-to-lgbt-kids]

(This one is just gonna be me thinking out loud, not really giving advice or making a point, so feel free to skip ahead if that’s not your thing!) 

My dear lgbt+ kids, 

Like many autistic people, I’d say I have special interests (intense, highly specific interests that take up much of my free time and thoughts, and bring me great joy). 

I think mine tick all the boxes, they match up with what I hear other autistic people say about their own: these interests have been loyal companions to me for years (or even decades) and I still love researching them and reading about them for hours while I do not feel that level of passion about things outside of these topics. I want to know all there is to know about them and I love going over the facts I already know. I incorporate these interests into my daily life (by writing about them and collecting things related to them), I seek them out in the media I consume (books, movies etc.) and while I don’t necessarily enjoy most social interactions in real life, I will happily talk your ears off about these topics. My brother often jokes that he never needs to ask me what I’m doing, because at any given time, no matter how impractical, the answer is most likely the same: reading articles about one of these three topics.

And yet, with all this being said: I feel like my special interests aren’t autistic enough. 

That’s a deeply irrational fear and I am aware of that. It’s not like I’m being paid to Perform An Autism™️, I’m just trying to live the way that feels natural for my brain. So it shouldn’t really matter if other people think I’m just being pretentious about having a regular old hobby… so what if they do! It wouldn’t change the way my brain works. It also wouldn’t change anything about the fact that categorizing these three topics as my special interests helps me make sense of my feelings about them. It helps me feel like they’re a valuable trait that makes me me, rather than some shameful obsession I should grow out of already. 

And yet, that doubt creeps in. So much so that I’m just realizing I wrote a whole blog post about my special interests without actually naming them! Let’s do that here. They are „Mental health and wellbeing in the lgbt+ community“, „sun safety“ and „Stray Kids (K-Pop group)“. 

A part of me now imagines you rolling your eyes collectively. „Yeah, Oliver, so you’re gay and mentally ill, don’t like to get sunburned, and are in a fandom. Big deal. None of these are autistic special interests. Heck, these barely qualify as interests.“ You are probably not actually thinking any of that. People are rarely as mean as we are to ourselves in our own heads. 

I guess I just feel like they’re not really… measurable enough to count as special interests. It should be something like trains or cars or maybe fish, something where you could memorize hundreds of different kinds of something. Something technical, something where my knowledge on it could be tested and graded. Who is testing these things? I don’t know and somehow I still feel like I’m failing the test. 

I do not have some powerful ending statement here. But I want to tell you what I tell myself: life doesn’t come with scorecards. I think that goes beyond being interested in the right things or being autistic the right way, it goes for everything. You’re not earning points for existing the „right“ way. There isn’t one right way. 

The right way for you is whatever fills you with joy. And joy isn’t measurable. My special interests might not fit the „can name hundreds of train models“ stereotype - but they fit me. They shape me, comfort me, stay by my side, like loyal companions. 

And maybe that’s enough. 

With all my love, 

Your Tumblr Dad 

[mulders-too-large-shirt]

s7 episode 2 thoughts

oh god. i just read the episode description. CSM takes him???! WHERE? good lord!!! can’t they have a break??? and scully has to find him!! fuck!! abduction arc parallels!!!

not even going to ponder what might happen or make any predictions… we need to jump into this. STAT.

(post-episode thoughts: bro... they said the lines.......

so much happened. i ended up having to walk around in silence for 10 minutes or so after the episode ended. to see that alternate dream reality... scully and albert and her heart... cupping each other's cheeks...

there were really, incredibly profound moments in this one, and then also alien mytharc moments that made me go "wtf" a bunch of times. i feel like i have way more questions than i started with and they will probably never be answered. so my overall feelings on this episode are complex and confused, and i will probably need time to sort them out. this confused nature may be visible in my notes- but you have to understand! y'all have had years, even decades, to wrap your heads around these episodes! i just got here, so lend me some grace, bahaha.

oh. i once again really want a post-episode fluff fic. i'm gonna have to just suck it up and write it myself, huh? SIGH.

okay, take it away, me from about 18 hours ago!)

(previously on the x-files)

yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah, recap time. scully begging him at his hospital bed to hold on. mmm. good stuff. so much is happening, though. i’m ready for a bit of a break. a chill episode would be cool.

mulder’s on a beach!!!! watching someone play with a child. and smiling. is that his child? or just some random baby? the lighting implies that this is some dreamland.

OH SHIT!!! his mom is here!!! and the doctor is explaining to him that he is dying!!

“enough! there’s only so much bluntness that a mother can take” <- oh, she is not having this…. she says they’re turning him into a zombie. 

ahhh!! he can hear her thoughts!!! and he’s thinking back!! but she can’t hear him!! and she’s walking away!!! noooo!!! he’s screaming for her in his head!!!!! but obviously she doesn't know :( 

WHY IS. CSM HERE. looking down at him. thinking about what it means to have a father. 

WAIT, THEY’RE TALKING??? psychically. “how does anything i do surprise you now?” <- okay, i feel called out with that line, but forgive me for not knowing that he could READ MINDS??? i thought his whole thing was being an ordinary guy who can do awful things through the power of knowing people and fear!

CSM loads up a syringe…. and pushes it into mulder's head. he gasps. and says he is giving him a choice. life or death. he says mulder’s suffered enough. he isn’t christ. 

and he tells him to arise. and he moves his hand??? and is controlling him??? what.

he says to take his hand. “you have to take the first step” (more visions of a baby)

“i am your father” HUH. 

well. uh. let’s just see what canon actually says. because that was implied before. but. didn’t go anywhere. also, why would someone being your father allow them to read your mind? sorry. i don’t think it works like that. 

mulder looks gagged to hear this. 

spender and mulder half brothers…. omfg. juicy. but AGAIN. let’s see what actually happens. i can’t analyze anything too soon. they love a red herring.

hey guys, what’s going on though. CSM psychic reveal??

OOOO, new words after the intro!!! “amor fati” <- see, if i look those words up, i’ll get spoiled, so i must sit tight and wonder what they mean, i guess

where’s scully. i need scully at this time. ah! here she is!!! she fell asleep at the desk!!! translating more words!! but kritschgau opens the door and wakes her up, saying they don’t have time for sleep!! wtf are you doing here???? 

he says she has to use her time with mulder wisely. “like you?” injecting him with mysterious medications? <- OHHHH get him!!! he insists that overdosing him was what mulder wanted. yeah. suuuuure.

he claims mulder was infected with an alien virus. and now he is proof of their existence. so i guess he has started believing since we last saw him.

“well, whatever it is, it’s killing him. and we have to get it out of him” “you destroy this, and i’ll destroy you” <- bro, she WILL shoot you. it’s not even a question. and frankly at this point in time, i want to see it happen.

the phone rings… and he walks away, having contributed nothing to the conversation.

nooo!! it’s skinner saying mulder disappeared!!! oh, she’s gonna kill someone.

there were GUARDS here. but the nurse claims his mother checked him out??

OHHHH, skinner does NOT want to be involved!!! she clocks that he is not saying something and he admits to being in a compromised position- the less he knows the better.

bro is still chilling on the beach in his head. oh shit, he wrote this episode with chris carter. well. i don’t know what to expect. i know that man can write an ep, but chris carter is hit or miss.

is that his child self walking up to him? his imagined future baby? who is this... AUGH. the baby talks in CSM’s voice... NOOO.

he wakes up in handcuffs while CSM drives him…. somewhere…. in the rain. CSM says his doctors worked on him. “at some point, i realized that if the syndicate didn’t kill you, the FBI would. if the FBI didn’t kill you, your own misguided heroism would. there’s really no way out for you” <- ohhh… my heart is racing. i’m lowkey forgetting to breath. cannot tell if this episode will be a masterpiece or a train wreck.

he says mulder needs to just disappear. become a man without a name, like him. but he’ll learn how to enjoy life’s simpler pleasures.

he’s gonna set him up with some fake life and diana, huh. i see what’s going on here. and i DON’T LIKE IT.

he wants to tell scully. but CSM says he cannot. because he is entering a witness protection program. and he offers him a cigarette. “i don’t smoke” “maybe now you do”

poor scully….. poor, poor scully…. at her apartment…. but someone approaches!

she gets her gun. i feel like she looks different, but i can’t explain why. like, her face. am i tripping? is her makeup different this season?

she finds someone and holds him at gunpoint. OMG!!! IT’S ALBERT!!!!!! the best guy to see in this situation, tbh!! he has bandages on his head. is there hope for mulder?? because albert had the same illness he did, right? did they find a cure?

he says she must find him before something happens. for the sake of us all.

hmm. the alien colonization plan must be close. they must be trying to take him away so he can't somehow stop it.

CSM gives mulder keys to a house. he says this is his new life. “you can drive away right now. drive back to scully and your x files and your imminent death. i wouldn’t be surprised if you did. but i think you should take a look around” <- ohhh…. my heart is RACING…. everything is so tense

and CSM walks away. 

it’s a nice little house. i'll give him that.

scully is looking at surveillance footage… the cameras from the hospital were covered up when he went missing!!! they can see his mom talking to someone!!! someone with a cigarette!!! WHICH ONLY MEANS ONE THING IN THIS SHOW!!! what does she know?!

mulder opens the door to the house. it seems empty. he calls out asking if anyone is home…. poor guy is still in his hospital gown. and the fridge is filled with sunflower seeds. this makes him laugh.

HUH??? is that DEEP THROAT??? he’s gagged. he can’t believe it. scully saw him get shot!!! but deep throat says he’s just very relaxed. 

so they faked his death??? for 6 seasons????????? 

or is mulder tripping? he can’t believe it. he felt responsible for his death. “yes, along with scully’s sister and the man you thought was your father and duane barry and even scully’s mysterious illness, and on and on and on. you can let go of all that guilt” <- oh yeah. this was very clearly a trick of some kind before, but now it is even more evidently a trick. but fuck, if the angst of it all isn’t tasty. the concept of that ancient guilt of his being washed away. MMMM!

deep throat explains that they’re puppets in a master plan. and that he’s suffered enough- he should enjoy his life. 

deep throat has a wife and daughters, and he hopes that mulder will visit them for dinner. which is a lot to unpack.

bro gets lots of sunflower seeds and passes out. and dreams of that child again. his sandcastle is knocked down, and he tells the boy it’s okay; he can build it again.

now he’s in bed. and the door opens. he’s still cuffed!!! AW FUCK, and it’s DIANA. in a sultry dress. she unlocks his handcuffs. and strokes his chest. and he kisses her. FADE TO BLACK. the FUCK is going on??????

scully calls his mother. and leaves a message. because she did not pick up. what is she doing...

she gets a package from someone at the FBI…. it’s a book of native american legends. and the writing she was trying to translate!! it matches what is on the book’s cover!!

AH! the anasazi!!! “an entire indian culture vanishes without a trace” <- LIKE CSM SAID!! 

she calls skinner…. and asks if he sent the book. “it explains everything that i saw in africa… using the same symbols that i found on the ship” but my queen! he can’t tell you about it even if he did send it!!!

but i don’t think he did… and she goes on about a mass extinction. they think mulder's illness is a gift. that protects them against a coming plague. skinner hangs tf up. which did kind of make me laugh.

she goes to figure out wtf is going down in skinner's office, and even though his secretary tries very bravely to stop him, she hears him moan and barges in…. WHAT DID THEY DO TO HIM??

AHHHHH!!! she sees hairy krycek leave with his weird medical device!! and he pulls the fire alarm to get everyone out before she can catch him!!!! the rat bastard!!

mulder is at his new house, getting the mail. diana comes out. he says everything is perfect- too perfect. what about his commitments, he asks? she says his commitments are CHILDISH. WTF???

WAIT, WHAT THE FUCK???? she says he needs to BECOME A FATHER??????????

what is going on. guys. i’m serious... WHAT is going on. i don’t like it. mom, i’m scared. please come pick me up.

he says that they only slept together one time, it's pretty sudden to decide they need to have kids…. and he’s obviously freaked tf out, because it’s CSM who is arranging all of this!! the devil himself!! but she says oh, we'll go visit him after breakfast :)

girl, i’m scared.

scully knocks on kritschgau’s door. she knows he told someone about mulder… but he promises he didn’t. she sees his computer… and he’s hacked into her files!!!! he was having the NIH analyze all of the genome data they found!!! 

he says it proves he’s become biologically alien. and she deletes them all. what is this guy doing!!!!!!!

diana and mulder go to visit CSM……. he says he has three grandkids and mulder's sister. who has been living here all along. 

they lock eyes. she runs up and hugs him. 

AH, FUCK!! it seems that he’s been imagining this the whole time!!! because now we see his naked body is laying on some sort of panel with probes attached to it!!! i guess that's a relief, though. i didn't want to have to deal with diana/mulder children in canon.

but CSM claims he had such high hopes for his son… he never imagined “the depth of his capacity for suffering”

hey. guys what the FUCK is going on? i almost don’t want to take notes. i just want to watch it all and see what happens. because i’m still not very pleased…..

and fucking diana is watching him on the table!!!!!! she wonders what he dreams of. and CSM says it must be of simpler things. “dreams are all he has now”

FUCKING DIANA, GET OUT OF THE FBI. “bum a cigarette, agent fowley?” <- GET HER ASS, SCULLY!!!! 

they’re gonna fight it out. “maybe before you go around blaming everyone you can find for what’s happened to mulder, you could think about what you could’ve done to prevent it” <- WOAH. JESUS CHRIST. what an absolutely horrible thing to say. scully, we need to kill her. 

scully doesn’t move. she says to think of mulder's promise back when they met at the academy. and think of how he would bust his ass to save you. and diana walks away.

the doctors with CSM are talking about how mulder has become immune to the viral apocalypse…. but he might not survive the procedure. then he will suffer a hero’s fate, says CSM.

FUCK! he dreams of getting married to diana. of going to the hospital for her delivery. of their kids and growing gray. of her death. crying at her coffin. CSM grabbing his shoulder.

but in reality, he's still laying on that table. diana is stroking his face, while CSM says she shouldn’t think of the man, but the sacrifice he will give to the world. CSM thinks he would have chosen to become alien. and she strokes his face again.

(fuuuuck.... CSM as god.... mulder as his son... the sacrifice to the world... your motifs... i'm picking up on them. chris carter saw a bible and he said "this needs to be in my show")

elderly dream mulder is talking to CSM. with the very silly makeup. he knows about the boy on the beach. “i’ve seen him thousands of times”- but he’s never figured out what the child wants him to see. 

the kid builds a UFO out of sand…… and he rips it up. saying it was mulder's. he was supposed to help him.

scully goes to her apartment, and albert is there again. he says she is running out of time. and he suggests looking for mulder in her heart.

“are you asking me to pray?” he kneels down with her. “there are more worlds than the one you can hold in your hand” <- GODDDD.

okay. scully and albert are praying together. it’s very touching. but somewhere else, they’re also stripping down CSM as he is to get infused with mulder’s alien DNA or something. it’s not a pretty sight. “i hope you see the poetry in this, diana” and she says he might kill his son!! so she truly believes his claim, huh?

aughhhhhh…… i can’t watch this……. 

mulder wakes up. he won’t stay under. he’s looking at diana. she walks away. where is she going……..

in his mind palace dreamscape thing, he’s old as hell with CSM sitting nearby. who hasn’t aged. he says samantha died five years ago. “what about deep throat?” “we’ve been over this. he’s dead” <-what a cruel thing, to remind him of everyone he has lost in his old age as he forgets...

CSM says that scully is dead, and he starts to cry. it is not lost on me that it is her being gone that makes him weep. “it’s time for you to let go. they’re waiting for you. if you let go” but he won’t close his eyes………. until he does. 

i’m so sad. wtf.

CSM opens the blinds to look into the outside world of this dreamscape, and the world is surrounded by an apocalypse. CGI war everywhere. it’s aged poorly and makes me laugh as it snaps me out of what is going on. the UFOs…… they fly over……. girl…..

maybe I need a smoke break. thought about that???

but in the real world, someone is burning files!!! so many files!!! they shot kritschgau!!!!! it’s krycek!!!!!

and an envelope is tossed under scully’s door- poor scully, who fell asleep on the floor, she must have been praying... and albert isn't with her

the card!!! is it diana’s card?!!! to get into that lab where they're testing on him? she runs out……

they’re taking all kinds of things from mulder in surgery, and i simply cannot look. but scully scans the card…… and he imagines her coming to his dreamscape bedside!!!! in his very old age!!! 

she’s mad at him!!! she calls him a traitor!! a coward!!! “you’re not supposed to die mulder- not here. not in a comfortable bed with the devil outside” 

he says there was no mission; no aliens. she tells him to get up and fight. he’s so confused. he’s crying. asking where scully is. calling out for her.

she finds him, in real life, laying on the table after the surgery….. she whispers to him. tells him to wake up. his eyes open up. he’s breaking through the years of lies!!!!! her tears fall on his face!!!

“you…. help me” 

OH. SHE HOLDS HIM CLOSE….

let's just sit with that for a minute.

one week later…… she goes to his apartment. oh! he was going to see her in the office!!!! she scolds him for this. "no work". his head is covered in bandages and he has a yankees cap on top.

he says he was coming to work to tell her that albert is dead. he’d been in a coma for 2 weeks. “there was…. no way he could have been in your apartment” “he was there. w-we prayed together.” (mulder purses his lips and nods) “mulder, i don’t believe that. it’s impossible” “is it any more impossible than what you saw in africa, or what you saw in me?” “i don’t know what to believe anymore. mulder, i was so determined to find a cure to save you that i could deny what it was that i saw, and now i don’t even know… i don’t know. i don’t know what the truth is, i don’t know who to listen to. i don’t know who to trust” (she’s crying) (and i might be crying, too, mind your business)

DIANA FOWLEY WAS FOUND MURDERED THIS MORNING??

“i never trusted her… but she helped save your life just as much as i did. she gave me that book. it was her key that led me to you. i’m sorry. i’m so sorry. i know she was your friend” (they hug)

god.... i'm torn between being so sad that scully thinks so little of herself that she actually claims diana helped save him as much as he did, and how kind she is to tell him she is deeply sorry even after how much suffering diana caused

“scully, i was like you once. i didn’t know who to trust. then i… i chose another path… another life, another fate, where i found my sister. the end of my world was unrecognizable and upside down. there was one thing that remained the same.”

so it's as if he considers the alternate dreamscape life to have actually happened. like he saw what would happen if he did make that choice. that's very interesting that he takes the responsibility, saying he chose another path when it never really happened.

OH. HE HAS HER FACE IN HIS HANDS…. 

“you… you were my friend, and you told me the truth. even when the world was falling apart, you were my constant… my touchstone”

OHHHHHH, HE SAID THE LINE THAT EVERYONE SAYS IN THEIR TAGS WHEN THEY REBLOG AN MSR GIF!!!!!!!!!!!

“and you are mine”

AND THEY KISS???

wait. not for real. she kisses his forehead. the angle made it look like a real kiss on the lips for a second, but she was kissing him on his forehead bandages…. for a solid ten seconds. and he smiles. she puts his baseball cap back on. and cups his face. runs her fingers over his lips. 

he closes his eyes. like he’s realizing something.

he sees that little boy…. and they’re building the spaceship together.

the end.

hey guys. i need to go scream for a minute to decompress.

wait. i need to set my phone down and go leave the room. 

i had to go walk around for ten minutes. i had to brush my teeth and do my skincare before bed in total silence. i had to drink straight from the sink and let the coolness of the water surprise me. and then the mouthwash burned a bit. i had to to rub the nice lotion on my hands and put myself back into my body after that.

fuck me.

okay. so, first thoughts: i’m not buying that he’s CSM’s kid. i think it’s too heavy-handed, plot wise. the bad guy is secretly the good guy’s father! it’s been done before. we've all seen star wars. it’s not super satisfying. it’s a fun thought to bounce around in your head and imagine what would happen if it WERE true, but i just… don’t think they’re telling the truth. maybe CSM and his mom had an affair, but i don’t think he’s the result of that. i think it’s a convenient lie to lull him into complacency. and even if he hold diana that it’s true, that doesn’t mean it is. this is CSM. lying is his career. and he went pro. to the major leagues. he also lied about being samantha's father before. i see no reason to believe him.

he's gotta hang on until 23andme is invented so they can discover the truth.... cause god knows CSM could manipulate a traditional paternity test.

okay. so. the alien stuff. he was infected with the virus two years ago (in the gulag, correct?) and he gained some sort of immunity to it as a result, which may or may not be because his brain was going sicko mode. i guess i have some questions on the logistics of that, but none that i think can actually be answered by canon. so the dormant virus went haywire when he saw the rubbings on the letters? that makes no sense, but okay. and then somehow he became alien and then CSM took the alien parts out of him and put them into himself. so now CSM has the immunity. then how did he read his mind at the start? was it a trick? i'm guessing that mulder is no longer psychic, though, since they took the alien part out of him, but maybe now CSM is- which would be very dangerous. or maybe he already was? because he already was doing the mind reading? didn't he undergo the DNA splicing procedure when they thought they were going to have the whole alien colonizing thing last season? so what is the sense in doing it again?

sighs. i just don’t know.

let’s talk about scully, i say, and this is something i could have said any day for the last ten months and it would be true. this was a major turning point for her. being so desperate that she abandoned her own ideals. but, at the same time she began to discard the strict notion of science because she felt so entirely lost, she did also turn into herself and what she knew- praying with albert. turning to the belief she’s had in her all along that has never ran contradictory in her mind. but albert might not have even been there. a messenger from the divine, perhaps? a hallucination from lack of sleep? an angel? i guess we’ll never really know. 

but… man. i need some time to sink my teeth into that. 

her faith in science has been tested before, and to have everything explained by an alien civilization isn’t necessary in contradiction with science, just something not understood by it yet. she’s mentioned that point before. but also… she’s had shades of belief in the past. shoving the doll in the microwave in chinga. gibson telling her he knows she believes, she just doesn’t want to. that same exchange happened like, 3 other times in s6. so no, she’s not a full convert to the extraterrestrial. but she’s seen things she can’t understand and doesn’t know if it came from her own desperation to believe or if that is the Truth, and what is the Truth, anyway, and how can it be known?

what makes me really sad is how she kept repeating she was a failure for being unable to save him, and then at the end, her saying that diana saved him as much as she did broke my heart. diana put him into that situation. deciding at the last minute that she’s too cowardly to go through with it or has some change of heart that could almost be seen as mercy can’t be called saving him. she put him on that table and helped carve him up. we can’t give her equal credit for saving his life when his life wouldn't have been in danger without her meddling.

and for scully to think that makes me feel so sad. it’s as if she thinks that all she has is her science, and if she can’t understand that, what does she have? but the answer is she has her instincts, her kindness, her talent, her brains, her courage… for her to say that diana saved him as much as she did- god, i just think she must feel so guilty, so terrible, and not see her own worth. i will choose to interpret this line as a momentary exhale, a brief showing of her wounds which she normally keeps so tightly wrapped up. a moment of weakness. an indication of her lack of direction and her sheer desperation. because something i love about this show is that scully knows her value. i love that she knows she deserves to take up space at the table and never questions that. but maybe, when you’re questioning god and the universe and what it means to be alive and other unshakable truths, your own self-worth can get caught in the mix. maybe that can get shaken up, too.

mulder…. being lulled into complacency with the idea of forgiveness, starting fresh. a baptismal cleanings of sins via the suburbs. to know that he wasn’t responsible for everything he blames himself for; a reality where his family was whole. his fantasy of a normal life. damn. if that doesn’t tell you everything you need to know about his character… what he wants, what motivates him. but what tells you even more is the fact that he isn't satisfied- not really. he feels like that little boy watching the sandcastle get destroyed. and he almost goes through with it and never wakes up. until dream scully calls him to action. he cannot look away when she calls. he knows that she is reasonable and truthful. and that no matter how lovely this fake life is, it isn’t real. he can’t turn away from his commitments. no matter what fantasies fill his head. 

also. i knew he wanted kids so bad. but to see it in the dreamscape........ man. (gazes into the distance)

FUCK. i’m so mad about the whole diana thing. that she went along with it all… claiming to love him, and that they could be together. and having to see him dream a domestic future with me obviously pissed me tf off. like. shaking like a chihuahua levels of rage. did he really trust her that whole time? is that why he dreamed about it? is that the future he really saw for them in real life- even though he said he loved scully- or was the dreamscape carved up by CSM somehow? but sometimes, dreams are not wish fulfillment. sometimes random stuff happens in your dreams. everything else seemed so purposeful as his ideal reality, though, i can't help but wonder if that is truly how he felt- that he saw a marriage and kids and growing old with her. and why would that be?

she was touching his face, saying she loved him as she worked to kill him. and how nasty she was to scully……… and i'm not off-base in the implication that she assaulted him in the last episode, right? taking off her shirt and going into his room while he was violently ill and could barely speak? the writing was pretty clear on the wall there. i have been known to miss undertones, but that was clear to me.

usually, i love the female characters that everyone hates. if other people are writing dissertations on how much a fictional woman sucks, i am usually picking up a pitchfork and defending her honor. but i can’t do this here. i don’t even find her worth writing a dissertation about because her character was so flat. i will say that they at least gave her some dimension this episode. so shoutout to the writing team for that, i guess.

hmm. and CSM. driving him away. saying he was proud of him as a son. it just…. mmm. i don’t know if it’s not believable or if it’s not personally satisfying to me. what was his mother doing with him in that waiting room? does CSM believe what he claims? does mulder? does his mother? was he really reading his mind at the start? is his character able to kill thanos or something? 

i am very worried about mrs. mulder, however. she might be in very serious danger. she didn't pick up scully's calls, and she was there with CSM when they kidnapped him... it is not looking good for her.

i don’t really care for the alien plot stuff, so CSM getting mulder’s alien DNA removed and put into him was just kinda weird to me. same with all of the other alien stuff. the writings, the biblical imagery, the apocalypse. the appropriation of anasazi and other Indigenous legends, which feels in poor taste in the modern light. it just doesn’t really interest me that much. in this show, i like the vague spookiness and the interpersonal relationships and the search for the Truth and the old, old guilt in these characters, but the aliens themselves do not appeal to me very much. so. yeah. i guess i just feel (shrugs shoulders) about it, you know?

it feels like there is still an untapped wellspring of things i need to say within me.

how about we discuss skinner? telling scully that he is compromised and that he cannot help her. but she still calls him and explains about the book, because it's him- and this is why kritschgau is killed- because someone hears what she says. and she bursts in to find him when she has been expressly told not to, and he is slumped over in pain, krycek having used his remote controller to hurt him. so he was just blaming himself for mulder’s accidental overdose at the hands of kritschgau, saying it was his responsibility. and then things get worse… but they get better.

i want to explore that space of the getting better. of him hearing that they made it out despite it all. does it fill him with hope? but also, is it tinged with dread? because he knows there is more ahead? but mulder knows about him and krycek and the illness now- can they somehow find a cure? is that the next big project to embark upon? will he forgive himself?

kritschgau… idk what his deal was. he hacked into scully’s files and sent them to the NIH because he claimed he wanted to crack into the human genome, but it seems all he really wanted was to backup his claims as whistleblower. why did mulder pick him to ask for help, beyond him knowing the drug that helped him out? why did he threaten scully and break into the FBI? it felt like a really weird unresolved plot point.

what about barnes? what about the dude that came back to life and killed him? what about amina? i liked her!!! a lot!!! what about the ship? is it still there? is any of it still there? can any of it be explained? was it all a fake somehow? or was it real, and the aliens just have really weird priorities?

gah! it makes my head hurt to think about for longer than 5 seconds. and i know that we will never really know, which is frustrating. we are slowly dripped these little plot points that never add up to a whole picture, and it drives me CRAZY. 

but how beautiful it is to know someone so fully that you can know them when you know nothing else. when your whole world is turned upside down, you can see them clearly. that sort of soul bond. to kiss someone’s bandages. to be a touchstone. to cradle their face in your hands and hold the whole world in them. 

fuck. fuck fuck fuck fuck FUCK me. 

good angst here. incredible MSR. but i’m not sure what i would rank my overall satisfaction with this arc. it is an upheaval of everything we have known so far when it comes to our characters. scully, a believer? mulder, an alien (formerly?) and a bastard? skinner, someone who cannot be trusted? i will need some time to process all of these changes. there was a sense of finality and not going back, of every moment being incredibly important and life-altering moving forward. of no return. which happens in some episodes. and they always leave me with a strange feeling. sadness, perhaps? of the loss of what once was? of simplicity?

i think that the grand alien plot can take me out of the simple human connections that make the show so good. it can elevate them to a point that is hard to wrap your brain around and fathom. can make it so complicated for us mere mortals to understand. when dealing with the end of the world in a story, you must zero in on the mundane, the human, so we don’t get loss in an endless series of nearly avoided apocalypses without having a reason to feel a relief, as the audience, that the world didn’t blow up this time. and while there certainly are the essential human elements at play that ground such a fantastical story- when it veers away from focusing solely on that, it can make me aware of the fact that i am watching TV from a specific genre with a specific set of tropes rather than being immersed in the experience so wholly like i am when the plots are more character-driven and down to earth. i think that’s just how the nature of sci-fi/action stuff goes, at least for me. i’m not moved by the idea that aliens are god and left us messages. i’m moved by the humans who discovered that grappling with losing each other and comprehending their reunion. i’m moved by their tears and their blood and their lips touching foreheads, hands touching backs. you get what i’m saying?

fuuuuck. where do you go from here? there has to be some fic that takes place after this episode. 

i’m waxing poetic. because my heart yearns for a softness! and maybe i’m expecting something that the genre doesn’t deliver, but fuck. you need relief after endless punches to the gut and to the gut again and to the head and then to the gut once more. you drive these characters through horrible thing after horrible thing and i, the viewer, need to come up for air- which is why s4 was so tough for me. i felt like there was no air to breath. mytharc episodes will also plunge you underwater. and then, of course, the show is written pretty inconsistently, so whether or not you’ll get the relief in the form of lightheartedness and banter and teasing and fluffy stuff afterward is never guaranteed.

so. thus ought to conclude the diana saga- but who knows? it’s hard to say. maybe she didn’t actually die. like dream deep throat. and it was a shock to see deep throat again. a nice little treat for the viewers. with his wife and kids. 

hmm. despite typing all of that up, i still feel like i have so much more to say. but what is it? it’s a yearning for an epilogue i will never be provided. 

i will say, this episode made me lowkey want to proceed with my plan to not watch beyond s7. i know that i probably will end up going through with all of it… but. my heart was racing!! my feelings were feeling things!!! gaaaah! i need to be sedated. 

"my constant" fuck.

i just realize i wrote all of those words about an alien show. which is fine. i don’t ever half ass anything. 

need the fic where scully goes to his apartment after work and she makes blueberry pancakes in his kitchen and she catches him up on the office gossip since he went on leave and they catch each other's eyes for a liiiiiittle too long.

[lightdancingwords]

Second Chances: Forever - Part Nine of ?

Pairings: Beau Arlen x Y/N Female reader Series Summary: A chance meeting in the grocery store brought a whirlwind of change to Beau Arlen’s life—change he had no issues with whatsoever. A second chance at life, love, family—a second chance at forever. Word Count: 4,890 Tags/Warnings: Honestly, just expect tons of fluff at this point, haha A/N: Comments, Likes, Reblogs, Kind feedback are always highly appreciated. Please let me know if you want to be added to the tag list!

NOTE: It’s here! Welcome, welcome to Second Chances: Forever! I have no idea how long this story will go on, and that is okay with me! I’ve been loving and enjoying writing Beau and his little corner of life! So like I said, until I get burnt out (unlikely) or run out of ideas (also unlikely), it’s ongoing! Divider: credit to @sweetmelodygraphics

Chapter Nine: Being Sentimental

The hum of the tires against the highway filled the space between Y/N and Emily as they drove toward the airport, the Montana sky stretching wide and endless above them.

For a while, neither of them spoke. It was a comfortable silence, one that didn’t need to be filled.

Emily sat in the passenger seat, her fingers drumming against her knee as she stared out the window. Y/N could tell she was thinking—a lot.

Finally, Emily let out a slow breath. “I’m gonna miss you guys.”

Y/N smiled, glancing over at her. “You know you’re welcome anytime, right?”

Emily nodded, smirking. “Yeah. And at the rate Dad’s going, I should probably just move in before he keeps popping out siblings for me.”

Y/N snorted, shaking her head. “Listen, that was not exactly planned.”

Emily chuckled. “Yeah, well, you did marry a Texan. I hear they got notoriously determined sperm.”

Y/N wheezed. “Oh my God. I regret ever telling him that.”

Emily grinned. “Nope. Too late. It’s a legacy now.”

Y/N groaned dramatically. “Jesus Christ.”

Emily laughed but then sighed, leaning her head against the seat. “Seriously, though… I like being home. Feels… good.”

Y/N glanced at her again, noting the way her voice had softened. “Yeah?”

Emily hesitated, then shrugged. “Yeah. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I like school, but… sometimes I feel like I miss too much.”

Y/N reached over, squeezing her hand. “You always have a place here, sweetheart. No matter where life takes you.”

Emily exhaled, squeezing her back. “I know.”

The silence stretched again, this time a little heavier.

Emily bit her lip, her voice quieter when she spoke next. “Can I ask you something?”

Y/N nodded. “Of course.”

Emily hesitated, her fingers fidgeting in her lap. “Do you ever feel like… you don’t know what the hell you’re doing?”

Y/N snorted, but there was genuine amusement behind it. “Oh, all the time.”

Emily let out a small chuckle. “Really?”

Y/N smiled, keeping her eyes on the road. “Emily, I love my life. I love Beau, I love our kids… but some days? I have no idea what I’m doing.”

Emily blinked, tilting her head. “But you always seem like you do.”

Y/N sighed, shrugging. “That’s because I fake it really well.”

Emily smirked. “So parenting is just… faking confidence?”

“Pretty much,” Y/N admitted. “But it’s also about showing up. Even when you’re tired. Even when you don’t have all the answers.”

Emily exhaled, nodding slowly. “Guess that applies to a lot of things.”

Y/N gave her a knowing look. “Yeah, sweetheart. It does.”

Emily was quiet for a long moment, staring out the window. “Sometimes, I feel like I have to have everything figured out right now. Like, if I don’t know exactly where I’m going, I’ll get lost.”

Y/N smiled gently. “You will get lost sometimes.”

Emily looked at her, brow furrowed.

Y/N squeezed her hand again. “But that’s how you figure out where you really want to go.”

Emily let out a slow breath, staring at their hands. “Yeah. Maybe.”

Y/N smirked. “And worst case? You always have home to come back to.”

Emily smiled, something warm settling in her chest. “Yeah. I know.”

And for the first time in a long time, she felt okay not having all the answers.

Because maybe figuring it out along the way… was the whole point.

The airport buzzed with the usual blend of distant announcements, rolling suitcases, and quiet conversations as Y/N and Emily made their way toward security.

Emily had her bag slung over one shoulder, her boarding pass tucked into her jacket pocket. She looked relaxed, but Y/N knew better. She could see the way Emily’s fingers fidgeted at the strap of her bag, the way she kept glancing at the big departure board like she was stalling.

Y/N smirked. “You know, you could just miss your flight.”

Emily snorted, shaking her head. “Oh yeah, and explain to my professors that I couldn’t make it back because I got suckered into staying longer?”

Y/N raised a brow. “You weren’t suckered. You loved every chaotic second of it.”

Emily huffed, but the smirk tugging at her lips gave her away. “Maybe.”

They reached the security checkpoint, and Emily sighed, shifting her bag higher on her shoulder.

“Well,” she muttered, rubbing the back of her neck. “Guess this is it.”

Y/N smiled, pulling her into a hug. “For now.”

Emily melted into it, squeezing tight before pulling back. “Tell Caleb to stop throwing his food at Dad. And tell Eliza that no, you can’t actually bring her back a cow.”

Y/N snickered. “Oh, I absolutely will.”

Emily exhaled, rocking back on her heels. “And tell Dad—” She hesitated, her voice softer now. “Tell him I love him.”

Y/N’s heart squeezed. “Why don’t you just call him and say that?”

Emily rolled her eyes. “Because he’ll get all emotional and gruff about it and then change the subject.”

Y/N laughed, shaking her head. “Yeah, okay, fair point.”

Emily hesitated again, then sighed, pulling Y/N into one more hug. “Thanks. For everything.”

Y/N squeezed her tight. “Always, sweetheart.”

Emily stepped back, her eyes lingering for a moment before she cleared her throat. “Alright. Go before I actually miss my flight.”

Y/N smirked. “Call me when you land.”

Emily rolled her eyes but grinned. “Yes, Mom.”

Y/N watched as Emily turned toward security, offering one last wave before disappearing into the line.

As she walked back toward the exit, Y/N smiled, already looking forward to the next time Emily came home.

Because she would.

She always did.

And no matter how far she went, she would always have a place here.

With them.

With family.

By the time Y/N pulled into the driveway, the afternoon sun was stretching long shadows across the yard, the warmth of home settling around her like a familiar embrace.

As she stepped inside, the scent of coffee and something slightly burnt filled the air.

Beau was standing in the kitchen, stirring something in a pan with a very concentrated look on his face. Caleb was bouncing happily in his playpen, babbling to himself, while Eliza sat on the counter, swinging her legs as she supervised.

Y/N smirked. “Should I be worried?”

Beau looked up, offering her a slow grin. “Depends. How attached are you to the idea of edible food?”

Eliza giggled. “Daddy makin’ grilled cheese!”

Y/N raised a brow. “And… you burnt the grilled cheese?”

Beau sighed, turning back to the stove. “Listen, I got distracted.”

Eliza nodded very seriously. “I talked too much.”

Y/N laughed, setting her bag down as she walked over to Beau, wrapping her arms around his waist from behind, pressing a kiss to his back. “I love you, even if you can’t make grilled cheese.”

Beau smirked, reaching down to squeeze her hand. “Glad my culinary failures don’t diminish your affections, darlin’.”

Y/N glanced at the playpen, smiling as Caleb squealed when he saw her. “Hey, birthday boy.”

Caleb clapped his chubby hands, bouncing. “Mama!”

Y/N scooped him up, pressing a kiss to his soft curls. “Did Daddy and Sissy take care of you while I was gone?”

Caleb babbled something very serious, and Eliza huffed. “I tried, Mama. But Daddy made a mess.”

Y/N bit back a laugh. “I believe it.”

Beau turned, pointing his spatula at her. “Alright, that’s enough slander. This kitchen is under control.”

Y/N smirked, setting Caleb on her hip. “Uh-huh. Sure, Sheriff.”

Beau huffed but didn’t argue, instead pressing a quick kiss to her temple. “How was the airport?”

Y/N leaned against the counter, watching as he plated the slightly-overdone grilled cheese (which Eliza was still watching like it was a crime scene). “Good. Emily got through security fine. But…” She hesitated, running her fingers through Caleb’s hair. “I don’t know. She seemed… hesitant about leaving.”

Beau slowed, setting the pan down. “Yeah?”

Y/N nodded. “She loves school, but I think she’s starting to feel like she’s missing too much here.” She glanced at him, smirking slightly. “I may have joked about her just coming back for good, and she didn’t immediately shut it down.”

Beau rubbed a hand over his jaw, eyes thoughtful. “Huh.”

Y/N raised a brow. “Huh? That’s all you got?”

Beau leaned against the counter beside her, his green eyes drifting toward the living room where Eliza was now dramatically inspecting the grilled cheese. “It ain’t a bad thought.”

Y/N studied him. “You seriously thinking about it?”

Beau exhaled, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “Well, hell, darlin’. We’re already talkin’ about how we’re gonna need a bigger house.” He gestured between them. “This family ain’t getting any smaller.”

Y/N smirked. “No, it is not.”

Beau chuckled, shaking his head. “And Emily? She’s got roots here now. A family that actually feels like home.” His voice softened. “Maybe she’d do better finishing school here.”

Y/N tilted her head. “You thinking about talking to her about it?”

Beau shrugged, but there was a thoughtfulness behind his eyes. “Maybe. Just to see where her head’s at.” He glanced at Y/N. “How would you feel about it?”

Y/N smiled, running a hand over Caleb’s back as he snuggled against her shoulder. “I’d love it. Emily belongs here, Beau. And if this is where she wants to be, I’d want to help her make it happen.”

Beau exhaled, nodding. “Yeah.” He smirked, nudging her. “But you know if she moves back, she’s gonna constantly remind me about how I lost to a one-year-old in a cake fight.”

Y/N laughed, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Oh, without a doubt.”

Beau groaned. “Jesus Christ.”

Y/N grinned, resting her head against his shoulder. “You love it.”

Beau sighed, pulling her closer, his hand sliding protectively over her stomach, over the growing life they had created. “Yeah, darlin’. I really do.”

And as Caleb snuggled into her chest, as Eliza finally decided the grilled cheese was “good enough” and took a dramatic bite, as the hum of their home settled around them—

Beau knew one thing for sure.

Whatever the future held, whatever decisions were ahead—

They’d figure it out.

Together.

The warm glow of Eliza’s bedside lamp cast soft shadows across her room as she sat on her bed, still wiggling her toes in protest of bedtime. She was freshly bathed, her curls damp against her cheeks, her stuffed wolf tucked under one arm.

Beau sat on the edge of her bed, rolling up her blanket as if tucking her in properly would keep her from escaping. Y/N knelt beside them, smoothing down Eliza’s wild curls.

“Alright, wolf-child,” Beau murmured, raising a brow. “We had a long day, and it’s time to sleep.”

Eliza pouted dramatically. “But I’m not tired.”

Y/N smirked, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Oh, really? Because I remember a certain someone barely making it through movie night.”

Eliza huffed, crossing her arms. “It was too cozy!”

Beau chuckled, tucking the blanket around her like a burrito. “Uh-huh. Sure it was.”

Eliza wiggled her nose, squinting at them. “You doin’ grown-up talk?”

Y/N bit back a laugh. “Actually, baby, we do have something we want to tell you.”

Eliza’s eyes widened with intrigue. She sat up immediately, nearly knocking her stuffed wolf onto the floor. “What is it?!”

Beau glanced at Y/N, and she smiled, nodding for him to continue.

Beau exhaled, running a gentle hand over Eliza’s hair. “Well, sweetheart… you remember when Caleb was in Mama’s belly before he was born?”

Eliza nodded very seriously. “Uh-huh. I ‘member. He kicked you, Mama!”

Y/N laughed. “He did.”

Beau smirked, tapping her nose. “Well, guess what? There’s gonna be another baby in Mama’s belly.”

Eliza froze.

She blinked twice, her little mouth slightly open. “Wait… like another Caleb?”

Y/N chuckled. “Well, not exactly like Caleb, baby. But a new baby.”

Eliza’s face lit up, her entire body vibrating with excitement. “I’M GONNA BE A BIG SISTER AGAIN?!”

Beau laughed, catching her before she could fully launch herself out of the bed. “Whoa, whoa, sweetheart—indoor voice!”

Eliza giggled, grabbing Y/N’s hand. “Mama! There’s a baby in there?!”

Y/N nodded, guiding Eliza’s tiny hand to rest over her still-flat belly. “Yep, sweetheart. The baby is still really little, but it’s growing.”

Eliza stared at her hand on Y/N’s stomach, her eyes wide, filled with something pure and wonderstruck.

Then, suddenly—

Her entire expression changed into something very determined.

Her head snapped toward Beau. “We gotta get ‘em a stuffed animal!”

Beau choked on a laugh. “Uh—”

“A wolf one!” Eliza continued, eyes dead serious. “So they can have a pack like me and Cay-bub!”

Y/N pressed a hand to her heart, her chest aching from the sheer love bursting from their little girl.

Beau smirked, brushing a curl out of Eliza’s face. “That is a great idea, baby.”

Eliza beamed, bouncing slightly under her covers. “Can I talk to ‘em? Like I did with Cay-bub?”

Y/N smiled, placing her hand back on her stomach. “Of course, baby. They can’t hear you yet, but soon they will.”

Eliza scooted forward, leaning very close to Y/N’s belly, her tiny hands pressing against her.

Then, in the softest, most earnest whisper—

“Hi, baby. It’s me, ‘Liza. I love you already.”

Y/N’s throat tightened, her eyes burning as she blinked back tears.

Beau exhaled sharply, his own jaw clenching as he reached over and ran a hand through Eliza’s curls.

“Baby girl,” he murmured, his voice thick, “you are gonna be the best big sister again.”

Eliza beamed, looking between them. “Like the best best?”

Y/N cupped her cheek, smiling through her emotion. “The very best best, sweetheart.”

Eliza grinned so wide she nearly tipped over before snuggling under the blanket, suddenly very determined to get to sleep.

“Okay! I gotta rest so I can be ready for baby stuff!”

Beau laughed, tucking her in again. “You do that, sweetheart.”

Eliza let out a tiny yawn, her stuffed wolf pulled tight to her chest. “Love you, Mama. Love you, Daddy.”

Y/N kissed her forehead. “Love you too, baby girl.”

Beau brushed her curls one last time. “Sleep tight, wolf-child.”

As they stepped out of her room, shutting the door behind them, Beau exhaled, rubbing a hand over his face.

Y/N sighed, leaning against his side. “Well… that went better than expected.”

Beau chuckled, wrapping an arm around her waist. “Hell, darlin’. She’s already more prepared than we are.”

Y/N smirked. “Well, if she’s ready, then I guess we gotta get with the program.”

Beau pressed a slow, lingering kiss to her forehead. “Guess so.”

As they walked down the hall, the soft hum of their children’s breathing filling the quiet of their home, Beau knew—

Their family?

Their pack?

It was just getting bigger.

And he couldn’t wait.

The house had finally settled.

Eliza was out cold in her bed, no doubt dreaming about stuffed wolves and baby siblings. Caleb was tucked in tight, breathing deep and slow in his crib. And Emily, though she was miles away now, had sent a text confirming she’d landed safely.

It was quiet now.

The kind of quiet that only came at the very end of the day, when all the chaos had faded and it was just them.

Y/N sat on the edge of the bed, slowly running a hand over her belly, still processing how very real this all was.

Beau walked in, tugging his shirt off, leaving him in just his sweatpants as he ran a hand through his hair, exhaling a deep, contented sigh.

“Tired, Sheriff?” Y/N teased, smirking up at him.

Beau chuckled, climbing into bed beside her, immediately wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her against him. “Darlin’, I wrangled kids, cooked, and survived a life-altering conversation with a four-year-old today.”

Y/N giggled, curling into him. “You also lost a battle against oatmeal this morning.”

Beau groaned, tipping his head back against the pillows. “Jesus Christ, don’t remind me.”

Y/N laughed, pressing a kiss to his jaw. “You love it.”

Beau smirked, tightening his arms around her. “Yeah. I do.”

For a while, they just lay there, tangled in each other, their breaths slow and synchronized.

Beau’s fingers traced light, absentminded patterns over Y/N’s stomach, over the place where their baby was growing.

“Y’know,” he murmured after a moment, his voice low and thick with warmth, “it still don’t feel real.”

Y/N exhaled, running a hand over his chest. “I know what you mean.”

Beau let out a small chuckle, shaking his head. “I mean, hell, we just wrapped our heads around two kids, and now we’re back at it again.”

Y/N smirked, tilting her chin up to kiss his cheek. “You say that like you don’t love making babies with me, Sheriff.”

Beau groaned, pressing his face into her neck. “Woman, you cannot say things like that when I’m tryin’ to have a sentimental moment.”

Y/N giggled, threading her fingers through his hair. “I can and I will.”

Beau sighed dramatically, rolling onto his back and pulling her with him, settling her against his chest. “Jesus Christ.”

Y/N smiled, pressing a kiss over his heart. “Okay, okay. Sentimental moment. Go.”

Beau chuckled, shaking his head before running his fingers up and down her spine. “I was just thinkin’… We started all this together, and now, here we are, about to add one more.”

Y/N smiled against his skin, tracing slow circles over his chest. “Crazy, huh?”

Beau exhaled, his fingers drifting back down to her stomach. “Not crazy, darlin’. Just… big. The kind of big that changes your whole damn world.”

Y/N lifted her head, searching his face. “Are you worried?”

Beau was quiet for a second, his green eyes soft, thoughtful.

Then, slowly, he shook his head. “No,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her temple. “I ain’t worried. Because I got you.”

For a long moment, silence reigned between them, sweet and intimate.

Y/N smiled against his skin, her fingers tracing over his chest. “You’re quiet.”

Beau hummed low in his throat, his voice a lazy rumble against the quiet of the room. “Just thinkin’.”

Y/N smirked, tilting her head up to meet his gaze. “That’s dangerous.”

Beau chuckled, shaking his head. “Smartass.”

Y/N grinned, pressing a kiss to his jaw. “What are you thinking about?”

Beau exhaled, his fingers stilling on her stomach. “About how fast all this happened.”

Y/N tilted her head. “You mean us?”

Beau shook his head, a small smile tugging at his lips. “No, darlin’. I mean, yeah, us, but more than that.” His voice softened, his green eyes dark with something deep. “One day, I was just me. Livin’ my life, doin’ my job. Then I met you, and suddenly, I had you and Eliza. Then Caleb. And now…” His palm flattened against her stomach, warm and solid. “Now, we’re doin’ it again.”

Y/N sighed, running her fingers through his short hair. “It’s a lot, huh?”

Beau chuckled, shaking his head. “Not a lot, darlin’. Just big. The kinda big that changes your whole damn world.”

Y/N swallowed, pressing her forehead to his. “Are you… worried?”

Beau was quiet for a moment. Not because he was worried, but because he wanted to get this right.

Then, slowly, he shook his head. “No,” he murmured, his voice steady. “Because I got you.”

Y/N’s breath hitched.

Beau tilted her chin up, brushing his lips over hers, slow and sure. “And I love this family we built. Every bit of it.”

Y/N melted into him, her hands sliding over his bare shoulders. “I love you, too, Beau.”

Beau smiled against her lips, his fingers moving again, tracing slow circles over her stomach, over the tiny life growing inside her.

After a long, comfortable silence, he let out a small chuckle.

Y/N raised a brow. “What?”

Beau smirked, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Just thinkin’ about Eliza’s reaction earlier.”

Y/N laughed, shaking her head. “Of course she immediately decided the baby needed a stuffed wolf.”

Beau grinned. “Damn right, she did.”

Y/N sighed contentedly, curling deeper into his warmth. “She’s gonna be such a good big sister again.”

Beau’s expression softened, his hand still resting protectively over her stomach. “Yeah. She really is.”

And as the night stretched around them, as love and forever settled deep in their bones, they both knew—

No matter what came next, no matter how big their world got—

They’d always have this.

Each other.

Their home.

Their family.

And that was all they’d ever need.

The first rays of the Montana sun had barely stretched across the sky when the chaos began.

Beau had exactly one goal: get dressed, drink one cup of coffee, and make it out the door on time for work.

The universe?

It had other plans.

The moment he stepped out of the shower, towel slung low around his hips, Eliza’s voice echoed through the house—

“MAMA! DADDY! CALEB IS THROWIN’ TOAST!”

Beau froze.

He closed his eyes for one long second, exhaled, then muttered under his breath, “Jesus Christ.”

Then came the second round of evidence—

THWAP.

A very distinct splat sounded from the kitchen.

Then, giggles.

And then—

“CALEB, NO!”

That was Y/N’s voice.

Beau groaned, grabbing his clothes and moving fast, because if there was one thing he knew about his son, it was that Caleb thrived in the two-second window it took to turn your back.

By the time Beau got to the kitchen, the crime scene was already in full display.

Caleb was covered in toast crumbs and sticky jam, his little hands clapping happily as he sat in his high chair, looking way too pleased with himself.

The floor?

Absolute devastation.

A single piece of toast lay face-down in a puddle of spilled juice.

Y/N stood near the counter, arms crossed, lips pressed tight, clearly trying to decide whether to scold Caleb or just accept defeat.

Eliza, however, had already made up her mind.

She was standing on the opposite side of the table, hands on her hips, staring at her little brother like a disapproving sheriff surveying a crime scene.

“CAY-BUB,” she declared dramatically. “YOU MAKIN’ A MESS.”

Caleb let out a delighted squeal, his chubby fingers immediately grabbing for another piece of toast.

Beau exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand down his face. “Son.”

Caleb froze, his little green eyes snapping to his father.

Then, grinning, he lifted the entire piece of toast over his head.

Y/N’s eyes widened.

“CALEB, DON’T YOU—”

SPLAT.

The toast hit the floor with a wet slap.

There was a full three seconds of absolute silence.

Then—

Beau exhaled deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Y/N groaned.

Eliza gasped.

And Caleb?

Caleb clapped his sticky little hands together like he had just won a gold medal in Olympic toast-throwing.

Beau sighed, shaking his head. “Alright, son. Now you’re just doin’ it on purpose.”

Caleb squealed, smacking the high chair tray again, sending a few stray crumbs flying.

Eliza let out a dramatic sigh, arms still crossed. “Daddy, he naughty.”

Beau shot a look at Y/N. “This one takes after you.”

Y/N snorted, tossing a dish towel at him. “Oh, really?”

Beau smirked, bending down to start mopping up the disaster. “Hell yeah, darlin’. You’re the chaos in this relationship.”

Y/N chuckled, grabbing a damp cloth and wiping down Caleb’s face, who immediately tried to squirm away. “Well, Sheriff, looks like your son inherited your stubbornness.”

Beau huffed, tossing the now-ruined toast in the trash. “Great. Love that for us.”

With breakfast chaos officially handled (mostly), Beau was finally dressed and grabbing his badge, ready to head out the door.

Eliza ran up, arms wide, demanding, “HUG BEFORE YOU GO!”

Beau grinned, scooping her up and squeezing her tight. “Now that’s how I like to start my day.”

Eliza giggled, then pulled back, very serious all of a sudden. “Daddy?”

Beau raised a brow. “Yeah, sweetheart?”

Eliza tilted her head, big brown eyes full of curiosity. “When the baby gets big, can I show ‘em how to make a big mess like Cay-bub?”

Beau choked on a laugh. “Absolutely not.”

Eliza pouted. “But I gonna be a good big sister.”

Y/N chuckled from the kitchen. “You are, baby. But let’s not encourage food fights, okay?”

Eliza sighed dramatically. “Fine.”

Beau kissed the top of her head, setting her down. “Alright, darlin’, I gotta go before y’all rope me into more trouble.”

Y/N walked up to him, arms crossing playfully over her chest. “And yet, somehow, trouble always follows you.”

Beau smirked, tugging her close by the waist. “Maybe I just got a thing for beautiful women who bring a little chaos into my life.”

Y/N laughed, looping her arms around his neck. “You love it.”

Beau kissed her slow, soft, lingering—long enough for Eliza to let out a dramatic “Ewww!” in the background.

When he pulled away, he grinned, tapping Y/N’s chin. “Damn right, I do.”

With one last quick kiss to her forehead, he grabbed his hat and badge, tipping his hat at Eliza. “Alright, wolf-child. Keep your mama outta trouble.”

Eliza nodded seriously. “I will, Daddy.”

Beau shot Y/N a look as he opened the door. “Now that I gotta see.”

Y/N laughed, waving him off. “Go be a good Sheriff, honey.”

Beau grinned, stepping outside. “Always, darlin’.”

And with that, he was off—leaving Y/N in the doorway, smiling as she watched him go, the warmth of their morning lingering like a promise.

Their days were never quiet.

Never simple.

But God, did she love this life.

And she wouldn’t trade it for the world.

Beau stepped into the sheriff’s department, coffee in hand, exhaling slowly as he tried to shake off the whirlwind that had been his morning.

Between flying toast, Eliza’s interrogation about whether she could teach the new baby how to make messes, and Caleb’s ever-growing talent for chaos, it had been a feat just getting out the door.

And yet, as much as he grumbled about it, as much as he sighed and ran a hand down his face every morning—he wouldn’t change a damn thing.

Because that was his family. His beautiful, messy, chaotic world.

But right now? Right now, he needed to focus on being Sheriff.

Jenny barely looked up from her desk as he walked in, flipping through a report. “So, how was breakfast, Sheriff?”

Beau took a slow sip of coffee, watching her carefully. “Why do you sound like you already know the answer?”

Jenny smirked, finally looking up. “Because I do.”

Beau sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Let’s just say I’m rethinking letting Caleb have toast in the morning.”

Jenny snorted. “So, it’s official. Your one-year-old is winning the battle of wills.”

Beau huffed, dropping into his chair. “It ain’t a battle—”

Jenny raised a brow.

Beau sighed again. “Fine. It might be a battle.”

Jenny grinned. “Mm-hmm. And how’s Eliza handling the baby news?”

Beau leaned back, a slow smile tugging at his lips. “She demanded we get the baby a stuffed wolf so they could have a pack.”

Jenny laughed, shaking her head. “Jesus, she’s got personality.”

Beau smirked. “Gets that from her mama.”

Jenny leaned back in her chair, studying him for a moment. “Y’know, you seem… good today.”

Beau raised a brow. “I am good.”

Jenny tilted her head. “No, I mean—like really good. A couple of weeks ago, you were carrying so much on your shoulders. That case with the baby—” She hesitated, watching his reaction. “It got to you.”

Beau exhaled, rolling his shoulders before nodding. “Yeah. It did.”

Jenny studied him. “And now?”

Beau let out a slow breath. “Now… I got a family to go home to. I got a baby on the way. I got a wild-ass one-year-old and a too-smart-for-her-own-good four-year-old keepin’ me on my toes.” His lips twitched. “And I got a wife who somehow makes it all feel easy.”

Jenny smirked. “So, basically, you won the lottery.”

Beau chuckled, shaking his head. “Damn right, I did.”

Jenny leaned forward, resting her elbows on the desk. “So, what’s next for the Arlen family?”

Beau exhaled, thinking. “Well, Y/N did casually drop the fact that we’re gonna need a bigger house.”

Jenny snorted. “Casually?”

Beau sighed. “Okay, less casually, more ‘Hey, we’re outgrowing this place, and you agreed last night, Sheriff.’”

Jenny grinned. “And she’s right.”

Beau huffed. “I know she is.”

Jenny tilted her head. “Y’know… If you’re already thinking about making big changes, maybe it’s time to have that talk with Emily.”

Beau was already shaking his head. “She’s got school—”

“She also has a family here,” Jenny interrupted, her voice softer. “And it sounds like she wants to be around more. Maybe finishing school here isn’t a bad idea.”

Beau sighed, running a hand down his face. “You sound just like Y/N.”

Jenny smirked. “That’s ‘cause Y/N is smarter than you.”

Beau groaned, standing. “Alright, I walked into that one.”

Jenny chuckled, going back to her reports. “You sure did, Sheriff.”

As Beau walked into his office, shaking his head but smiling, he knew one thing—

The life he had?

It was only getting better.

And damn if that didn’t make him the luckiest man alive.

Tag List: @spxideyver, @deadlymistletoe, @bitchykittenconnoisseur, @aarpfashionvictim, @stoneyggirl2

@foxyjwls007, @katastrophicmind, @globetrotter28, @deansimpalababy, @daisychaingirl

@nancymcl, @deans-baby-momma, @kickingitwithkirk, @kmc1989, @ozwriterchick

Want to be a part of this tag list or others? Comment here and I'll add you! And check out my other stories that are currently being written!

[whereismyhat5678]

OOOOHHHH PIZZAHEAD HAS A CRUSH ON PEPPINO- *get zap by his laser beam*

owie

Guys I think he likes Peppino- 👀

[frameconfessions]

I hope the protoframes remain relevant even after this story arc for the Drifter concludes, but I also recognize how complicated things would get with how many characters they could keep trying to make stay relevant, leading to a Konoha 13 Naruto type situation where we have too many relevant characters from Umbra & Ordis all the way to Kaya Velasco.

.

[crossbackpoke-check]

what are ur thoughts on the winners room trope?

ooooo okay surface level analysis: i like winner’s room fics :)

etwas tieferes: i think it’s cool that it’s (afaik) unique to hockey fandom and i enjoy the way it integrates a lot of unspoken rules in hockey with desire/makes them a physical/tangible reality… also the narrative potentials/world-building it opens up can be fun because there’s not really a set of rules for the “winner’s room” trope. are there in-universe rules? who gets chosen? who’s exempt? who gets to pick? where’s it going down? is it the entire room or one guy? what if your (ex)boyfriend is on another team? does somebody need to be taught a lesson or do you need to remind someone who got traded you still love them? also, most important, winner’s room gives you the chance to put two random-ass guys you saw interact for 0.002 seconds and went “hmmm. interesting” about into a Situation and i love that

[luveline]

coworker!james and his love hate gf meeting his parents by accident? she thinks he won’t own up to her but he’s super proud and calls her his girlfriend (for the first time 0.o) 

coworker frenemies <3 fem, 1.2k

You get the foolish idea to check in on James. Dying, he’d texted, won’t be in. Don’t miss me too much <3

And then, throughout the day, can you ask Remus to answer his phone please lovely, sorry 

Can you make sure my smiskis are all okay

I miss you too much 

Did you see that thing on the news about the goats in Spain ? 

Sometime around three, as you’re preparing to leave, his sporadic texting ends. You and Remus get on alright without James, and a quiet day comes to a close at four. 

“See you tomorrow,” you say. 

“Yeah, see you, have a good night,” he says back. 

You might. It depends on how James is feeling. You go to the shops on the way and wrack your brain for the things he likes. You know he likes cream of chicken soup: he brings it in his thermos sometimes for lunch. He likes freddos, tangerines, melon slices, and everybody likes balsam tissues and painkillers. 

James doesn’t necessarily have to let you take care of him, but it’s a care package. He can take what he wants and bin the rest. You get him some cool patches for his eyes and a box of teabags and consider yourself finished, paying, packing it into a tote, and carrying it back to the car. You get nervous on the road leading into James’ flat building, but Sirius’ car isn’t outside, just an old BMW that looks well loved. 

You pop the button to be let into the building and seconds later you’re opening the door. You make your way up the tight steps to the second floor and then the third, pausing to catch your breath lest you seem unfit just outside the door. 

You raise your hand to knock. James laughs from somewhere inside, loudly, and that laugh travels toward you until he’s yanking the door half off of its hinges.

When he sees it’s you, he grins. “Hello, beautiful.” 

“Hi. You okay?” 

He sniffles, but he doesn’t seem too poorly. His eyes are sore and he has a tissue in hand, but James is nothing if not spritely. “I’m okay, lovely, are you okay? To what do I owe this pleasure?” 

“I brought you sickness survival essentials,” you say, dangling the bag on two fingers between you. “Just in case.”

He gets that look on his face you’re finding yourself on the receiving end of more and more. That You can be so lovely face. Like you’ve done something selfless, and he’s not deserving of it. “Thank you,” he says genuinely, quietly, slipping the bag from your hand and leaning in. You’re expecting the kiss on the cheek, just not the hand under your jaw turning you for a chaste one on the lips.

“Listen,” he says softly, “my mum is here.” 

You pause. “Oh.” 

“My dad, too, actually. She caught wind that I was feeling rough from Sirius and she’s brought it upon herself to come and make sure I’m alright.” 

“Oh. Well, well I’ll just go–”

He shakes his head. “Don’t go. I mean, you don’t have to stay, ‘course you don’t, but you can come in and meet them.” 

“As…” 

“What do you want to be?” he asks. 

It’s probably written all over your face exactly what you want to be to James. It’s the bag swinging from his elbow. It’s what he asked you not so long ago, sitting on the end of his bed with a puddle of nerves in your stomach. Do you want to be… this is the real thing, right? 

You didn’t know what to say, so you’d kissed him, and he’d known it wasn’t a yes or no. 

“Are you sure you want them to meet me?” you ask. 

“Yes.” He strokes your cheek with his forefinger, all gentleness, but then he gives it a squeeze. “Be warned, mum’s heard everything about you, even when I was sure I hated you.” 

“What if she doesn’t like me?” you ask, sickly. 

“She took your side every time,” he assures you. “I just mean she’ll give me a smug look every other minute. And my dad’s just happy to be wherever he is. But if you don’t want to… you know, if you’re not ready, that’s fine. I wasn’t gonna ask ‘cos I was worried you’d say no.” He winces. 

“I’m really worried they won’t like me.” 

“Why wouldn’t they?” he asks, as though the possibility is a pipe dream. 

“James, you didn’t like me.” 

“That had less to do with you and more to do with email politics,” he jokes, “lovely, you don’t have to come in. It’s fine, there’ll be other times.”

It’s his confidence in that that makes you take a step forward. “Do I look a mess?” 

“You’re beautiful.” 

“James, I just went to work, I’ve been up since six–” You give him you’re most pleading look, eyebrows soft and lips a little pouted, “please, just check.” 

James holds you by the shoulders, his gaze moving over you one feature at a time. “Still beautiful,” he says quietly, “you have something in the corner of your eye.” 

“Get it.” 

“I will,” he laughs, “just gimme a second.” 

You gasp as he almost pokes your eye out. 

“James, babe, who’s at the door?”

You’re surprised to hear a male voice and instantly endeared. James, babe, turns away from you, slipping a hand behind your shoulder to force you into the hallway next to him. A dark-haired older man is standing in the door to the kitchen, his smile curious and friendly. “James?” 

“Yeah, this is Y/N,” James says, “she was just making sure I’m okay.” 

“You've invited her in for a cup of tea?” Monty asks, a picture of his son as he gestures for the kitchen. 

“Tea?” James asks, watching you carefully. 

You attempt to hide your nerves with a nod and a smile of your own. “Yes, please.” 

Monty heads back into the kitchen. James runs his hand down your back and lets you step in front of him, bearing the brunt of his mother’s gaze all by yourself. “Hello,” she says, clearly excited.

“Hi.”

James holds you by the back. “Mum, dad,” —you suck in a breath— “this is Y/N. She’s my girlfriend but–” He raises his voice before Euphemia can talk. “It’s not been long, okay?” 

“James, why didn’t you say?” 

“Mum, I just–” James sighs. You go numb with the pleasure of the thing —you weren’t expecting him to say girlfriend. To own up to you completely. “You dropped in unannounced, and we aren’t telling very many people.” 

“It’s my fault, I didn’t say–” You start, tamping down a brilliant smile. 

Monty cuts you off swiftly. “Don’t worry about it, sweetheart. We’re all here now, aren’t we? So, you work with Jamie?” 

“Yeah, yes, I’m on the accounting team.” You relax into James’ touch, letting your shoulder be guided against him just a bit. “I started a couple of months ago.” 

“Almost a year ago,” James corrects. “Should we have that cup of tea?” 

You frown at the scratch of his voice. “I can make it,” you offer. 

Euphemia laughs, James groans, and Monty has a twinkle in his eye you aren’t familiar with. “I can make the tea,” Monty says, “why don’t you lovely ladies sit down?” 

“Does that include me, dad?” 

“Of course it does.” 

[novascharms]

no thoughts, just rafe eating his study-till-i-drop girlfriend out to help her destress :)

the gentle knock on your door barely registers. "mom, i'll eat later tonight," you call out, voice clipped but trying to stay calm. it’s the third time you’ve said it, and the second you hear the door open, frustration prickles at your already frazzled nerves.

except it’s not your mom—it’s rafe. he stands in the doorway with his gym bag slung over one shoulder. “later tonight, huh?” he murmurs, an easy smirk tugging at his lips. with a gentle thud, he drops the bag just outside your door and steps inside, nudging the door shut behind him with his foot.

for a moment, your stress falters. the weight in your chest shifts, replaced by something lighter—relief, maybe even the hint of a smile. but it’s fleeting. you shake it off, glancing back at your biology book. “i have a lot to do,” you mutter, your tone softening despite yourself. “how was practice?”

he doesn’t answer immediately, just walks over to your bed, sits down, and kicks off his shoes. when he finally speaks, it’s in that low, casual drawl of his. “sweaty.”

you glance up and notice it now—his slightly damp hair curling at the ends, the faint sheen still clinging to his skin, and the subtle, clean scent of soap that lingers between you.

when you don’t respond, his brows pull together slightly, and he shuffles closer to you. instinctively, you tuck your knees to your chest, resting the weight of your textbook on your thighs to give him space.

“you should eat,” he says, his voice quieter now, laced with something tender. “you’ve been at this all day.”

he’s probably right, but the thought of pausing—of stepping away when you’re so far from finished—feels impossible. your pen moves almost mindlessly across the page as you scribble out another note, your lips parting to respond. but before you can, your notebook is snatched from your lap in one smooth, effortless motion.

“rafe,” you snap, reaching for it immediately. he holds it just out of reach, his grin soft but teasing.

“rafe, i’m not joking,” you warn, leaning forward. before you can try again, his lips meet yours, cutting off your protests with a kiss.

“you’re gonna burn out,” he murmurs against your mouth, his tone gentle but firm.

you pull back slightly, just enough to glare at him, though the frown on your face is more instinct than true frustration. “you haven’t even seen me during exams,” you mutter, the memory of those sleepless, frantic weeks flashing briefly in your mind.

“not looking forward to that,” he says with a quiet chuckle, still pressing faint, featherlight kisses to your lips.

you don’t stop him this time. instead, you find yourself watching him—watching the way his face softens as he leans into you, the way his eyes flicker between yours and your lips, the way his touch feels so deliberate, so careful.

“want me to help you destress?” he asks softly, his voice low and warm.

you blink at him, curiosity flickering in your eyes. “help me… destress? how?”

his hands trail down your legs, his touch light and teasing. “you had tights on this morning,” he notes, almost absentmindedly.

you nod slowly, your voice barely above a whisper. “they weren’t staying up… i took them off.”

his gaze lowers, and before you fully register what’s happening, his hands are gently parting your legs. your breath hitches as the air shifts between you.

he starts slowly, pressing soft, lingering kisses to your thigh, his lips warm against your skin. you let out a deep, shaky sigh—a sound that seems to rise from an exhaustion you hadn’t even realized you were carrying. each kiss feels deliberate, a quiet offering of care and something deeper, something unspoken.

he works his way lower, inch by inch, his lips grazing the sensitive skin of your thighs until he pauses. his eyes lift to meet yours, and his voice comes soft, almost reverent. “can i?”

you nod, breathless, unable to form words. the need simmering in his gaze feels like it could burn right through you, and the anticipation makes your skin hum, every nerve alive and aching for his touch.

his eyes drift down to your cunt that you know is drenched right now, before he’s even done something and the thought of him having you this undone before he’s even touched you is really sad.

when he tugs on the sides of your panties, you freeze for a moment—quiet realization of what’s about to happen and for a second, you’re afraid, afraid of something this new. his gentle eyes are immediately finding yours. “you trust me?” he asks and you know the answer is yes because you say yes without even thinking about it.

“good cause i won’t hurt you, sweetheart..” he’s lightly tugging on your panties, pulling them over your legs until they’re at your ankles and then he’s tossing them to the side. they’re simple white cotton ones and you find yourself wishing you atleast had those sexy, lacy ones.

“you promise?”

“cross my heart,”

he’s properly buried between your thighs now and the first lick along your folds has you gasping and fisting your freshly washed sheets. “you’ve got the prettiest pussy i’ve ever seen, baby..” when his tongue flicks against your drenched cunt, you let out a moan that is downright embarrassingly loud. before the noise can travel, rafe’s hand is flying to cover your mouth and you’re left muffling against his palm.

“as much as i’m dying to hear you moan my name, that’s a risk we can’t take right now, hm?” he murmurs and you assume that’s a sign that he’d go easy on you, you assume that since your parents are currently two floors below you and rafe cares about what they think, he wouldn’t go overboard.

you assume wrong.

“rafe!” you cry out against his palm, head tilting back as he shoves his tongue between your lips. your back is arching off the bed as your one hand holds onto his wrist that’s covering your mouth while the other is gripping rafe’s hair for dear life.

you were completely under the impression that the way his tongue was kissing and flicking your hole and folds was the pinnacle of all of this and you could imagine yourself cumming from just that in the next five minutes.

but then he’s licking from your hole to your clit and the moment his tongue makes first contact with your clit, your eyes fly open and your brain goes completely fuzzy.

“that’s it, baby, lemme make you feel good..” he’s muttering, mouth still right on your clit and you can hardly focus on his words, can hardly focus on much else but the pleasure that seems to be intensifying with every second that passes, “p-please..! i’m..i—“ you’re stuttering, eyes glossy in this almost fucked out state and you’re not even sure what you’re trying to say, what you want. you want something, need something.

“i’ll take care of you. i got you, babygirl.” you want to move, want to push against his mouth or push your hand against the back of his head to pull him in but your body feels too weak. all you can do is let out these muffled, shaky cries against rafe’s palms as he ate you out like it was his very last meal.

your whole body is trembling, a thin sheen of glistening sweat covers your forehead and you swear you can see stars right on the ceiling of your bedroom. rafe’s tongue is relentless, tirelessly lapping and licking at your clit, sucking it into his mouth and you’re losing focus, can’t think straight anymore. your eyes are rolling back as you attempt to push your mound against his lips.

you shudder when the pleasure only intensifies, “gonna cum for me, pretty girl?” rafe’s murmuring against your clit and you’re nodding frantically, “mhm! m’ gonna cum…gonna c-cum..!” you know it’s coming, can feel something pushing against you, pushing you over the edge and you’re about to spill.

rafe doesn’t stop, doesn’t even slow, just devours you no matter how hard you’re pulling on his hair because you’re about to cum and it’s gonna be all over him and the humiliation of that would kill you.

“rafe! s’ too much!” you gasp and somehow, rafe knows just what to do, just which way to flick his tongue because not a moment later, your toes are curling, fingers tightening in his hair, back arching off your sheets and you’re coming all over his face, slick gushing out as you cry so loud he has to stuff your mouth with his fingers to keep you quiet.

he only removes his fingers after a second and then he’s rising up from between your legs while you lay there, head on your pillow, in this almost dream-like state, trying to catch your breath.

“all good?” his voice is soft, slightly out of breath but steady compared to your shallow pants. you nod, still catching your breath, as he leans over and grabs a tissue from the box on your nightstand. his movements are slow, careful as he cleans you both up, the gentle press of the tissue against your skin making you hyperaware of the moment.

it’s only when you shift slightly that your eyes flicker downward, catching the unmistakable bulge in his sweats. a rush of heat floods your cheeks, and you sit up slowly, your movements hesitant. “you—”

he follows your gaze and shakes his head immediately, cutting off your words before you can finish. “nah, don’t worry about me,” he says, his tone easy but resolute. he leans forward, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead, the warmth of his lips grounding you even as your thoughts spin.

still, your eyes drift back to him, lingering a second too long. the idea settles in your chest, insistent and new, and before you can second-guess yourself, your hand starts to reach for him.

he catches your wrist gently but firmly, halting you in place. “no.” his voice is low, the single word laced with finality. his thumb brushes against the delicate skin of your wrist as he holds it, his gaze steady on yours. “go eat.”

you blink up at him, torn between frustration and a quiet determination. “i want to help you,” you murmur, your voice soft but unwavering, the words carrying more weight than you intended. your eyes meet his, defiant, even as your pulse races.

he exhales a small laugh, tilting his head until his forehead rests against yours. his lips brush yours, featherlight, a whisper of contact that leaves you yearning for more. “not today,” he says softly, his voice dropping to a near murmur. “go eat.”

his words leave no room for argument, but the tenderness in his tone eases the sting of his refusal. reluctantly, you shift off the bed, your legs unsteady as you make your way toward the door.

snippet from 'teach please me' series.

[yanderenightmare]

Bakugou Katsuki

♡ TW: omegaverse, size difference, reader's second gender is omega, so there are mentions of pregnancy, somewhat subjugating omega politics, old-fashioned high-class politics of sorts

♡ prequel to this

♡ GN reader

His eyes are garnet and slim—you can’t make up your mind if they’re judgemental or just assessing. Either would be allowed, of course. The point of the date is for him to decide if you’re sufficient or not.

And yet, you’re the one taking him in. His main is ashen blonde, boyishly spikey and wild—not fine-kempt and slick like you’d pictured. He didn’t have any grey hair either, or stubble, or wrinkles. Though he’s still much bigger and burlier than they are, he can’t be any older than the eldest males back at the institution.

He’s obviously an Alpha, and still, it’s so odd.

“You’re young,” you end up saying.

His nose scrunches. “No younger than you.”

It must have sounded accusatory, even when you only meant to point it out for yourself. You probably ought to have said it silently, inside yourself, and not out loud like you did.

And so you apologize, “I’m sorry, I was—I was just expecting someone older…” You try smiling, but the thought of him actually having been older makes your throat tight, and you swallow thickly instead. “Much older.”

He sighs, looks off to the side instead of at you. His brows tighten—you probably want someone who’s already got a house and a car and a boat on a lake, not to mention a good salary and not the intern pay he’ll be living off of for at least the next year or so. His foot taps beneath the table. You feel it in the floorboards. “You disappointed or somethin’?” he grumbles through grit teeth and a slim frown.

Your eyes widen, and you shake your head, blruting, “No!” You even jump out of your chair, both hands slamming flat on the table, making the napkin-wrapped cutlery clatter within their confines. 

Quickly, but too late, you realize you’re causing a scene. Cheeks burning, you look around before settling down again—you’re not making a very good first impression so far.

You take a breath, confessing, “I mean, I’m happy,” You place your hands in your lap and then start fiddling with them. “This way, we can be together for a long time…” Your voice is breathy as you let out a somewhat apologetic sigh, smiling some. “If you’ll have me, of course.”

He doesn’t say anything, and you don’t dare look up to gauge his expression.

You end up laughing nervously in the silence, feeling the joke arise before you're able to dispel it. “I was afraid I was gonna have to be your nurse soon.”

His foot stops tapping. Then he scoffs.

You perk up again, fumbling over your newest mistake, already apologizing a second time so far, “I’m sorry, that was rude. You’re just not what I was expecting—I’m a little caught off guard, is all.”

He huffs, then grins. “That’s okay. You don’t gotta apologize.”

You both sit in silence after that. You pick your nails more. All the questions you’ve prepared are useless given his age—he doesn’t have an answer to how many kids he wants from you. Probably. It somehow feels strange asking him when he isn’t in his thirties or forties or early fifties.

You look at him in askance. It really is odd.

“You can ask—if you’re curious,” he sanctions.

You really want to, but you’ve made enough mistakes already. Your teachers wouldn’t be proud if they witnessed you acting so childish and not as the proper little lady they’ve trained you to be. 

“No, I shouldn’t.” You shake your head and look down at your lap.

“Come on, you don’t gotta worry about being rude with me,” he insists.

You bite your lip, feeling fidgety in your chair, peering up at him. “You sure?”

“Hit me.” 

The question leaps from your tongue before you have the mind to regret it. “How can you afford this?”

He leans back in his chair. “I can’t—not yet. My folks are paying.”

You hum—that makes more sense. “They must be nice,” you say.

“They try,” he agrees.

There’s a silence again. You don’t have anything appropriate to ask. You were more prepared to talk when spoken to, to answer his questions about your health and hobbies, all silly things that make you cute and likable, but given he’s your age, none of it seems any interesting. It seems he doesn’t have much to ask, either.

“I was unsure about this,” he declares after a while. “To be honest with you, it was all my mom’s idea. I didn’t ask for it…” With a pause, he picks up the menu that had been lying undisturbed in wait for his decision. “But, she tends to be right about most things. So, I think I’ll take the offer this once.”

He lets you decide without ordering for you. Neither of you decide to drink, even though you’re both old enough. The conversation is awkward, but you giggle a couple of times and he smirks in turn. You hadn’t anticipated it—this feeling. You’d anticipated the nerves and the tension—but not this other thing, this sweet fluttering feeling blossoming in your belly, flirty and fizzy. Is this what they call butterflies?

He’s left asking himself the same question.

♡ BAKUGOU KATSUKI masterlist ♡ BOKU NO HERO ACADEMIA masterlist

[moonstruckme]

hi maeeee!! can i request a poly! marauders where maybe reader is fighting with only one them and the others are shocked when they find out and try their very best to fix it even though things are quite tense? thanks maeeeee ilyyyy💐💐💐

Thanks for your patience with this one angel! It's not as angsty as I planned when I started writing it, but I hope you enjoy it <3

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.8k words

It’s James who finds you this time. You’re curled up in a corner of the couch, pretending to read whilst secretly feeling sorry for yourself. Your boyfriend sits next to you, touching your shoulder so that you turn to him for a kiss. 

“Still upset?” he asks after a peck. 

You ignore the complicated, knotty feeling that makes itself known in your chest. “Not at you.” 

“No, I know.” James smiles a little, gifting you another kiss. “I’d be coming in here with my tail between my legs if you were. I’d hate to be on the wrong side of either you or Rem’s wrath.” 

You stay quiet. You wouldn’t go so far as to call what you’re feeling wrath—that seems a tad dramatic to describe the low flame of vexation you’ve been burning for your tallest boyfriend—but you don’t feel like opening yourself up to the subject with James. You’ve already heard it from Sirius this morning. 

“Angel.” James gives your shoulder a cajoling squeeze. “Come on, when are the two of you going to get past this? It’s very awkward sleeping in the same bed with two people who are quarreling, you know.” 

“We sleep exactly the same as every other night.” 

“There’s underlying tension,” he counters lightly. You roll your eyes, and James laughs. “Oi, don’t get cross with me now, too. I’m just telling you about my lived experience.” He leans his head on your shoulder, all sweetness and treachery. “You’re really not gonna forgive him? You know he’s gonna stick you with Sirius in the divorce.” 

You huff a laugh. James grins up at you hopefully. You know there’s some sense to what he’s saying; one of you has to be the bigger person eventually. It had started small, a stupid disagreement, but you and Remus are each stubborn and petty enough to not want to admit where you were wrong. Now you’re more angry with him for being angry with you than for anything else. 

When you think of his coldness to you—never mind the fact that you’ve been cold to him in turn—that flame of vexation burns a little brighter. 

“I don’t know why you’re over here trying to convince me,” you tell James. “I won’t have any problem forgiving him if he actually apologizes.” 

James sighs. You look down at your book to avoid his disappointment. 

“Okay, then. But he does feel really bad, so you know. He’s in the bedroom with one of his headaches, and he asked if you were still upset with him.” You look up. James levels you with a weighted look. “Could probably really use a cuddle, if you two were on good terms.” 

James is at least only somewhat smug when you abandon your book to go to the bedroom. You pass Sirius in the hall, who gives you a smile and a firm peck on the lips, likely having just left Remus himself. You enter the bedroom expecting to see the curtains drawn, lights off, and your poorly boyfriend in bed, but instead Remus is standing, well lit by the daylight streaming in through the windows, book tented on the bed still made from this morning. He appears as though he was just on his way out. 

“Erm, hi,” he says, brows pulled together in the middle. He looks to be studying you. “Are you alright?” 

“Fine,” you answer, bemused. “Are…are you?”

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?” 

The door clicks shut behind you. You startle at the sound, not having closed it yourself. Then, you watch as a resigned sort of irritation comes over Remus’ features at the same time as it settles into you. 

“Pricks.” He moves past you to the door, jiggling the handle. “It only locks from the inside, you twats.” 

“Love you too,” comes Sirius’ voice. “You can come out after you kiss and make up.” 

“And say you’re sorry!” adds James. 

Remus scowls. 

“Open it,” you tell him. 

“What do you think I’m trying to do? One of them is holding it shut.” 

“Let me try.” 

“Be my guest.” Remus steps back, letting you have a go at the handle. By putting everything you have into it you manage to twist it, but you can’t get it open even an inch. 

“Don’t hurt yourself, gorgeous.” Sirius sounds smug enough to make your face feel hot. “James is holding it on the other side here, a few more minutes and you’ll make him break a sweat.” 

You let go of the handle with a huff, turning and stalking towards the bedroom window. You start moving the desk out of your way. 

“Would you really rather climb out the window than be in a room with me?” asks Remus. You look over your shoulder, and he’s sitting on the bed, side-eyeing you with his back propped against the pillows. 

“It’s not about you.” You shove your hip into the desk, budging it enough for you to get at the window latch. “They lied and made me feel all guilty just so they could lock us in here.” 

“What’d they tell you?”

You try to get your fingernail behind the latch. “It doesn’t matter.” 

“Sirius had me thinking you were quite upset.” 

“Yeah, and probably that I was asking after you, right? James told me you had a bad headache.” 

A chuckle. “That was enough to make you come in here looking so flustered?” 

“My mistake,” you huff, but it turns to a short whimper when your nail breaks. “Christ, you’d think they’d make these easier to open. What if there was a fire?” 

“Don’t go out the window,” Remus says calmly. “You’ll ruin your tights.” 

You work another nail behind the latch. “I can’t just let them win.” 

“Mm. That’s a bit of a problem for you, is it?” 

A bitter coolness settles over you. You turn, crossing your arms. “Something to say?” 

Remus picks up his book, cornering a page. “Just making an observation, is all.” 

“Remus,” you say sternly. “Don’t act like you’re any better. You could’ve apologized at any time.” 

Your boyfriend levels you with a look. “Would that really have made a difference?”

“Yes!” 

“Honestly?” He looks like he doesn’t believe you. “All I have to do is say I’m sorry, and you’ll forget about all of this and be completely happy with me?” 

You shake your head, bewildered. “…Yeah. I mean, I would want to know that you understood how you hurt my feelings, but yeah. Really, it’s not that complicated.” 

Remus’ expression softens. “I do understand that, dove. Do you understand how you hurt mine?” 

“I…” You find you can’t quite look at him. “I imagine it’s sort of similar. Because I’ve been cold to you.” 

“And because you wouldn’t hear me out,” he says. It doesn’t sound like I told you so, not smug so much as gentle. “But it was a small thing to begin with, wasn’t it? I’m ready to be past it.” 

You frown at him. “It’s not about the argument for me. I’m already past that, it’s just everything else.” 

Remus considers you. “Would you come here, please?” 

You swear you wouldn’t go if he didn’t sound so kind. But you find yourself with your legs curled underneath you on the bed in front of him, Remus coaxing your hands into his. 

“I’m sorry I hurt your feelings,” he says sincerely, looking you in the eyes. “It was a silly argument, and I shouldn’t have been so stubborn.” 

You chew the inside of your cheek, sizing up whether he means it. “I…also could have been less stubborn,” you admit begrudgingly. Your tone softens. “I’m sorry I hurt your feelings, too. I didn’t mean to.” 

“I know, sweetheart.” Remus’ touch coasts from your hands up your arms as he pulls you closer to kiss your forehead. “Are we okay?” 

“Yeah,” you say, mollified. 

He smiles at you. “Hear that?” he says towards the door. “You can let us out now.” 

There’s no response. 

Remus frowns as you get out of bed, going to try the handle. The door comes open, revealing and empty hallway. 

“Pricks,” Remus mutters. 

You find your boyfriends in the living room, James flicking through channels on the telly while Sirius reads the back cover of your book. James notices you first. 

“Oh, hello.” He grins at you as Sirius looks over. “All sorted, then?” 

You’re half tempted to pretend you didn’t make up just to spite them. When you look over at Remus, you suspect he’s thinking the same thing. 

“That was sort of mean, lying to me like that,” you say to James instead. 

He looks a bit contrite, but Sirius says insouciantly, “You were never gonna do it by yourselves, babe. We weren’t ready to start divvying up the furniture because you wanted to have a row.” 

You kiss your teeth. “I think I might be having a row with you now.” 

“What, us?” James’ eyebrows rise above the frames of his glasses. “What for?” 

“You lied to us both to make us feel bad,” Remus reminds him, “and then locked us in the bedroom.” 

Sirius isn’t impressed. “Well, it wasn’t really locked, was it. If you’d gotten desperate, you could’ve taken it off the hinges. Or just checked again after a couple minutes.” 

“She broke her nail trying to get the window open.” 

You hold up your torn fingernail as proof. Sirius coos, reaching for your finger and bringing it to his lips while you scowl at him. 

“Sorry, lovie. We had a plan to bring you food in a couple hours,” says James. “We were even going to let you out for bathroom breaks if you needed to go.” 

“Really, you wrapped it up much quicker than we were expecting,” Sirius praises. He’s still holding your finger, drawing his thumb up and down the side in easy, consoling strokes. “We thought you’d ice each other out until supper at least. I’m quite proud of you.” 

Remus scoffs. 

“Oh, come now.” Sirius grins. “Give us a kiss.” 

You roll your eyes but turn to Remus, extricating your finger from Sirius’ grasp to meet him in a chaste kiss. 

The other boys cheer. “There we are!” James tilts his face up expectantly. “Now one for me.” 

You and Remus exchange a look. 

“No,” you say coolly, “I don’t think so.” The two of you go to sit on the far side of the couch, away from both Sirius and James with you curled against Remus’ side. He looks a tad smug as he puts his arm around you. 

“Oi!” says Sirius. “Look what you’ve done, you’ve made James pull his sad puppy face. What do you have to say for yourselves?” 

“You lied to us,” you say again, slowly, with emphasis, “and locked us in the bedroom.” 

Sirius scoffs. “So dramatic.” 

“Oh, that’s rich.” 

“Will it help if we say sorry?” James asks meekly. 

Remus looks at you. You shrug. 

“Maybe,” he says. “You’re more than welcome to try and find out.”

[hughesbrothersfanpage]

Stay Home With Me

Jack Hughes x Zegras!Reader

WC: 1.6k

Summary: Jack wants to go golfing with the guys, but you have other plans for him.

Warnings: SMUT! oral (m receiving), dirty talking, brief mention of balls (sorry), F!reader but no use of Y/N, Jack thinks it’s kind of funny that he’s banging his best friend’ sister

A/N: I know I promised a Quinn fluff first and I swear to GOD it’s coming but I’ve been having an AO3 author level bad few weeks and somehow it’s easier to write a bj than anything romantic rn. Also more Hughes!Sister insta edits coming soon!

Jack thinks you’re asleep as he tiptoes around the room getting dressed as quietly as he can. You’re wide awake, though, plotting and scheming to get him to skip golfing with the boys and spend the day in bed with you.

They’ve gone three days in a row now, eighteen holes each time, and you’re dying for some alone time with your boyfriend.

You’re still pretending to sleep when Jack leans over you to press a kiss to your forehead. “Bye, baby,” he whispers.

It’s then you pounce, wrapping your arms around him and pulling him down to your chest.

“Oof,” he winces as his arms give out and you trap him.

“Don’t leave,” you whine.

Jack laughs, lifting his face to kiss you softly. “I gotta go babe, the guys are gonna want to leave any minute.”

One of your hands drifts from his back, coming up to gently trace his lips. You’ve got a small pout on your face, and Jack couldn’t possibly find you any more endearing.

“Stay home with me.” Your thumb pulls gently at his bottom lip and Jack feels his resolve begin to crack. He goes to protest, but you’re quick to cut him off. “I will blow you right now if you stay home with me.”

Jack’s mouth falls open. “Right now?” he asks, cheeks burning bright red when his voice cracks from excitement.

“Right now,” you confirm. He pulls himself from you in a flash, nearly running to the door and pulling it open.

“Hey, guys?” he calls out. “I’m not feeling so hot. You go ahead without me today.”

There’s loud laughter from downstairs. “I told you not to eat that sushi in the fridge! It smelled off, man!” Trevor shouts up at him. Jack smirks to himself. If only Trevor knew what he was really up to. Your brother would probably knock his head clean off.

There’s a chorus of ‘goodbyes’ as Jack closes the door. You’re sitting up in bed now, staring at him like you’re going to eat him alive. He can’t wait.

“Take your shirt off, handsome,” you command softly. He ditches his hat and shoes quickly before tugging his shirt up and off. “You’re so pretty, Jack,” you murmur as you stand and make your way to him.

With a hand on his chest you back him up until he hits the wall. You take your time unbuckling his pants and pushing them down, going so slow that Jack feels like he’s losing his mind. You’re even more mean when it comes to his underwear, palming him through his boxers until he’s on the verge of tears. You take pity on him eventually, freeing his dick from his underwear and pressing small kisses around the head.

Jack whines. From base to tip, you trace the vein on the underside of his cock with a flat tongue. His thighs shake with effort, struggling to stand from the feeling of your lips and tongue on arguably the most sensitive part of his body. Jack is a mess of broken moans and muttered curses as you do everything but put it in your mouth.

“Baby,” he whines, well beyond caring how desperate he sounds.

You pull away, replacing your tongue with your hand, stroking him slowly. Your thumb brushes over his leaking tip with every pass, and you revel in the way he shudders.

“I’ve been trying to get you alone for four days, and you’re telling me you can’t handle a little teasing?”

His face burns red at your condescending tone, but his dick twitches in your hand anyway. You rest your face on his thigh, looking up at him with doe eyes as you wait expectantly for his answer. The way you bat your lashes leaves his mind totally blank. All Jack can do is watch slack jawed as you flick your wrist lazily, your grip just loose enough to deny him any real relief.

“I want you to ask nicely, Jack,” you murmur before mouthing at the skin of his hip, leaving a few love bites in your wake.

He whimpers, honest to god whimpers, chewing at his bottom lip. “Please,” Jack croaks.

He cries out when you pull your hand away. “Please, what? Use your words,” you chide.

“Put it in your mouth baby, please,” Jack begs.

You smile up at him. “See? Now was that so hard?”

Any reply he might’ve come up with dies on his lips as you take him into your mouth. He throbs as you swirl your tongue around the head.

“Fuck, baby, you’re so good to me,” he grunts.

You hum as you take him further down your throat, using your hand to make up for what doesn’t fit. One of his shaking hands grips the edge of the doorframe, and the other tangles itself in your hair. He guides your head as you suck him off, grunting softly when you hollow your cheeks.

The feeling of your mouth is dizzying, and you look so pretty on your knees for him that he’s already embarrassingly close. You pull off for a moment to catch your breath.

“You’re incredible,” Jack moans as you stroke his cock.

You smile but don’t answer. Instead, you duck your head and run your tongue over his balls. “Oh, fuck!” Jack yelps. You can only hope that all of the boys are gone, because if even one of them is home, the two of you are fucked. “You are so fucking hot. I don’t deserve you, I-“

You cut off Jack’s rambling by taking him back in your mouth, as deep as you can handle until he hits the back of your throat. His hips thrust involuntarily, and you gag around his cock. You take it like a champ, breathing through your nose and never letting up your pace.

“Fuck,” Jack cries. “You’re so fucking good, I’m so close baby.”

You caress his thighs softly as he nears the edge, putting all your focus toward blowing his mind. His hips stutter, and he cums down your throat with a loud groan. Slowly you pull away and stick out your tongue to show you swallowed.

Jack helps you up from your knees and kisses you gratefully. He tries slipping you some tongue, but you pull away.

“Jack, I have blowjob mouth. I’m gonna brush my teeth, you get back in bed. You’re mine for the rest of the day.”

Jack grins as he nods. “Yes ma’am,” he replies.

He looks so good when you return, sprawled over the bed in just his boxers, hair falling perfectly over his face. You want to devour him all over again.

By the time the guys get back from golfing, you and Jack have fucked in your bed, the shower, and the kitchen.

The kitchen had been a close call. You’d both still been panting, reveling in the afterglow of really good sex, only just pulling your underwear back on when you heard car doors slamming. With a shriek you’d bolted back to your room, stumbling hand in hand up the stairs with Jack who couldn’t stop laughing.

Now you’re laying together in bed, trying to catch your breath, in absolute stitches over almost being caught. When the burning in your lungs subsides, you sigh and snuggle into Jack’s open arms, suddenly exhausted.

“Tired, baby?” he asks, brushing some hair away from your flushed face.

“Mhm,” you mumble, pushing your face into his neck.

His hands slip under your (his) tshirt, rubbing firm circles over your overworked muscles. “We can take a nap,” he says quietly.

“Mmm.”

Jack can tell you’re on the verge of passing out, so he just smiles and continues to massage your back. Your bliss is harshly interrupted when someone bangs on the door.

“What?” Jack yells, annoyed.

You’d forgotten to lock the door, so your brother pokes his head in. Thank god the covers are pulled up, hiding your nearly-naked lower bodies.

“We got lunch. You feeling any better?” Trevor asks.

Jack nods, biting back a smart comment. “Yeah, had a migraine but it’s better now,” he says instead.

“That’s good, man,” Trevor replies. “Well, we got pizza. Come down before it gets cold.” He goes to shut the door, but pauses. “And for the love of god, Jack, put on a shirt.”

Your cheeks burn, hidden in Jack’s neck. You haven’t moved an inch, hoping Trevor assumes you’re asleep and leaves. It works, and you prop yourself up a little as you hear the door click shut.

“For the love of god, Jack, put some pants on too!” you giggle, snapping the waistband of his boxers.

“Hey,” he whines. “I haven’t had pants on all day and you haven’t complained once.”

“I have to put on pants too,” you try to compromise. “No one wants to see the hickeys on my thighs.”

Jack scoffs. “I do!”

You kiss him softly before swinging your legs over the edge of the bed. “Well then you better come with me and eat lunch. After that, I’ll take my pants off and we can have that nap I was promised.”

Jack reaches for the pair of sweatpants he’d left on the floor that morning when getting changed and pulls them up his legs. By the time he gets a shirt on, you’ve slipped back into your pajama pants and one of his old sweatshirts.

“Shit, babe, my legs,” you groan, unsteady on your feet, thighs burning and more than a little sore.

Jack grins, beyond proud of himself. “Keep it together, sexy. Your brother would freak if he knew what we were up to while they were gone.”

You shake your head as you reach for the doorknob. “He still hasn’t forgiven you for the first time he walked in on us. He nearly punched you.”

A small smirk makes its way to his lips. “He did punch me, after. And it was totally worth it.”

[dadsbongos]

giving minimum wage clerk laios sloppy

3.1 k words / warnings - oral sex, hand jobs, public but it isn't focused on, you call laios 'good boy', not proofread

summary - you flirt with your coworker laios and suck him off in an alley outside

~~~

Laios slumps against the bag racks after returning the pharmacy key up front, prompting you to be nosey and ask,

“What’d he need?”

“Condoms.”

“Oh.”

“Right? I don’t get why they’re so shy about it,” Laios yawns, squeezing his eyes shut to revel in the sweet resulting burn, “It's worse to go in unprotected.”

“For sure,” you hadn’t meant oh as in oh, you’d meant oh as in oh because you don’t want Laios to talk about condoms. Him talking about condoms will make you think of him using one, which is only going to fluster you.

“He also wanted Plan B.”

“Crazy.”

He yawns again, then letting his head droop while bracing himself against the end of your lane. Arms pin straight and (mostly) visible, since all he’s wearing is a black Tee. Past the edges of his store apron is red vinyl, crackled from no doubt years of wear and wash. He’d shown up with a hoodie, which is strange because it’s the middle of summer, and no matter how hard you pray: the nighttime provides little relief. Either way, you’re glad to see he hasn’t snuck it on -- his arms look so much better bare.

“You tired?” a stupid question on your part.

Thankfully, Laios is your favorite coworker for a reason. He earnestly answers with a weary nod and quiet, “Yeah.”

“Poor thing,” you sit against the divot to your left, where your own set of bags rests and perch your chin in your hand, “How come? Usually you don’t get the sleepies until ten.”

And again, if it were anyone but Laios, you’d be mortified to have let that tidbit slip.

Laios perks up, scrambling for his phone as he speaks, “I was finishing that red dragon set.”

“Jeez,” you lean forward as he holds up a picture of the completed plastic array of knock off Legos; more affordable and just as dependable, “You did that all last night?”

“Took four hours, but it was worth it.”

“I thought you were gonna complete it on your weekend.”

“I was, but then, look!” he swipes over the screen before shoving it back into your face, “A winged lion!”

“Oh, cool,” when you feel that’s too bland, you add, “Isn’t that the final piece in your Griffin set?”

“Technically,” he grumbles, “I hate how they called it the Griffin set. Only one of them is a Griffin. This is just a hybrid, and the other one’s a Hippogriff. But it still looks super cool, and the instructions are way longer than any of the other ones.”

Laios looks up from where you were supposed to be staring at his screen, finding that you’re instead watching him with a stupid smile on your face. Your cheeks heat up at being caught. Just before you can stutter out an excuse, though, Laios is speaking again,

“Awesome, right?”

“Very,” you confirm with a nod.

“I’ll have to move some stuff so I can display it on my desk properly. I just have no idea where,” he pockets his phone, rolling his head onto his shoulder, “I’d have Marcille or Chil’ help but they’ll probably just tell me to trash it all.”

“Aw, I’m sure they wouldn’t! They're your friends.”

“Right. They just…”

“They tease a little too hard.”

“Exactly.”

“You can say something, you know?”

“It’s easier to just ignore,” he shrugs.

You open your mouth to retort, to encourage him to tell his friends off, but a demon beats you to it.

“Well, don’t you two look bored!” all warm fondness freezes in your chest the minute an approaching middle-aged man says that, “Break time’s over!”

Another reason Laios is your favorite is that he doesn’t find those jabs funny. You even heard that back when he first started, he’d reply to those remarks with stern sincerity. Now in his ancient wisdom, he just lets you blankly stare the man down. With clerks like Doni, you feel a pressure to at least feign a smile lest he overcompensate by actually fake-laughing.

You suffer down the interaction with as few words as you can get away with before bidding the man a goodnight.

“I hope he crashes,” you sneer, flipping open the silver cap of your change dispenser and confirming your coins can go a little longer before being filled.

Laios hums halfheartedly -- long now used to your aggro behavior towards customers you don’t like, and no longer prone to bouts of wide-eyed horror. His head is turned towards the doors, gaze lazily flicking over self-checkout to assess if anyone that way needs assistance.

You take the moment to assess him. Neck stretched and lashes beating his cheeks with every heavy blink. His lips are pressed firm, likely subconscious, and from the quirk in his hip you can tell he’s got a leg crossed over the other.

Breaking you from the study, Laios bellows another exhausted huff.

Before you can cast a cursory glance towards the clock on your screen, your supervisor is chirping from beside you, “Last break!”

So it must be nine.

God, two more hours of this? Laios sounds ready to collapse.

After signing off in order for Kabru to hop onto the register, you slip between the little gap where checkout lanes end and SCO begins. Opening one of the grab-n-go fridges with trepidation.

Does he even like energy drinks?

You’re almost certain you’ve seen him mull over them at least once… before ultimately deciding to not buy one…

He definitely doesn’t like coffee. You recall him telling Kabru the bitter taste was off-putting enough, never mind how it devastated his gut (which was entirely too much information, but it made you laugh).

Gatorade makes him think of his high school gym class, and you take that as a negative considering he nearly shivered upon just remembering the period.

Ugh. He needs the energy and there’s a three for five deal on the Monster anyway. You snatch three of the flavors that look most appealing from a Laios-point-of-view and rush to self-checkout.

“Plan on being up all night?” one of the attendants, Toshiro, warily approaches.

“No, uhm, it’s… It’s three for five! That’s like, 1.50 each!”

Mithrun, the other SCO cashier, is staring down a woman that frequently attempts walking out without paying, “I thought you didn’t like Monster.”

“The fruit punches are okay.”

“You didn’t buy fruit punch.”

“Go fuck yourself, Mithrun.”

He blinks at you slowly, “Okay.”

With an agitated scoff, you strut back to register six and saddle up by Laios, loudly clinking sweaty drinks against the faux wood surface. Kabru hurriedly checks the time, to which you interrupt,

“I’m not going to the break room, I’ll just sit here for ten minutes.”

Visibly restraining himself from pointing out you’re not supposed to do that, Kabru nods and clears his throat to greet a couple pulling in. His eye twitches with the urge to remind them loads of less than five items should go to self-checkout rather than a register. One day, you’re sure, he’ll crack -- and you desperately want to be there when he does.

“So,” you case your hands around the drinks so Laios doesn’t accidentally bag one for the couple, “Do you like Monsters?”

He frowns at you, lips flapping vapidly. Internally struggling between asking if you’re serious or if you’re being mean on purpose.

Picking up his turmoil, you blurt, “The drink! I know you like monsters. Do you like Monsters?”

“The fruit punch ones are good.”

You shouldn’t like his answer as much as you do, “I like them, too. But, uh, I didn’t get it…”

Kabru sighs as both of you go without greeting or thanking the customers before they leave.

“Oh, trying new ones?”

“No, not really. I got them for you? Kind of…”

Kabru’s icy stare pierces you, annoyance replaced with interest. You’re reminded of why he stays at this job despite hating it: drama.

“I thought, maybe, you’d want one since you’re super tired. And they were three for five, so I basically had to buy them.”

Laios silently looks at where your hands cage the cans, when you realize he’s waiting to see the flavors you pull away like you’ve been pinched. He leans on his elbows to better read each can, sleeves on his shirt riding up to expose more skin.

Laios likes orange juice so you got Ultra Sunrise. Laios likes cheesecake so you got Orange Creamsicle because they’re both sweets. And Laios supports his sister’s lesbian relationship, so you got Ultra Violet because that’s basically lavender.

His brows furrow down at the lineup before he reaches out and tips the middle one into his palm: Orange Creamsicle.

“You should have the other ones, I’d feel bad taking them too,” Laios admits, cracking open the drink, “Thank you. I really appreciate it.”

“Of course,” when you notice Kabru hasn’t blinked since the interaction started, you jerk your head towards him, “Want one, mister manager?”

“Assistant front end manager,” Kabru sours, judging how your eyes repeatedly fall to Ultra Sunrise before taking Violet, “I don’t even have real power.”

“You’re basically a real manager, I don’t see Yaad or Thistle out here. Like ever. Even Delgal doesn’t come out of the office!”

To avoid accepting flattery, he scrounges around the cabinet beneath your receipt printer for ‘PAID’ stickers to slap on each drink.

Laios, meanwhile, sinks into his own head. The distress he felt when you asked if he liked monsters was downright alarming. He wonders if he would’ve felt that level of despair if it were anyone else asking.

Logically, he knows it’d be more hurtful because you and him are friend-ish and talk often, naturally meaning you hear about his interests quite a bit. Deeper down, past a thudding chest and into his churning gut he can tell it's more than that.

And from how hypnotizing he finds the sight of your throat bobbing around swigs of carbonated caffeine, he’s certain there’s more to his feelings than that.

But in all his years as a trusted courtesy clerk at his local branch of a large corporation grocery store, he’s seen many people fall victim to the allure of workplace incest. Subsequently, he’s seen many people quit over those fallouts.

Laios sips from his drink, trying to distract from such thoughts by taming a cringe at its bubbly stabbing on his tongue.

How could he even assume you felt that way about him? He can’t be sure you’re available for mingling.

“Are you single?” he asks, without much thought. That’s a casual topic, right? Lots of people are concerned with dating at your shared age.

Kabru signs out of the register as your break comes to a close, stubbornly lingering right behind to hear your response.

“Why?” a nervous chuckle bubbles out, you beat yourself for it, “You interested?”

Laios drinks again, shooting Kabru a pointed look.

Kabru can read it perfectly well, it’s a glare that reads: GO AWAY, GO AWAY, GO AWAY. Instead of listening, he cheerfully asks, “Ready for your last break too, Laios?”

“Yeah, I’ll take it right here. You should go away.”

“Oh!”

You snort, fastening a hand over your entire jaw as if to physically repress the sound.

“Oh,” Kabru repeats, quieter, “Someone has to bag, though…”

Laios steps back with a solemn nod, wiping his clammy hands against his uniform apron. Despite picking up on the dejected tone of Kabru’s voice, Laios’ only curiosity is if you thought he looked cool being so blunt, or did he come off as some dickhead tool?

(much less some dickhead tool that speaks harshly with a very polite, very friendly supervisor)

Both you and Kabru watch as Laios snakes through the seasonal aisles toward the break room. Once he’s out of sight, Kabru’s eyes stab into you, lip twitching, “So?”

“So, what?”

Kabru’s beams at you silently.

“Ew, do not look at me like that.”

“How long?”

“You don’t need to know that.”

“I'm a supervisor! I’m supposed to know what’s going on with my fleet.”

Before you can properly lecture him on referring to his coworkers as a ‘fleet’, a pair of potential teenagers slam thirty packs of sour beer onto your conveyor belt. Excitement to card them floods you.

Thankfully, Laios’ break seems to blow by -- he’s soon muttering an apology to Kabru and replacing him at the head of your lane.

“Back already?”

Laios hums, starkly avoiding your eyes. His sudden, almost uncharacteristic, shyness compels you to take forward charge,

“I’m single, by the way.”

“Me too,” he keep looking at you, then away, then at you, then away. Over and over again until eventually you’re craning to be forced in his sight.

“You asked for a reason, right?” you click your tongue and wink in good humor, “You want me to clean your belt, huh?”

Really, you should’ve known better than to try playing coy because all Laios does is shrug with a polite yeah, sure before backing away for you to spray down his smaller conveyor.

Oh. Oh, you can’t just not suck his dick.

“No, Laios, I have a proposition.”

…

Despite no promise of getting the favor returned, you don’t know if you’ve ever been so excited to clock out before. Scurrying out as soon as your legs could carry, barely managing to bid Kabru farewell before rounding the side of the building.

Laios is leaning against the bumpy wall, hands laced at his hips and thumbs circling.

“Hey, pervert,” you coo.

His face flushes, eyes widening, “You’re a pervert, too.”

When it comes to him, you don’t mind being labeled crass. Or even nasty. It’s why you’re so pliant to crash onto your knees while yanking his jeans apart and down his thighs. He hisses, honey gaze sweeping up towards the empty road through the thin line of trees.

Noticing his distraction, you intentionally scrape nails against his flesh when wrangling his boxers.

A soft, warm palm hesitantly cups the side of your head -- his concern somewhere between pulling you to stand and keeping your attention where it is. Though, he remains conflicted on how embarrassed he should be, especially given the way you’re biting your lip.

“Already?” you coo, teasing a finger along the hot underside of his cock, “I haven’t done anything to you yet.”

“You’re just… so pretty,” Laios huffs, praying you can’t make out the glisten of sweat across his forehead.

“Aw, thanks, big guy,” you chastely kiss his flushed tip, giggling quietly when it twitches into your welcoming pucker, “Not so bad yourself.”

He whines, raising a brow at you almost expectantly, though respectfully restraining his hips from jumping towards you. Deciding to put the man out of his suspended misery, you lave him with your tongue in a broad stroke before sucking him in.

Velveteen cheeks clamping around him as you squeeze around him, tongue pressing against smooth skin. He has no particular taste beyond ‘man’, but you hum and slide him deeper as if he’s sugary sweet. Laios lets out a muted moan, biting the hand not leisurely splayed along the side of your face.

Curling fingers beneath the bone of your jaw, he feels out the bulge plumping your cheek -- heart throbbing between his ribs at the recurring thought its his fault.

Obsessively, he mulls that point over and over until he’s unthinkingly bucking into your sodden mouth. A lewd slurp from you makes his head swivel sharply, as if someone would await this point before calling the cops.

Wiry, trimmed though not kempt, flaxen pubes tickle your nose. Laios coaxes you to bury him deeper in the cinch of your throat, and you’re content to comply. Gags and sputters are lulled from you, saliva gushing through the seam on your lips and wetting his pelvis. Drool rolling down your chin and ruining the black shirt and apron you’d thrown on before leaving.

“Aw,” he pants above you, swiping away the slick with his thumb pad, “you’re gonna ruin your shirt. It’s my favorite one, too.”

Liking the way he babbles, you pull back to hawk twah into your hand and playing his balls before slipping off his cock completely,

“Yeah, baby? You like it?”

Rolling your tongue around his tip and teasing him against your cheek, fluttering wet lashes up at him.

“Uhhh…” he whimpers, “Your arms look good in it, and I can see your collar bones…” his breath hitches, adam’s apple springing with desire, “I love when you wear that shirt.”

Laios plops free, smearing spit and pre against your hot skin. Before you can obsess over the admission too long, you’re moving to bite his hips. Fully intent on bruising him. Your hand sweeps up from his nuts to stroke him, fist blurring along his cock with soaking click, click, clicks.

With a hiss, his hand flies to the crown of your head -- not pushing either way, only grasping firm and needy. You bite harder, latching to suck the flesh swollen as you flick your wrist while jerking him off. His hips thrust against your hand, absolutely mewling.

“Good boy,” you grin into his burning pelvis, “Fuck my fist, Laios. You wanna cum for me?” he nods, mouth only capable of leaking choked versions of your name, “Wanna cum in my mouth?”

He cannot hide his gasp, jerking in your grasp.

Your hand slows, much to his pathetic displeasure, “Speak then, Laios. Good boys speak.”

“Please!” he barks, entirely uncaring if anyone around the corner could hear, “I want to cum in your mouth, can I cum in your mouth? I want to bad.”

Resuming your previous speed, you nod (though not without a “Good boy, Laios, very good.”) before flattening your tongue beneath his weeping tip. Laios digs his shoulders against the wall, fervently pistoning his cock through the cramped hole of your first and toward your mouth. Sliding along the buds of your tongue. Pitchy moans and huffs overpower the drone of faraway cars.

With a hushed grunt and “fuck” from overhead, Laios is splattering -- drowning your palette. Warm and thick, you barely scrape the salty taste before shucking it down with an instinctual gulp.

“Ah!” Laios makes a quiet hack of protest, then sighs, “You didn’t have to,” breathlessly adding, “I know some people hate the taste.”

Weirdly, you didn’t. You’re unsure if that’s something you should share, however.

Rather, you stumble onto your feet, wiping the back of your hand over your mouth in case of any… spillage. Then follows the sudden wave of shame -- regardless of Laios being a full consenting adult, and your previously steadfast attitude, you do feel like a pervert. You feel like he’s going to look down on you. You feel like-

You’re nearly startled into the bushes when you look up, Laios’ eyes split open and gleaming in the moonlight with unsettling brightness. Fists clenched at his sides after what you’re sure is the world-record for pulling one’s pants back up.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks simply.

Or maybe he’s just as into you as you are him.

[cressidagrey]

Such A Mystery - Part 9

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Colette Leclerc (Original Character)

Summary:

Max Verstappen fell in love at the ripe old age of 12 and never looked back.

Colette Leclerc really regrets posting that particular Taylor Swift Lyric to her private Instagram account, because it made George Russell go insane.  

The rest of the world has absolutely no idea that the Dutch Lion and Charles Leclerc’s twin sister have been a couple for 15 years and are expecting a baby. 

Warnings: 

Pregnancy, Mention of multiple miscarriages, Pregnancy complications, George Russell Bashing (he's probably really nice in real life but in this, he's the bad guy, sorry), Jos Verstappen, We have apparently now reached the time where I also bash Ferrari. I am sure they are super nice in real life too. They are not in this.

Author Notes: Huge thanks to @llirawolf for holding my hand through this. Chapter 8 of...who knows.

It felt like forever. He knew it wasn't. It must have been minutes until the car door was ripped open and Charles slipped in right next to him.

It wasn’t until the doors were slammed shut behind Charles that Max dared to look at the Monégasque.

His heart skipped a beat at the sight. Charles was still in his racing suit just as him, the suit itself streaked with sweat.

The moment the car door closed, the car started riving.

"Merde," Charles cursed. Max could only agree. "I am sorry, that it took this long."

Max gave a sharp, jerky shake of his head. "You don’t have to apologize," he somehow managed to get the words out. "I’m just..." he trailed off, a shaky exhale escaping him. "How could you make it here so fast?" he asked, casting a quick glance in his friend’s direction.

Charles snorted. "Your press officer had a shouting match with Ferrari's,“ he said simply.

If Max wasn’t so focused on not completely losing it, he might’ve been amused with the mental image. But at the moment, he could only shake his head.

Next to him, Charles let out a sigh. "Are you alright?" he asked quietly.

"No. You?" he gave back.

"I don't have a bad feeling," Charles said quietly. “Not worse than it has been for days at least.”

Twin Telepathy was apparently a thing as far as Charles and Colette were concerned. 

Quite frankly, till this day, it still weirded Max out. They just seemed to know when the other one wasn't feeling well. 95% of the time, they got sick at the same time. They communicated more easily with each other than with anyone else, and regardless of what game they played...they needed to be put on opposite teams, because otherwise nobody had a chance against them.

Max was well aware of Colette and Charles' strange connection. Even if he didn’t fully understand it. They both had some sort of sixth sense when it came to the other one, and it sometimes felt like they were talking in secret code.

"What’s it telling you right now?" he asked, his voice barely above a rough whisper.

Charles turned to him fully at that, and Max saw the way his eyes swept over him, taking in every aspect of his appearance.

Max could only imagine what Charles was seeing. He felt like a walking wreck, and there was no doubt his appearance was mirroring that.

"Colette is in pain," Charles finally said, his voice strangely quiet. "She’s scared."

That answer felt like somebody shoved a knife into Max’s stomach. He inhaled sharply, the breath catching in his throat. “Of course, she is,” he hissed through clenched teeth.

Charles seemed to sense what he was thinking, even without being telepathically connected through whatever the hell Colette and him had going on. The Monégasque reached out and took a firmer hold of his hand, the grip almost crushing.

"Don’t," Charles said firmly, his voice leaving no room for arguments. "Don’t go there. We’re gonna get to her as fast as we can."

There was a brief moment of silence, as Max tried to collect himself. He focused all his attention on the pressure of Charles' hand on his, and somehow, it actually helped.

"I feel so goddamn useless," he finally admitted, his voice rough with emotion. "I want to be with her."

"You want to try calling her before we are in the air?" Charles suggested.

That was not a bad idea, not at all. Max let out a low and slightly shaky exhale, swallowing hard. “Yeah,” he nodded. “Yeah, I…” he had to stop and clear his throat. “Yeah, I’ll try to call her.”

His hands were shaking when he pulled out his phone out of the backpack that somebody had handed off to him, already packed. Regardless of all the drama that had gone on in the RedBull garage during the year… if it really mattered, the people in there pulled off minor miracles.

Within minutes, his entire day - hell, his entire week - had been packed for him, with all the essentials of clothes and everything else he would need.

He had almost forgotten about the phone in his shaking hands, but now he just stared at the screen for a moment. His fingers were trembling so badly that just unlocking the phone was a challenge in itself.

Jimmy and Sassy were on his lockscreen...a picture that Colette had once sent him when he had been away for one of his races...the two of them laying on top of her on their couch...

Every other time Max saw the photo, it made his heart do a little funny jump. Now though, it made his chest ache. It felt like a sharp stabbing pain, and for a moment, he just sat there and stared at the picture.

Then he called her.

It rang. And it rang, and it rang again. With each passing second, that horrible knot in his stomach tightened a little more. With every ring of the bell, it got harder to breathe.

Finally, to Max’s immense and enormous relief, the line connected.

"Hey, Maxie. I put you on speaker," Victoria's voice came over the phone, sounding surprisingly calm.

A shiver of something resembling dread ran through Max, at the sound of Victoria’s voice. But he pushed past the feeling.

His thoughts were once again running wild - was it a bad sign that Colette wasn’t the one speaking to him? Or was he just overreacting..?

“Hey,” he forced the word out past the lump in his throat. "How are you feeling?" he asked, pleading for Colette's voice. Was it selfish that he just wanted to hear her tell him that everything was going to be okay?

"Better now," Colette's voice came, sounding slightly hoarse.

The words were like a shot of adrenaline, and for a moment, Max actually felt a little lightheaded. “Liefje.” He closed his eyes, just hearing her voice sending another wave of relief through him. “Are you okay? How is Bébé?”

"Bébé has decided that they would rather be born today, so I would suggest you hurry up," Victoria said drily.

"Seems like the kid already inherited Max's need for speed," Charles quipped. "How are you doing, Coco?"

"I'm good," Colette's voice replied, and Max could only imagine the eye-roll that was currently happening. He knew his girlfriend, and he had no doubt that she had been glaring at Victoria ever since the phone was put on speaker.

"Where are you?" she asked, her voice suddenly turning much softer. "You're coming, right?"

"Coming," he assured her, his heart aching. "We're coming, I promise."

"I know. I’m not worried." She sounded like she meant it, but Max could easily imagine the anxiety in her eyes.

"You'd better not worry," Charles said, and then added, "I’m keeping him from doing anything dumb."

Max shot Charles a dirty look at that, bt he swallowed down the annoyed protest and focused back on Colette instead. “Just…hold on a little longer, okay?”

"It's not like I can go anywhere else," Colette replied, her voice slightly amused. "I’ll keep our little speed demon in there a little lo...." She broke off and let out a quiet hiss of pain, her voice once again cut off by what Max suspected to be a particularly painful contraction.

“Colette,” he said sharply, all kinds of emotions washing over him, one by one. “Liefje, just…just breathe through it, okay?”

There was a second of panting, then, he heard her take a deep breath. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay,” she finally said. “Just…hurts like hell.”

He swallowed and clenched his free hand tightly into a fist, fighting against the urge to just jump out of the car and start running towards the airport.

Colette being in pain was not something he could deal with.

He heard her take a few more deep breaths, and he just sat there, waiting and listening and feeling absolutely useless.

"How long until you get here?" she asked after a moment, her voice breathless. He could see her in his mind, his sweet girl, sitting on the bed and clutching her belly as another contraction hit her.

"We're not even at the airport yet," he told her, and damn it, why were his eyes suddenly burning. "We’ll get there as soon as we can, okay? Just...hold on a little longer."

"What your dad said..." Colette said with a shaky voice.

"I know," he said simply, the grief raw in his voice. Neither of them were ever really going to get over the two babies they had lost. They had learnt to live with the pain, they had dealt with the heartbreak an grief...but it was always going to be scar for them.

"Max, if something…" she began, her voice a little wobbly. He could tell that she was crying, by the way her breathing got a little more hitched and ragged.

But she suddenly cut off and gasped, letting out an even breath. Another contraction..."Hey, nothing is gonna happen," he quickly said, trying to soothe her. "Nothing. I'll be there soon. I'll be there before you know, and our child will meet their parents. We will be fine, we will get through this. You, and me. Together."

"If something happens," Colette continues. "If..."

"No," he cut her off, the word coming out as a growl. "Nothing is gonna happen. You will not talk that way. You’re going to deliver a gorgeous and healthy baby, and I won’t hear anything else."

"Max..." she protested, but Max wasn’t having it.

"You’re not going anywhere," he said firmly, putting as much steel in his voice as he could. "You will be fine. Our baby will be fine, and I will be there soon and I will hold your hand and you can threaten to geld me and all of it will be okay. Just breathe.” 

He could hear the sound of her breathing, deep and even. She was trying to steady it, and Max gripped his phone tighter. He didn’t know if he was trying to hold himself together, or if he was trying to hold on to the sound of her voice.

The seconds ticked by, and then another contraction hit, and he heard her gasp out another ragged breath. Max felt like he was going to crawl out of his own skin. The idea of her in pain was like an invisible knife twisting a little deeper in his gut, each time.

"We need to go," Charles said suddenly. "We need to get into the plane." The car slowed down at that moment. "Coco, listen to me. I am going to be absolutely fucking furious with you if something happens to you," Charles told her fiercely. 

"Trust me," Colette’s voice said, sounding slightly tired. "I am very, very motivated to stay alive."

That was good. That was a good sign. If she was still being sarcastic and even a little bit cheeky…it was good.

"Just hold on," he told her again, the familiar feeling of helplessness seeping into his bones. "Just keep hanging on, for me. I love you."

“I love you too,” the words were as immediate and as fast as the sunrise each morning. "Hurry up, dammit."

"I’m trying," he replied, his voice hoarse. "I’m trying. We’re at the airport now. We’ll get there as fast as we can-" he had to stop, when he heard her let out another pained gasping sound, as another contraction clearly hit her hard.

“Goddamn,” he exclaimed, all of his muscles tense with the urge to do something. He wanted to help her, he wanted to be there to comfort her…but more than anything,  he was terrified of losing her. "Liefje, just keep breathing, okay? Breathe and stay calm."

"I’m trying to," her voice was breathless, and he knew that she was probably trying hard to fight the urge to cry out. Oh God, he hated that. He hated seeing her in pain, he loathed feeling this utterly useless.

"Go. Love you," she told him.

"I love you," he told her emphatically, wanting to say something more, but then Charles impatiently gestured at him to hurry up and get out of the car. "I...I’ll see you soon, okay? Just hang on, okay?"

"Yeah," he could tell that she was trying even harder to control her voice, trying to put on a calm and steady front for his benefit. "Just..." she cut off and let out a gasp, another contraction evidently hitting her hard. "...just hurry up before this baby decides to make their way out before you arrive, okay?"

"I will," he promised through gritted teeth. "I will, goddammit, I will, just…hang on."

He heard Colette’s pained panting, and each of her breaths was like a stab in the gut.He hated having to hang up on her

Everything in him rebelled at that. How could he, how could he possibly abandon her like that, how could he let her take on this pain and fear all by herself, without him there to hold her hand...but goddamnit, he had no choice.

He took a shuddering breath and pushed past the urge to scream, to slam his fist into something, anything. His mind was a whirlwind of emotions, ranging from the desperate need to get to her, to overwhelming panic, to anger at the universe for forcing them apart and for putting her through this pain.

Into the plane they went…it was probably the shortest amount of time between entering a plane and taking off Max had ever experienced. 

Before too long they were up in the air, flying towards Nice.

The minutes ticked by, each one passing by like a century. Max would sit in restless agitation at his seat, his mind racing back and forth. Every thought and memory came back to Colette. He just wanted to be at her side, he just wanted everything to be okay…

And instead he would be stuck on this plane for 6 hours.

He would be stuck on this goddamn plane for six hours. Six hours, each one of them filled with the knowledge that the love of his life was giving birth to their child, and he was not there to support her, to hold her hand and reassure her that everything was okay.

It was driving him absolutely insane. He couldn’t take it, he just wanted to be there, with her. He could vividly picture her, sitting in the hospital bed and gripping the rails, her face screwed up in pain as she fought through another contraction. And he was not there to comfort her.

"Maman is with her. Your sister is with her. Lorenzo and Arthur too." Charles said at that moment. “We aren't there but everybody else is."

"How can you be this calm?" Max asked him, dragging a hand through sweat damp hair.

"Don't mistake calm for not being worried," Charles said evenly, his eyes tracking Max's restless pacing of the plane. "I am worried. For her, for you and for the little one. But freaking out isn't gonna do anyone any favours right now."

"I know,” Max said, his voice still strangled tight with stress. He just couldn't get any of the images out of his mind - her struggling and fighting her way through the pain, looking more vulnerable and pale than he had ever seen her...and he was not there.

“Besides, I shouted at Ferrari’s PR and got it out of my system, so currently, I am feeling quite calm.” Charles said darkly. “I imagine that’s going to change again when I am sure that Colette and the baby are alright.”

Max just stared at him. Charles had done what?

If there was a religion that Charles Leclerc believed in then it was Ferrari.

Charles Leclerc was their golden boy. Their Il Predestinato. There was no good-natured fobbing to be had about Ferrari regardless of what issues there had been had through the years, and there had been a lot.

Charles worshipped Ferrari like a malevolent goddess. He didn’t want to hear any criticism of his team and Max had given up on that a very long time ago. 

Charles and Colette both could be the most stubborn people Max had ever match. The only one who could match their stubbornness were each other. 

"You did what?" Max stared at him, utterly flabbergasted. Charles was an absolute Ferrari fan and loyal to the very core…why the hell would he yell at the PR people?

"Why...? What did they do?"

"They weren't even going to tell me that something was wrong with Colette," Charles said darkly. "I knew it. I knew that something was off. But they didn't say anything. It was one of Red Bull's PR Staff that got me out of the cooldown room. Ferrari wouldn't have said anything to me. Ferrari didn't want me to leave either. They wanted to debrief, they wanted me to give interviews,"

Max had to resist the urge to swear. He had been so focused on the fact that he was not with Colette that he hadn't even processed the fact that Ferrari had actually kept her labour a secret from Charles, simply to make him stay and do his goddamn job for them.

"You know that that is not normal, right?" he asked him drily. "I am not telling you that everything is perfect at Red Bull but Christian would never fucking stand for that."

"You know I never expected it," Charles told him, his mouth a thin hard line. "We are the drivers. We are the stars. But we come second. First and foremost, we are assets to the team. What Ferrari wants, Ferrari gets. We drive, we get podiums, we hold the trophies, and we smile for the cameras. Everything else comes second. It doesn’t matter to them. To them, only the trophies matter. "

"That's what they want," Max told him, anger seeping into his voice. "But that's not how it should be. Ferrari is wrong. If something is wrong with your loved ones, they have no right to keep it from you like that. Especially not for the sake of a goddamn interview."

"I know," Charles said, his lips thin with bitterness. "But there's not much I can do about it, is there? We may be the top drivers on the grid, but we drive the car that the teams give us. There's only so much that we can do when the team has power over pretty much every aspect of our career. And believe me, I am going to pay a fucking price for doing what I did. I just don't care at all. It's Colette," he said sharply. "I love all my siblings. I do. I love Lorenzo and Arthur. I would do everything for them. But they aren't my twin. They aren't the second half of me," Charles said simply. "Ferrari be damned."

Max hadn't thought that he was ever going to hear these words out of Charles' mouth but here they were.

"What the fuck did Jos say by the way? What did Coco mean?" Charles demanded.

"He gave an interview to Sky Sports," Max said, fury still embering deep in his gut.

"Of course he did." Charles said, not sounding surprised at all. "What did he say?"

"Confirmed the relationship...and the pregnancy," Max said clenching his teeth. "And if that wasn't enough...he made a...comment about how it had taken us long enough to have a baby."

There was a sharp indrawn breath as Charles absorbed that. "...What?" Charles said after a moment, his voice strangled. "...he made that comment in public? Are - are you serious?"

"I never told him about the two...miscarriages," Max said quietly. "I couldn't deal with whatever well meant advice he was going to have...but I...We lost two babies," Max said weakly. "My father went out there and confirmed our relationship and the pregnancy without talking to either of us. He just made that decision because it's "ridiculous" that we kept it a secret for so long. An it’s making me furious. This wasn't his decision to make. This was ours."

"Yes," Charles said, his jaw clenching. "It was. Your decision. Nobody else’s. He had absolutely no right to do that. Goddamn it, I have never liked that man, but I've never had the urge to punch him as much as I do this very moment."

"You and me both," Max said. The anger he was feeling would have been burning through him like a damn inferno if he hadn't been so worried about Colette.

"This should have come from us," Max repeated quietly. "Not from anybody else."

"It still can come from you," Charles said.

Max paused, looking up at him. "Are you saying we should..." he began uncertainly.

"You want to tell the entire world that you love my sister and that she is having your baby? You have an Instagram account and a phone with an internet connection," Charles said drily. "Tell them the truth. Your truth."

Max opened his mouth and then closed it again. Charles had a point. It was obvious what the news was going to be now if people had seen Jos's interview.

But he wanted to be the one to tell the world. He wanted it to be on his terms. He wanted it to be public but on his public terms. Not his father's.

"Are you ever going to ask my sister to marry you?" Charles asked him suddenly.

The question caught him completely off guard. "...What?" He said blankly, stunned by the change of the conversation.

"You gave her a ring when you were both 18 that you both insisted was only a promise ring," Charles said drily. "Are you ever going to replace it with the real thing?"

He thought back to that ring that still sat on Colette's finger to this day. A simply gold band with a tiny heart-shaped diamond.

He had given it to her in 2016, after his very first Grand Prix win in Spain. He had gone out and bought it that very same day to be exact.

He had bought Victoira a handbag the first time he had scored his championship points...but the first time he had won...he had bought Colette that ring.

"Apparently the baby is only going to have your surname too, because you have an agreement," Charles continued. "Do I actually want to know what that agreement was?"

"We were 18. Both our father's would have probably killed us, if we came to them and told them that we were engaged," Max said with a sigh. The Leclerc's had always been supportive of their relationship but Hervè Leclerc had very much thought that both Colette and him were far too young to get married. 

Jos on the other hand...Max didn't even want to imagine that screaming fit.  "So I gave her that ring and we agreed that..."

"You agreed that..." Charles repeated slowly, silently urging him to continue.

Max let out a deep sigh and dragged a hand through his already messy hair, mussing it up even more. "We agreed that we didn't really need a piece of paper to tell us what we already knew," he said simply. "Colette and I had been together for 6 years at that point, we already knew and accepted that we were going to be together for the rest of our lives. It was just a matter of when. So we decided that we didn't need a damn piece of paper to know that we were committed to each other. We already knew that, without a doubt," Max said simply. "It was a promise ring. To love and to cherish, till death us do part. One day we would do it properly, but till then...that ring was a promise."

Charles stared at him. "Let me get this straight. You have been married to my sister for 10 years?" he asked him sharply.

Max winced. Okay. Put like that, it sounded kinda bad. "We never had the actual wedding," he said sheepishly. "We both know it wasn't necessary for us, so...we kinda just...never got around to it."

"I mean, I did ask your father for her hand in marriage when it was clear that he wasn't going to be there...when we eventually did it properly...but...for us that ring was… It was more than enough," Max said quietly. "I knew damn well that I would be with her for the rest of my life. She knew it. We both knew it. And that ring was a symbol between us that sealed the deal. We both knew that it was going to be for forever and always. It was a promise. A promise to always stay by each other’s side. No matter how badly things fell apart around us. No matter how much the world wanted to tear us to apart. We were going to stay together, come hell or high water. We didn't need a paper to prove that to us or the rest of the world," Max said firmly.

Charles stared at him for a couple of long moments, processing this. Max was well aware that, from an outside perspective, it might sound weird. That they had been so young, but so utterly certain that they were going to spend their lives together.

But he and Colette had been together for years. And he had seen how strongly they had bonded over the years, seen what they had been able to deal with as a team, as one, and how they had come through every single thing that the life had thrown at them together.

"You two are utterly ridiculous," Charles finally said drily. "You didn't get engaged because as far as you two were concerned you already got married years ago."

Max winced a little bit and couldn't really refute it. If he were to be honest, he'd have admit it did sound utterly ridiculous, when Charles spelled it out like that.

But that just...that was how badly they had known right from the very beginning that this was it for them. They didn't need a piece of paper to tell them what they already knew.

"I'll ask her properly," he promised Charles. "I already got the ring. But Colette doesn't want to overshadow Lorenzo and Charlotte and I knew that she wasn't going to want to have a big party while pregnant so I figured I would just wait."

Charles was slightly taken aback by his words, before he gave a small smile. "She'll definitely say yes, you know," he said, the corner of his eyes crinkling with affection.

Max smiled in return. His heart ached with the thought of her. "I hope so," he said quietly, feeling like there was a hole in his chest where his heart was supposed to be. "I really, really hope so."

[cyberhughes]

TAPOUT!

jack hughes x fem!reader, quinn hughes x fem!reader, luke hughes , fem!reader, cole caufield x fem!reader, trevor zegras x fem!reader

IN WHICH… the new social media intern for the new jersey devils gets a proper welcome from her favourite boys

NOTE guys i had to take a pause on the requests because this was just on my mind so bad…and if this is the fic that gets me canceled for being too controversial then we went out w a bang!! (pun not intended)

also this is dedicated to my kitten clara👩🏻‍🍳🤝 @lovecla i’m glad i have someone to share my insanity with i love you👅👅

WARNINGS! NSFW 18+ content dark content/taboo | five guys one girl :( | dubcon/coercion | spiking drinks w aphrodisiac | unprotected sex | blowjobs |subtle size kink | dacryphilia (blink and u miss it) | recording | degradation | cum eating | uhm if im missing anything lmk im going crazy

she got that million dollar ooh ooh ohh...

make her tap out!

you don’t know how you got into this position. or, multiple positions. hot tears blurred your vision from clearly seeing the men in front of you. the men who had been watching you like you were prey the moment you stepped into the arena as a new social media intern, waiting for their chance to pounce on you.

[ ౨ৎ ˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 ]

“hey!” you stopped your steps as you heard a familiar voice call out just before you were about to head over to the seats to film some practice content.

luke, who you had met a few times, had skated up to the gate, a friendly smile on his face as he approached. “it’s y/n, right?” he asked and you nodded with a smile, most of the time players didn’t really care for the social media girls, simply answering their questions and going on about their day like you didn’t exist. hell, they probably wouldn’t have recognized you if they saw you walking on the street.

“so uh, feel free to say no,” he started, scratching the back of his neck. “i was having a little get together with some other players tonight, and some friends from other teams too,” you nodded as you listened intently, scared you might zone out from admiring his features.

“and i was wondering if maybe you’d like to join? some of the other social media girls are gonna be there from the other teams so i was thinking that maybe you could like, connect with them or something? just cause you’re new.” he offered with a cheeky smile and you nodded, seeming calm but inside you were freaking out a bit, it was such a perfect opportunity!

you could get so many tips from the other girls, learning things from their past experience to limit any stupid mistakes you might make while learning on your own.

“yeah! i’d love to!” he grinned at your response, “okay, awesome! how ‘bout after practice i’ll give you the details?”

[ ౨ৎ ˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 ]

you took in a deep breath before you firmly knocked on the door of luke’s apartment, nervousness bubbled in your stomach as you waited. you were excited to meet the other girls, and make some possible new connections with anyone else. your hands fiddled with the hem of your skirt as you heard clattering and music on the other side.

the door swung open, revealing a grinning luke. you tried to hide your surprise when you saw him, usually you had either seen him in either hockey gear or in a suit. you thought that it was refreshing to see him in something so laid back, a simple tshirt and jeans matched with a backwards cap that pushed his curls nicely to the back and side of his head.

“hey y/n!” he stepped back to let you in. you returned the greeting as you stepped in as you scanned the apartment, and wow. he really downplayed on the ‘small get together’. the apartment was bustling with players of different teams chatting and drinking, yet you couldn’t spot any of the social media girls. hm, maybe they were running late.

luke noticed the way your shoulders dropped slightly in disappointment. “oh, yeah i’m sorry y/n.” he shook his head as he led you into the living room where some familiar faces were sitting. “the other girls said they couldn’t come anymore. last minute family emergencies and some illnesses or something.” he spoked and you simply nodded. “oh, that’s too bad.” you responded, it was too bad. but you looked on the brighter side of things, you would get to know the players in a more candid setting, even starting some new friendships.

“hey guys, y/n came.” luke introduced you to everyone and you waved shyly. sitting beside jack on the couch was trevor zegras and cole caufield, with quinn sitting on an arm chair just beside.

“hey y/n!” jack slapped his hands on his thighs as he stood up from his position on the couch. “it’s too bad the other girls couldn’t come, but we’re still gonna have fun, right?” he said and you nodded, cheeks slightly burning when he wrapped an arm around your shoulder. the greeting threw you off slightly, only having met him a handful of times

“what do you say we get you a drink, hm?” he offered and you nodded, following along, you didn’t want to be impolite. you’d have one drink to settle your nerves before getting to know the players.

you didn’t notice the devilish grin jack shot luke as he placed a hand on the small of your back, guiding you into the kitchen.

the night was going pretty smoothly, you had spent most of your time with the five guys you had initially been introduced with. you talked about your major for a bit, why you wanted to go into sports marketing, a bit about your personal life.

you went to take a sip of your drink as you listened to quinn talk about, well you weren't really sure what, but you had noticed your cup was empty. luke peered over, “oh, i can refill that for you.” he reached out his hand and you smiled, “sure, maybe just a soda, please?” he nodded. you don’t know how many times that night luke got up to get you another soda, but you didn’t complain. he was being a good host and you didn’t want to be rude.

“so what does your boyfriend think of you working in sports marketing?” cole smiled, taking a sip of his drink. you shook your head and chuckled in slight embarrassment, “oh, i don’t have a boyfriend.”

“really? but you’re so pretty?” trevor hummed from beside you. he had his arm draped behind you on the couch, and he reached up to twirl a strand of your hair as you blushed fifty shades of red.

you didn’t know how to respond to the compliment, squeaking out a quiet ‘thank you.’

the room started to get hot, maybe from embarrassment, maybe from the amount of bodies crowded into one space.

“hey, you okay?” quinn asked, noticing the way you were playing with the collar of your cardigan, trying to loosen it’s grip on your neck.

“uh, yeah sorry. just feeling a bit weird.” you gave him a tight lipped smile, you didn’t want to ruin the night, you had worked so hard to get where you are today and you didn’t want to ruin any of your newly made friendships with the players.

“hey it’s okay,” jack moved a few strands of hair away from your face, an expression of false concern taking over his features. “why don’t you lay down in luke's room for a bit while we call it a night?” he offered and you shook your head, “i don’t want to ruin your night.” he smiled at your pout, “don’t worry ‘bout it, luke will show you the way.”

and so luke led you to his room, letting you lean your weight onto his arm as he guided you.

“just sit down m’kay?” you nodded and plopped on the bed, feeling a weird warmth spread throughout your body. were you catching a fever? was it pms? you had never felt this feeling before. “they’ll tell everyone to go home.” he stroked your hair, letting you lean onto his shoulder.

quinn walked into the room, with jack, trevor and cole following right behind. “you okay y/n?” quinn asked as he took a seat next to you, pressing the back of his hand to your forehead. “you’re getting hot, why don’t you take your sweater off?” you nodded and let him unbutton your cardigan, peeling off the fabric and letting his cold hands graze your skin.

“why don’t you stay over tonight?” luke murmured as his eyes fell to your cleavage once your cardigan was taken off.

“yeah, we don’t want you out driving like this.” trevor kneeled in front of you, examining your face as the boys nodded in agreement.

was this inappropriate? staying over at luke’s apartment? you were just the social media girl, you didn’t want it to seem like you had taken this job just to get closer to the players. then again, maybe they were right. it wasn’t safe for a young woman to head home alone in an uber so late at night.

“just let us take care of you baby, okay?” luke pushed your hair to the side as he whispered into your ear, letting his lips trail down to your neck where he placed a small kiss. you shivered at the touch, feeling your butterflies in your stomach. “o-okay…” you sighed when he pressed another kiss onto your shoulder.

“you feeling hot? why don’t we take off the rest of your clothes, hm?” quinn’s fingers toyed with the strap of your tank top. “is…is this weird?” you looked up at him with doe eyes, tears barely forming. he gave you an endearing smile, admiring how cute you looked. “no, we’re all friends here, just wanna take care of you.” he said and you nodded.

quinn carefully helped you out of your tank top and skirt, revealing your lace bra and panties which you tried to cover up in embarrassment. you felt the bed dip behind you, jack and cole approaching on the situation.

you felt like prey underneath their gazes, their eyes burning over your exposed flesh like they were getting ready to devour you, their mouths practically watering

“so pretty…” cole's voice was barely above a whisper as he watched they way trevor traced his fingers closer and closer to your core.

this was extremely wrong, it was dirty. yet you couldn’t help but feel your panties get damper at their ministrations.

trevor looked up at you, tilting his head with a friendly smile, “gonna let us use you, pretty girl?” as he gently pushed open your thighs and you gave him a dazed nod, your response nearly coming out as a whimper, “yes.” you knew what they were doing, you knew that this was extremely perverted and wrong, but you were too far gone.

your lips parted in a soft gasp as you felt his fingers trace over your cunt overtop of your pink panties. you felt so many hands on you, groping at your breasts through your bra, slender hands pulling your thighs open just a bit further.

trevor pushed your panties to the side, toying with your slick before pushing in a single finger, looking up for your reaction. you whimpered, leaning back onto cole’s chest while he placed a small kiss on your temple.

trevor slowly pumped his finger, your arousal growing with the overwhelming amount of stimulation you were receiving from everyone. “so tight…” he mumbled as he stared with amazement before forcing a second and soon third finger. he pumped his digits in and out, earning moans from you that felt like music to their ears. from behind you, jack reached around to toy with your clit, bringing you closer and closer to your orgasm.

tears threatened to fall as you felt the heat pool in your lower stomach, “m…m gonna cum..” you whined, body fighting the way cole hand you down as you squirmed.

“go on baby, it’s okay.” quinn licked at your ear and that was all it took for you to snap, your first orgasm of the night washing over you with an intensity you had never felt before.

“fuck..” luke’s mouth dropped open as he watched your release squirt out onto trevor's tattooed arm, his fingers practically jackhammering into you as he pulled every moan he could from you until you were breathless.

everything felt hazy as they lied you down, they took their time taking off the only fabric that you had left, leaving you fully exposed and vulnerable. you heard some rummaging around but stayed focused on catching your breath.

you dazily watch jack as he climbed on top of you, trailing comforting kisses from your stomach up to your neck. “you okay with this?” he asked as he stroked his cock from below you, positioning it at your fluttering entrance. you nodded frantically and he smirked, “‘course you are.” you felt your stomach drop at the mockery in his voice, but you didn’t have much time to think about it before he pushed into you, taking all the air from your lungs. “fuck baby,” he groaned, letting himself sink fully, tears pricked at your eyes, threatening to fall at the intense stretch.

he didn’t give you time to adjust as he began thrusting into you with fervor, lifting your legs and pressing them to your chest. his fingers dug into your thighs and he pushed them down, leaving bruises onto your delicate skin. “you’re so dirty, y/n.” he grinned from above you and you felt the tears fall, which he quickly kissed away. you could tell he was about to cum when his thrusts became harsher, his cock kissing at your cervix as he let out deep groans.

his gaze flickered from the way your pussy sucked him in, up to your face, cheeks red and stained with tears as you watched him with hooded eyes. “fuckkk,” he breathed out, letting himself shoot his load into you, hips stuttering as he did so.

you let out a whine when he pulled out, feeling his cum drip out of your hole and down to your ass. you don’t even notice when he had switched positions with trevor and cole, the two boys admiring your fucked out expression before taking their turn with you.

“such a pretty little whore.” trevor smiled at you sweetly, a contrast to his degrading words. he flipped you onto your stomach with ease, lifting your hips up so that your ass was flush with his pelvis.

cole positioned himself in front of you, and you knew what he wanted. you stuck your tongue out, looking up at him with doe eyes and he swore he could’ve cum just from the sight. he slapped his cock over your tongue as trevor spread your ass cheeks from behind, getting a better view of your swollen cunt before he lined himself up with your already leaking hole.

you moaned around cole’s cock as trevor thrusted into you, the vibrations sending instant pleasure throughout his body. you steadied yourself by placing your hands on his thick thighs, letting your nails dig into his skin as he let out the prettiest whines.

you let out a squeal when trevor slapped your ass, quickly smoothing his hand over the red mark to soothe the pain. “so filthy,” it didn’t take them long before they came, shooting their loads from both ends.

you had no choice but to swallow cole’s cum when he pushed your head down all the way, nose to pelvis as his body shook in pleasure.

he cupped your face with one hand, stroking your cheek with his thumb as he thanked you, leaving your heart fluttering. trevor placed a kiss onto your back before the two of them moved away, letting quinn take over.

quinn’s eyes scanned you with a look of disapproval and pity. “so messy, baby.” you pouted at his words, he was right though. you had cum and spit leaking at the corner of your mouth, your hair was tousled and your cunt was already stuffed full. he grabbed your tank top that was thrown onto the bed earlier and quickly cleaned you up.

“there we go.” he smiled softly before leaning down to give you a proper kiss on this lips and your eyes fluttered closed, your hands reaching up to tangle themselves in his hair. he trailed his kiss from your mouth down to your breasts, licking and sucking at the reddening skin. “poor baby,” he murmured, “didn’t even get to cum again, hm? it’s okay though, i’m gonna take proper care of you.” he said, a slight dig to the men who had previously used you without any regard for your own pleasure.

he laid you down, dipping his middle finger between your folds, chuckling at the way your hole fluttered, clenching around nothing. “i’ll take care of you.” he soon replaced his finger with his aching cock, pushing into you gently as he hushed your whimpers with a kiss.

“doing so good for us, aren’t you baby?” his hand trailed down to lazily massage at your neglected clit. “q-quinn…” your nails scratched at his back, leaving bright red marks and he hissed at the pleasurable pain, nipping at your collarbones. “it’s okay, i got you baby.” he rocked into you, never ceasing his actions on your clit and you felt your eyes roll to the back of your head as his thrusts deepened. “you gonna cum for me, pretty girl? huh? gonna put on a show on for them?” you whined at his words, squirming underneath him as the heat pooled in your belly.

“k-kiss..” you mumbled and he smiled, “yeah, i got you.” he leaned down and you kissed him deeply, moving your hips up to meet him halfway. “go on baby, let go.” he whispered against your lips when he felt your grip on him tighten, your pussy spasming as you came, him following soon after, pulling out to cum onto the soft skin of your stomach.

your vision was blurry as you came down from your orgasm, body on fire from the consistent stimulation with no break. you felt quinn pepper kiss over your face, “you did so good baby.” he placed on last kiss on your lips, savoring the sweet taste of your saliva, “it’s okay, it’s almost over.” he reassured and you hummed in confusion, before you saw luke standing at the edge of the bed.

you didn’t know if you had it in you, and god he looked big standing there. “luke…” you whimpered as you tried crawling back up the bed, but he grabbed your ankles and pulled you back down.

“m’sorry baby,” he pouted, “you’re gonna let me fuck you, right? it’s only fair. i’m the one who thought you were pretty first.” he said like it was a competition before pushing himself in, your eyes going wide as your body tensed. even though you had been fucked plenty that night, none of them could’ve possible compared to the way luke’s cock was stretching you out.

hot tears fell down your cheeks as he thrusted into you, letting one of his large hands press down onto your lower stomach to feel the bulge of his cock as he fucked you. “too big luke!” you cried, thrashing underneath him and leaned down closer, his cock hitting deeper. “you can take it, know you can.” he grunted, his tip brushing against your cervix and you gripped onto his biceps like he was your lifeline. “luke! s’too much!” you cried and he licked as the salty tears from your face.

he didn’t let up his pace, continuing to fuck into you like he had been dreaming of since he first laid eyes on you at the rink. “my pretty girl...” he cooed as your screams of overstimulation echoed in his ears as he reached places inside you no one had ever reached before.

it wasn’t long before yet another load was dumped into you, your eyes lolling to the back of your head as you let out a silent scream while you came for the final time that night.

the room fell silent, the boys entranced at your fucked out expression, limp on the bed with your skin decorated with their cum.

“fuck, wait till nico sees this.” jack was quick to pull out his phone, snapping a picture of you.

“there’s no leaving us now, baby doll.”

[reysdriver]

Apple Of My Eye | E.M.

You and your coworker Eddie finally do something about your longtime mutual crush when he asks you out after a wild day at work — line cook!eddie x waitress!reader fluff

warnings: customer service nightmares, reader cries over it, I think that's it actually

words: 4.8k

The last thing you heard before shutting the walk-in freezer door behind you was a pan dropping to the floor and Eddie cursing loudly at no one in particular. You sat down with your back against a sack of potatoes beside the vegetable shelf. 

The tears that pricked at your eyes were free to run down your face now that you were in the privacy of the walk-in. It’s always been a good place to cry or scream if you were frustrated at work. 

You were slightly startled by the heavy door opening, but you knew you shouldn’t be; other people worked here too, of course. 

It was Eddie walking in, looking frustrated, though his expression softened when he locked eyes with you. 

“Are you okay? What happened?” He asked, letting the door close as he sat down next to you.

You scooted a bit to make more room for Eddie, but still brushed him off.

“I’m okay.” You sniffled, looking down at your feet. “Don’t you have a whole bunch of orders to fill?”

“You know I’m never too busy for you.” He replied, which earned a smile from you. 

It was a true thing, Eddie would always take the time, even in the busiest of rush hours, to compliment you, or make you a special plate of fries, or just let you know that your makeup had smudged in all the haste. 

He never did it with anyone else, not to the same level, at least. All your coworkers used that as proof that he had a thing for you in the same way that you did for him, but you never believed them. 

“So, what’s wrong, sweetheart?”

There he goes, using that nickname that makes your heart soar. Now how could you not answer him after he asked as nicely as that?

“Some asshole got mad at me ‘cause I forgot he asked for no vegetables on his burger. He was calling me dumb and saying I’m a bad waitress and—”

“You’re not.” Eddie told you. “Don’t listen to him.”

 One look at Eddie’s pretty brown eyes told you he was being completely sincere, but you were still upset. 

“He was so mean, and he was kind of right.” You protested. 

Eddie shook his head. “Trust me, he’s not. You’re the only coworker I can stand, so you must be doing something right. Plus you just got your degree, so you’re not dumb.”

“It was community college, Eddie.”

“More than I have. Are you calling me dumb?” He nudged you slightly as he teased, and he was finally cheering you up. 

“No.” You shook your head, a bashful smile starting on your face. 

“Good.” He smiled too, happy that his mission of cheering you up was complete. “Now, I would wipe your tears, but my hands are probably covered in oil so I’m gonna need you to do it for me, okay?”

You nodded and used your index finger to wipe the tears under your eyes and on your cheeks. 

The line cook had his eyes trained on you when you looked up back at him, your eyes still glossy but your spirits higher. 

“How are you feeling now?”

“Better.” You admitted with a soft smile. “Thank you, Eddie.”

“Anytime, princess.” He attempted to stifle a groan as he stood up, then stopped before opening the metal door. “I’ll tell Robin to cover your tables for a bit, so don’t worry about getting back to work. You can stay here as long as you want.”

After thanking him again, he flashed you a smile before exiting the freezer room. 

You stayed sitting there, replaying the conversation you just had once over in your head. Once you felt you were composed, you dusted off your clothes and reentered the kitchen. 

Though, as soon as you left the freezer, you could hear shouting coming from the front of house and you knew exactly who it was. 

See, after Eddie left the freezer, when you were busy wiping your tears, Eddie rifled through the receipts to find exactly the guy who made you cry. Not that he needed it anyways, it was obvious who the asshole was when he walked out to the tables and saw some angry looking loser picking at his french fries. 

Now Eddie was in the middle of shaming the man in front of the whole diner. 

Customers had their heads turned to watch the public scolding, and all the staff had paused their duties to stare from the sides of the room as well. 

“What the hell’s the matter with you? You’re a grown man and you can’t even bear to pick some tomatoes off your burger? You need to whine about the lingering taste of fuckin’ lettuce and make your poor waitress feel like shit?!” Eddie shouted at the guy you were serving. “You better give her one hell of an apology, you hear me?!”

The man nodded pathetically, clearly shaken by the cook’s rant. He probably couldn’t muster up an agreement even if he tried. 

Robin, who you had stood next to while watching Eddie chew that customer out, turned to you. She hardly looked flustered at all, since she was used to the diner’s usual activities. 

“And you still doubt that he likes you back.” She whispered with a smugly raised eyebrow. 

Eddie looked around the room for a moment and noticed you were there. With an outstretched hand and a soft voice, he beckoned you towards him and the man at the booth. 

“Sweetheart, can you come over here for a second?” He asked, ever so politely. 

You obliged and walked over to him, holding your breath as the threat of crying again was still there. 

Standing at the end of the table, Eddie’s gaze panned from you to the slightly terrified man sitting down. 

“Now’s the time for that apology, dickwad.” Your coworker gritted. 

The man struggled to look you in the eyes as he stuttered out some words of regret. “I’m sorry— Er, I’m sorry for complaining about the burger and saying all that rude stuff, too. I shouldn’t have taken out my anger on you.”

The line cook looked over at you, gauging your reaction. “How was that?”

You nodded and flashed him a tiny smile, then told the customer that you accepted his apology. 

“Good.” Eddie declared. “Now I’ll go make you a plain, boring burger. And if you’re really sorry then this pretty girl better see a damn good tip when you finish your meal, got it?”

The man nodded meekly once again, and Eddie seemed satisfied with that. He walked back on over to the kitchen while you made your way to your other tables, and the rest of the diner resumed eating and conversing—definitely discussing what just happened.

For the rest of his meal, the man was nice to you. Avoidant for sure, but nice nevertheless. And when he paid, he left a whopping twenty dollar tip and left in a hurry. 

Now that the lunch rush was over, you checked the kitchen for Eddie, then Jonathan informed you that he was out back taking a smoke break. 

You thanked him, and headed to the back exit of the building where you knew the cook spent a part of every shift. Sure enough, he was standing right next to the door with a cigarette in hand. 

“Hey, princess,” Eddie said, exhaling a cloud of smoke away from you. “what are you doing back here?”

You smiled at him and fished the twenty dollar bill out of your pocket to display it. “That guy you yelled at left me a pretty nice tip. Here, it’s yours.”

He shook his head and held out a hand to gesture that he couldn’t take it. “No way, you deserve it. Fuckin’ least you should get after having to deal with that asshole.”

You laughed at his dismissal and tried offering again. 

“Come on, you practically mugged that guy to get this money, you have to take it.”

He looked at you with a slight grin, but you couldn’t decide if his expression was that of smugness or entertainment. 

“You can hold out that cash until your wrist falls off, I won’t take your money.”

You let out an exasperated sigh, sincere but still purposefully overdramatic. You put the bill back in your apron and quickly counted out ten ones that you had earned from other tables, then held those out instead. 

“You should at least have half. I can’t let you leave with nothing. If you don’t take it now, I’ll follow you around all day, begging you to take it.” 

Eddie cocked his head to the side and smiled. “As tempting as that is, sweetheart, I can’t steal you away from your job like that. I’ll take that money, but I’ll be spending it on you.” 

Your heart fluttered at Eddie’s flirting, which was far less subtle than usual. You had to bite the tip of your tongue to prevent yourself from grinning ear-to-ear. 

He reached out to take the cash, but he was still grinning mischievously. 

“With my half of the cash, I wanna take you on a date, if you’ll let me.”

Holy shit. You never thought he’d ask. And you had expected even less that he would ask in such a gentlemanly manner. Eddie was the type of guy to accidentally tell his boss to fuck off after coming into work hungover, not use the phrase ‘if you’ll let me’. 

“I’d like that.” You responded, way more chill than you had expected your reaction to be. “Anything you have in mind?”

“You trying to expose the fact that I’ve thought about this before?” Eddie smirked, which in turn caused you to blush even more than before. “What time do you get off work tonight?”

“Seven, and you?”

“Same. We can rent a movie and I can make you dinner at my place?” 

Shit, Eddie thought, I don’t remember the state I left my trailer in. 

He tried recalling how messy he left his home, quickly so he could take back the offer if needed. 

“Yeah, sounds great.” 

Too late now. But as nervous as he was for you to walk into his trailer and see a bunch of dirty dishes and laundry piles, the feeling of glee he felt because you said yes was trumping that a hundred times over. 

“Perfect.” Eddie said, stamping out his burnt cigarette. He opened the door back to the restaurant and held it open so you could go first. “After you.”

“Thanks.” You said, barely able to hide your giddy grin. “I gotta get back to my tables, but I’ll see you at seven.”

You both parted ways with matching smiles, hoping the rest of your shifts fly by faster than usual. For the rest of the day, you seemed to have an extra pep in your step while you waited tables. 

As seven o’clock approached, you passed off all your tables to other coworkers, told Steve and Robin you wouldn’t need a ride home, and headed to the washroom to fix your hair and touch up your makeup. 

Once you were satisfied, you headed to the locker room, where Eddie was standing casually against his own locker. His bored expression morphed into a bright look when he saw you walk in. 

“Hey.” Eddie said as you opened your locker and put away your apron. “Ready to go?” 

You nodded, and he opened the door for you once again. Such a gentleman when he wants to be. 

“So, any movie ideas?” He asked as you both got into his van. 

“Something fun.” You told him. “Maybe something like Ferris Bueller's Day Off or Splash?” 

“Anything you want.”

For the ride over to the video store, you listened to the radio—a station with both pop and rock—and chatted about everything under the sun. 

Once you got to Family Video, you headed towards the comedy section whereas Eddie got distracted by a display of staff picks near the front. He called your name, and you turned around to see him holding up The Texas Chain Saw Massacre with a simper. 

“This can be fun, don’t you think?”

You shook your head. “Not if we’re eating tonight. I’ll throw up everywhere. And that’s not the kind of thing that earns a second date.”

He put it down and walked towards the aisle you were standing in. “So you’re already thinking about a second date, huh?” 

You rolled your eyes and went back to browsing the shelves. Your eyes landed on a familiar favourite, so you grabbed it and held it up to show Eddie. 

“Clue, huh?” He raised an eyebrow. “I thought you said you couldn’t do murder movies?”

“No, I just said I couldn’t do that one. This one is hilarious and agreeable.”

“Alright. Hand it over, I already promised to pay for whatever you want.”

You give the tape to him like he asked and you both walk over to the cashier, a teenager who looked extremely disdainful about his job. Eddie pulled out some of the cash you had made him take earlier and placed it on the counter. 

Once the transaction was over, you thanked both Eddie and the bored worker, then you headed back out to Eddie’s car. 

“So, what meal are you going to spend the remaining five dollars and something cents on?” You asked him, buckling yourself as he rolled out of the parking lot. 

Eddie always hated his seatbelt, but he put it on after you—’cause of that damn new law they put in last year.

“I’ll put that in my pocket and save it for the next date. I already have all I need for dinner at home.”

You hummed, slightly surprised. 

“What?” 

“Nothing.” You shrugged. “I just wouldn’t have pegged you as a chef outside of the diner. You always seem like you’re done with cooking forever when you clock out.”

“You’ve got me there.” Eddie responds. “I only cook at home when it’s for someone else. When I’m alone, my meals are mostly toast and canned pasta.”

“So who else were you planning on cooking for? You said you have all those ingredients.” That was half teasing, half genuinely curious about Eddie’s personal life. 

“My uncle, actually. I cook him dinner once a week, mostly ‘cause it proves to him that I can eat healthy.”

“That’s really sweet.”

“What can I say?” Eddie shrugged dramatically. “I’m just a sweet guy.”

Once you arrived at Eddie’s trailer, he was relieved to open the door and see that his place hadn’t been left in shambles. The place wasn’t as neat as he would like for a first date—especially one with you—but it was good enough. 

“So, this is it.” Eddie said, arms outstretched like a real estate agent. “You want a tour or is that just for stuffy old people?”

“I’ll take a tour.”

Eddie was kind of hoping you didn’t say that. The trailer was small and he was a little embarrassed. But he supposed it was his own fault for asking in the first place. 

“Alright. Here’s the living room, it’s where I smoke and watch TV.” 

You let out a giggle at the bluntness of his tour. He was glad his joke (half-joke) didn’t fall flat. 

“And you can follow me three feet to the kitchen, which is where I make good meals for others and crap for myself.”

He opened a cupboard full of canned food and snacks for the realtor effect, then did the same with the fridge. He waved a hand near it like a magician showing off a box that no longer contains a woman in a sparkly leotard. 

“We can then move on to the bathroom. It’s got a shower with mediocre water pressure, a pretty average toilet, and a sink that’s covered in toothpaste—don’t look at that, actually.”

You kept walking to the only other real room in the trailer, his bedroom. It was about the size of the kitchen area, and it was very distinctly Eddie. All the walls were covered floor-to-ceiling in posters for metal bands and movies he likes, every surface was covered in snack boxes and ashtrays, and he had one incredibly cool guitar hanging in the middle of his wall. 

After staring at the room for so long that you probably had at least one wall memorised, you and Eddie both realised you hadn’t spoken in a while. 

“This is where the magic happens.” Eddie said, not quite as smoothly as he was going for. 

“The magic?” You teased. 

He thought for a second, then clarified. “Not that kind of magic. I just make music and write Dungeons & Dragons campaigns.”

“That can be pretty magical.” You shrugged. 

“Yeah, but not as magical as the dinner I’m about to make for you. If you’re not excited already, you should start.”

You both left his bedroom and Eddie instructed you to relax in the living room and turn on the TV to something you could use as a backdrop while Eddie cooked. 

While he made dinner, you sat comfortably on his couch and chatted with him from the other room. You got to know each other, more than you do at work. Eddie told you about his band and how they play at The Hideout, you told him about your time at community college and your friends outside of the diner. 

“Alright, soup’s on.” Eddie announced, setting two plates on his kitchen table and inviting you over. “Actually, it’s not soup, it’s chicken parm.”

“I appreciate the clarification.” You sat down in the seat closest to you. “It looks good. Smells amazing too.”

And it really was as amazing as it seemed. Although you were no stranger to Eddie’s cooking, all you’ve ever had made by him was diner food. Of course, the diner food was great, but this was another level. You weren’t sure what set it apart; maybe it was just the quality ingredients and lack of yelling while cooking. 

Once your plate was almost empty, Eddie asked if you wanted dessert too. You were slightly confused as you hadn’t seen him make any dessert to go along with the meal, but you agreed anyway. 

“Did you make dessert?” You asked after he stood up. 

“Nope, but I’ve got all the ingredients, so I can make it now.”

“Oh.” You suddenly felt bad, even though he already offered and went through with making you food. “Well, I don’t want to put you out. We can just watch—”

“It’s okay. I don’t have the ingredients for anything fancy. Just the simple stuff.”

That made you feel a little better. You were still curious, but for a different reason now. What could Eddie make quickly to pair with that fantastic dinner. 

You watched as he pulled out Oreos and gummy worms. Was he making a child’s favourite snack as your dessert?

“What are you planning there?” You asked him. 

Then you saw him open the fridge and pull out chocolate pudding cups, then it all clicked in your head. 

Holy shit. Worms and Dirt. 

That was absolutely not what you were expecting, but it was definitely a welcome surprise. 

“I was thinking about just serving up sliced apples and peanut butter along with some cheesy pick-up line like ‘you’re the apple of my eye’, but I figured that would scare you away.” 

“I don’t think that would scare me away.” You told him. “In fact, I would have found it cute. But I’m happy with the pudding.”

Eddie was quite flattered by that, though he tried hard to not let it show. You could definitely see a blush on his cheeks and the corners of his lips turning upwards, as much as he covered it up.

“You ever had Worms and Dirt?” He asked, opening up the Oreo pack. 

“Yeah.” You answered from your seat at the table while he scraped off the cookie filling. “My mom used to make it for me when I was a kid.”

Eddie stopped preparing the food for a second as he turned and gave you a genuine smile. 

“Me too.” 

After that, Eddie went back to making the dessert, the happy expression still lingering on his lips. 

“I’m almost done, do you want to pop the movie in while I’m finishing up?”

You nodded, then waltzed over to the living room to start up Clue. While the opening credits rolled, Eddie took a seat next to you on the couch and spread out a couple bowls and several pudding cups on his coffee table. 

He handed you a spoon and gestured to the setup in front of you two. 

“I figured we could do like a make-your-own thing, just ‘cause I always find one is never enough, and then you can choose your portions, you know?”

You hummed in agreement. “It’s a pretty good idea.”

Eddie then pointed to the bowl in between the cookie crumble and gummy worms. Inside that one was the creme filling he had just scraped out of the Oreos. 

“Oh, and that’s for you.” 

Just like Eddie earlier, you were super flattered but didn’t want to show your cards. You thanked him for saving you the best part, and then the two of you made your desserts and brought your attention to the movie. 

Somewhere along the way while watching it, you and Eddie had moved from your spots on opposite ends of the couch to meeting somewhere in the middle, wrapped up with each other. 

You were pressed against his side with a hand on his back and an arm around his abdomen. He had his arm slung around your shoulder, and you liked it. He liked it too. And truth be told, you had both pictured yourself before in this exact position—among others. 

As Wadsworth dramatically ran through each murder and event of the night, Eddie subtly looked down to see your entertained expression trained on the TV screen. 

Even though Eddie quite liked the movie you were watching, he liked you more. He was trying to think of a way to make a bigger move on you instead of actually paying attention. 

He was about to do it too. Just as his hands started to wander, there was a knock at his front door that caused you both to back off of each other and turn your heads that way. 

“It’s probably just some kid looking for weed. I’ll be back in a second, you don’t need to pause it.” Eddie told you as he stood up.

“Okay. Hurry up or you’ll miss the ending!” You told him. 

He opened the door and sure enough, it was a kid looking for weed. Some high schooler, maybe seventeen years old. In one hand, he had a couple crumpled bills, and the other one was in his pocket. 

“Someone told me to come here for… stuff.” The kid said to Eddie. 

“Okay, how much do you want?” Eddie replied. 

The boy looked confused, thinking it through. 

“I don’t know.” He finally answered. “I was just told to bring money.” 

“Okay, well I’ve got someone over and you’re wasting my time a little bit. How about you just hand me that money, and I’ll bring you whatever that’s worth?”

“Okay.” 

The kid handed over the cash and Eddie told him to stay at the door while he counted the money and walked over to his bedroom. 

He came out with a small baggie in his hand and flashed you a quick apologetic grin before facing the kid again. 

“There you go. Enjoy.” 

Eddie shut the door behind him and walked back to the couch to sit with you again, just as the movie was wrapping up. 

“I’m sorry about that. I was hoping tonight could go interrupted, but that’s never the case, right?” 

“Yeah, it’s alright. I didn’t know you still dealt.”

The staff at the diner was pretty close-knit, and you had heard lots about Eddie selling drugs in high school, but you had figured that was in the past. You weren’t judging, though. People do what they can to pay the bills—you were both working in a diner at the edge of your crappy town, you know all about that. 

“I don’t really. Just from time to time, I guess.” Eddie shrugged. “Does that bother you?”

“No. Everyone’s gotta do what they can in life. I don’t have a problem, as long as you’re okay with it.” 

“Cool.”

You both just looked at each other for a second, not sure what to say now. Eddie missed the perfect opportunity to make the move he wanted to make on you earlier, and now the movie was over. 

You both silently cursed yourself for not doing what you really wanted to do earlier, but the mood was interrupted by a kid at the door wanting to get high. 

Although you wanted to stay at Eddie’s place for longer, you knew the night was coming to a natural end. 

“I should probably get home soon. I have work in the morning.” 

Eddie was mentally kicking himself for not doing anything earlier, but he definitely wasn’t going to try and convince you to stay since he was aware how that could make him seem. 

“Yeah, okay. I can drive you home.” He stood up and grabbed his car keys from the counter. “You know, Steve’s probably already getting his beauty sleep or something.”

You thanked Eddie and strolled over to him, who was holding the door open for you. 

The two of you walked out to his van, and you slid into the same seat where you had begun the evening. Eddie sat down next to you and flashed you a quick smile before starting the car. 

The ride back to your place was, for the most part, quiet and awkward; it was a sad change from the chemistry you were feeling just an hour ago. 

When you arrived back home, Eddie stopped the car, but you spoke before you got out and the night would be officially over. 

“Thanks for tonight, Eddie. I think we should do this again.”

He looked flustered for a moment. It was no more than a second, but you caught it anyway.

“Well, thanks for saying yes, sweetheart. Are you doing anything Sunday?”

“I have a shift in the morning, but I’m done by the early afternoon.”

“Perfect.” Eddie smiled. “I’ll think of something for us to do then.”

You unbuckled your seatbelt as you badly masked a grin. 

“Okay. It’s a date.”

Eddie opened the door on his side, and so you followed suit. 

“You want me to walk you back?” Eddie offered. 

You stood a foot and a half away from Eddie beside his van and looked back to your apartment building. 

“Steve and Robin are probably pressed against the peephole right now, so I don’t know.”

Eddie ran his hand through his hair and shook his head amusedly. “Ah, I see. You’ve already got people looking out for you?”

You hummed, biting your lip softly. 

“So…” You trailed off. 

“So?” Eddie raised an eyebrow. 

That’s when you finally took your chance. You leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Eddie’s cheek, just by the corner of his mouth. 

You backed away, and Eddie seemed flustered but happy, so you knew it went well. 

“Thanks again. I’ll see you at work, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Eddie said quietly. “See you.”

It wasn’t often that Eddie flustered like that. Usually he was calm and collected, or at least yelling, if we’re talking about being in the kitchen at the diner. But very rarely did Eddie blush, and that’s exactly what he did after you kissed him. 

He guessed that it made a lot of sense that you could be the one to make him feel things that no one else can. 

Eddie watched as you walked over to the front of your building and gave him a wave before going inside. His thoughts were moving so fast, he can’t even remember if he waved back. Damn, he hopes he waved back. 

Then, as soon as you were inside and you were both out of each other’s sight, Eddie had to let out his excitement. He took a step out and threw his head forward, shouting at the top of his lungs. 

He stopped the moment he realised you might be able to hear him, and quickly went back into his van. Then he started shouting inside the privacy of those metal walls. 

Eddie was really excited about seeing you tomorrow. 

Little to Eddie’s knowledge, you were just as excited as him, if not even more.