#don’t worry Monty didn’t get to eat the chocolate

[cuntycassandra]

happy love letters night!! 💌

HI SUMMER I LOVE U AND I LOVE HOT DOG AND UR ACCENT IS SO PRETTY DONT LET ANYINE SAY OTHERWISE I LOVE U SO VERY MUCH OK BYEEEEE

Hey Bee!! Thank you!!! Happy love letter night!!!

Hot dog and I love you sm!!! Keep slaying!! You’re perfect and we wouldn’t change you for the world!

[ri-ahhh]

hi can you write about spending a valentine’s day with gray pls?

valentine’s day smut w/ gray? + more haha sorry couldn’t put them all in

A/N: I’m sorry this is a day late. It was supposed to be 90% smut but somehow it took on a mind of its own and turned into this monster.

warnings: smut, extremely cheesy, way too long

***

It should be a given understanding that Valentine’s Day is the dumbest, most antiquated, overrated holiday that’s ever existed. That had always been your take on it, even as a little kid — the worry of spelling your classmates’ names correctly on cards imprinted with cheesy Scooby Doo and Spongebob puns; the expectation to dress up nice in the hopes you would get asked to be someone’s Valentine in the hallways of middle school; the potential embarrassment of being the only person in class who didn’t get bought one of those stupid roses from a ‘secret admirer’ in high school.

There’s simply too much pressure surrounding the idea of professing your love or even your mere fondness for anyone and everyone in your life. The fear of rejection if you do, and the judgement if you don’t. It had always made you anxious, whether you had someone to share the day with or not.

But this Valentine’s Day, as a young twenty-something, you were actually (secretly) looking forward to it. Conner was your first adult relationship, with the title of ���boyfriend’ and ‘girlfriend’ and labels and commitment. He’s cute and smart and charming and yours. So, sue you if you were quietly anticipating wearing that SavageXFenty set beneath a brand new dress while you went to dinner after being greeted at the door with roses and a box of chocolates.

And yet here you are, on February 14th, hood of your sweater drawn over your head as you rummage through your freezer with a clear target in your mind. Your eyes are blurry and swollen, but you find the pint of birthday cake Nada Moo with ease, and you slam the freezer door closed a little harder than you really mean to as soon as it’s in your grasp.

You’ve just popped the lid off when your phone buzzes on the kitchen counter where you’ve plopped down to eat your depression snack in a more acceptable place than your bed or the couch.

You see Grayson’s name accompanied by a goofy, up-close picture of him smiling filling the screen, and hesitate. He’s one of your best friends, and clearly done nothing wrong, but you’re not sure you’re capable of handling anyone of the male species right now after...everything.

At the end of the day, though, it’s Grayson. He knows heartbreak almost better than anyone, and you’ve coached him through it on more than one occasion. Maybe he can spew back some of your own advice if it comes to that.

You swipe the bar at the bottom of the screen, and your ceiling suddenly replaces the image of his silly, handsome face. “Sup?”

“Yo. Am I interrupting anything? Sorry, just remembered what day it is.”

You swallow. “Uh no, you’re not.”

“What’s wrong?”

You bite your lip hard, digging your spoon into the softened ice cream. Was it that obvious just from your voice that you had been upset? Or does he just know you that well?

“Nothing.”

“You sound like you’ve been crying.”

“I’m fine.”

“Don’t lie. Let me see your face.”

There’s a beat of silence, and you concede. “No. I’ve been crying.”

He’s quiet, and you can’t bring yourself to look at his own face in the corner of the screen. You shove the chunk of ice cream past your lips, and after a moment he says with a softer tone, “Crying on Valentine’s Day is never a good sign.”

You’re glad that you’ve gotten so much of your tears out already, because you feel the inevitable prickle behind your eyes that would have been full-blown waterworks a few hours ago. You scoop another bite. “Conner cheated on me — has been, cheating on me. I found out last night.”

Grayson sighs your name, and something about the genuine sympathy in his voice makes you even more emotional. “Fuck. I’m so sorry. What a piece of shit.”

You shrug even though he can’t see, and sniffle past the lump in your throat. “It’s whatever. I’m still in shock more than anything. Hurts like hell, though, still. I let him have it when I saw the texts and he hasn’t tried to call me once. No texts. Nothing.”

He’s silent, but it’s that raging silence you know oh so well from him. It doesn’t happen often, but anyone who knows Grayson Dolan knows that when his volume comes down, he means business. A loud and obnoxious Grayson is a happy one, but a brooding and quiet one means serious business.

“Do you want me to go beat his ass? I’ll do it.”

A smile cracks your scowl before you know it, and you shake your head. “No thanks, Gray. As much as I’d love to see that happen, I like your face the way it is. And not on a mugshot.”

He chuckles a little, and you feel your chest lift some just hearing the familiar depth of it. “Well, do you at least want me to come over later? I totally get if you need to be alone, but I know from experience sometimes what helps the most is having good friends around.”

You’re a little surprised. “You don’t have a date?”

“Nope.”

“No one from the roster hitting you up?”

“I don’t have a roster,” he argues playfully, but you both know that’s a lie, if not at least a stretch of the truth. “And even if I did, you’re more important. Always.”

You sigh and take another bite. His words make your neck tingle and your toes wiggle, but you ignore it; your brain is full of confusion as it is. “That makes one man in my life who thinks so, I guess.”

You finally prop your phone up against the fruit basket sitting in the middle of your bar so he can see you. Grayson takes in your image, which admittedly must look kind of pathetic, and you watch his jaw clench and release in a way that you can’t deny is utterly sexy.

“Is an hour okay? Tell Vanessa to come, too.”

“Benito took her to Tulum for the weekend,” you say, referring to your best friend and her boyfriend. “She did threaten to get on a plane and come home early for me, though.”

Grayson grins crookedly, but his jaw is still tight. “Well, tell her you’re in good hands. See you in an hour?”

You give it one last quick consideration; you already feel this much better just talking to him on the phone. Nothing bad could come from him being in your apartment, and you trust him. “Yeah, that’s fine. But just so you know, I’m already at the stage of eating ice cream at 10:30 AM.”

“Did you forget you’re talking to the emotional ice cream eating champion? No judgement here.”

You finally let out a giggle, your spirits officially lifted. “I’ll see you soon.”

**

True to his word, Grayson arrives at your door about an hour later, his arms laden with milkshakes from Monty’s, a gift bag decorated all over with sparkly hearts, and a gorgeous bouquet of flowers.

You’re stunned. The only thing you’d managed to do in the time it took him to get here was take a quick shower in attempts to rid your face of some of the puffiness, throw on some shorts this time with a fresh hoodie, and toss the used tissues scattered around your place into the garbage.

Before you can say anything, he holds out the flowers. “They were out of roses. But I know you like pink.”

You reach out for them slowly, eyes wide, your fingers brushing his when you grasp the plastic wrapping. His cheeks are a similar color to the petals, and it makes both your heart and your lips smile.

“Peonies are my favorite,” you say truthfully. “And yes, especially pink ones. Thank you, Gray.”

“You’re welcome,” he says, sounding relieved.

As he crosses the threshold of your door, he leans down to kiss your cheek, and you can’t help but hum quietly and pull him in for a hug. “That gift better not be for me, either,” you mumble into his chest.

Grayson pulls back, his eyes sparkling, but keeps you close with an arm wrapped loosely around your shoulders. “Oh, this? No, this is for my other best friend I’m trying to cheer up on Valentine’s Day.”

You slap his arm playfully, and lead him into your kitchen, pulling out a vase from the cabinet beneath your sink for the flowers.

The bag has a few gifts in it: a new Comfy (“I remembered you ruined yours when that ketchup bottle exploded all over you the other day”); a huge bag of watermelon sour patch kids (“I know they’re your favorite. Also ice cream gives you brain freeze after the first pint or so, trust me”); and a heart shaped box of your favorite chocolates (“you can eat them or burn them, I wasn’t sure which you’d appreciate more but either is fine with me.”)

You appreciated all of it, more than he would ever understand. All you can do is fling yourself at him weakly, completely overwhelmed. “Fuck you, you’re gonna make me cry all over again.”

Grayson envelops you in those huge, muscular arms, cooing behind that laugh you love so much. “Is that a really backwards way of saying thank you?”

You grunt in affirmation, and with you still wrapped up in his arms, he starts waddling the two of you back the short distance into your living room.

“Here,” he says, coaxing you down into the blanket nest you had created on the couch. “You chill and find a movie. I’ll make popcorn.”

You do, and he does, and the next few hours are spent lounging about in your apartment. Having him here with you is doing wonders from keeping your mind from going down the paths you’d been spiraling towards ever since you saw the messages between Conner and no less than four other girls on Snapchat. You don’t believe in snooping, but finding the first one had been an accident when he received the snap while you had his phone, and your finger happened to press the icon at just the right moment. 

In your eyes, though, the image of one pair of tits that weren’t your own was enough justification to see what else you could find. 

“I hate to admit it, but I’m kind of relieved,” you told Grayson a while later, Shrek playing on the TV quietly. He’s sitting next to you, far enough apart for there to be couch space between the two of you, but close enough to share the oversized blanket thrown over your laps. “Obviously what he did is so fucking shitty and I’m not justifying it in any way, but I can be honest with myself now and realize I wasn’t in that relationship for the right reasons. There wasn’t anything there emotionally at the end of the day.”

“You still have every right to feel hurt by what he did, though. It’s a huge violation of trust,” Grayson assures, reaching out and squeezing your hand gently.  

You squeeze back and grimace at him. “Yeah.” You let out a little mirthless laugh and shake your head, heat flooding your cheeks. “It’s so embarrassing, too. And finding out the day before Valentine’s, no less. Like, I just wanted to look cute, have a nice dinner, have some nice sex, and just... I don’t know. Have an actual Valentine’s day for once. No pressure or anxiety or anything.”

Grayson stares at you in that way he does — so intense and almost intimidating if there wasn’t a genuine warmth behind it. You’re suddenly aware of his thumb brushing the back of your hand slowly. He squeezes your fingers again. 

“So, let’s do it, then. You and me.”

You arch a brow at him, smiling at the rosiness in his cheeks when he realizes what he might have implied. “The dinner part, I mean. And the dressing up. Even though I think you look plenty cute right now.”

You roll your eyes, but for the countless time that day, your heart flutters happily. Looking back, you can’t remember the last time Conner had complimented your appearance, let alone after hours of crying and lazing around in sweats, sugar crystals stuck to the corner of your lip. 

“That would be great, except there’s no way we’re getting into any restaurant at this point,” you remind him. “Probably no delivery, either.”

“I’ll cook for you,” he counters, throwing the blanket off his legs and standing up with a groan. He stops to stretch, and the way his arms go over his head makes his shirt ride up at the bottom, exposing a chunk of hard muscles and golden skin. 

You swallow, eyes trailing up the rest of his torso appreciatively. “I don’t have much.”

He’s already rummaging through your pantry, though, and pulls out a half-full box of pasta, a jar of marinara sauce, and a leftover chunk of sourdough bread. “You got salad stuff?”

You nod, and he opens the fridge to find some lettuce, peppers, and other salad fixings before setting them with the pasta ingredients on the counter. “Go get dressed, look as cute or not cute as you want. I’ll take care of this.”

He’s absolutely unreal. “Gray-”

Grayson holds up his hand. “Ah, no, I’m doing this. You deserve it. Also, I’m hungry. It’s a win-win.”

Your stomach growls as well, and that’s all the convincing you need. While he gets busy in the kitchen, you tidy up the living area some before heading to your room. You feel a little silly, making your third outfit change of the day, but you also like the giddiness in the pit of your belly at the thought of Grayson doing all of this for you. You might as well take advantage of having someone like him in your life. Show him some Valentine’s appreciation of your own.

You forgo the slinky red number you had planned to wear to the restaurant with Conner, and opt instead for a rather unsuspecting blouse-jeans combo, which happen to both respectively frame your tits and ass perfectly.

The lacy, bright pink set in the back of your closet might have made it beneath your clothes, though. The prettiness of it made you feel that much better, even if no one else was going to see it.

Maybe.

Padding back into your kitchen after running a flat iron through your hair and throwing on some concealer, mascara, and lip gloss, you find Grayson draining the pasta into a colander in the sink. 

Grayson does a double-take when he sees you standing there admiring the flex of his bicep as he holds the pot. “Hey! You look amazing.”

“If you say so,” you joke, bumping his hip with yours as. You pass him to pull plates and bowls out of the cabinet.

“I do,” he insists quietly.

Arm outstretched mid-reach, you look over at him, locking eyes with his hazel ones. He looks a little surprised by the words that left his mouth, like he meant for them to stay inside his head. There must be some kind of challenge in your gaze, daring him to elaborate.

He busies himself with the pasta again hastily, his voice low. “Conner is a fucking idiot. To do that to you. To let you go. You don’t deserve that. Especially not today.”

Plates in hand, you rest them gently on the counter with your lower lip caught between your teeth, and peer over at this handsome man you’re so proud and lucky to call your best friend. He’s everything you thought Conner was — cute and smart and charming — but so much more — beautiful and good and kind.

And he’s been right here in front of you the whole time.

You reach out and touch his elbow softly. The hairs on his forearm are crisp but soft, and you follow them down to that gleaming watch on his wrist.

“You know,” you start quietly, fingers tracing the links of the band before flipping his hand over to trace the lines of his palm, “you keep talking about what I deserve today. But you deserve all that and more. You deserve someone’s love that matches your own.”

He watches your delicate fingers on his large, calloused palm, then trails his eyes up to yours when he feels their attention on his face. A piece of hair flops into his eyes, and you reach up without thinking or any hesitation to push it away again with a little smile playing on your glossy lips.

You look down and lay your palm flat against his, admiring the difference in size between your hands for a moment before interlocking your fingers with his.

“I love you.”

Your eyes flit up to his in surprise; he beat you to the words.

“In case that wasn’t obvious,” Grayson continues, turning towards you. “And I hope that’s not too much for you to handle, with everything you’ve had hap-”

“I love you too, Gray,” you interrupt, stepping that much closer to him so you’re nearly chest-to-chest with him.

“Yeah?” He sounds almost boyish in his astonishment, and it makes you want to hold him tight and never let go.

“Yeah,” you giggle. “A lot. I’m sorry it took me getting dumped to realize it.”

He shakes his head, his hand resting on your cheek gently. “Can I kiss you?”

You nod once before he’s swiftly ducking down to claim your lips with his. They’re soft and pliable, and you feel their effects from the nerves in your scalp all the way down to your bare toes.

“Grayson,” you breathe, lashes fluttering open as he pulls back just enough to look at you concernedly.

You smile, bigger and brighter than you have all day, and cup his stubbled cheeks with your hands, scratching your nails gently against his jaw. “I just wanted to say your name.”

Grayson grins now, too. He kisses you more insistently now that he’s got the taste of you on his tongue, which he flicks against the underside of your top lip as he breaks the kiss. “Say it again.”

“Make me,” you challenege, voice breathy and excited, eyes closed as you savor his sweet breath against your lips. “In my room.” You feel him tense up a bit, and you open your eyes to meet his questioning gaze, biting back a smile at the inevitable hope also shining there. “I’m sure.”

With that, Grayson hauls you up into his arms, and you wrap your legs around his waist with a squeal as he buries his face into your neck. He starts making the way to your bedroom, cooked food left long forgotten in the kitchen behind you.

“Are you wearing my signature scent?” he asks, inhaling your skin deeply.

“Mmhm,” you hum, threading your fingers through the back of his thick hair. It’s so long again, and you give the dark strands a sharp tug that makes him grunt. “Part one of my gift to you. Since you got so many for me today.”

“Part one, huh?” he says, crossing the threshold of your room. “What’s part two?”

“What I’m wearing underneath this,” you whisper in his ear, giggling loudly when he lies you down on the bed with more of a toss than he might have intended. “If you want it, that is.”

He looks at you like you’ve lost your mind at the mere suggestion that he wouldn’t, and you take that as enough encouragement to tug at the bow tying your forest green silk wrap blouse together.

The folds part open and expose your chest, clad in that pink lace demi-cup bra with the cage detailing over the tops of your breasts. Grayson moans and dips down to nuzzle your cleavage, breathing in the scent of your warm skin. His hands trail up your sides, from your hips to your rib cage, until they settle in the dips of your waist. His touch ignites you, makes your back arch and your hips grind up against his thigh between your legs, just from the sensation of his hands on these new parts of your body.

“Grayson,” you sigh, and he smirks up at you with his chin on your tits when he realizes that’s all it took for you to say his name again.

You grab his cheeks and kiss that smugness away, shifting your legs so they’re wrapped around his waist once again, pushing down on the small of his back to get your centers to meet.

Both of you gasp into each other’s mouths when his erection rubs against your pussy, even through all the layers of clothing still on your bodies. You reach down blindly, still attacking his mouth with yours, and feel around for his belt.

His pants come off, followed by yours, and he sits you up enough to push your blouse off your shoulders rather gently considering the intensity of everything. Once the garment is tossed over his shoulder, you’re down to nothing but that pretty lingerie and he in his boxer briefs.

There’s a moment of pause and clarity for the two of you, staring into one another’s eyes as the reality hits of what you’re about to do. What it means to both of you. Grayson stares down at you, and places a hand over your rapidly thumping heart.

“Beautiful,” he says quietly, dragging his hand up your chest, over your throat, until he’s cupping you’re cheek and stroking your lip with his thumb.

You smile in return, then part your lips with your eyes locked on his, encouraging him silently to slip that digit in your mouth.

Grayson’s eyes darken, and he offers you his pointer finger instead, swallowing hard when you suck and swirl your soft, wet tongue around it.

Suddenly, he’s rolling the two of you over, switching positions so he’s on his back and you straddle him. You smile happily, taking your turn to duck down and attach your lips to the pulse point his neck, grinding down on his cock with a slow, steady rhythm.

“You’re so amazing, Gray,” you tell him, nipping at the lobe of his ear before kissing the underside of his chin. “Can’t believe you’re all mine now.”

“Can’t believe you’re mine,” he growls back, cursing when you trail your kisses down the center of his body, giving each one of those moon’s their own special attention before continuing down.

When you get to the waistband of his underwear, you trail your tongue on the edge of the elastic and watch his abs contract with each shaky breath he takes. One little move of your hands, and you’ll finally get to see what he’s really packing.

But before you can even hook your fingers there to pull down, he’s tugging on your hair. “Fuck, fuck, c’mere. Please.”

You pout, but follow his lead, licking back up his muscular torso until he’s able to drag you to him for a deep, wet kiss.

“Sit on my face,” he demands, shuffling down on the pillow to make more room for you.

That takes you off guard. “But—”

“Do it. Please. I fucking have to taste you.”

Your body must be working ahead of your brain, because before you know it, you’re straddling Grayson’s face, his tongue is sweeping through the wetness in your slit, and his dark eyes are peering up at you from between your thighs.

“Oh... oh!” you cry out when his tongue starts flicking against your clit. He goes back to swiping up all your arousal, then suctions his lips around your clit. He’s using one hand to hold the lace of your thong aside, and the other dips first one finger, then two inside of you. “Oh, fuck, that’s so good...”

Grayson moans, the vibrations erupting around your clit and sending you right to the edge already. You reach back and palm his cock, rock hard in his underwear still, and squeeze as he makes you cum all over his mouth.

He gets his fill of your cum as he groans and keeps up the motion of his fingers, the pressure of his lips, the softness of his tongue as your pussy pulses with each contraction of your orgasm. You wait for him to start letting up, but something about the way he’s working you just makes those waves stay steady rather than die down again. Maybe that’s his intention, because when you drop your head down to look at him with your mouth wet and agape, there’s a sparkling mischief in his eyes has he eats you out like his last meal.

Your hips grind against his face of their own accord, and you delve one hand in his hair while the other supports you on the headboard. You gasp out a quivering, breathless laugh as it all becomes just too much, and you try to lift off his mouth.

Grayson isn’t having it, though. He wraps his arms around your thighs and holds you down, reveling in the moans and whimpers and squeals as he makes you cum again.

“Oh my god — enough, enough, I can’t...” you whine, shoving on his forehead until he releases you and drops his head to the pillow. You could already see it by the crinkles in the corners of his eyes, but he’s smirking wide, chest heaving as you slink your way down his body.

You collapse next to him in a daze, and he rolls on top of you smoothly, peppering little kisses to your cheeks, your jaw, your nose. When you’re back in your right mind, you nudge blindly at his face so his lips find yours. He tastes like your pussy, and you sigh happily as you lift your heavy arms to wrap around his neck while his scoop beneath you, holding you close.

You continue to indulge in each other for a while, in the kisses you hadn’t been allowed to share until now. There’s something exciting about his familiarity and yet also this strange newness that has you absolutely desperate for him in every way.

“This is crazy,” you say when you pull back for air, studying his face hovering right above yours. You push back that stubborn chunk of hair that keeps falling into his eyes with a soft smile. “How did we end up here?”

Grayson turns his head to press his lips to your palm. “I don’t know. Is it too much? Should we stop?”

You shake your head vehemently, and he grins. “No, please. I think I just have to grasp that you’re really... mine now.”

He chuckles. “How do you think I felt watching you with that loser for five months?”

The mention of Conner makes you feel nothing — nothing other than gratitude for Grayson, that is. You slide your hands down his back, over his ribs, across his abs until your hand cups his dick.

His hips thrust into your touch, and you grin up at him demurely as you finally delve your hand past his waistband until you’ve got his length completely in your grasp.

He’s hot and hard and thick, and you start stroking him just to gauge the reaction in his face. He doesn’t disappoint, his jaw gaping open slightly, his breaths picking up, a flush rising to the apples of his cheeks.

Without warning, he reaches down and grasps your wrist. You pout, but he asks hastily. “Are we gonna have sex?”

You smirk. “Hell yeah.”

Grayson grins and shakes his head. “Alright, then you gotta stop.”

“Already?” you tease, letting him sit back and hook his fingers in the tiny string of your thong at your hips.

He gives you a look as he pulls the scrap of lace down your legs, then stands to push down his own underwear. Your mouth waters at the sight of him, and you wish he’d let you blow him some before you hit the main event, but he says, “I’ve wanted you for too long to take any chances about screwing up the first time.”

You melt a little, reaching for him as he climbs back on the bed. “There should be some condoms in the drawer there. Just to be safe after... you know.”

He nods and dips down to kiss you before leaning over to riffle through the top drawer of your nightstand. He comes back with a purple square, which you take from him.

“Gotta practice an activity safely,” you wink, tearing open the condom and rolling it down his shaft quickly.

“Shut up.” Grayson rolls his eyes, but smiles softly as he settles between your legs just right. “I love you.”

“I love you,” you whisper, gasping as he starts to sink inside you.

“Oh, fuck,” he whimpers as your walls suck him in and grip him tight.

He goes slow for a couple of minutes, allowing both of you time to adjust to each other. He stretches you out so much better than anyone you’ve ever been with, and you can’t help but clench around him when you see those tattoos and smell his cologne and hear his voice — all things that remind you that this is Grayson fucking you.

He growls the first time you do it, then sits up hastily, pulling his face out of your neck when you do it again. He tucks his knees beneath him, sits on his heels, and hauls your hips into his lap as the speed of his thrusts picks up incrementally. Until he’s fucking you for real, and your tits bounce in your bra with every upstroke.

You shove an arm beneath your pillow, enunciating the curves of your body, and watch his expressions as he fights to hold back. His hair is disheveled, lip caught tight between his teeth and muffling his deep, satisfied sounds that mingle with your open higher-pitched ones. He catches your eye and his hands on your hips grip you so tight for a moment that you’re sure little bruises will be there in the morning — not that you mind.

“Fuck,” he whispers harshly before slowing his hips and shifting down to give you a deep, sloppy kiss. “Turn over.”

You moan into his mouth, then follow his order, rolling onto your front as soon as he pulls out. You expect him to haul your hips up into the air, but he moves your hair off your neck and trails sweet kisses from shoulder to shoulder, his hand sweeping down the subtle curve of your back until he’s gripping your ass.

Grayson’s hand moves down your thigh and pushes it up and out once he’s cupping the back of your knee. The angle encourages you to twist your upper half until you have sight of him once again in all his angled, sweaty, muscular glory.

“Fuck me, baby,” you beg him, already anticipating the fullness inside you again. Needing it.

“Want me to fuck you?” he asks needlessly, pushing into your pussy once again. You moan loudly, either in confirmation or from pure pleasure, it doesn’t matter. The angle is tighter, the tip of his dick hitting a spot so perfectly accurate inside of you that you can’t concentrate on anything other than how good he’s making you feel. “Yeah. So fucking sexy. So beautiful...”

“Gray.. oh fuck yes, right there,” you whimper, catching onto his arm as he leans over you and gives you those hard, steady strokes.

“Open your eyes, baby, lemme see them when you cum,” he growls out.

You open them as much as you can, your vision blurry, but you can still make out those handsome features soaking in the pleasure on your face. Watching and waiting for you to get yours so he can get his.

As soon as you’re clenching like a vice around him, Grayson is letting go into the condom. You can vaguely feel the throb of him as he cums in spurts, the sound of his masculine, drawn-out groans making you shiver and tense up even more on his dick. If it’s possible for anyone to sound as sexy as they look, Grayson achieves that in spades.

He collapses on the bed next to you, and you have just enough strength to roll over until he’s got you gathered in his arms. You nuzzle into his chest and try to process everything. You had been hoping for nice sex today, and instead you got the best sex of your life.

After a few minutes of comfortable silence while you both catch your breath, after he pulls and ties off the condom, you smile into his cooling skin with a satisfied sigh.

“Thank you for making this the best Valentine’s Day of my life. Especially after it was starting to look like the worst.”

“You made this the best day of my life, period,” he says, kissing your forehead. “Happy Valentine’s Day, sweetheart.”

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Gray.”

[dinosaurtsukki]

OMG CONGRATULATIONS YOURE SO COOL WELL DONE🥰🥰❤️you deserve everything!!! can i please have prompt 124 with sugawara hehe bc istg that’s acc me when i’m into someone i will just stare like 👁👄👁and when they stare back i’m like 🦋🦋 (or if it’s a pretty girl and she smiles🥺🥺) AGSJSGS ANYWAY I LOVE YOU💓

NEEEMSSS ILY AND U DESERVE EVERYTHING TOO U VERY GORGEOUS HUMAN BEING!! ummm,, i also kind of based this on us as friends if we were in the same country and hung out a lot so i hope u like it <3 <3 (altho i’ll still be naming reader y/n and the friend f/n) 

Sugawara + 124

124. “I’m sure I can get some kind of sexual gratification from just staring at him if I try hard enough.”

“You’ve been staring at him for like, three whole minutes.”

“Is it obvious?”

“You’re dripping ice cream on the table.”

“Ah, shit!” you looked down and true enough there was a messy splotch of bright pink, melted bubblegum ice cream on the table that had fallen off from your spoon. 

“Don’t worry, Mr. Hot Ice Cream Man probably didn’t see it because if he looked back at you, you would practically jump in your seat,” your friend snickered at you. “Why don’t you just talk to him?”

“Because he’s the most beautiful man I’ve ever met,” you replied, eyes drifting up to watch the silver-haired man who worked at the ice cream parlor on afternoons from Thursdays to Saturdays. 

“One large scoop of cookie dough ice cream,” the beautiful man smiled as he handed a customer their order. You had figured out his name was Sugawara when you stopped staring at his face every time you ordered and actually read his name tag. After serving the ice cream, he took his scoop back, twirling it slightly with his long slender fingers, before scooping some strawberry ice cream. 

“I wish I was that ice cream scoop,” you sighed. 

“You can’t get into his pants if you just keep dragging me here every week,” your friend said. “Even though I do thank you for treating me to the ice cream, as you should.”

“Your weird ice cream,” you added, raising an eyebrow at the contents of their cup.

“Hey, mint-chocolate chip ice cream didn’t do anything to you,” f/n cupped their hands around their ice cream protectively. “Now stop changing the subject. Just go talk to Mr. Hot Ice Cream Man because I’m pretty sure he’s caught on to why we’re always here.”

“I’m sure I can get some kind of sexual gratification from just staring at him if I try hard enough,” you said stubbornly. 

“Fine, suit yourself,” your friend held their hands up in surrender and stood up from the table. “I’m going to get water.”

You were too busy going back to stare at Sugawara to realize that your friend was going to ask for water when you were basically the one who brought an extra water bottle for them wherever you went. And by then, it was too late because they were talking to Sugawara, clearly not ordering water, and pointing at where you sat. 

“No, no, no,” you muttered to yourself, feeling like a deer in the headlights when Sugawara looked back at you. To add to your horror, your friend waltzed away, blowing you a kiss before entering the bathroom, and Sugawara slid out from behind the counter and began walking towards you. 

And then, Mr. Hot Ice Cream Man sat in front of you at the table. Seeing him up close and fully regarding you, not just to ask you for your ice cream order, stole the breath from your lungs. 

“U-um, hi,” you squeaked.

“Hey yourself,” Sugawara smiled, folding his hands on the table. “So, your friend there told me about why you’ve actually been coming here quite often.”

“They’re crazy! I swear!” you protested. “I mean, who orders mint chocolate ice cream consecutively for weeks?”

“Well, you’ve got a point there,” Sugawara made a face at the empty ice cream cup that f/n ate from. “But, you do admit that you’ve been coming here ‘consecutively for weeks,’” he said, quoting you. You bit your lip, knowing that you were pretty much trapped, but at the same time, you didn’t quite imagine how smooth Sugawara would be at talking. It thrilled you and put some of that nervous edge away.

So, you leaned closer, propping your chin with both hands with a playful smile on your face. “And, what if I am?” you asked. Sugawara’s eyes widened a fraction at the sudden change in your tone but a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. 

“Well, don’t think I haven’t noticed you too,” Sugawara chuckled, the sound sending a shiver through your spine. “In case you want to do something other than eat ice cream, I get off at four.”

You felt blood rush to your face. Did Mr. Hot Ice Cream Man that you’ve been staring at for weeks just ask you out? You were ecstatic, but also not wanting him to win in this game of who could keep their cool, you maintained an even tone as much as possible.

“I’ll check my schedule,” you nodded.

“Great,” Sugawara smiled. And then, out of the blue, he licked his thumb and rubbed at something on the corner of your mouth. “You had a bit of bubblegum pink there,” he winked, before leaving the table and returning to his work.

“Fuck...” you felt yourself whisper, knowing very well that you lost this battle at keeping your cool. And that’s how your friend found you when they finally came back from the bathroom.

“So, judging from your face it went well,” they grinned broadly, looking like a cat that had just eaten a canary. 

“A word of warning would have been nice,” you grumbled. “Also, were you ever going to tell me that I still had ice cream on the side of my mouth before you got Sugawara to come over?”

“Huh? What ice cream?” your friend looked at you, puzzled. You blinked at her in surprise before your gaze flew to Sugawara who smiled innocently. 

This man was going to be the death of you. 

taglist (open to anyone who wants in):  @montys-chaos​ @miyumtwins​ @strawberriimilkshake​ @pocubo​ @sugawara-sweetheart @akaashisbabydoll @laure-chan@therainroguefanfiction @atetiffdoesart @stephdaninja@oikaw-ugh @charliefredb

[13-reasons-ideas]

Can’t Go Back Part 17

A/N: This chapter is pretty fluffy. We get a glimpse at how they are moving forward in their relationship since their fight. I’m planning on uploading a part from Monty’s perspective about what he’s doing Friday after school tomorrow or sometime this weekend. I hope you enjoy. Feedback is appreciated as always and much love. -Em 

I spent the next week actively not checking my emails. I was too afraid to even consider if I would get emails about schools yet.  It had only been a week. But you never know. In an attempt to keep my mind off of the fact that my entire future was now completely and totally out of my control, I tried to fill my time with normalcy. Things I normally did. Things that Monty and I normally did. That normalcy now included carving out an hour and a half for Monty’s physio three days a week, but we made it work.

I tried to get back into my routine. For the most part, I went to bed at the same time every night. Some days Monty went with me, other days he stayed up and did stuff for a while. But he came to bed every night. I went to the game Friday night. Scott and Charlie came over for brunch on Saturday. Justin came over to see his new best friend, I mean me, on Sunday because he picked up a shift Saturday morning. Monty and I did our own things together in the evenings during the week. I pretended to read while he played video games one night. Secretly, I was just watching him. For some reason watching people play video games was highly entertaining. We just did normal things.

We also went grocery shopping Saturday. “Are you sure you want to come with me?” I asked again.

“Yes, I’m sure Addison. Besides, we are over halfway to the store. It’s a little late to change my mind now.”

“Okay. Remember the list please.”

“I know. There’s a list and we get what’s on the list.”

“Exactly.”

At the store, I grabbed a cart and dug through my purse for the list and my pen. Monty took the cart from me without asking. I feigned an affronted look. He smirked back. Cocky bastard. I can already tell this is going to be so fun. I opened my mouth to speak when we got inside. “List, I know. And yes. I remember you’re going to make us get vegetables.”

“And you have to get at least one that you like.” He pouted. “You like carrots.” I offered.

“Fine.” He muttered. We are in a dramatic mood today. It was so peaceful when I went by myself. But I missed this. Monty went and put exactly five bulk carrots in a bag. Not wanting to fight him on carrots, I didn’t say anything. As usual, I was in charge of the rest of our vegetables.

The aisles were an easier task. There were no evil scary vegetable that I would have to force him to eat. I quickly scanned down the list as we entered each aisle. Carefully, everything was placed in the cart just so. “We need this.” Monty said, grabbing a box of cheese its.

“Is it on the list?” In response, he plucked the list and pen from my hand, and scribbled it on.

“It is now.” I rolled my eyes and grinned as he handed it back to me. His cheeky grin made me blush. I turned my back and pretended to look at something when we got to the fruit snack aisle and ignored the telltale thud of a box, make that two boxes, of fruit snacks being chucked in the cart. He didn’t write them on the list.

We both cringed at the price of meat, as usual. But we needed it so there wasn’t a whole lot we could do. I crossed things off that had been missed as we were filling the cart. Thankfully, it didn’t seem like the store was out of anything. “Oh, we need butter.” I muttered.

“Is it on the list?” Monty smirked. Like he had done earlier with the crackers, I quickly wrote it down.

“Yes.” I grinned. He grinned and stopped to kiss me on the cheek.

“I love you.”

“I love you too. Now let’s get this done so we can go home and do nothing.”

“Your wish is my command.” There was even a dramatic wave of his arm to accompany his attempt to woo.

“You are so fucking cheesy. I’m telling the guys about that one.”

“Ah, come on Addison. You love it.”

I went to grab a couple of pounds of butter and decided I could trust my adult husband to get some bread and jam on his own. When I found him in the bakery with our cart, I remembered that I married an overgrown child. There was bread. And there was jam. And also, cookies. Four different kinds of cookies. And a thing of strudel. Which, to be honest, I wasn’t that upset about because it’s like the best pastry. But the point is that it was there.

“I asked you to get bread and jam. Not half of the baked goods in the store.”

“But cookies are delicious Addison. And you like their chocolate chip cookies. And for some reason I still don’t understand, plain oatmeal cookies. Don’t even lie and say the strudel was a bad idea.”

“So, the sugar cookies and M&M ones are just to look pretty on the counter?”

“No. Those ones are for me.”

“I married a fuckin’ child.” I muttered softly. We turned when we heard a quiet chuckle behind us. A cute little old couple was watching our interaction with giant smiles.

“Mine still does the same thing dearie.” The woman said to me.

“Remember, we don’t grow up. We just get bigger.” The man smiled.

“I’m beginning to realize.” I laughed.

“See. I told you.” Monty smirked. As if to prove the point they were making, we watched as the man grabbed a container of lemon rolls and placed them in his cart. The woman gave him an exaggerated, exasperated look.

“Wait, how long have the two of you been married?” I asked when they passed us.

“Sixty-five years.” They said together, smiling fondly at each other. Wow. That’s amazing. I was still smiling when we got to the till and checked out.

Our normal routines continued for the rest of the week. School, physio, make dinner, sports, spend time together. The normalcy of it was refreshing.

“You’re scratching.” Monty said offhandedly, without looking up from his notes.

“Am not.”

“You stopped typing five minutes ago Addison.”

“I’m thinking.”

“And scratching.” I rolled my eyes and didn’t respond. I started typing aggressively loud to try and get a rise out of him instead. He didn’t respond at all. Not even an annoyed muscle twitch. We aren’t there yet. Okay. Monty’s phone buzzed on the coffee table beside me. I ignored it. It buzzed again. And then again. Before I could reach for it, he had hobble run over and snatched it out of my reach. I looked at him quizzically. He was trying to think of a reason to be hiding his phone from me. What is going on?

“It’s guy stuff. Jamie is having… girl troubles.”

“Girl troubles.”

“Yeah. His girlfriend but not girlfriend or something is doing stuff.”

“Something and stuff.”

“Yes. So, uh. I’ll be over… over there.” He motioned back to the kitchen table. “You know, dealing with girl troubles.”

“Right.” That was weird. Also, he’s going to pay for the movement in the morning. I went back to my writing and not scratching quietly. Occasionally I would look up over my laptop at Monty. He seemed to be very engrossed in his notes.

“Hey Addison?”

“Hmm?”

“Since the game got cancelled some of us are going over to Jamie’s place tomorrow after school.”

“’Kay.”

“Because girl troubles.”

“Yeah.”

“And stop scratching. You’ll only make the rash worse.”

The next morning, I skipped a shower. Cuddles were too enticing. It was a Friday so I didn’t feel like I had to look all cute. While Monty made himself a smoothie, I grabbed one of his shirts to wear because it was loose enough that it wouldn’t irritate the rash. It finally started to clear up. But now it itches. As though he could hear my thoughts, he called from the kitchen, “stop scratching.”

“Bite me.” I called back.

“If you don’t stop scratching, I will.”

“Is that a threat or a promise?” He looked up when he heard me come in the room.

“I was going to wear that today.”

“You have like… fifty more in your half of the closet.”

“I know mum is a history professor, but dad is a businessman. I know he taught you fractions. What I have is not half of the closet.” I merely shrugged. He waved towards the bowl beside the blender. “Chunky monkey with smooth peanut butter.” I sat and took a bite.

“Yum. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“Don’t worry about washing the blender. I’ll do it after school.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

School was pretty boring. It was the middle of November, so we were in the awkward not quite midterms but not quite ready for a new unit time. I met Monty at my locker after the last bell. He was waiting for me with Justin and Jamie. “Hey baby.”

“Hey babe. You guys have fun tonight, okay?”

“Yes Ma’am.” Jamie saluted. I shuddered. Monty tried to stifle a laugh.

“Jamie. Do me a favour and never do that again.” I placed a couple of textbooks in my locker. “I’ll see you at home. Can you stop and grab baking powder on your way home tonight?”

“Sure.”

“Why can’t you stop? You’re going straight there.” Justin asked.

“I have a date with a bubble bath.”

“Ooh la la.” Jamie laughed.

“I guess. Didn’t shower this morning and a bath is better for my itching.”

“Oh?” Justin asked.

“I’ll explain later.” I muttered. He furrowed his brow and looked at Monty. I kissed Monty goodbye.

At home, I went to wash my face so I could do the expensive face mask I had been saving for a night alone. I did an exfoliating treatment first and ran my bath. A few scented candles were set on our master bathroom counter and I poured myself a glass of raspberry juice. The book I had been meaning to get around to reading was sitting on the toilet for easy access. Okay fine. One of the books I had been meaning to read. It was very relaxing. I had to dig in the cabinet for my body scrub but found it behind a backup pack of deodorant from Costco. Luckily, the bubble bath was also right there. I poured some in to give it time to foam.

With my face mask done and washed off, I undressed and settled in the tub. The water was boiling hot, just the way I liked it. I sighed and sipped my juice, enjoying a night alone. When the husband is away, wife will pamper. The hot water helped to calm my itching skin. The scrub made my legs nice and smooth before I shaved them and exfoliated a second time. Once the necessaries were taken care of, I could start to relax. Picking up my book, I settled in for the foreseeable future. My book was so interesting and immersive, I completely lost track of time. I was still in the tub when Monty got home. “Addison?” He called when he didn’t find me in the kitchen.

“I’m in the bath.” I called back.

“Okay.” He was opening and closing drawers in our room. He poked his head in the bathroom. “Do you want a glass of water or anything? How long have you been in there?” I paused for a moment to consider. How long had it been?

“What time is it?”

“Almost seven.” My eyes widened.

“Really? Then yeah, I’ll take a glass of water. I’m going to get out right away.” He shut the door behind him and I threw my book across to the door so it didn’t get wet when I got out of the tub.

Once dry and moisturized, I left the bathroom in search of my husband. I found him on the couch scrolling aimlessly through his phone. “I missed you.” I bent behind the back of the couch to kiss his cheek.

“I missed you too. You look very cozy in your fuzzy pyjamas.”

“Why thank you.” I curtsied. He laughed happily. Settling next to him, I laid my head in his lap.

“How was your bath?”

“Amazing. Very relaxing. Oh! And I exfoliated and shaved my legs.” I grinned and lifted my pants leg. “Feel!”

Again, Monty laughed and shook his head. He still reached out and rubbed my leg though. “Very soft and smooth.”

“How was girl problems?”

“I think they’re resolved. It wasn’t as major or as difficult as we thought.”

“That’s good.” I peeked at his phone. He was watching football injury videos. Oh Sweetie. “Hey, how’s your knee?”

“It’s okay. Physio has been helping.”

“I’m glad.” He seemed to realize then that I wasn’t just asking for an update on his progress.

“Oh. I’m just watching this because some of them are funny.”

“Funny?”

“Yeah.” He restarted the video and adjusted his position so I could see too. He was right. Some of them were pretty funny.

It was family brunch Saturday the next day. Scott, Charlie, and Justin all came over. As usual, the four young men were more than happy to eat relatively work free. Monty did have to help me reach a few things and our guests helped set the table. But for the most part, I did the work. It was relaxing for me. Monty still felt a little uncomfortable having me do most of the work in the kitchen, but I didn’t mind. It was my choice to do it. I enjoyed it. And it made things much smoother when I was working solo.

Since it was just a casual pancake breakfast this week and just the five of us, I didn’t really feel a need to shower before they came over.  As such, I was still in my pyjamas most of the morning. They didn’t mind. We hung out for a while after brunch together. By the time everyone was getting ready to leave around two, I decided it was time to shower and make myself feel like a human again. “I’m running Scott’s place for a bit. We have a couple of things to go over with Charlie for next week’s game.” Monty explained when I was going to shower.

“No problem. I’ll just be here writing or reading or something.” From the bathroom I could hear him putzing around our room. I didn’t think too much of it. He was probably looking for a playbook or something.

After my shower, I wrapped my towels around me, fully prepared to throw on a pair of leggings and an oversized sweater for the rest of the day. Instead, I was puzzled to find a large white box in the centre of the bed. There was a bow and a single pink Post it note stuck to the lid. It simply said wear me on it in blue ink. I frowned in confusion but opened it anyway. Nestled inside was a classic, Hepburn-esque little black dress. I gasped and covered my mouth in shock. Gently lifting the dress out of the box I held it out at arm’s length to examine it. It was beautiful. This man is full of surprises. Not wanting to wrinkle the dress, I carefully set it on the bed while I grabbed a hanger.

Once it was hung up, I put on a pair of sweats and an old pyjama shirt. In the kitchen, I found another note next to the coffee machine. This one was on a yellow Post it, also in blue ink. No coffee. Look up. I frowned again. Why no coffee? Looking up on the underside of the cabinet, I found another yellow Post it. This one had an arrow pointing towards the living room. There, yet another Post it. This one was blue. There was another arrow pointing at the coat closet. A green Post it was stuck to the closet door. Be ready at 5:00. Wear your matching black pointy shoes. Now I was even more confused. Well, it says be ready. I shrugged and checked my watch. It was just past two. I rolled my eyes at the coffee note and made myself a cup anyway. I wouldn’t need to be up all night, but note be damned. I wanted coffee. I savoured it while I let my thoughts run wild of what could be in store for my night. At home fancy dress dinner? Going out for dinner? A walk in the financial district in the city? Hmmm. By two forty-five, I had finished my coffee and started getting ready.

I carefully put on the dress after I had washed my face again. I decided to curl my hair in tight ringlets so that when I brushed them out, they wouldn’t fall flat immediately. I let them set while I did my makeup. So, I didn’t get makeup all over my dress, I draped a towel around my neck to cover it. The simple black cat eye and blue red lipstick paired wonderfully with the classic, timeless style of the dress. A neutral blush and light bronzer added colour and balance to complete the look. I carefully brushed out the curls into nice waves framing my face. Using a decorative bobby pin, I pulled my bangs away from my face. Exiting our room after putting on my tennis bracelet-a birthday gift from my Gran a couple of years ago- I looked at the clock on the stove. It was four fifty. I had ten minutes to spare. Slipping on my heels, I went through my wallet and took out my ID and credit card. I had assumed that we would be going out and Monty usually kept my cards in his wallet.

The sound of a car pulling into our driveway pulled me from my thoughts. I opened the door when the car door shut. Monty was walking up to the house in a very familiar white dress shirt and black slacks. Damn, he cleans up good. I thought it every time he dressed up, no matter how often I saw it. His eyes widened slightly, and he stopped to take in my look. I stopped him in his tracks. I blushed and did a little twirl. He whistled through his teeth. “You look. Absolutely amazing.”

“You look incredible. Have I ever told you, you clean up really well?”

“Once or twice.” He shrugged. I smiled widely. He finished his walk up to the house and took my hands in his, really taking the time to take me in. “You really do look beautiful Addison.”

“Thank you.” I blushed again. My engagement ring sparkled in the setting sun. Monty’s black tungsten ring felt cool in my hand. Together, we walked to the car. We took my car, but I let him drive. It’s our insurance. “Are you going to tell me where we are going?”

“Nope.” He said as he pulled out of the driveway.

“Okay.” We chatted quietly on the way to our mystery location. Given the time, I assumed we were going to a restaurant. When we got closer to the county limits, I realized we were going into the city for dinner. I watched the cars speeding past us on the highway in the other direction. People were eager to be getting home from spending their days shopping or running errands.

I tried to figure out where we were going once we got to the city based on the turns Monty made. I was familiar with most of the downtown and financial districts due to visiting my dad at work when I was younger. I was a little surprised when he pulled in the parking lot for the new Italian place that opened last month. I wasn’t surprised because I was concerned about cost or anything like that. We just weren’t really fancy restaurant people very often. It was a pleasant surprise.

When he parked, we walked hand in hand to the door. He was a perfect gentleman and held the door not only for me but for the couple behind us. I smiled at him while we waited to be seated. He squeezed my hand. We were seated at a more secluded table, closer to the back of the restaurant. The table was lit by candlelight and dim recessed lighting in the aisle. It’s beautiful. Our waiter came by and introduced himself as Anthony. I ordered a cranberry juice with ice and Monty got a Coke. Anthony gave us a few minutes with the menus. As soon as I saw traditional carbonara on the menu, I had made a firm decision. Monty and I sat in comfortable silence while we perused the menu. Even though I knew what I wanted, it never hurt to look at the other options.

After we ordered-carbonara for me and lobster ravioli for Monty-Anthony left us to our evening. “This is really nice.” I said, after a sip of my juice.

“I figured we deserved nice. Or rather, you deserved nice. After everything… and I know you’ve been stressed about school. So, I figured you could use a night off.” He left the obvious tension between us and the cause for it unsaid. We both knew the reason.

“It’s still nice. And we do deserve it. This dress is beautiful by the way.”

“I thought you would like it.”

“When exactly did you acquire it?” I asked, with a sly raise of my brow.

“About yesterday…” Montgomery began, “Jamie wasn’t having girl troubles.”

“I kind of figured. Have they even decided if they have anything to have troubles over?”

“No. They’re still not together. But they go places together and buy each other things. And have sex. Apparently, there is a lot of sex.”

“But they aren’t dating.”

“No.”

“Maybe he is having girl troubles.”

“Maybe.” He chuckled. Anthony came by with our orders. Unsurprisingly, the food was delicious. Mouth wateringly delicious. My eyes widened in ecstasy. So did Monty’s after he took a bite of his own food. We each shared a bite with each other and smiled. So good. So so good.

We spent the rest of our evening talking and enjoying being with each other. It was very nice. We hadn’t gotten to do the whole going out and just being together thing in a while. I pushed the last of my carbonara around on my plate. I wasn’t bored exactly. I was having a wonderful time. “Hey. Where’d you go?” Monty reached across the table to take my hand.

“Oh. Nowhere. I was just thinking.”

“Penny for your thoughts?”

“This is really nice.” I paused.

“But…?”

“I would honestly much rather be at home in sweatpants watching the new episodes of Law & Order from the other night.”

“Me too.” He giggled. I couldn’t help but giggle along with him. He motioned to our waiter for the bill. The black holder was placed in between us. Monty placed some cash inside and set it down without so much as a glance at me. He helped me with my coat and took my hand after he put on his own. As soon as we got out of the restaurant, I stopped and turned to him.

“Race you to the car.” I grinned before taking off like a bat out of hell. I heard him bark out a laugh behind me. I didn’t look back. Nor did I turn when I heard his footsteps. He wasn’t running because of his knee. They were getting closer though. Even without running, he was able to gain on me because of his gait.  Running in heels was not the easiest thing in the world but I managed to beat him to the car. When he arrived with the keys, I was grinning at him, triumphantly from the passenger’s side. “I won.”

“Yes you did.” He was grinning back at me.

When we got home, the two of us changed into our comfiest sweatpants and t-shirts. I threw on my old Tigers hoodie and popped a bag of popcorn in the microwave after taking off my makeup. Monty pulled up the recorded episodes. I couldn’t tell if he wore his grey sweats on purpose or not. We got comfortable on the couch and hit play. From the get-go this episode of SVU had both of us on the edge of our seats. The popcorn was mostly untouched. I teared up multiple times. When it was over, I ripped the remote from the coffee table and scrolled up to the new episode of Organized Crime. I couldn’t stand to wait any longer than strictly necessary. Our eyes were glued to the screen for the whole hour, minus the fast forwarding through commercials. By the end, we turned to each other in shock. “Wow.” Was all I could say about it.

“The new theme song is pretty great.”

“Yes. I don’t know how to process any other thoughts about it though.”

“Me either.”

“Very worth the wait.” Monty only nodded in response. I yawned and stretched. It was getting pretty late. The afternoon coffee I had wore off a while ago.

“Tired Bookworm?” I yawned again and nodded. Monty carried me to bed and tucked me in. I cuddled up beside him.

Before falling asleep I mumbled, “thank you for tonight. Was really nice. Ni’ night.”

[me-myself-and-my-fos]

Mother’s Day

Pairing: Montgomery Scott x Nicole Scott ft. the Scott kids

Word Count: 1.9k

Summary: Scotty gives Nic a relaxing Mother’s Day

A/N: I know this is a day late but I had to write a Mother’s Day fic

Tag List: @hyperionshipping @heavenshipped @dancing-with-skeletons @selfshipfeelings

“Monty, you didn’t have to do this,” Nic protested for what felt like the thousandth time. Scotty shook his head as he helped her out of the car.

“This is the first Mother’s Day we’ve spent together in five years. If you think I’m not spoiling you for the day then you’re mad,” he told her fondly, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. “The boys and I will be fine, you deserve the rest.”

Nic sighed. “I don’t get much rest these days anyway.”

“Next year we’ll get to celebrate with Saoirse, but until then—” Scotty took her hands and pressed another kiss to her head, “—you get treated like the queen you are.”

“Are you sure?” She asked, a little apprehensive of leaving the boys. It came as a habit from not only taking care of them for so long by herself but also as a maternal instinct that had steadily increased over the course of her pregnancy. If it weren’t for her husband, Nic is pretty sure she would’ve ripped the head off of the woman at the grocery store who said Thomas was an adorable little gentleman.

“I’m positive,” he assured her. They looked over to the boys who were busy peering into the window of the spa. “Boys, time to say bye to mum.”

Thomas and James looked over at their parents and rushed over to hug their mother. They gripped onto the fabric of her maternity sundress.

“Don’t go, mum!” James whined.

“Peese mummy!” Thomas begged.

“It won’t be long, I promise my loves,” Nic said, playing with their hair. She leaned down and pressed a kiss to both of their heads. “Besides, you two will have so much fun with dad that you won’t even have time to miss me. And when I get home, we can cuddle in bed and watch tv.”

“Okay!” The boys perked up at the mention of tv. They each gave their mother a big hug before being shooed into the backseat of the car by their father.

“We don’t have a lot of time now, get in the car,” he told them. When the boys refused to move from Nic’s side, Scotty sighed. “I’ll let you have ice cream when we get home if you get in the car.” Quickly the boys scrambled and pushed past each other to get into the car. Nic laughed softly as Scotty smiled at her. “Now don’t you worry about a thing, dear. I’ll take care of everything. The appointment is at least five hours so I’ll be back here at five-thirty to pick you up, okay?”

“Geez, five hours by myself for little ol’ me?” She giggled.

Scotty nodded. “Aye, they’ll give you the best treatments. Now go before you miss the appointment.”

Nic gave him a quick kiss before heading towards the automatic doors. “Don’t set the house on fire while I’m gone, Monty.” She joked over her shoulder. She sent the boys a wave as they watched her leave before disappearing inside.

Nic made a mental note to thank her husband when she got home. He apparently knew everything she needed and already arranged for the treatments. First was a facial—she had been complaining about the acne she was getting from the pregnancy. Then she would get some time in a nice warm bath—something she never got at home, usually a quick shower before dinner while the boys napped or when Scotty was keeping them entertained. Third was the prenatal massage, a type she didn’t know existed but was sure she’d be grateful for. And last came the foot massage, the one she most looked forward to. As she changed into the fluffy white robe in the private room, a glass of water and a bowl of complimentary fruit sitting on an end table, she stared down at her phone. After a minute of debating she decided to leave it on, but tucked away beneath her clothes. She knew that her husband wouldn’t call unless it was an emergency. Nic let out a sigh of relief when an employee came and told her it was time for the facial.

At home, James and Thomas sat at the dining table eating their ice cream. They played with their action figures between bites of ice cream, and Scotty sat on the couch folding laundry. He didn’t realize how much clothes there were. Sometimes he forgot that it wasn’t just his and Nic’s clothes anymore; it was both of the boy’s clothes and soon onesies for Saoirse as well.

Tiny hands covered in vanilla ice cream and chocolate syrup came into view as Thomas reached for the pile of clean laundry.

“Oh no you don’t,” Scotty grabbed his son and set him on the couch, away from the clean clothes. “If you get those sticky from ice cream your mum is gonna kill me.”

“I want my shirt,” Thomas whined, pointing at the blue shirt with tigers on it.

“You can put it on, but let me clean you up first,” Scotty picked him up and carried him over to the kitchen. He set Thomas on the counter before grabbing some paper towels. He ran the sink to get the paper towel wet and began to clean the ice cream off Thomas’s face and hands. “You’re as messy as your mother,” he chuckled.

Once Thomas was cleaned, Scotty threw away the paper towels and shut off the sink. Or at least tried to. The water continued to run. He fiddled with the sink handle for a minute before sighing.

“James, can you please bring my tools over here?” Scotty asked, crouching down at the cabinets. He opened it and inspected the pipes as James dragged the toolbox over into the kitchen. “Thank you, laddie.”

Scotty began to inspect the pipes to determine what the problem was. As he did this, James settled on the floor by the toolbox and watched his father. When he reached for one of his tools Scotty realized he had an audience and smiled. He happily worked on fixing the broken pipe, telling James what he was doing when the young boy asked and asking James to hand him a tool every now and again. He was pleasantly surprised when his son knew what tool he needed, and happily showed him the tools James didn’t know. Once the pipe was fixed, Scotty tested it to make sure it was in working order. Satisfied with the results, he put his tools back in their rightful place before going back to the kitchen. Thomas still sat on the counter, kicking his legs as entertainment.

“Can I wear my shirt now?” He asked his father.

Scotty chuckled and put him back on the floor. “Of course.” He went over to the laundry and grabbed the shirt. He helped Thomas change out of the ice cream stained one he had been wearing and into the clean tiger shirt. Scotty sat back on the couch to finish the laundry and Thomas lingered for a moment.

“When is mummy coming home?” Thomas asked.

“In a while. She’ll be home for dinner, I promise.” Scotty told him. As he said that, an idea came into his head. He looked between the boys. “Do you two want to help me bake a cake for her?”

At the mention of a cake both boys perked up. “Yes!” They jumped up and down excitedly.

“Alright, let’s get to it!”

About halfway through making the cake Scotty realized why Nic was the one who always baked. Yes he could cook, but baking? That was her thing. And it didn’t help that he was having to stop Thomas from trying to eat the batter every five minutes. Scotty nearly had a heart attack when he saw Thomas reaching for a raw egg. After the cake was successfully put in the oven, he agreed to play with the boys for a little. But while the cake was cooling Scotty went back to folding the laundry and the boys took their naps. He wanted to at least get the laundry done before she got home. The boys were most excited about icing the cake, and Scotty had to keep the extra icing out of their reach. The cake was covered in the white icing and had “Happy Mother’s Day” written on it in blue icing. Scotty put it in the fridge and checked the time.

“I have time to make dinner,” he mumbled to himself, getting things ready to make dinner. He knew she’d want something simple but he still wanted to spoil her, so he decided on spaghetti. He had just finished plating the food when he noticed the time. It was nearly 5:30pm.

“Boys, let’s go pick up yer mum!” He called to the boys.

He hadn’t been waiting long when Nic exited the spa. She looked much more relaxed than she had when she entered and that made Scotty smile. She stopped in front of him and grinned, reaching up to cup his face and kiss him.

“How was the appointment?” He asked, although sure he already knew the answer.

“It was amazing, thank you for that, honey,” she kissed him again. “How was everything with the boys?”

“We fended for ourselves,” he joked. “They missed you, though.”

“I’m sure they did.”

“How did our wee angel do?” He asked, putting a hand on her stomach.

“She slept the entire time. I think this has been the most relaxed I’ve been in months,” Nic told him.

“I’m glad. Now let’s get you home. The boys are excited to have you back and we have another surprise for you at home.”

Nic hummed softly at that. “Lead the way,” she said. Scotty helped her into the car and closed the door, and Nic looked at the backseat at her sons. “Hi boys, I missed you.”

“I missed you, mummy!” Thomas exclaimed, reaching out for her.

Nic put arm back so he could hold her hand. “I’m here now, baby.”

The family got home and after getting out of the car, Thomas stuck close to his mother. She smiled and pet his hair as they got into the house, the smell of dinner hit her nose. Scotty guided her to the dining table where a plate of spaghetti and garlic bread sat.

“Sweetheart, you didn’t have to make dinner. I would’ve been fine with takeout,” Nic said as she settled into the dining chair. Thomas sat beside his mother as Scotty sat across from her and James beside him.

“Like I said before: I’m spoiling you today.” He told her.

They happily ate dinner, James excitedly telling Nic how Scotty fixed the sink. And Scotty grinned, adding that James acted as his assistant. Nic was happy to listen about how their few hours without her went. Once dinner was finished, Scotty insisted on clearing the plates and cleaning them. But before Nic could push herself out of the chair, her husband came back over with two plates and a cake.

“You didn’t have to make me a cake,” she said, feeling herself begin to tear up. James and Thomas kissed either cheek and grinned.

“We wanted to!” James told her.

“I love you boys.” Nic pulled them into a hug and kissed their heads. She smiled at Scotty as he cut two slices. “I love you, Monty. Thank you.”

He smiled at her and set the plate in front of her with a fork before giving her a quick kiss. “You’re welcome, darling. Anything for you. Happy Mother’s Day.”

[chicgeekgirl89]

Country Roads, Take Me Home: Chap. 2

Fandom: NCIS LA

Characters: Marty Deeks, Kensi Blye

A/N: I'm telling you right now, this story may have gone completely off the rails. It's been a weird summer and...I honestly don't quite know what happened. This is your warning!

Read Chapter 1 Here

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They were up bright and early the next morning to take Monty to doggy daycare where Roberta would pick him up at the end of the day. Then they hit the road for Yosemite. So far, things were going exactly according to plan. Until they inevitably got stuck in LA traffic.

“Remember last night when I asked you about snacks? You brought some right? Because I don’t know how long I can last without snacks,” Kensi said after about forty minutes.

Deeks looked at her sideways. “Did I buy snacks? Do you think I don’t know you after all this time? Check the fridge.”

She unbuckled her seatbelt and walked halfway back to the little kitchenette. Opening the fridge her eyes went wide in delight. “You got me Reese’s?”

“Of course I got you Reese’s. I wanted this to be fun, not the road trip from hell.”

She rejoined him, plopping happily back into her seat and giving him a peck on the cheek. “This is already off to a better start than all our other vacations.”

“I told you.”

“So why Yosemite? There lots of other parks in California.”

“Well first of all, Yosemite Sam. Second of all I was looking at the out of state parks and mapping our trip. The only one kind of on the way out is Yosemite. Well, and Death Valley, but I thought we should probably avoid any place that advertises killing off visitors.”

Kensi nodded, biting into a Reese’s. “Good point.”

He looked at her. “Are you going to share those?”

“I thought you bought them for me,” she said around a mouthful of chocolate.

“I did, but as your loving, devoted husband who is taking you on the vacation of a lifetime, who buys you snacks and cleans your house and saves your beautiful, beautiful ass multiple times a week, you could share one.”

She glared at him and withdrew one candy from the bag, putting it directly into his hand. “Thank you,” he said, keeping his eyes on the road as he unwrapped it.

“What is all this traffic?” she asked, trying to peer down the freeway. 

“Rush hour,” Deeks said, moving them forward another two feet.

“It’s not usually this bad at this time.” She craned her neck, pushing up out of her seat. “I think someone has a flat tire.”

Sure enough up ahead there was a much older and smaller RV half on/half off the shoulder. “We should see if they need help,” Kensi said.

“Babe we’re off duty. They look fine.”

She gave him a look and he sighed, flipping on the blinker to maneuver them onto the shoulder behind the stopped vehicle. They hopped out and walked toward an older couple evaluating a very flat tire. “Hey you need some help?” Kensi called over the noise of the traffic.

“Oh bless me, yes, thank you!” A woman who looked to be about Roberta’s age waved at them. “My Bill here could use some assistance.”

“What’s the problem?” Deeks asked.

The man, Bill apparently, stood and rubbed his hands together. “Carol and I were just driving along and we musta run over something. Tire’s flat as a pancake and those lug nuts are so tight it’s like they’re cemented on.”

“Young man if you could give him a hand we would appreciate it,” Carol said. 

Deeks shook his head and gestured to Kensi. “Sugarbear, this one’s all yours.”

“Oh,” Carol seemed startled. “I don’t think—“

Kensi reached for the tire iron and within seconds had loosened one of the nuts. Both Bill and Carol raised their eyebrows. “Well I’ll be darned,” Bill said in amazement.

“Somebody’s been eating their wheaties!” Carol said. 

Kensi smiled as she worked the second lug nut. “My dad had a lot of tricks.”

“I’m Marty,” Deeks said, holding out a hand. “This is my wife Kensi.”

“Bill and Carol Weekes,” Bill said. “That’s quite a lady you’ve got there.”

Deeks smiled. “She certainly is.”

“Babe, can you get the spare?” Kensi called.

“On it!” Deeks looked to Bill.

“I think it’s in the back,” he said. “Come on in.”

Deeks followed Bill inside the RV and was immediately assaulted. “Ah! What the—?”

“Oh, sorry!” Bill said. “Kujo! Chewbarka! Tank! Twinkie! Patrick Dempsey get off him!”

In a rush of fur and wagging tails, five dogs raced back to Bill, leaving Deeks covered in slobber and dog hair. “They’re tame, just likely to lick you to death,” Bill said with a chuckle.

“Uh yeah,” Deeks said, wiping his hands on his pants. “Ouch!” He jumped as teeth sank into his ankle.

“Patrick Dempsey!” Bill yelled again, swatting the little dachshund away. “I shoulda said they’ll all lick you to death except PD. He’s vicious.”

“Right.” Deeks rubbed the sore spot. “The tire?”

“Oh yeah!” Bill popped open a hatch and hauled out a donut. “There we go.”

“Great.” Deeks grabbed it from him. “Let’s take this to Kensi and she’ll have you out of here in no time.”

He received a final nip from Patrick Dempsey on the way out the door, then handed the tire over to Kensi. Together they had it on within minutes. “Oh my goodness, how can we ever thank you?” Carol said as Kensi tightened the final bolt.

“No need,” Kensi said. “We’re happy to help.”

“Well that’s not acceptable,” Carol said bustling off into the RV.

“Aw my Carol. She’s not going to let you leave empty handed,” Bill said, elbowing Deeks with a grin.

Sure enough Carol was back seconds later, a tinfoil wrapped plate in her hand. “Here,” she said. “These are some of my world famous chocolate chip cookies. Made with real butter and eggs, none of that vegan stuff all you west coasters are so fond of.”

Deeks had to bite back a laugh as he took the plate. “Thank you. You two be safe now all right?” He said.

“Will do!” They waved cheerily as they headed back inside and started the RV up.

“Well they were…” Kensi couldn’t seem to find the words.

“Yep,” Deeks said. “And you didn’t even get a bite from Patrick Dempsey.”

She raised her eyebrows. “What?”

Deeks shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. Come on. Adventure awaits in…approximately five hours depending on traffic.”

It was a lot more like seven hours by the time they finally trundled into the park. Deeks picked up a parking tag for the RV and a map to their campsite. “Oh thank god,” Kensi said as they pulled into their spot. “I need to get out of this thing.”

“You do realize we’re going to spend most of this trip inside the RV,” Deeks said. “That’s why I got the nice one.”

“And it is so nice baby, but breathing the same air as you for this many hours is…too much.”

“I think you’re hangry. Let’s get a little fire going and we can have some hot dogs, a couple s’mores and you’ll feel better,” Deeks said.

“You know the way directly to my heart,” she said, giving him a peck on the cheek.

It was quick and easy to get a campfire burning and soon they were cuddled up next to one another in a blanket, making s’mores. Kensi had just whispered something very dirty in Deeks’ ear and he was on the verge of grabbing her and taking the party indoors when a very loud, rundown RV pulled into the spot directly next to them. “Well that’s not really what we came here for,” Deeks grumbled as the RV backfired and let out a huge explosion of exhaust before giving a wheezing cough as it turned off.

“Um, Deeks?” Kensi said. “Is that—“

The RV’s door opened and a dachshund ran out, barking like mad, and lunging for Deeks’ leg. “Whoa!” he yelled, dropping his s’more and leaping out of his seat.

“Patrick Dempsey! You get back here right now!” A woman bellowed, charging out the door after him.

“Carol?” Kensi asked as she pulled the dog off Deeks’ leg.

“Well hey there fellow travelers!” Bill said, smiling broadly as he descended the steps. “What a coincidence!”

“Coincidence or nightmare?” Deeks muttered, rubbing his calf.

“It is a coincidence,” Kensi said, elbowing Deeks to shut him up. “I don’t remember you saying this was on your schedule.”

“Well we got to talking as we drove and Kensi, you made this sound like such a fun idea we decided to hop on over,” Carol said.

“Really sold it to ‘em huh Kens?” Deeks asked under his breath.

She elbowed him again. “Well don’t let us interrupt your fun,” Carol said. “You two lovebirds looked so cozy when we drove up. We’ll just keep to ourselves over here.”

“And don’t worry about making too much noise! You know, if things start to heat up later.” Bill winked at them. “Carol and I are very sound sleepers. Won’t hear a thing.”

“Perfect,” Deeks said weakly. “We’ll keep that in mind.”

“Well I guess we’ll turn in,” Bill told them. “Been a long day. You kids have fun!”

Patrick Dempsey gave a final yip as Carol scooped him up and they went back inside. 

“So…do we turn around and go home now?” Kensi asked.

“No,” Deeks said firmly as he put out the fire. “This is going to be a normal vacation. We’re going to see lots of pretty rocks, eat road food, and have lots of sex. NORMAL.”

She rolled her eyes but smiled. “I’m not sure we’re capable of normal.”

“Yes we are,” he insisted, grabbing her hand. “Come on.”

He pulled her inside and the door had barely closed before he was kissing her, hands fumbling with the buttons on her shirt. “Deeks!” Kensi laughed, then gasped as he nipped at that one, particular spot on her neck. “Deeks, what are you doing?”

“Well we gave this thing a test drive. We tried out the refrigerator, the wifi, the satellite. And now, I think we need to test out the bed,” he said with a grin, swinging her up into his arms and carrying her to the back of the RV where he tossed her onto the mattress.

He whipped off his belt with a dramatic flair and then dove on top of her, pressing kisses to her face, neck, wherever he could find as she laughed. “I think you’re still a little overdressed here,” she said, tugging at his t-shirt. 

“Well that’s easily fixed.” Deeks sat up fast to take the shirt off and whacked his head on the ceiling. 

“Ooh!” Kensi sat up, reaching to cradle his face while he closed his eyes in pain. “Oh my god, are you all right?”

“Ow. Yep. That smarts.” He rubbed the top of his head. “I feel like that’s a pretty major design flaw.”

“Well maybe they didn’t intend for people to have wild and crazy sex in here,” she said, trying to stifle her laughter.

“No problem,” Deeks said with a grimace, clearly trying to ignore his throbbing skull. “We’ll just switch tactics.”

He leaned down toward her again and was immediately interrupted by the loudest, most frantic barking either one of them had ever heard. “You have got to be kidding me,” he said dropping his head onto Kensi’s chest.

She ruffled his hair and pressed a kiss to the injured spot. “They’ll stop in a second.”

Sure enough they waited a moment and the barking ceased. “Okay then, back to business,” Deeks said with a grin, leaning over once more.

The barking started again. And then again. And then….again. Deeks groaned and rolled onto his back so they were side by side. 

“This is unbelievable,” Kensi said breathless and annoyed.

“So much for a normal vacation.”

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A/N: Sometimes people ask if I base my stories on real life so, fun fact, for eleven years my family had a mini dachshund named Willy. He was a demon beast from hell. Seriously. Patrick Dempsey is based on him. His name is Patrick Dempsey because I think it's hilarious when animals have extremely human names. Anyway, hope you enjoyed! More shenanigans to come!

[myhockeyworld87]

Baby Blunder - Tyler Seguin

Requested: Yes

Word Count: 3099

Warnings: None

POV: Both, starts of Reader, then switches to Tyler

Notes: This was really a cute request I had fun writing. Hope you all enjoy it! Peace, Love and Hugs all!

READER POV

Seeing that little plus sign pop up, only confirmed what you’d suspected the last couple days. You’d been feeling the exact same way you had when you were pregnant the first time; only then, you had no idea why you were nauseous most of the morning. It had taken ten weeks before you discovered you were carrying Tyler’s baby then; now you couldn’t be more than five weeks along by your calculations. “You’re going to be a big brother, Liam.” You bent down to pick up your two-year-old, swinging him in your arms.

 “Yay!” Little Liam, cheered, more from the swinging around than being a big brother. He probably had no idea what that meant. “More Mommy more.” He cheered, as you twirled him around one last time before setting him back on the ground.

“Now, we can’t tell Daddy; we have to make it special. Okay?” Liam shook his head yes. “Hmmm, how should we tell him?” With Liam, it was easy, you’d gone the typical route and got a baby size Seguin jersey with Daddy written on the back. Tyler had been ecstatic; even though you’d only been married for a short six months. This time you wanted to do something a little different; so you were wracking your brain trying to come up with a clever idea. Finally, you decided you’d make a special meal, baby back ribs, baby potatoes, baby carrots and baby peas; with baby bananas foster for dessert.

 You and Liam, headed to the store to get all the ingredients for your baby themed dinner. On the way you passed a custom-made T-shirt shop; on a whim you stopped in and had them make a cute little shirt for Liam that said, I’m so cute, Mom and Dad decided to do it again. Big Brother coming May 2020. It would make for a great picture to send both of your families.

 Tyler was away on the Stars first road trip of the season and wouldn’t be home until tomorrow; so you had time to implement your plan. That night you and Liam watched the Stars play in Detroit. You thought for sure they were going to come away with a win. Tyler scored his first goal of the season; you and Liam cheering him on from the living room of your home. However, the third period saw them fall to Detroit; it was a disappointing loss, and you could see it had taken a toll on Tyler as he walked down the ramp to the locker room. Liam had fallen asleep on the couch, so you carried him into bed. The phone rang, Tyler on the other end. “Hey babe, that was a tough loss tonight. Wish we could’ve been there in person for your first goal.”

 “We played like shit tonight. I’m glad you and Liam weren’t there to see us. It’s like we can’t gel as a team or something.” You could hear the frustration in his voice.

 “Ty, it’s only the third game of the season; you guys will find a rhythm soon enough.”

 “Yeah, well if it doesn’t happen soon; it’s going to knock us out of everything.”

 “Babe, you’re over-reacting; there are eighty-two games and you’ve only played three. Give it time.”

 He blew out a breath, annoyed at both the team and your optimism. “You just don’t get it (Y/N). I’m out there skating my ass off, calling for the puck; the passes are off and I’m crashing the net, but no one on my line is there backing me up. Jamie’s playing on a different line, things are just off.”

 He continued on like that for the next several minutes; and you let him. He just needed to blow off some steam; by tomorrow he would realize it was only the start of the season, and that things would come around. Eventually he asked about Liam and what new things he’d learnt today. You told him how he’d finally got the L, M, N, O, P down on his alphabet; but omitted the part where Liam found out he was going to be a big brother. Finally, he told you he loved you and that he’d see you tomorrow afternoon.

 In the morning, you prepped all the food for your big dinner, Liam playing with the dogs in the background. Around two in the afternoon, Tyler strode through the door. “Hey hun,” his voice sounded dejected.

 “Hey Ty, how was the flight?” You asked walking over to your husband and greeted him with a kiss; hoping to improve his mood.

 “It was fine.” Gerry and Marshall had wandered over; Tyler aimlessly petting them. “Where’s my little guy?”

“He’s napping, with Cash.”

 “I think I’ll join him. I couldn’t sleep on the flight; Jamie and I were trying to come up with ways to get things back on track. What’s for dinner?”

 Not wanting to give much away, you answered simply; “Baby back ribs.”

 “Sounds great babe. I’m gonna check on Liam and then grab a nap myself, maybe I’ll dream of how we can win this next game.”

 “That’s fine. I’ll wake you up for dinner, if Liam doesn’t.” Hopefully he’d be in a better mood once he woke up. You cleaned up the toys and finished up dessert, until Liam got up, full of energy. Keeping him quiet was a chore, but the two of you played with his trains, then turned on the cartoon version of the Lion King. Around five you sent him in to wake up his dad.

 Liam ran into the bedroom and jumped on the bed. “Daddy!” The toddler climbed all over Tyler, practically smothering him in the process. “Miss you.”

 “I missed you too, bud.” Tyler said groggily, as he rubbed the curls atop Liam’s head. Liam was the spitting image of his father, messy curls with dark chocolate brown eyes and a smile that could melt your heart; vaguely you wondered if the new baby would have the same traits. Tyler lifted, Liam up in the air, and giggles filled the room.

 “Again, daddy again.” Liam was definitely putting his father in a better mood.

 “Ok you two, I’m going to finish dinner. It will be ready in about ten minutes; make sure you wash up before.”

 “Yes, mommy.” Both Tyler and Liam responding before more laughter erupted.

 As you entered the kitchen a bout of nerves hit you; it wasn’t that you were worried about Tyler’s reaction, for the two of you had talked about having more children. It was just that you wanted everything to be perfect. Everything was laid out on the table, as the two peas in a pod came strolling into the kitchen.

 “Peas?” Tyler questioned. “You know I’m not fond of those.” He was helping Liam in his booster seat; as he turned up his nose to the vegetables.

 “I no like peas either.” Liam chimed in, wanting to be just like his daddy.

 “Well they’re good for you, so you’re both going to eat them.” Tyler exchanged a conspiratorial glance with his son; then pointed to the dogs. “Don’t even think about it you two.”

 “Mommy’s no fun.” You rolled your eyes at your husband, as you continued to make a plate for your son. Keeping an eye on Tyler, you watched for his reaction as he scooped some baby red potatoes onto his plate, then piled on some baby back ribs; never noticing the carefully laid out theme you had going on.

 “Would you like some BABY carrots.” Emphasizing the word baby, so he would take notice.

 “Sure hun.” Handing the small plate over to Liam, you watched as he ate enthusiastically; then made yourself a plate. Tyler’s phone beeped and he glanced down at the message that came through. “Son of a ...”

 “Language.” You warned him.

 “Sorry, it’s just we can’t seem to catch a break. Jamie just text and said Dickinson is out for at least four weeks. How are we supposed to win a game, when we’re losing players left and right? I’m telling you something’s gotta change.” He was shoveling food in, not even paying attention as he spooned the dreaded baby peas in his mouth. “We need to make some line changes; and it wouldn’t hurt to practice a bit more.”

 “Well I’m sure Monty’s on top of things; that is what they pay him for.”

 “Yeah well, sometimes I don’t agree with some of his calls. Like last night, he changed the lines midstream and then the new guys didn’t realize it and we got caught with a stupid too many men on the ice penalty. There’s no excuse for that.”

 He was so engrossed with dissecting the game that he wasn’t paying one bit to the dinner in front of him. Part of you wondered if you should just come out and tell him the news, instead you tried a different tactic. “How’s your dinner? Did you want more baby back ribs?”

 “What? Oh no, I’m good. Dinner’s great hun.” He continued to eat the meal, which effectively went over his head. “But seriously babe, that penalty should’ve never happened.” He went on about the game during the duration of the meal. Finally, you brought out dessert, after you cleaned up Liam. “What’s this babe?”

 “Bananas foster.”

 “Why are the bananas so small?” Your spirits picked up as he examined the dish.

 “I used baby ones.”

 “Oh cool, that was smart thinking; much easier for Liam to eat the little ones. He never finishes a whole one.” Frustration started to set in, and you could feel yourself getting irritated. The three of you finished dessert; where you tried at least three times to tell Tyler you were pregnant. However, he kept interrupting you with different comments about the poor play of the Stars. Finally, you went and cleaned up the dishes; as Ty played with Liam in the living room

 The phone beeped again, Tyler checking the screen. “Hey babe, you don’t care if I go over to Jamie’s and watch film. We really need to go over it again and see what we can fix.”

 The dish in your hand fell back into the sink; as anger bubbled up inside you. “Yes, Tyler I do care. You’ve been gone for three days, and I don’t think it’s too much to ask for you to spend a few hours with your family.” You slammed the last of the dishes into the dishwasher. “But if the team is more important than us; then by all means go. I’m going to go run a bath for our child. If you can wait five minutes, while I do that; that would be helpful.”

 “Geez, mommy is in a bad mood.” You heard him say as you walked back the hall, into Liam’s bathroom, where you began to cry. This part of pregnancy you remembered well; your hormones had been off the charts the last time, apparently this time was no different.

 TYLER”S POV

 You didn’t know what had set (Y/N) off; things seemed fine at dinner. You’d seen her get a little on edge when you’d been gone on a long road trip; Liam could be a handful from time to time. “Were you good for mommy today, buddy?” Your little man nodding his head enthusiastically. “Hmmm, then she must be mad at daddy.” Quickly you text Jamie back, letting him know you weren’t going to be able to make it over. Scooping Liam up you headed into his room. “Alright, lil dude, let’s grab some pajamas and daddy will give you a bath tonight, while mommy rests.” The two of you made your way into Liam’s closet; where you proceeded to look for his pjs.

 Squirming in your arms, you set your child down. “New ones;” he said wandering over to a bag that was off to the side.

 “Okay bud, let’s wear the new ones. Mommy must have been shopping, so I don’t why she’s in a bad mood.” Taking the bag from your son, you opened it to find a shirt inside. “I don’t think these are pjs buddy, there aren’t any bottoms in here.” You took another look into the bag making sure you didn’t miss them.

 You were about to put the shirt back in the bag, when Liam said; “new shirt daddy.” That’s when you pulled the shirt out and really looked at it.

 Slowly you let the words sink in as you read the writing. “What’s this? You’re going to be a big brother.” Liam’s little face lit up, as if he understood. Suddenly everything dawned on you; (Y/N) was pregnant. The baby carrots and ribs all made sense; she’d been trying to tell you, and all you did was complain about how poorly the team had performed over the last several games. “Oh shit. Your dad is really dumb you know that.”

 “Shit.” The two-year-old repeated, then giggled.

 “Oh no, don’t say that or daddy will be in more trouble.” And you were in enough as it was. “Come on bud, let’s go find mommy and see if we can make it up to her.” Grabbing Liam’s hand, you headed into the adjoining bathroom, where your wife sat on the edge of the tub, wiping away tears. “Hey baby, I think we need to talk.” Liam scooted over to his mom, wanting to comfort her, as she placed him on her lap. She quickly turned off the water, ignoring you in the process; rightfully so. You’d been an ass, not even asking her how her day was or if anything was new. “So, I a... found this in Liam’s closet.” You held out the little t-shirt; and a fresh set of tears erupted. Swiftly you sat down beside your wife and child. “I’m so stupid, (Y/N) I should’ve noticed how much effort you put into dinner. Ugh, and that little bananas comment; I mean of course you were trying to tell me something, not just making smaller food for Liam. I was just too wrapped up in the team’s problems to pay any attention.” She still wasn’t looking at you. “Baby, I’m so sorry.” Reaching over you rubbed her arm, where she held your first born. “I’m really excited about baby number two.”

 Finally, she looked over at you, a small smile faint across her lips. “Me too.” A wide grin spread over your face, and hers grew bigger.

 “How about you buddy, are you excited to be a big brother?” You tickled Liam’s belly, eliciting a laugh from him; as he nodded his head. “And do you want a brother or a sister?”

 “Both!” He exclaimed cheerfully.

 “Woah, easy bud, how about one or the other.” You wiped the tears off (Y/N)’s face. “I love you sweetheart. Thank you for making me a dad again.” Cupping her chin, you brought her lips to yours, pouring all your love into a devastatingly sweet kiss; that didn’t last long enough for your liking. “Why don’t you let me bath Liam, while you go relax on the couch; then we can all cuddle. How’s that sound?”

 “It sounds perfect.” She handed Liam off to you, and headed out to get comfy.

 Setting the little boy in the tub, you watched as he splashed around with his toys; before you washed all the grim little boys get into off of him. “Out daddy.”

 “Ok bud, let’s get you dried off and we can go out and snuggle mommy. She’ll like that.” Once Liam was all dry, you lathered on the pink baby lotion your wife loved, giving him that clean baby smell; then placed his big brother t-shirt on him. Combing his little curls back, you had to admit he was a miniature you. “There ya go lil man, all clean for mommy.” You cleaned up the bathroom, before the two of you headed out to (Y/N).

 Liam took off, the minute he saw his mom. “Mmmm, you smell so good peanut.” (Y/N) gathered the tiny tot into her arms, nuzzling the crook of his neck; causing him to laugh. She looked happier now.

 “Babe do you want anything before I sit down?” You’d bring her the world if you could, that’s how much you loved this woman.

 “Juice,” Liam shouted out.

 “No, I’m good.” You grabbed a sippy cup and filled it with apple juice, then headed over to the couch. “What do you say to daddy?”

 “Thank you.”

 “Your welcome lil man.” Plopping down, you scooted your wife over so you could wrap your arms around her and caress her belly. As she leaned against you, you whispered in her ear. “I hope this one’s a little girl.”

 She turned her face up towards you. “Really? You don’t want another boy?”

 “Don’t get me wrong, I want a whole hockey team of little guys; but I need a little girl, exactly like her mommy.” She smiled widely at you. “She’ll have your beautiful smile, your charming personality and most of all your loving heart.” You kissed (Y/N) quick on the lips, then groaned. “Ugh,” she looked at you questioningly. “I just realized, if she’s just like you, I’m going to have to lock her in her room until she’s forty.” (Y/N) laughed and Liam joined in; not knowing what the two of you found so funny.

 “Still want a girl?”

 “Oh absolutely. Even if it means I have to be that dad that glares at every boy that looks in her direction. I want a little girl just like you to spoil rotten. She’ll be perfect, just like her mom.” She leaned up and kissed you passionately.

 “My mommy.” Liam interjected, squirming between you two.

 “She’s not just your mommy anymore bud.” You countered, placing a kiss on his little forehead.

 “No, my mommy.” He said wrapping his little arms around (Y/N)’s neck.

 “Looks like someone is a little bit jealous.” Your beautiful wife squeaked out, as Liam kissed her cheeks. “At least he’s got a few months to adjust, before he has to share completely.”

 “Oh, he has to share you now,” you exclaimed, as you smothered both your wife and son with kisses; all three of you laughing. When the giggles finally calmed down, you looked at (Y/N). “I love you.”

 “I love you too.” She breathed.

 “I love too.” Liam joined in.

 Stroking (Y/N)’s belly, you said; “I can’t wait to tell you I love you too little one.” Suddenly nothing else in the world mattered but the three lives you held in your arms.

[themurphyzone]

104 Words for 104 Days: Cook

Enjoy!

The roof of Vanessa’s bedroom was ripped off by her overzealous robot brother at six on a Saturday morning. Saturdays were meant for sleeping in, but apparently her dad’s habit of waking up at some forsaken hour to scheme had rubbed off on Norm.

“WAKEY WAKEY CHOCOLATE CAKEY!” Norm cheered, in the closest imitation to cheering that his voice chip would ever produce. “GOOD MORNING, SIS!”

Vanessa rolled over, burying her face into a pillow. If she ignored him, he’d go away once he got bored.

“WHAT A BEAUTIFUL DAY TO MAKE BREAKFAST IN BED FOR OUR DAD!”

She seriously needed to invest in noise-cancelling earmuffs.

“Father’s Day was last month, Norm,” Vanessa mumbled into her pillow. “Or two months ago. I don’t know, the dates all blend in summer and I don’t feel like getting up to find a calendar.”

“WOULD YOU LIKE TO SEE MY PUPPY DOG EYES? I’VE BEEN PRACTICING SO I CAN GET DAD TO PLAY CATCH WITH ME!”

Vanessa jolted awake. She’d seen Norm cry motor oil once while trying the puppy dog technique, and it was very messy business. She had no wish to repeat that incident ever again.

“I’m up!” she snapped, leaping out of bed and snatching her hairbrush off the nightstand. “Put the roof back, let me get dressed, don’t leak motor oil into my room, and maybe I’ll consider helping you!”

“I’LL BE OUTSIDE!” Norm chirped.

Vanessa buried her face into her hands. She wondered how Candace managed to survive being an older sister.

                                             O – O – O – O – O

By some stroke of luck, her mom was on an overnight camping trip for the weekend without wifi, saving Vanessa from any awkward explanations.

Apparently Norm had spent the past few days collecting ingredients, since the storage closet was almost bursting with flour, sugar, salt, and baking powder. The refrigerator was full of blueberries and butter.

She wasn’t sure if Heinz was aware that his living space had essentially been converted into a bakery, or if he was taking advantage of the ingredients and scheming to create a recipe for evil blueberry muffins.

“I DID ALL MY CALCULATIONS, AND THE PROJECTED TOTAL IS SIX HUNDRED BLUEBERRY MUFFINS,” Norm said. “PLEASE HELP ME BRING THESE INGREDIENTS TO THE KITCHEN SO WE CAN GET STARTED.”

He handed her a recipe page and chef’s hat, then gathered a shelf’s worth of items before heading to the kitchen. Sighing, Vanessa grabbed a bag of flour and trudged after him.

“Try not to burn down the kitchen,” Vanessa warned as she dumped a cupful of sugar into a mixing bowl. “Explosions are Dad’s thing.”

“DON’T WORRY, SIS. I’VE LEARNED FROM DAD’S MISTAKES. I KNOW EFFECTIVE WAYS TO BRING THE TRI-STATE AREA TO ITS KNEES AND HOW TO APOLOGIZE TO PLATYPI WHEN YOU ACCIDENTALLY CHEAT ON THEM WITH A PANDA BEAR.”

“I don’t consider that a strange sentence,” Vanessa admitted. “Should I be concerned?”

“NOPE.”

“You’re right. Probably not worth it.”

Norm’s fingers retracted, an assortment of measuring spoons replacing them. He dug the spoons into the baking powder, tossing it into the large bowl that was too high for Vanessa to reach. When he was finished, Vanessa grabbed her own spoon and added the baking powder to her own bowl, which was thankfully sized for a normal human.

“Hey, this thing’s jammed again! That’s it, I’m swearing vengeance against locks! And locksmiths to an extent too, but mostly the locking mechanisms themselves!”

A banging noise persisted in the background, and Vanessa was tempted to keep it there so she didn’t fall asleep on the spot.

“PLEASE IGNORE THAT. THAT WAS…MY…MIXTAPE. I FORGOT TO TURN IT OFF,” Norm said, intently stirring the contents of his bowl.

Vanessa rolled her eyes. “Sure, Dad swearing revenge against an oddly specific object just happens to be on your mixtape. You locked him in his room last night, didn’t you?”

“NOOO?” Norm replied, drawling the syllable for way too long.

“You’re a terrible liar, Norm,” Vanessa said, handing her finished bowl to Norm and starting over with another one. “Do you want me to teach you how to lie properly? You might not have to use that skill around Dad, but it’ll come in handy if you need to lie to anyone else.”

“ALRIGHT. I’LL JUST LIE TO PERRY THE PLATYPUS.”

“No. Do NOT lie to Perry the Platypus. He will give you his ‘I am so disappointed in you’ glare and look like one of those really sad animals on an ASPCA commercial at the same time. I was on the receiving end of that once after I lied about a date, and I felt like I kicked a million puppies for a week afterwards. It’s not a fun experience.”

It took forty minutes to get all the dry ingredients into the bowl and gather the remaining items, but Norm was surprisingly fun to talk to during the monotonous work. It wasn’t like talking with her mom, who was one of the few adults she respected, or her dad, who talked more than he listened. Perry gave good advice, but he could be a brick wall on occasion. She had to project an air of apathy and rebellion with her peer group, and she had to be careful about what she said around Monty.  

Norm was surprisingly insightful, and even witty with his own sarcastic quips. Despite admiring Heinz and wanting his approval, he wasn’t blind to the man’s flaws either. He just didn’t have the experience in handling him yet.

And Vanessa didn’t mind giving a few pointers.

“I know I complain a lot about Dad, but I care about him too,” Vanessa said. “He spent nearly a decade searching for a discontinued doll that I wanted as a kid. He didn’t have to. It was just one of those heavily marketed toys for the holiday season, and I was never upset about not getting it. I moved on after a while. But Dad never forgot that conversation. That’s the thing about him. He might be dense as a rock to what you actually want, but he’ll jump at any opportunity to give you what he thinks you want. Sometimes it works, sometimes it can be infuriating.”

Norm was silent for a while. Then he replaced his spoons with fingers and grabbed several boxes of blueberries from the fridge. “USING YOUR ADVICE, I THINK I’LL SIT HIM DOWN FOR A TALK AND EXPLAIN WHAT I WANT FROM HIM SO HE DOESN’T HAVE TO GUESS.”

“Best idea I’ve heard from you all day,” Vanessa said. “And if he tries to bail out, get Perry to sit on him.”

Norm laughed and moved onto the eggs, preparing to drop the entire carton into the mix.

“Norm, you’d better fold in the blueberries,” Vanessa said, quickly stopping him before anything inedible could ruin the mixture. She grabbed a clean bowl and expertly cracked several eggs, tossing the eggshells into a plastic bag. “I agree with Dad on how humans don’t eat eggshells or cartons.”

“YOU AGREE WITH DAD?”

“Yeah, I know. Put it on the record.”

Fifty eggs and seventy-five boxes of blueberries later, Norm’s built-in mixers made short work of the batter. Soon it was golden and thick, ready to be ladled into the muffin trays for baking. Still, Vanessa felt like they were missing something.

There was an unused container of sugar almost as long as her arm sitting on the counter. With such a large amount of ingredients, it was easy to miss one.

“Norm, we forgot about that sugar container,” Vanessa said.

Norm unscrewed the lid and dumped the white grains into the mix, giving it several quick stirs with his spoons. When he was finished, he started ladling the mix into each hole on the muffin tray. Vanessa hadn’t realized they owned so many muffin trays, or that the oven could hold eight at a time, or that Norm could transfer heat from his systems to make them bake faster.

Norm even understood basic safety and poured his undivided attention on the muffins, making sure none of them burned or set off the smoke detectors. It was good to know someone in the penthouse had enough sense to observe safe electrical practices.

Confident that Norm could take care of the kitchen by himself, Vanessa went to the bathroom to wash the sugar and eggs off her hands. When she came out, she found a very sheepish Perry handing a generous portion of his salary to her dad, who was nursing a black eye and bruised hand.

“-so next time, warn a guy before you knock down their door! The key was literally on the peg! You could’ve just grabbed that!” Heinz scolded, holding a bag of frozen peas to his eye. Then surprise overtook the scowl when he spotted Vanessa, and the toothy grin looked pretty ridiculous with half his face covered by frozen veggies. “Morning, Vanessa. What are you doing here? I thought you’d be sleeping in at Charlene’s like a normal teen.”

Vanessa shrugged. “Normal teens don’t have robot brothers who destroy roofs at six on a Saturday morning. Hey, Perry. I didn’t think you’d be here this early.”

Perry tilted his fedora to her.

“I sent a distress signal to OWCA since I was locked in my bedroom. And then a certain agent who I won’t name decided to knock my door off its hinges while I was leaning against it,” Heinz muttered. “In addition to teaching robots certain bad habits like breaking people’s homes. I told you he’d be influenced by your dynamic entrances!”

Offended, Perry pointed accusingly at Heinz.

“Well, it’s not my side he gets it from!”

Heinz stood up, discarding the frozen peas on the couch. Perry got into a fighting stance, but before either of them could start brawling, Norm strolled into the living room, cheerily humming the Muffin Man song as he set a tray of blueberry muffins on the coffee table.

“GOOD MORNING, DAD! GOOD MORNING, PERRY THE PLATYPUS!” Norm said. “VANESSA AND I MADE BLUEBERRY MUFFINS FOR YOUR ENJOYMENT!”

“I’m not done with you, Perry the Platypus,” Heinz said, his eyes lighting up at the sight of the tray. “But we’ll continue this after muffins.”

He nearly swallowed a blueberry muffin whole, then his eyes widened. He rushed to the kitchen, coughing and sputtering all the way as he hurriedly gulped down a glass of water.

Vanessa and Perry sampled a small piece, grimacing as the saltiness exploded across their tongues. And to think Heinz actually survived after eating a whole muffin.

“ANALYSIS SHOWED THAT THE LAST CONTAINER WAS SALT, NOT SUGAR,” Norm said, projecting a holographic image of a chemical formula.

“You couldn’t have said that before we used it?” Vanessa sighed.

“FORGIVE ME. MY OBSESSION WITH IMPRESSING DAD TENDS TO OVERTAKE MY RATIONAL THOUGHTS.”

“At least you’re self-aware,” Vanessa muttered.

“You made how many of these things?” Heinz asked incredulously, taking note of just how much flour, salt, batter, and leftover muffins coated his kitchen. “Alright, do you know how weird it is that this place is a mess and for once I’m not the culprit behind it? I’ve heard of role reversal, but that’s just weird.”

Vanessa agreed as she broke out the cleaning supplies. “So, clean up and blueberry muffins at the café?”

“DO I GET TO TRY COFFEE?”

“No!” Heinz said, pulling on a pair of gloves. “Your systems are for making good muffins and assisting me in evil, not for caffeine.”

Perry and Vanessa shared a knowing smile when Heinz wasn’t looking. It was progress.

“Dad, you can go scheme or something if you want,” Vanessa said. “Norm and I can clean. It’s our mess.”

Heinz shrugged, continuing to scrub at a stubborn crack where flour had settled. “I know, but you and Norm and Perry the Platypus are always helping me clean my messes. I want to return the favor.”

“Thanks, Dad,” Vanessa smiled.

“Anytime, sweetie.”  

Courtesy of Perry, a new photo was displayed on the mantle within a week. Heinz was covered head to toe in flour after a mishap with a leftover bag, Norm was rebooting after his squirrel escaped from its wheel and wreaked further havoc, and Vanessa was trying to do damage control around the sink area.

It was the best photo she’d ever seen of her family.

[misc-headcanons]

(The Straw Hats and Scabbards at the castle ruins, as well as Katakuri's children and O-Tama are eating dinner. The large dining room in the castle has been mostly cleaned of dust and cobwebs, but it's clear that it's been abandoned like the rest of the area for years. Vanilla is talking excitedly with O-Tama, Fritter is keeping to himself, Dochi and Ube are eagerly listening to Luffy talk about his previous adventures, and Maple is expertly eavesdropping on every conversation at once while she eats.)

Vanilla: Wow, you're a ninja-in-training, O-Tama? I'm a witch-in-training! Or, well, I dunno if "witch" is the right word. My momma always says that not everyone who uses magic's a witch, but I like saying it. Papa says I'm too cute to be a witch, but I think witches can be cute. Ninjas can be cute too, right?

O-Tama: I guess so. But I wanna be strong and stealthy as a kunoichi, not cute. I'm training to be a force to be reckoned with!

Vanilla: Yeah, but I think you can be a great fighter AND cute. I mean look at Mr. Chopper! He's a member of Luffy's crew so he can fight really well, but he's super fluffy and sweet too.

Chopper: Awww, who're ya calling a good fighter and cute? How dare you, hehehe~

Vanilla: See? Cool AND cute, just like you, O-Tama!

(Sanji notices Fritter's silence so far and gently puts a hand on his shoulder.)

Sanji: How do you like the soup, Fritter?

Fritter: Oh! Um, it's...it's really good. I'm happy I finally got to eat something you made, even if it wasn't at the castle. You really are a good cook, Uncl--Um, Not-Uncle Sanji.

Sanji: I think I remember Pudding saying you wanted to be a chef one day when you grew up, right?

Fritter: Uh-huh. Dochi and Ube wanna be fighters, and Maple's gonna be in charge of communi--um...comm-you...

Maple, offhandedly: Communications. What Uncle Monty does, remember?

Fritter: Yeah, that. So everyone in the family can talk to each other easy and not get messages wrong. And she's probably gonna be a really important Minister too, since she's so smart and good with magic. But I just wanna cook and bake in the kitchen with the chefs. They like to let me watch while they work, and I have my own chair where I sit and watch and everything!

Sanji: I bet you'll be a great chef, just like your Aunt Chiffon with cake and your Aunt Pudding with chocolate.

(Fritter smiles up at Sanji.)

Fritter: Thanks. I'm gonna make people happy whenever I cook something, just like you!

(Dochi and Ube are seated next to each other, practically bouncing in their seats as they hear more and more about the Straw Hats and the Scabbards)

Dochi: Wait, Miss Nami, you managed to make Zeus YOUR familiar!? Holy crap, that's so cool! I mean, Grandma probably doesn't think it is, but still...wow! Do you use magic like mom?

Nami: Well, I dunno if it's how your mom does things, haha. I mean the people I learned from were called "weather wizards", but it's more about science and learning about climate and stuff than spells.

Maple: Mom always says that "magic is just science turned sideways." Both have solid theories on how they work, and experimenting with both makes you more knowledgeable and powerful. Plus, even if it isn't powered by magic specifically, your staff seems like it has similar functions to mom's.

Ube: And Luffy, I still can't believe you fought Papa and didn't like...die! He's never fought anyone like you before. And the way you two weaponized your softer powers with rubber and Mochi with Armament Haki!? That was so cool!

Dochi: Yeah! Me and Ube were going nuts the whole fight while we watched through one of Auntie Brulee's mirrors. If Mama hadn't held us back, we woulda definitely tried to watch in-person.

Ube: And WE wouldn't ruin it the way Flampe tried to, either. I can't believe she thought Papa needed her help. OOOH, and when she started making fun of Papa's face--

Dochi: Yeah, that was WAY out of line... Mama had to put me and Ube into our own bubbles so we couldn't hop in there to kick her ass!

Vanilla, in a scandalized tone: Dochi! Don't say that! Auntie Flampe was really mean, but still...

Ube: You're right, 'Nilla. We were ready to kick Flampe's butt. And with that dress she wears all the time, it woulda been easy to kick that big, stupid, floating BUTT of hers!

(Fritter, Vanilla, and O-Tama snicker and try to hide how much they're smiling and giggling behind their hands.)

Luffy: How is Katakuri, anyway? I didn't really get to see if he got taken care of or anything before I had to get to my ship. That Mirror Lady probably got to him, right?

Ube: He had to stay in bed for a few weeks, but Mama and Auntie Brulee worked hard to make him better.

Vanilla: And me and Fritter, too! I helped with healing magic on his little cuts and scrapes, and Fritter always fluffed his pillows and stuff.

Fritter: Yeah, and I helped the chefs make donuts for his Meriendas too!

Ube: Oh. Uh yeah, they helped too. But most of it was Brulee being a good nurse and Mom being good with her magic. The day we fell through the portal here, he was taking walks and stuff every day.

Dochi: Heh, and practicing with his trident whenever he knew Mom wasn't around to scold him for getting too carried away.

Luffy: Aw, I get that. Chopper's always saying I'm not healed up enough to do stuff sometimes after a big fight, but I just do it anyway. I bet Katakuri's the same way with your mom.

(Maple's attention is turned to Law.)

Maple: So, I imagine that if you and Luffy are allies, you're the one with a plan to take Kaido on. You seem more...um, strategic than him.

Law: That's one way of putting it...Yes, I do have a plan.

Maple: Hm. You know, now that I know you two were planning to target him, some of the news about you makes a bit more sense. Destroying the main resources for SMILE production in Punk Hazard; kidnapping that idiot scientist to use as leverage in Dressrosa; defeating Doflamingo, Kaido's most powerful ally outside of his own crew and a major source of intel, manpower, and influence...I had a feeling that there was something tying it together.

Law: You're pretty sharp for someone your age. I'm not surprised your Uncle Mont-d'or would want you as the head of communication and intel for the Big Mom Pirates after he's gone.

Maple: Thanks. I'm just glad that there's some explanation for why you and Luffy's crew were seen traveling and fighting together so often. Though to be honest, I was surprised to hear that Doflamingo was sent to prison; if what I'd heard and seen about your history was true, I was expecting you to kill Doflamingo in Dressrosa. But Luffy doesn't seem to support killing your enemies if you can help it.

Law: How do you--

Maple: Don't worry, the Big Mom pirates don't know about that. Not even Uncle Monty does.

Law: And how do you?

Maple: The same way I know the Scabbards over there got sent through time and how they're the surviving retainers of Lord Oden, and that they're trying to defeat Kaido and this Orochi guy so Momonosuke can take his rightful place on the throne. Keeping secrets from me is a pretty hard thing to do.

Ube: Yeesh, quit acting so mysterious. You know everyone's business because you know Mom's spells on reading someone's memories and the All-Seeing Eye and--mmpgh!

(Maple's uses a quick spell to make Ube's tongue stick to the roof of his mouth. She narrows her eyes and frowns at him.)

Maple: And how to stop brothers from sharing too much with strangers. For someone who wants to be a leader within Big Mom's pirate crew, you'd think you'd remember that loose lips sink ships, Ube.

Vanilla: I thought most of Gramma's ships sank after people shot a bunch of cannons and bombs at 'em...

(After she stops giggling, Dochi uses some of her own magic to free Ube's tongue. Ube glares at Maple before turning to ask Zoro about what it's like to fight with a sword in your mouth.)

Maple: Look, I know you're a smart man and you clearly have a talent for strategy. But I just want to make what the backup is in case things go wrong.

Law: You're a newcomer, you don't even know the full extent of the plan, and you're demanding to know more? Just because you're a clever kid with magic, that doesn't mean I'm going to reveal every step of this to you. Your uncle had to have taught you that only one person should ever know the full strategy plan, and that's the one who planned it out.

Maple: Yeah, he did. I'm not asking you to trust me that much; if I were in your position, I certainly wouldn't. All I want to know is what my siblings and I can do to help and ensure that when things go wrong, we can be useful and get things back on track. You've just been handed a very valuable wild card, and I want to make sure you use us wisely.

Dochi: Whaddya mean 'when things go wrong', Maple? With Law's crew, the Straw Hats, the Scabbards, and all the allies they've got here, we're all super strong and you said that Law's really good with strategy.

Maple: True. But when it comes to HIM...(Maple gestures to Luffy, who's gulping down the last of his soup) you have the wildest card of all. And he seems to blow through any well-laid plan without any second thought. (She leans back in her chair a bit and crosses her arms) Whatever plan you have in mind, Mr. Law, it's pointless if you really haven't got a backup in mind for whenever he manages to completely ruin it.

Kin'emon: Do you really think someone as young and inexperienced as yourself could come up with a better idea?

Maple: I'm young, not inexperienced. Believe me, as the eldest in a family of five siblings imbued with magic and various forms of Haki, I'm an expert in making plans that are bound to be thrown off course by the chaotic whims of someone close to you. So, Mr. Law...what have you got in mind?

[unfortunate-stranger-losers]

Six Baudelaires AU, Part Three {AO3} {Masterlist} {Part One} {Part Two}

Chapter Thirty-Three → in which the Baudelaires begin to heal

“Wait.” Friday narrowed her eyes. “Bears don’t live on beaches.” 

“I know!” Klaus laughed. “Shakespeare had no geographical knowledge whatsoever.” 

“Neither do I!” Friday giggled. “I’m the next Shakespeare!” 

Lilac laughed and tossed her a coconut. “Here, Shakespeare, make yourself useful while Klaus infodumps.” 

It had been several days, but the Baudelaires were starting to feel more comfortable in their little corner of the island. They had made their tent much larger, so all six of them could fit without squishing. Friday snuck them enough food that they didn’t quickly grow sick of Sunny’s coconut dishes, and it had rained the night before during a light storm, so they finally had water instead of- thankfully non-fermented- coconut milk. Violet had gathered some materials from the beach, and was working on a water filter, but until then, it was mostly the milk for the time being. 

But the good news was, Friday was, for the first time in what must have been forever, drinking non-fermented milk, whenever she visited, and it was showing. She was laughing and smiling much more, and she was even more curious than she’d been before she started dropping by. She’d been sneaking away more and more with each passing day, listening intently to all of their stories, or paying with Solitude and Babbitt, or helping Sunny with the cooking. 

She’d also managed to sneak them some extra robes, and while the Baudelaires were not fond of them, they also knew they couldn’t stay in one outfit for too long, so every now and again they’d switch into the robes while Lilac and Klaus washed the clothes in the water and then hung them up on a string they tied between two trees. Today was thankfully a ‘clothes day’, and after Klaus spent another few minutes describing the play about the jealous King and lost princess, Friday asked, “Hey, guys?” 

“Ye?” Solitude looked up from the tiny tent she’d set up so Babbitt could have a place to chill by themself. 

“If more clothes or fabric wash up on the beach, can I have a dress?” Friday asked hesitantly. 

“If you want one,” Violet said, sitting beside her and bouncing Sunny on her lap, “We can definitely make you one. Lilac and Nick are very good at sewing.” 

“So am I!” Sunny cheered.  

Friday’s eyes lit up. “Could you teach me?” 

“Of course!” Lilac nodded, beaming. She pushed her braids back, and then said, “How was the storm last night?” 

“Real pretty!” Friday said. “I love thunder!” 

“You know,” Lilac sat in front of her, smiling, “So do I!” 

“It was a bit loud,” Klaus said, waving at Nick as he came out of the trees with a handful of leaves, “But it was nice to get some rain.” 

“Should we go storm-scavenging,” Violet asked, “Or wait until your colony’s finished? We don’t want to cause trouble.” 

“We could go to the Coastal Shelf.” Friday said. “Usually people don’t go until later. If they do, you can just ignore them. Or pretend you’ve kidnapped me or something so they leave you alone.” 

“If we don’t find anything, we’ll at least get some walking in.” Nick said. “Being stuck in one place is a bit frustrating.” 

“I like exploring, I think.” Friday admitted, twirling the spyglass in her hands. “Lilac, Violet said you were going to go to the dangerous side of the island soon. Can I go, too?” 

Lilac glared at Violet, who shrugged. “She asked.” 

“Only if you want to.” Lilac said carefully. “I’ve been walking alright, so we should probably go soon and see if there’s a boat we can use for decision day.” 

“You could probably use the outrigger.” Friday said, very hesitantly, as she stared down at the ground. 

“I doubt Bitchmael would let us.” Nick shrugged. “We kinda yelled at him for a while.” 

“Maybe he’d let us, just to get us the hell out.” Violet suggested. 

“That can be our worst-case scenario, if we don’t find a proper boat.” Lilac said. “But first, let’s go check the beach. Violet, I think I can walk on my own.”

“You should at least have a crutch or something. Maybe a walking stick.” Violet said. “We can probably find some driftwood.” 

“Stop worrying,” Lilac smiled, holding out a palm to help Friday to her feet, and taking the small girl’s hand, “That’s my job as biggest sister.”

Her smile faltered slightly, as she glanced at Nick. Nick then quickly said, “Yeah, Vi, it’s her job. Worry about me and Klaus, we’re going to throw ourselves into the sea.” 

“Don’t do that, we might need you as sharkbait.” Violet said. 

“That’s what Olaf’s for.” Solitude said, holding out her hands for Babbitt to leap onto. 

“Sharkbait!” Sunny agreed. 

“Speaking of sharkbait,” Violet grabbed the knife from their sack of supplies, “We better take this in case he shows up.” 

“Good plan, V.” Klaus said. 

They all stood, and Friday and Lilac moved to the front, where Friday could point the way. As she did, she said, “Why would you need sharkbait?” 

“To catch a shark.” Nick said. “They’re endangered, so we don’t want to kill any, but if we’re desperate for food…” 

“We’ve never eaten shark.” Friday said. “There’s lots of things I’ve never eaten. Sherman says that there’s this thing on the mainland called ‘cake,’ but we don’t have desserts here.” 

“You’d love cake.” Violet said, as Klaus took Sunny, so Violet could be ready to stab at any opportunity. “You seem to like sweet things.” 

“What other sweet things are on land?” Friday asked, jumping over a fallen tree. 

“Chocolate.” Nick said. “And other candy.” 

“Strawberries.” Sunny said. “Jelly.” 

“You.” Violet pocketed her knife and grabbed Friday from behind, causing the girl to burst into laughter. “You’re too sweet and we’re gonna have to eat you!” 

“Nooo!” Friday couldn’t stop laughing, “Vi, put me down!” 

Lilac laughed and pulled her hair back; her ribbon had been too bloodied to use anymore, so she was using her hands until they could find a replacement. It was getting a bit frustrating, but she didn’t want to complain. They were all doing the best they could. 

Friday looked up at Violet as she kicked the air, and she said, “What else is on the mainland?” 

“Tons of inventing materials.” Violet said. 

“Cars and stoves and boilers and other things to fix.” Lilac said. 

“And things to build.” 

“I miss the libraries.” Klaus sighed. “We haven’t had a decent library in a while.” 

“I miss the roof of Prufrock.” Nick said. “It was fun to drop things on people.” 

“I miss Uncle Monty’s snakes.” Solitude sighed, placing Babbitt on her shoulder. 

“Fountain.” Sunny said. 

“The Fowl Fountain?” Nick shivered. “Why the hell would you miss that?”

Sunny shook her head. “Fountain of Finance. In city.” 

The Baudelaires stopped, and stared at her. “You can’t remember that.” Lilac said.

“You weren’t even a year old.” Violet said. 

Sunny shook her head. “I remember.” 

Friday cocked her head, still held by Violet. “What’s the fountain?” 

“The… Fountain of Victorious Finance.” Lilac said. “It was hot and we were waiting for our Mom outside the bank.” 

“And then Sunny started crying, so Father dunked her in the fountain.” Violet said. “And she laughed, so he kept splashing her.” 

“And then we threw off our shoes and socks and jumped in, too.” Nick sighed. 

“And everyone was staring at us.” Klaus laughed. “And Mother came out of the bank, took one look at us, and then ran to join in.” 

“We walked home all wet.” Solitude remembered. 

They glanced at each other, each feeling a cloud of sadness descending upon them. “That sounds beautiful.” Friday said. 

“It was.” Lilac said. 

They paused, and then Violet said, “We’re gonna have to dunk you in a fountain someday, Fri-girl. So you know how great it is.” 

Friday laughed, and Violet spun a little. Lilac smiled and straightened up again, and said, “Which way, Fri?” 

“Jus’ keep goin’ straight.” Friday giggled as Violet swung her around. “We’ll get there in a few minutes- Vi, put me down!” 

“Alright.” Violet said, and then she tossed Friday at Nick, who caught her and spun her again. Friday let out a delighted shriek, as Solitude clapped and Sunny leaned against Klaus, asking him to do the same. 

Nick managed to lift the little girl onto his shoulders, and she wrapped her hands around his neck and flung back. “Sneak attack!” she said, and Nick let out a mock gasp as he fell. He twirled so that Friday landed on his back, and they burst into laughter again. 

“Okay, guys, but we should get to the beach.” Klaus said, smiling as Solitude decided now was a good time to throw herself on top of Nick and Friday to join the pile. 

“Join us!” Nick said, looking up at him. “We’re becoming one with the sand!” 

“No, no, we-” Friday reached over and pulled on Klaus’s leg, dragging him down with them, and Sunny cheered as they hit the ground. 

“Yeet!” Violet shouted, as she threw herself beside her siblings, and after a second, Lilac flopped over, too. 

“You know what?” Friday said, as Sunny pushed Klaus’s head into the sand, and he retaliated by dunking her in almost completely, “You guys are cool.” 

“Oh, are we?” Lilac rolled onto her stomach, smirking. “Then I guess we won’t shove sand in your hair.” 

“No, no, do that!” Friday said. “That sounds like fun!” 

“You asked for it, Fri-girl.” Violet said, and she grabbed a handful of sand and dumped it onto her head. 

Friday laughed and clapped. “You’re so much more fun than the other kids! They keep telling me-” She sat up straighter, and imitated a deep voice. “‘Don’t rock the boat, Friday, we don’t play school here. School is discouraged.’” 

“Well, Prufrock Prep sucked.” Nick said. “But I bet there’s good schools.” 

“Didn’t you go to other schools?” Friday asked. 

Violet shook her head. “We were homeschooled before the fire.” 

“That means our parents taught us, or we taught ourselves.” Klaus said. 

Friday sighed. “I wish my mother would teach me things. All she shows me how to do are my chores for the colony, and how to do my hair. She didn’t want me to learn how to read, and she always gets mad when I ask too many questions.” 

The Baudelaires shared a cautious look. “That sucks.” Solitude said, sitting beside her. “You should learn everything.” 

“Isn’t it dangerous?” Friday asked, glancing over with a frown on her face. “To know everything?” 

Nick shuddered. “Yes.” he said. “There are some things you… you don’t want to learn. But that shouldn’t stop you. It shouldn’t keep you from being curious.” He scooted over to her, and poked her stomach, which caused her to giggle again. “Listen to me, Friday… what’s your last name, sweetie?” 

“Caliban!” 

“Alright. You listen to me, Friday Caliban. You never stop being curious. There’s so much in this world to learn, you hear me?” 

“I hear ya, Nicknack.” Friday smiled. 

“And,” Nick said, “Also promise me you won’t drink that coconut drug shit anymore.” 

Friday grinned. “Keep a secret? I haven’t since I started visiting you, and you gave me actual milk. It tastes better.” 

“Okay, but we just wanna make sure you’re not drowsy and forgetful and in danger.” Klaus said. “We don’t want you getting hurt.” 

“Poppy,” Sunny said, which meant, “And it’s probably not a good idea for a seven-year-old to be high.” 

Friday smiled, and hugged her knees. “Gotcha.” she glanced at Lilac. “And you can promise me a dress?” 

“First chance we get.” Lilac ruffled the girl’s hair fondly. “But first, we have to get to the beach. Maybe if we’re lucky, we’ll find fabric first thing.” 

“I hope so.” Friday beamed. “I hope we find a ton of interesting stuff.” 

“I hope we find books.” Klaus said. 

“Or a boat.” said Solitude, practically. 

“I hope we find Olaf, dead in a ditch.” Violet said. 

“I hope he’s alive so we can stab him.” Nick said. 

“Well,” Lilac stood. “We won’t know until we get there. Friday, you’re still our navigator.” 

“Okee!” Friday leapt to her feet, happy that she was important in this. “Follow me, Baudelaires!” 

[zombiesheadcanonsplease]

It’s Halloween!

So for all the trick or treaters out there, here’s some advice:

Never go to Samuel Stuhlinger’s house for candy. He’s most likely to give you a fake body part than give you a sweet treat for his sick amusement. He’s trying to be a copycat Candy Man.

If you’re brave enough, Russman will be in his rocking chair on the porch with a full basket of candy in his lap. Ignore the look on his face and the shotgun propped beside him and he may give you a generous amount. Be kind and wait your turn if you go with a group of friends. He’s the ‘Strange Man in the Old House’ cliche.

Misty’s the person to go to for big bags of chocolates and cans of soda. Don’t look too long at her suggestive costume and you won’t get chased off her property for looking at her in a strange way. She’s dressed as a cat.

If you’re looking for something to wash down the sweets or you’ve been walking for a while and you’re feeling thirsty, Marlton Johnson will be handing out bottles of water, maps of the best trick-or-treat locations in town, and he’s making some low-fat brownies with peanuts. I suggest you stay clear from the brownies, they’re always burnt. He does pull off a good Robin costume. (Props if you know why that is.)

Looking for the best scares, head on over to Billy Handsome’s house. He spent the last few months to make and hide jumpscares, handcraft his decorations of jack-o-lanterns and scarecrows, and authentically make some bloody bodies littered on his yard as you make your way to his doorstep. Make sure you’re looking everywhere at all times because he’s gonna get one good scare out of you by jumping out and tackling you. If you survive all that, he’ll dump a handful of candy in your bag. He’ll tell you to run; take his advice. He’s dressed as himself.

Finn O’Leary won’t be celebrating the holiday so it’s best to stay away from his house. He’s trying to get some sleep and will leave a warning sign on his yard of what he’ll do if some poor soul rings his doorbell at all tonight. The only kid that did this one time had to give their candy away to him because that’s the one thing that would make him stop chasing after them.

Salvatore DeLuca won’t be celebrating either. He’s got better things to do with his life. If you have the time and supplies, throw toilet paper at his house. That’s it, he’ll hunt whoever does something else besides that.

Albert Arlington will greet you with a small smile and ask if you want cookies or brownies, he’ll give each trick-or-treater two cookies or brownies. Compliment him on his paper mache owls, ghosts, and bats on his porch and he’ll give you a bit more. Be honest, he’ll know if you’re lying. He’ll be dressed as his original superhero, Icarus, so don’t be frightened by the large yellow wig and the red latex suit.

Be patient with Nero Blackstone when you get to his house or avoid his house. He’ll ask if you want to see a magic trick and he’ll attempt to pull a piece of candy from your ear. It won’t work the first few times and if it continues to not, he’ll give up and ask if you want the whole basket of candy. THIS IS A TRICK! Answer yes and he’ll throw you the one candy he tried to fool you with. He’ll take the basket with him and slam the door, calling it a night. He’ll be dressed as his idol, Harry Houdini.

Jessica Rose won’t be participating so avoid her house. If you disturb or try to prank her while she’s trying to watch a movie with the candy she was going to give out, she will come out. The fact she’s chasing you won’t scare you, it’s the green facial mask she has on will give you every reason to run faster.

Floyd Campbell won’t be offering candy, but if you’re getting hungry for some real food, stop by his place because he’s in his yard with his grill. He’s giving out free burgers, hotdogs, and shish kabobs for anyone between the hours of 5-9. He’ll be dressed in his boxing outfit with an apron that says, “Work Hard, Play Harder” over it.

Jack Vincent will be working late so go all out on his house and take the basket of candy on his porch (he won’t do much unless you get caught on his surveillance cameras which you won’t ever know where they are).

Takeo, surprisingly, will be participating so remember if you were good to him earlier this year and then go to his house for sweets and homemade goods. He knows if you were good or bad to him, so don’t try to lie. He’ll be dressed in casual clothing.

Nikolai will not be participating, but he will leave a basket of candy for anyone. Make sure you only take one piece and walk away. He may be in his home, but that doesn’t mean he’s asleep. Just don’t look at the far right window on the top floor and you’ll be fine.

Edward Richtofen will be giving away the authentic candies from his home and other surrounding countries. Looking for better chocolates from Switzerland or curious to try bon bond from France? I highly recommend his house! Not to mention, he does have a flare for Halloween/Fall aesthetics so you’ll have something to admire and take pictures of. He’ll be dressed as Gandalf so compliment his outfit because he needs to be sure that it looks good.

At the end of the night, head on over to Tank Dempsey’s house for the best Halloween party. He goes all out on decorations, candy, food, music, and scares during this holiday. Everyone’s invited and for anyone thinking that open invites are a death wish, don’t worry, because there’s top security when Dempsey can’t be around to monitor. Ignore the security and you’ll have a blast and walk away with another full bag of candy, courtesy of the man who loves Halloween more than anyone. He’ll be dressed as Master Chief and he spent all of last year getting it right so give the man props. 

Another thing to remember, Dr. Monty and the Shadowman will be watching you from their porch, eating the Halloween candy and drinking wine. Do not stare at them for too long and don’t think about approaching them. They won’t chase you, but they’ll do something later on down the road in your life. Don’t say I didn’t warn you, the last kid was sorry... 

Happy Halloween! Have fun and be safe. <3

[ghostlywritten]

Uncertainty II.

Words: 4k+

A/N: Thank you for all the reviews and messages, I appreciate it. Virtual hugs for everyone. And thanks for answering my question at the beginning, didn’t think anyone would read this part lol.

I

Warning: Language. Mentions of abuse, nothing graphic, just mentions.

Warning: Language. Mentions of abuse, nothing graphic, just mentions. 

You stood up from the couch, gathering your underwear to put on. “Hey, where are you going?” Scott asked, confused why you left his arms. 

 “Just going to put on something comfier,” you replied, shortly. 

 “Aren’t my arms comfy enough for the lady?” he asked, teasingly. 

 “Nooo, they are too buff and hard,” you said as you clasped your bra together, turning to screw up your face at him in fake disgust, “It’s ew.” 

He laughed out loud, throwing a pillow at you. “Just so you know, this…,” he said, gesturing towards his delicious chocolate abs, “…is all for you.”

“Well, as much as I appreciate the sight and I really do,” you said, taking your time to roam his figure with your eyes, “you know I’m not shallow.”

He smiled warmly at you, tugging you down to place a kiss on your lips, “I know. And that’s one out of thousand reasons why I love you.” You smiled against his mouth before pulling away again to get some clothes on. And check on the pizza. 

“Hey, you don’t mind if there are some burnt spots on the pizza,” you said, chuckling as you went back towards him, only to see him type on his phone with the smirk on again. Your good mood faltered yet again and you sighed, the thoughts nagging at the back of your mind coming back full force and nearly drowning you in worries. Why was he still friends with Bryce? was the biggest question running around your mind.

Sitting down next to him, you kept quiet, nibbling on a piece of pizza as you tried to focus on the movie, not reacting to Scott’s attempts in drawing you back into his arms.

-

The next day you drove to school together with his car in an almost deafening silence. Your entire morning actually consisted of a silent breakfast, a silent getting ready for school and a silent agreement to drive there together. Thoughts of Hannah Baker’s tapes and the rapist’s confession plagued your mind and you supposed it wasn’t helping that you were reading the blog regarding the trial.

“You still reading that blog?” Scott asked, tentatively trying to start yet another conversation. 

“Yep,” you answered, curtly. 

“What’s new now?”

“It’s Mr. Porter’s turn today.”

“One day without the biggest counselor fail in the world? Strike,” he cheered, laughing at his own ‘funny’ joke.

“Yeah,” you said lamely and opened the door as soon as his car was parked in the lot, Scott looking after you worriedly.

“Reed! There you are, man!” Bryce’s voice called out to your boyfriend and you noticed him and his posse step down the stairs to get to you. “And Y/N, hey! Didn’t expect you to come together,” he said jokingly, winking at Scott as they high-fived. “We missed you at the party yesterday.”

“Guess Scotty had something better to do than hang with us,” Monty remarked, causing them all to laugh at their not so inside joke. Scott grinned, his dimple coming out and normally that sight would turn you into a puddle inside. But today it sent shivers of the wrong kind down on your spine. His grin faded when he noticed your slight frown and he coughed, putting his arm around your shoulders.

“Yeah, sorry guys. Y/N and I just wanted to stay at home for the night,” he explained and they nodded in mock understanding. You were ashamed to admit you would have believed their feigned ignorance on what you guys did yesterday if you hadn’t read the messages before. Just how ignorant have you been all this time? Was this just a game to these guys? Like how much sex you get and how long you could fool a girl? If so, Scott had you really fooled. ‘No, stop thinking like that. He couldn’t have been acting like that for over a year. He loves you,’ you reassured yourself, wrapping your arm around his waist to search for his warmth. He smiled down at you, relief that your semi-silent treatment was apparently over and kissed the top of your head.

“Aw man, you guys are almost as cute as me and Chloe,” Bryce commented.

Scott scoffed, “Almost? We are definitely cuter!”

“Sorry dude, but who just suggested to their girlfriend to accompany them to a trip to Italy? That’s right. My cute ass,” Bryce said, pointing at himself with a shit-eating grin.

The others ‘oooh’ed, laughing.

You scoffed, too. “Aww look at you. Only been with someone for a few months and already think you can keep up with the big teams?” you said, gesturing between you and Scott. “Now that’s cute!”

“Ouch!” Monty laughed, clapping Bryce’s shoulder.

“You need a bandage for that burn?” Jackson commented, grinning widely.

Bryce chuckled, “Alright, alright. You win.” You smirked at him in success, hugging your boyfriend, who was shaking in laughter. “How about you celebrate your win with us at the Clubhouse tonight?” At this Scott went deadly still, turning into stone. 

You looked between him and Bryce. “The Clubhouse?”

“That’s right. I don’t know why you haven’t been there before already?” Monty remarked. “You’re automatically invited if your boyfriend is.”

“Never heard of the Clubhouse before,” you said, looking up at Scott questioningly.

He cleared his throat, his eyes shifting around and you knew he was trying to come up with a lie. “Y/N doesn’t really enjoy parties. I figured this wouldn’t be her scene,” he excused and whilst he was right with you not enjoying parties, it wasn’t like you totally hated them. And if he had invited you, you would have gone for his sake.

Irked by the fact that he kept this from you, you turned. “Well, I don’t mind coming tonight.”

“What?” Scott hissed, tightening his grip on you as Bryce raised an eyebrow.

“Great then. See you at 7. And 7 means 9,” he informed, then turned to Scott and clapped his shoulder. “You coming now? Math is first and you know how that dick of a teacher is.”

“Yeah, I’ll be right there,” Scott dismissed them, not taking his eyes from you as you deliberately avoided his, cheerfully waving the boys goodbye.

“What was that?”

You looked at him, innocently. “What was what?”

“Why would you agree on going to the Clubhouse?” he asked, frowning deeply.

“Why shouldn’t I? It’s a party, right?”

“Right. And you don’t like parties.”

“I will like them for you. I mean, you can’t show up alone if you’re taken. Some girl might mistake you to be single,” you grinned, pulling him closer but he resisted. 

“You can’t go there.”

“And why not?”

“I won’t allow it.”

“Excuse me?!” you protested, getting out of his arms, “Who are you to tell me what to do?”

“Your boyfriend. You are not going. It’s final,” he said, turning away from you, “I’m going to class. See you later.” He quickly went off before you could say any more, leaving you flabbergasted. What on earth had gotten into him all of a sudden?

-

The whole first and second period you couldn’t get over the fact that your sweet boyfriend suddenly turned into some strict father-figure. Even if he was into daddy-kinks, it never went like this before!

You wondered whether he was hiding something from you. Something that was happening in the Clubhouse. Was he perhaps cheating? Or taking drugs? You didn’t like this. Not one bit.

“Worrying about your boyfriend again?” a voice whispered from your right and you jumped slightly, turning to see Cyrus in all his punk glory.

“Oh. Hey Cyrus. What’s up?” you greeted him and he shrugged. “Nothing much. Been hanging out with Tyler Down lately. You know him?” 

“Yeah. The photographer.” And stalker from the tapes. It was perverted but you’d heard worse.

“That’s the one. He’s pretty chill.”

“Cool,” you remarked quietly but smiled genuinely at him. You always liked Cyrus. He could have easily gotten into one of the sport teams with how athletic he was in P.E. and turn into a jock but rather decided to be who he wanted to be. Not what he was expected to be. His courage to stay true to himself was admirable. 

“So what’s on your mind this time? Still wondering whether your boyfriend is a rapist or not?” Cyrus asked and your cringed at his bluntness. 

“No...I don’t think he is.”

“You don’t think?”

“I know he isn’t,” you corrected, giving him a warning glare. He raised up his hands in surrender, “Whatever you say. Though if he tries something with you, just kick him in the balls. You ladies are allowed to do that.” You cracked a smile at his remark, shaking your head. “Thanks, Cyrus. You are always good for advice.”

“Right?” he said, spreading his arms around to receive the non-existent cheers. You chuckled, turning back to your paper, tapping your pen against the table before looking back at him. 

“Do you know what the Clubhouse is?” you asked him. 

He thought for a second before shaking his head. “Never heard of that. Why?”

You shrugged. “Just something I’m invited to. Like a party. By Bryce.”

“Bryce?” he asked as if he misheard, “Bryce Walker?” You nodded. “Well, whatever it is, I wouldn’t go there without some protection if I were you.”

“I’m going with my boyfriend.”

“Yeah...maybe some pepper spray and whatever girl shit is out there could be useful, too?” he suggested, “Or you could borrow a baseball bat from your boyfriend?”

“Isn’t my boyfriend protection enough?” you asked him, frowning slightly.

“...It’s really up to you. Do you think so?” he asked back. You wished you could immediately say ‘Yes’. You stayed quiet instead. “I mean, you are going to a party held by Bryce Walker apparently. You need maximum safety.”

“Yeah. Thanks, Cyrus.” He nodded, looking back towards the front and you followed suit, deeply unsettled. 

-

Setting down your lunch tray you sat down on an empty table, being one of the early ones as your teacher had ended class sooner. Feeling hungry you shoved a spoonful of your noodles into your mouth, looking through your texts and social media.

There was a message from Justin last night, apologising for blowing up on you that you still hadn’t responded to. You weren’t that mad about his outburst but more about his homeless conditions and why he didn’t come to you. Deciding to not be petty about it now, you texted him back:

Justin (1:26 AM): I’m sorry, Y/N. For yelling at you.

You (12:04 PM): It’s all good. If you wanna come around sometime, you know you can. The offer still stands.

He didn’t take long to answer you.

Justin (12:06 PM): Thank you. I really appreciate it.

You (12:06 PM): Are you at school today?

Justin (12:07 PM): No...I’m visiting my mom.

You (12:08 PM): Is Meth Seth there rn?

Justin (12:09 PM): No, thank god.

You (12:10 PM): Good. Have fun then. 

Someone settled down in front of you and you looked up, surprised to see Clay sitting in front of you. 

“Hey Clay,” you greeted him, smiling.

“Hey Y/N. I need your help,” he said quickly, not beating around the bush. 

“Eh, of course,” you said, surprised he would actually take up your offer from yesterday.

“Have you ever heard of the Clubhouse?” You perked up at the question.

“The Clubhouse?”

“Yeah?”

“Just recently, yeah. I am invited to it by Bryce. Why?” 

His eyes widened. “Are you going to go there?”

“I’m eh...not sure. You know, with Bryce being there and all the rumours about him being a rapist-”

“It’s not a rumour, it’s the truth,” he cut in and you breathed in deeply, nodding. You were pretty sure by now, too.

“Look. I won’t force you, of course. But there might be something that could help the Bakers win the case. And get Bryce to jail.”

“What? How?!” you asked, shocked.

“There are Polaroids.” He took out three pictures, placing them in front of you. Picking them up you observed them closely: One was a picture of a couple smiling into the camera, another of Bryce Walker fucking a girl, whose face wasn’t visible and another of a couple going cowboy.

“What the hell?” you asked with a frown.

“Turn them around.” Doing as he said you looked at what was written and your frown turned deeper. “It’s- what’s this?”

“I’m not sure myself,” Clay replied, “But I think this Clubhouse is somewhere on the school property. And if there are things happening that happened to Hannah, then this would be a huge benefit for the Bakers. And there could be evidence on Bryce being a rapist.”

You took in a deep breath, puffing it out with a loud sigh. “Woah. Ok. What exactly do you need me to do?”

“Find out where the place is and look for polaroids like these,” he explained and you nodded. 

“Alright. I will see what I can do,” you agreed, giving him the pictures back. He nodded gratefully and opened his mouth to say more when you saw Scott and the others dangerously close to hearing range. 

“Hey Y/N, is this nerd bothering you?” Monty asked, placing a not so well meant hand on his shoulder. You noticed Bryce glancing between the two of you in suspicion as Scott sat down next to you, nonchalantly greeting Clay with a nod. 

“No, he is not. In fact he was just going,” you said, giving the boy in front you a warning glance. He nodded in understanding and left without another word. 

“Girl, what did he want?” Bryce wondered, taking his place and staring at you in silent observation as if he could read on your face what you had been talking about. You squirmed slightly, feeling uncomfortable under his eyes and Scott wrapped his arm around your waist, kissing your temple to relax you. 

“Just some shit about English class. He was asking about the essay,” you quickly made up, glancing at Zach, who was the only one you shared that class with along with Clay. He looked confused and slightly panicked. “Essay? What essay? How much time do I have left?!” The table roared in laughter. 

“Typical Zach. Always missing everything that’s educational,” Jackson chuckled, clapping his back good-naturedly as Zach blushed in embarrassment.

“Don’t worry, Zach. You still have more than enough time left,” you chuckled. Endless time actually since there was no assigned essay.

“Whatever, I’m sure Y/N is going to give me her essay to copy from, right?” Zach said, giving you the puppy eyes to which you only raised an eyebrow.

“Sorry, that won’t work on me.” He deflated into a pout.

“That only works on your mom, Zachy!” Monty joked, causing the others to burst out in laughter again. You rolled your eyes at the typical joke. They never let him go away with that.

“Yeah, yeah. Real funny,” Zach grumbled, picking on his food.

“Come on Zachy,” Bryce said between his chuckles, “You coming to the Clubhouse tonight?”

“Nah, I’m busy with that essay I’ve just heard about for the first time,” Zach said moodily and you tried to hide your smile.

“Sucks for you. You’re gonna miss Y/N’s debut at the place,” Jackson informed him. Zach’s eyes widened and snapped to you. “What?”

You gave him a questioning look as Scott pulled you closer. ‘Did he know something?’

“Actually Y/N told me earlier that she can’t come,” your boyfriend said, causing you to frown at him, “she has to look after her neighbour’s daughter. Forgot about that, didn’t you?” he said, turning to you.

“I don’t know what you’re-,” you jumped as he squeezed your waist almost too tightly. “So I’m gonna have to pass, too. Sorry, guys,” he continued, quickly talking over you. Bryce regarded you two with sharp eyes before shrugging. 

“Well, it can’t be helped,” was all he said as the others groaned in disappointment. 

“Yeah, seems like it,” you said through your gritted teeth, glaring at your boyfriend, who was skillfully avoiding your eyes.

-

“Y/N!” he called after you as you went ahead. “Where are you going? The car is parked the other way,” he chuckled, but you impassively continued your walk home, causing him to stop. 

“Hey Y/N? Y/N!” he caught your wrist, turning you around, “Not the silent treatment again, please. What’s going on?”

“As if you don’t know,” you scoffed, getting out of his grip. 

“I-”

“Who the hell are you to tell me where to go or not, huh?!” you interrupted him, all your pent up anger coming up, “Like seriously, what the fuck, Scott? Since when have you turned into this strict, over-protective boyfriend? We agreed to leave the daddy-kinks for the bedroom!” 

“I know. I know. I’m just looking out for you,” Scott tried to explain, going to take your hand but you moved away, ignoring his pained expression.

“I don’t care. You have no right to forbid me from doing anything, boyfriend or not.” Pushing him away from you, you walked home to get ready for the party. Like hell were you going to let him stop you from this.

As soon as you arrived home, you ran a bath for yourself with your favourite scent to soothe your nerves that had been going haywire the past two days.

Looking at your phone, you saw Justin’s latest text.

Justin (12:15 PM): No fun in that shithole.

You (3:46 PM): Sorry for the late answer. Where are you now?

Closing the tap, you stripped off your clothes and relaxed into the water with a blissful sigh. This is what you lived for: nice, hot baths. 

You mulled over the things that happened today. Bryce inviting you to the Clubhouse, which seemed to be an exclusive thing, and Scott’s immediate and weird reaction. He was strangely adamant on not letting you go to that party. You knew then he was hiding something from you. Deducing from the polaroids you would think it was the usual party, sex and drugs scenario, but...

Hannah wasn’t the only one.

‘Are they getting raped in there?’

‘Is that what Scott is trying to hide from you?’

‘Or is he trying to hide himself from you? What he is doing in there?’

You shut your eyes tightly, diving under the water as if it would stop you from thinking what you couldn’t stop yourself to think about. ‘Is he like Bryce?’

-

Getting ready was easier said than done when you don’t really fancy going out. But you weren’t only doing this for the sake of finding out what your boyfriend had been up to but also for Clay and the Baker’s trial. You had to find out what was going on in there and get proof if something bad was happening.

Putting on some black skinny jeans you stuffed your white top into it, a leather belt adorning your waist as you pulled your hair up into a messy bun. A quick application of make up and a denim jacket thrown over your top and you were ready to go. Looking at the clock, you saw it was only a little after 8 and figured you should get something to eat. There was no way you were going to eat or drink anything in that Clubhouse. Yes, you were that paranoid by now.

Stuffing your mouth with some chinese take out, you got out your phone. Scott hadn’t texted you so far and you knew he was giving you space like he always would after a fight, knowing you needed to cool down.

But you had a message from Justin.

Justin (6:59 PM): I’m ok. Don’t worry about me.

You (8:14 PM): What do you mean? Where are u? Are you at Clay’s?

You bit your lip, hoping for a quick reply. Waiting you ate some more until you got impatient and decided to call. As you prayed for him to pick up, feeling the uncomfortably familiar churn in your stomach, the doorbell rang. You frowned, ending the call. 

Walking up to the door, you peeked through the peephole only to see the tanned face of your boyfriend. Sighing, you opened up the door to see him standing with two boxes of pizza and a sheepish smile. 

“I’m sorry for being a dick- wait, why are you so dressed up?”

“Yes, you are a dick and pizza accepted,” you replied, taking the boxes from him and walking back into the kitchen.

“Y/N, where are you going?” 

“To the Clubhouse of course.”

Silence, then... “No.”

“What no?”

“No as in you won’t go.”

You huffed. “Try and stop me. I dare you.”

“Y/N, you can’t fucking go there. Don’t argue with me on this,” he said, looking like he was panicking.

“Give me one reason why,” you demanded, crossing your arms.

“You don’t like parties.”

“I do now.”

“You don’t know where it is.”

“You will show me where it is.”

“Like hell I’m gonna help you get there.”

“Then I guess I will just have to ask Bryce to get me there.” You waited for his next argument as you checked your makeup on the reflection of the oven. Hearing no counter attack you turned to look at him only to see him try to control his hard breathing.

“Scott?” you called out, stepping up to him. He suddenly grabbed your arms, holding them tightly and making you squeal in surprise. “You are not fucking going near him, you hear me?!” 

“Ouch, what the fuck? Let me go!” you exclaimed and he immediately dropped his grip on you, breathing in deeply and turning away.

“What on earth is going on with you Scott? Why are you trying to keep me away from that place?”

“Because I don’t like you going there, okay? Is that not enough reason for you?” he asked you, almost desperate. You felt slightly bad, but needed to find out what was up with that place.

“Scott, just tell me straight up. What happens in the Clubhouse? Are you doing drugs?”

“Yes.”

“And?”

“And...nothing.”

“So? I’m not going to do drugs, you have nothing to worry about.”

“They will force you.”

“They can fucking try.”

“Listen, Y/N. Just stay here with me,” he begged, holding onto your arms again, gentler this time, “We can eat pizza and watch whatever you want all night. Please?”

You almost gave in, looking into his beautiful eyes but shook your head. “Sorry Scott. I need to go.”

“Why? Why the hell do you need to go there?”

“To find evidence that Bryce is a fucking rapist!”

“W-what?” Shoot, you weren’t planning on letting that slip. “Wha- why would you think he is rapist?”

“Oh, don’t fuck with me right now, Scott. We both know he is,” you scoffed, shaking his hands off to cross your arms. “Everyone knows. Justin confirmed it and he has been on the tapes, Clay said so too and even fucking Mr. Porter confessed it in front of the court today!

Can you look me in the eye and say he is not a rapist?” you challenged, boring your eyes in his. He pressed his lips together and looked down, shaking his head.

You finally let out the breath that you had been holding in ever since the tapes came out. He looked down in distress, his shoes suddenly more interesting than anything else in the vicinity.

“Why would you protect him, Scott?” you asked, shakily.

“I’m...not.”

“Yes, you fucking are. Tell me why!” You demanded, tears threatening to spill as your heart tightened. 

“I’m just...Look, Y/N there are a lot of things going on - especially in the Clubhouse - that you or anyone that is not part of it knows about,” he explained and you nodded, the feeling of confirmation solidifying the more he spoke. “Seriously. The stuff that’s happening there is not something you want to deal with. That’s why I’m asking you not to g-”

“But you deal with that stuff, don’t you?” you whispered, cutting in, “You go into that Clubhouse and deal with the rape and whatever else happens in there.”

“I-I can’t really do anything about it.”

“Why? Because you do it, too?” He took in  a sharp breath and you looked up to  see his heart break completely at your words. “W-what do you mean?”

“I mean,” you said, tears flowing freely down your cheeks, “I mean that you are part of that fucked up shit that is happening at the Clubhouse. And maybe you’re even like fucking Bryce Walker.” You turned to get away from him, his silence deafening you. It was out. What you had been pondering about all this time was finally out. And you didn’t feel even the tiniest bit better about it.

“H-how can you think I’m a rapist?” he asked, his voice cracking. You sniffed, wiping your nose with the sleeve of your denim jacket. “I don’t see another reason why you would protect him.”

“I-I- Y/N,” he whispered, sounding like the life was sucked out of his body, leaving his beautiful shell behind, “I’m not...I’m not like him. I would never-” his voice broke and for the first time since the idea got planted into your mind, you started doubting yourself. Was he genuine...or was it just his acting fooling you?Either way, you knew you would keep asking yourself these questions and your heart couldn’t take anymore of this uncertainty. You felt like you had a stranger standing in front of you and you didn’t know what he was capable of.

“Scott,” you said quietly, “I can’t be with you anymore.” His head snapped up to you, panic radiating from his eyes.

“Y/N, y-you can’t do this. I’m not a rapist. I’m not!” He tried to convince you as you kept shaking your head. 

“Then tell me why are you protecting him? Why are you even still friends with him?!”

“We-We’re teammates!” he frantically tried to scramble for an answer, “W-We have to work together! This is not easy-”

“Are you seriously using sports as an excuse to be buddies with a rapist? Are you hearing yourself?!” you almost yelled at him. You couldn’t recognise the person in front you anymore.

“I-what do you want me to do? Report him? No one’s going to believe me and they will kick me out and ruin everything! You know how much influence Bryce’s parents have on every little thing?! They could ruin my future! Our future, Y/N!”

“Is that the only thing you care about?” you asked, disbelievingly. “Girls get raped right in front of you and all you can think about is your future?” 

Scott repeatedly opened and closed his mouth, hopelessly trying to get you back. He suddenly closed the distance between you two, holding onto your waist and not letting you escape. “Y/N,” he tried again as you struggled to get out of his grip,  “You’re literally the only person who knows who I really am outside of school. The me in front of my friends is not the real me, it’s just a facade-”

“Is raping part of your facade, too?” you spat, finally managing to push him away. He bit his lip and you swore you saw him close to tears, which was almost enough for you to become soft. He had never cried in front of you, not wanting to lose the strong and reliable picture you had of him. 

“Y/N, please...don’t leave me,” he whispered. You shut your eyes, your heart already aching from what you were about to say.

“Get out.”

III.

Help me Get Coffee Support?

[kiruuuuu]

Monty/Bandit continuation in which Bandit hatches and follows through with a plan. (Rating T, it’s very slowly getting better, ~2.2k words)

The other parts of Protection Mountain can be found via tags or here on my Masterpost! (Mobile version here)

.

“You’re going to collapse if you keep going like this.”

“How convenient, the hospital is right there.”

Blitz doesn’t seem to appreciate his sarcasm and glares at him from the side. “Look, starving yourself isn’t going to achieve anything, except worry him to bits the next time he sees you.”

“Which will be when?”

A sigh. “I don’t know. He took the brunt of that explosion. It’ll be a while, I assume, Six is already asking me whether it’s possible for me to come back.”

“Fucking go, then. I don’t need a bloody babysitter, especially not one who’s doing such a terrible job.” Regardless, he nibbles at the nougat-filled croissant Blitz forced onto him. He’s switched to demanding Bandit eat in his presence and, unfortunately, the outside of the hospital offers barely any distractions he could use to his advantage, therefore Bandit doesn’t really have a choice. It’s a miracle he’s not getting thrown off the property as a whole but figures security would rather have him where they can see him. “Your boytoy is probably missing you horribly, too. Let me wither away in peace and go back before Six gets her knickers in a twist. But if she wants me to come back as well, tell her she can shove it right -”

“She wouldn’t.” Blitz absent-mindedly begins taking his own croissant apart without eating any of it, gaze locked on his fingers. Talk about hypocritical. “She knows, Dom. They all know. I get daily inquiries about how he is, but more often about how you’re doing. They know you don’t read their messages and they probably know you’d break down due to the reality of it all if you did, so they ask me instead. We all know how much you love him. How much you love each other.”

“Shut up.” The croissant tastes like cardboard and the nougat reminds him of dark chocolate, so he looks around the ugly courtyard, turns his head away to blink away the tears. It’s becoming a trend and he hates it. “You’re bored out of your mind anyway, I can tell, and you’re fucking sick of me. Go back.”

“You’re going to do dumb shit if I do.”

“This isn’t fucking Romeo and Juliet, I’m not gonna drink bleach a day before he gets released out of the ICU. Don’t be ridiculous.”

Blitz side eyes him and they both know they’ve been friends for long enough that he’s worryingly aware of the kinds of thoughts buzzing around Bandit’s head right after Montagne was injured, when it was still unclear whether he’d make it. “There’s other dumb shit. I don’t know what you’re going to do, I just know you will. Trying to beat up Olivier falls under that, just so you know. It wasn’t his fault, even if both of you seem to think so.”

“Are you even listening to yourself? If I do stupid shit regardless of whether you’re here or not, it obviously doesn’t matter.”

And Blitz just sighs. They know he’s going to leave regardless, though he’ll inevitably keep checking in.

.

The pattering of small drops on his umbrella is meant to be soothing but if anything, it erodes his patience. He’s sick and tired of spending his days doing nothing, letting his mind run wild, but he’s afraid of the alternative. It’s imperative he spends as little time as possible in the hotel room he used to share, just like he needs to be in the vicinity when it’s visitor hours. He can’t afford to miss Madeleine in case she stops by that day, needs to be here if – if anything happens, but even if it did they probably wouldn’t tell him. It’s illogical to sit here regardless, on his usual bench, slowly feeling his shoes and socks soaking up the rain and cursing himself for not bringing another jacket. He’s freezing and his exhaustion exacerbates the icy feeling in his bones.

But how could he be anywhere else when Montagne is right here?

His days feel empty not only because of how little he actually does for how much time passes but also because there’s no joy in them. Every memory is sullied by worry – even if Montagne recovers fully mentally, what if he can never walk again? The possible long-term consequences are incredibly intimidating, so daunting that he’d rather not consider them at all. Still, when he thinks back to any wonderful moment between them (and they are endless), they loom threateningly in the background, casting a shadow over it all.

Someone comes to a stop in front of him and the boots are too heavy to belong to Madeleine. When he looks up, lifts the umbrella to reveal a dark expression, he scowls in return. “Get the fuck out of my face”, he hisses and decides to maybe leave it at a warning this time. The scratches on Lion’s cheek have healed by now.

“Come on”, the Frenchman growls, rips the umbrella out of his hand and begins walking towards the front entrance of the hospital. Despite how much Bandit wants to stay just to spite him, he might actually end up with hypothermia if he does, and so he eventually gets up and jogs after the thief. Lion shakes off as much water as he can before he returns the umbrella unprompted. “You’re allowed back in, I vouched for you. If you cause trouble again, we’re both banned, so don’t start shit. Got it?”

Bandit heaves a deep breath of relief but can’t bring himself to thank him, not after all he’s done. He nods and they venture forth together, take the stairs, greet the receptionist who squints at Bandit and sit down next to each other. He doesn’t know what Lion wants or why he did it, but the last thing he needs right now is a fucking talk. Fortunately, Lion seems to agree, merely crosses his arms and remains silent.

They sit like this for at least an hour, Bandit tense, Lion unmoving. He doesn’t know whether it really is a test of patience or whether Lion isn’t aware of the anguish his presence alone causes, but it’s beginning to piss him off. “You don’t deserve to be here”, he murmurs eventually, propping up his head on his knees, leaned forwards while Lion is leaning back.

“And if I wasn’t, you’d bitch about that too.”

He’s not wrong. Bandit remembers Blitz’ words: It wasn’t his fault, even if both of you seem to think so. Bullshit. He peers at the other man from the corner of his eye and notes how he, too, seems to have suffered. He looks exhausted, both mentally and physically. “Fucking bastard”, he mumbles.

“Cunt”, says Lion, unperturbed.

“You’re blaming yourself, aren’t you?”

The Frenchman’s brows draw together. “I’ve thought about it a lot. The whole mission. And I’ve come to the conclusion that we didn’t make a mistake, instead we were missing intel we had no way of acquiring prior to going in, intel we weren’t aware of missing. With all the information we had when we planned it, I think I’d agree on doing it all the same way again. I’ve retraced all our steps and it was the best possible approach. Just because the outcome turned out bad doesn’t mean there was a mistake in the decision making.”

Bandit mulls it over. He’s done the same thing but exceedingly more biased, frantically looked for people at whom he could point fingers. Ultimately, he came up empty and this revelation was a whole other punch to the gut: sometimes, life is simply unfair and accepting this isn’t easy. “Yeah”, he offers eventually. “Doesn’t answer my fucking question though.”

“Yes. I am.” Lion uncrosses his arms. “Of course I am.”

And this is unexpected, a show of weakness possibly meant as an armistice. “Me too”, Bandit says and feels a curious gaze on him. “He wouldn’t have been on this fucking mission if not for me. We requested to be deployed together, so we did. This wasn’t really his normal gig, too messy.”

“You can’t know whether he wouldn’t have been sent anyway.”

“No. I can’t. But that doesn’t change anything for me.”

“I have absolutely no fucking idea what he sees in you.”

Bandit catches himself before he agrees, swallows the words with a wistful smile and then shoots back: “And I can’t understand in the slightest why he’s friends with you.” They look at each other and shrug. “He’s just like that, I suppose. He sees something pitiful and he has to nourish it.”

Lion huffs in amusement. “Yeah. That sounds about right.”

“Have you met his sister? Madeleine?” A shake of the head. “She’s the only one visiting him at the moment.”

“Oh? What is she saying about his condition?”

“I don’t fucking know, I don’t speak French.” Lion snorts derisively. “Don’t give me that, I’ve seen how bloody lost you are with the people who only speak German here. Maybe you can translate for me the next time she’s here. She might come in later.”

“Sure.”

Bandit ponders this for a while. What is he going to tell her? He can’t really divulge any details as to what happened and as for - “Don’t mention anything about Gilles and me though. Our families don’t know yet.”

.

Instead of only Madeleine, Bandit meets Montagne’s parents that day and it’s the most awkward fifteen minutes of his life. There he is, hopelessly in love with the son of this overly friendly elderly French couple and terrified of them finding out on top of having to pretend everything is fine between him and his translator who seems to hit it off extremely well with them, when instead all he wants to do is kick Lion in the shins for prolonging the small talk to unbearable lengths. Not to mention he can’t go into detail of how exactly Montagne and he know each other, given that he doesn’t want to reveal their relationship and isn’t sure how much they know (or are even allowed to know) about Rainbow. The members of staff (who can clearly put two and two together and have effortlessly figured out Bandit is longing for his loved one as well as meeting his parents for the very first time) try and fail to suppress smirks the entire time.

It helps that he has a lovely conversation with Madeleine afterwards, learns that she’s a journalist and they exchange anecdotes of Montagne which leave all three of them smiling. Having Lion translate back and forth is annoying but required and despite all, Bandit is grateful for his help. Madeleine closes the conversation by saying how glad she is her brother has such devoted friends and she’ll be sure to stay in contact, laments the regulation of them not being able to visit Montagne regardless, hugs them both and remains blissfully unaware of the seed she’s planted in Bandit’s head.

Blitz left the day before and so his nights are lonely and unproductive, only this one is an exception. Madeleine told a story about the hospital Montagne was born in and it gave Bandit an idea – an idea which requires a bit of researching and a lot of unlawful thinking.

The next day, Bandit is busy. He spends a large part of it perfecting Montagne’s signature until he can forge it with his eyes closed and the rest on scouring the internet for certain French phrases and letter templates. He double and triple checks each one he composes, every single one of them absolutely essential to his plan, therefore they all need to be perfect. What little he remembers of taking French in school helps and eventually, he’s decently satisfied with the result.

Further researching reveals a small obstacle which is solved easily by contacting one of his old buddies who knows someone who in turn knows someone who can put Bandit through to someone who does small favours for small currency, and additionally to making that phone call to the French hospital Bandit needs, he even proofreads Bandit’s mangled letters, laughs at him for half an hour and then corrects them.

Finally, after printing and signing them, he drops them in the mail. Now he just has to wait.

.

A few days later, Bandit enters the registrar’s office of his home town Berlin, the city in which he’s still listed as a resident. It’s an extremely fortunate coincidence but he would’ve travelled half the country too if it’d been necessary.

“Good morning”, he greets the clerk politely and hands over the papers in his hand which are comprised of all the necessary documents: his and Montagne’s ID (which he left at the hotel when they went on the mission), both birth certificates (and France should really re-think how easy it is to get one of these) and a document certifying that Montagne is indeed single after having been married before. Additionally, he carries a writ of consent stating that Montagne agrees to all of it, signed by no other than Bandit himself. He’s proud of this particular signature and is sure it’d even hold up in court.

It’s all highly official and obtained extremely illegally. And with a smile, he announces: “I would like to get married.”

[sometimesrosy]

The 100 Girl Chronicles season2

I asked her who her favorite characters are. “Still Clarke and Raven.” You said Octavia last time. “I did? Clarke and Raven.” Guy characters? “Bellamy or Finn-- wait, no, Jasper and Monty.” lol. Not surprised, they are very much more ‘kids’ than Finn or Bellamy.

She is shocked, SHOCKED at Mount Weather. “What the heck is going on here?” The dinner part confused her.

“Bellamy!” He’s alive.

“Where’s too much bronzer girl?” lol. She says she’ll never remember her name. “you chuckle every time I call her that.”

Raven shoots the grounder, “good job Raven!” She laughs when Murphy says, “I woulda shot me too.”

Dante gives Clarke the fancy clothes and Ivy goes, “Ew.” You don’t like the fancy clothes? “Too fancy.” Clarke picks up the heels. “She don’t know how to walk in those.” Clarke breaks the heels. “OH! Lol. She’s so smart!” Sees her in the jogging clothes instead. “See, that’s her.”

On Mount Weather, “Don’t trust it. Don’t trust it for a second. Too good to be true. And she knows that.”

Ivy does NOT believe in MW. “They’re NOT looking for survivors.”

Jasper eating chocolate cake. Ivy, “Me! Me!”

She is totally with Clarke. “Definitely not a prisoner.

(why does everyone think Maya is a wimp? She figured out Clarke’s game and went after her and pulled a gun on her. Maya is not given enough credit.)

Oh. Raven and Murphy, let’s see if Ivy’s opinion on him changes. She has said nothing.

“Oh Bellamy,” now captured. Monroe and Sterling rush the warrior and he get shot. “Bwahaha” she just SCREAMED, “KANE!” now she stood up and yelled KOWABUNGA!. “Where’s Abby?”

Who’s your favorite adult? “Abby.”

Bellamy attacks Murphy. “BELLAMY!” she yells. Kane places him under arrest. “WHAT?”

She just saw the Lincoln memorial and figured out that this is in DC.

“Clarke don’t eat it. Clarke. I wouldn’t eat it. My guard would not let down. She’s still going to try to escape.”

next episode

Kane tells Bellamy that he’s not trained. Ivy, offended, “He’s not trained?! HE’S NOT TRAINED?!!” She fully supports Clarke’s suspicions of MW. Also she’s reaffirmed her favorites. “Monty, Jasper, Clarke and Raven and maybe Octavia.” So the boys are too dumb. “Yeah.” lol. Your honor, Rosy is leading the witness.

She likes the new opener with the landscapes. “Oh. Ooh. I like this.”

She thinks Jaha is imagining the baby.

She begs a question. Does Raven end up walking again? I give her that. Yes. Does she end up in a wheelchair? There’s no wheelchair. She’s not asking the right questions.

(dudes Dante’s gaslighting Clarke. She did see a bullet wound. they go so far as to stab a dead body with an arrow. Make her doubt her own judgement. But she’s right. Ivy was angry at the arrow Tsing showed Clarke, so I explained gaslighting to her.)

“Is Jaha going to go down in a little space pod?”

“Is that a real baby?” blink blink blink. “MOOM. How about this. I get one question about the plot per season.”

You just asked about Raven’s legs. “I know. I hate myself.”

Octavia threatens Nyko to save Lincoln. “SNAP! Good job Octavia.” My daughter yells a lot.

Jasper is telling Clarke to stop being a troublemaker so they don’t get kicked out and she is ranting about how they’re prisoners. I ask, still like Jasper? “yeah. But he’s stupid right now.”

Thelonious floating through space and his helmet cracks. “Me not worried,” helmet visor cracks open.”Never mind. THE BABY! AHH.” “Wait. There is no baby. Where is the baby? Is he hallucinating. He’s hallucinating.” Wells shows up. “I thought he was hallucinating the first time.” She did.

“I wasted my one question on that little thing” you have more questions? “So many more.”

Clarke rips her stitches out and we’re all like I can’t watch that. “CLARKE! CLARKE!” “Why is she doing that?” btw, i’m the one that can’t watch it.

I just told her that Indra survives, and she’s like “so she’s not the worst ever. is she a good or bad. SHOOT.”

Ivy sang a little song about Clarke. “She’s smarter and stronger than you think. She’ll punch you in the face with a spike heel.”

how do you get my daughter to stop talking through a show? Show her grounders hanging upside down being bled.

GASP! “Too much bronzer girl!!!! I mean Anya. I know her name. I’m joking with you.”

Abby let the prisoners out. Ivy thinks Bellamy was doing the right thing. Because they were taught to fight. Bellamy was just getting his revenge. (Is that the right thing? I ask her) YEP, and Bellamy has changed.

Murphy-Finn rescue mission. “Do I get a gun?” Murphy asks. Ivy says. “You get a stick.” two seconds later, he’s got rocks. “click click click, lol.”

“Want Monty should do is think, ‘what would Clarke do?’”

Kane sentences Abby to lashes, and Ivy goes, “I though you said he was  GUD.” aka good. “This is not how you run a place.”

Finn beating the grounder who tells them where their friends are. “no they aren’t.” Now Byrne is holding a grounder at gunpoint. “He isn’t going to answer. He’s just like Lincoln and Anya.”

Maya tells Jasper and Monty about Clarke being in psych ward and Monty doesn’t buy it. “There he goes. Monty has hit his inner Clarke.”

“THEY  JUST CALLED HER A PRISONER.” They did. The mountain men caught her in the tunnels. Anya saved her. That dam. “That doesn’t look good. Jump Clarke. Jump Clarke! Jump. Clarke. Clarke! Jump! There she goes. Wait. She can’t swim! I totally forgot that.”

Bellamy and Murphy are discussing killing the grounder/execution, “what’s happened to you?” murphy asks Bellamy then Finn executes him. “FINN!”

Tsing has the grounders under the mountain. “LINCOLN!”

Many Happy Returns (I’m trying to get her to take a break. she won’t. we’re waiting for guests who will probably be late. so she’s banking on them not being here until after this episode.) But this is one of my favorite episodes.

“Careful whatever your name is,” as he climbs over the cliff. Sterling. “Careful Sterling. How long does Sterling live?” won’t tell her. “Grab the rope. Oh. Bye Sterling.” That’s why I didn’t tell her. “I figured.”

Anya bites the tracker out of her arm. Ivy hides. My uncle has joined us. “That’ll do,” he says. My mom told him how she can’t watch this show because it’s too intense all the time. He sits down to watch. lol.

omg it’s the bellamy over the cliff scene. one of the best. Murphy “don’t worry Bellamy I won’t drop ya.”

Ivy laughs every time Raven says something sarcastic. Mocking Wick for his damn brace. She loves Raven. “What is she doing? Is she gonna climb that with one leg? Raven’s being du-umb. god Raven.”

Bellamy is falling. “I knew that was going to break.” The grounders. The warning horn. “Lincoln! Anya! is there fog or no fog. They know what that is.” Stop talking and watch. “It was Octavia. Octavia took Lincoln’s horn!”

(Jaha, “It’s the black knight. It’s a game that teaches long term strategy.” All the chess metaphors. The narrative. Long term strategies. Damn you JR.)

Bellamy gives Murphy a gun. “Uh... i don’t trust him.”

Anya and Clarke fight. “What did she do?” stuck her finger in her wound, hit her in the head with a skull, punched the daylights out of her. “that’s what Anya would have done.” helium beacon. “It’s Raven!”

“We fell from space in a football stadium, I think they know we’re here.” repeating favorite lines.

Anya gets shot. She JUST now thinks to ask when Anya dies. “watch the show.” This show. You don’t like a character until they are about to kill them. Then they kill them and you’re like Nooooooooooooo.

Clarke sees Abby. She thought Abby was dead. Ivy says she thought Finn and Bellamy was dead. Clarke tells Abby she thought they were dead. “Told ya.”

Here comes the Bellarke hug. Watching like  hawk. Clarke runs up and hugs Bellamy and Ivy gasps and smiles. “Where’s Finn.” But no commentary otherwise. “Nobody cares about Murphy.” (guests are here. I DON”T WANT TO TURN OFF THE 100!!! I had to warn the guests, who have all seen The 100, not to give her spoilers, because I don’t trust her not to weasel hints out of other people.) We stop right before the TonDC massacre. ouch.

[13-reasons-ideas]

It was Just A Project Part 1

A/N this idea has been bouncing around in my head for a while and I've finally been able to finish the first part. I hope you guys like it! 

My morning started off as it usually did now that the boys had moved out to the garage. I woke up early and had a wonderfully hot shower before Clay and Justin woke up. After I finished my shower and got ready, I went downstairs to have breakfast. Dad was in the kitchen making lunch for us, as was tradition on Fridays, “Morning Dad. Is there coffee left?”

“Morning pumpkin. Fresh off the filter. Your bagels are in the toaster oven.”

“Thank you. Don’t worry about lunch for me. I’m having lunch with Zach and Alex today, so I’ll just grab something at school.”

“Sure thing.”

As I sat down to enjoy my breakfast, Justin came stumbling in the kitchen to shower. He grunted at us before making his way upstairs. Clay came trudging in not long after and took a bite of my bagel. “Hey, I was eating that.” I complained. Clay simply shrugged at me. “Daaaadddd, Clay ate my bagel.”

“Clay, stop bothering your sister.” Dad chided, not looking up from his paper. I stuck my tongue out at him teasingly. He rolled his eyes and went to the cupboard for some cereal. Justin came downstairs a couple of minutes later and poured himself a cup of coffee, “morning guys. Shower’s yours Clay.” Clay scarfed down his cereal- the boy is going to make himself sick one of these days…- before running upstairs.

It was quiet while we ate for a moment until we heard a girlish scream and Clay shout “Rachel!”. Justin and I looked at each other and burst out laughing.

I looked at the microwave and my eyes widened in shock “oh shit. I totally forgot I’m meeting Scott this morning to study for our biology test. Justin, you want to ride with me or Clay?”

He gulped down the last of his coffee and jumped up, “sure, I’ll just grab my bag.” I nodded and went to the stairs.

“Clay, Justin is getting a ride with me today. We’re leaving now.” I called upstairs.

“Okay.” Clay called back. Justin met me at the car, and I sent Scott a quick text. Hey, running a little late today sorry. I’ll be there in 15. He responded with a thumbs up and Justin and I were off.

When we arrived at school the parking lot was mostly empty. I ran off to meet Scott and Justin went to go find Jess. I saw Scott hanging out with some guys from the baseball team, with his back turned to me. I put my finger up to my mouth and quietly walked up behind him. When I reached him, I jumped up on his back, “Guess who?”

Scott immediately put his hands around my thighs so he was hanging on to me, “is it a certain less annoying twin who’s running late?”

“Maybe. Though it depends who you ask which of us is less annoying.” I jumped down and adjusted my top, “you ready to get fucked by the bio test too?”

“But of course. Mrs. Jackson is the worst.”

“Oh please, you’ll get like 95% and still argue that your grade should be higher.” Zach teased.

“I’d love to agree with you, but this woman is the devil incarnate with tests. We teach ourselves this class because she reads off slides and then she tests us on stuff that’s not even in the slides or the book. I’m probably going to fail. And since I need this class to get into USC, I actually need to pass. You coming Scott?” He nodded and we bid his friends goodbye.

After studying with Scott until the bell, we walked to biology together and took our seats. I was right, the test was ridiculous. Scott finished first and waited for me outside the room. “Could have at least bought me a coffee first.” I joked as I left the God forsaken classroom. He laughed and shook his head.

“I would have requested a four-course steak dinner. I feel dirty. I opened the book and wanted to walk out. We didn’t learn half of that material.”

“At least you can shower before lunch. You have a free period. I have to go do history.”

“Could skip and go shower with me….” he teased.

“Yeah. I’d rather take that test again.”

I sighed as I walked into history. The class wasn’t full yet thankfully. I groaned as I lowered myself into my seat in the back, next to Monty.

“Rough morning?” he asked.

“You have no idea.” I grumbled. “We had a bio test today. I feel dirty.”

He chuckled. “That bad?”

“Two people walked out in five minutes.”

He whistled but before he could say anything more, Mr. Smith walked in. He was a younger teacher, so he was generally well liked by students.  

“Good morning. We will be starting work on term projects today.” The class groaned in unison. “You will be split into pairs of my choosing.” The class groaned even louder and I put my head down on my desk.

“Fucking kill me now.” I grumbled. Monty must have heard me because he started having a coughing fit.

Mr. Smith began listing off pairs, some of which were met with groans and some with quiet ‘yes’es. “Rachel Jensen and… Montgomery De La Cruz.”

It could be worse. At least he’s not a total idiot. He’s nice enough to me. I turned my head to look at him and he smiled at me.

After all of us were paired up, he gave us a few minutes to make plans for starting the project. “Did you want to come to my place after school and we can get started?” I asked.

“Sure.”

We didn’t have time to iron out anything but we traded numbers and agreed that we would both pull our weights.

As he handed out topic sheets he explained the assignment, “we will be doing this paper a little differently than you may be used to. You will need to write a paper with proper formatting and supporting diagrams and graphs where applicable. We will go over citation in a later class. Most of you are graduating this year and will need to use proper citation come September, lest you risk expulsion from your chosen school. Think of this paper as a trial run of what you will be expected to do in university. It is something I wish my teachers in high school had done to prepare us a little better. We will discuss the paper in more detail over the next few classes, after everyone has a chance to choose a topic. I urge you to pick different topics as I don’t want to read thirty papers on the same idea. If you are unsure about what to choose, please see or email me after class.” With that, he began our discussion for the day.

When class was dismissed, I went to meet Alex and Zach for lunch.

“Rachel.” Justin called after me. He ran to catch up to me.

“Hey bro, what’s up?”

“I picked up a shift tonight. Can I get the keys?”

“What about Clay’s keys?”

“He has an appointment after school.”

“Fine. If I must.” I joked, as though it was a hassle, as I dug around my bag for the keys. I chucked my keys to him and he ran off.

Alex was waiting for me at the cafeteria. “Hey. How was your test?”

“Ugh. You don’t want to know.”

“This is why I switched to chemistry, no Mrs. Jackson.”

“Hmmmm.” I muttered as I grabbed my phone. I texted Monty as we walked to our table. Hey, is it okay if I get a ride home? Justin needed my car and Clay is busy after school. He replied quickly, sure thing. I parked by the gym.

“Who you texting Rach?” Zach asked as Alex and I sat down.

“Monty. We got paired up for a paper in history.”

“Ew. He’ll probably make you do the whole thing yourself.” Alex commented.

“I don’t think so. We made plans after school to work on it. And he’s not dumb enough to think I wouldn’t go straight to Mr. Smith and stick him with a zero.”

“You say that now….” Alex trailed off as I glared at him.

The subject was dropped after that and the rest of lunch went on as normal.

I met Monty at his Jeep after school and we drove in a slightly awkward silence for a time, the only discussion being the odd direction to my house. He broke the tension first, “You know this is probably going to be a nightmare right? Your brother hates me. Justin barely puts up with me at football practice.”

“It will be fine. My dad works at home so he will be home and keep the annoying duo in line.”

“Alright. You’re wrong but alright.”

I shook my head at him, smirking, “so, I feel like I know nothing about you. We’ve gone to school together since we were little.”

“What can I say? I’m a man of mystery.”

“You can tell me what your favourite ice cream flavour is?”

“Mint chip. Yours?”

“Chocolate chocolate chip. It’ll be a left here.” I directed. We went on like that, asking each other menial questions for the remainder of the drive.

“It’s the one in the middle here. You can park in the drive or on the street, up to you.”

He pulled up to the curb and sat for a minute, quiet again as he cut the engine. He sat for a minute before undoing his seatbelt. I got out of the car and waited for him. When he didn’t make a move to get out, I walked around to his door, “we don’t bite you know. Unless you’re into that.” I joked. If it works on Scott, maybe it’ll work on his best friend.

Monty laughed and joked back, “Depends who’s doing the biting. Being bitten by strangers doesn’t rank very high up on the list though.” With that, he got out of the car.

His nerves must have returned “You know I’m right. They don’t like me. And since Justin is basically your brother now, his opinion actually matters. How well do you think this is going to go?”

I rolled my eyes at him playfully as I unlocked the front door. “Monty chill. It’s a project for school. Besides, the boys live in the shed and they showered this morning. You probably won’t even see them.” I said as I took off my coat and hung it up. I heard footsteps coming down the stairs and dad cleared his throat.

“Hey pumpkin. How was sch- oh. Hello there. Rachel, I didn’t realize you were having a friend over.”

“Hey dad. School was fine. This is Monty, we got assigned to work on a history assignment together. Monty, this is my dad Matt.” I gestured between them briefly.

Monty waved politely, though it was rather awkward. “Hello Mr. Jensen.”

Dad merely nodded at him.

“Anyway, we have a lot of work to do so we’ll be upstairs. Come on Monty.”

“Not so fast Rachel. You know the rules. No boys in your room without permission.”

I stopped in my tracks abruptly, causing Monty to bump into me. He looked uncomfortable when I turned to look at my dad.

“Oh. The rules. Right. Okay, let me see if I have this straight… Clay and Justin get the garage converted into a bachelor pad minus a shower with no supervision at all. I don’t even get my own bathroom out of the deal. The boys can do whatever they want in there and they can have whoever they want over whenever they want -boys or girls at any time of the day- without discussing it. But I, a girl, can’t have a boy in my room to work on a homework assignment. How is that fair? Because… Why exactly? Even if I wanted to, which I don’t, it’s not like I would do anything with you in the house. That’s just… I don’t even have words to describe how uncomfortable that is. And even if we were going to do what I assume you think we would do, I’ve been on birth control since I was fourteen Dad.” Dad was at a loss for words at my outburst. I raised my brow at him.

“You make a good argument….” Dad muttered.

“I learned from the best. Speaking of the best, when is Mom getting home?”

“She should be home around six. We will discuss dinner when she gets home.” I nodded, accepting his answer and began walking back up the stairs. When Dad made no further objections, Monty followed behind me.

After a few hours of studying and back and forth to decide a topic, my mom got home. “hey, did you want to stay for dinner? I can see what Dad is cooking.” I asked Monty. He checked his phone quickly.

“Uh, yeah sure. If they don’t mind. I don’t want to intrude or anything.” He replied.

“It’ll be no big. Come on, let’s go see what’s on the menu.” I stood and offered my hand to him. We made our way downstairs together. Dinner smelled delicious. I hadn’t realized I was so hungry. “Hey Mom. Is it okay if Monty stays for dinner tonight?” I asked casually.

“Sure thing kiddo. We are making Cajun Chicken Pasta if that’s alright with you?” Dad responded, while he chopped the chicken into pieces. Monty nodded and made no objection.  

Mom took a sip from her water and introduced herself to Monty, “I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Lainie. It’s nice to meet you Monty.” Ever the professional, she made sure to shake his hand. Judging his grip, no doubt. She smiled to herself, obviously impressed. She then began asking Monty questions. Not third degree questions by any means, just questions. He answered all of them easily enough and they were able to make some conversation. I had somehow been roped to helping dad cook dinner in while Monty and my mom were becoming friends.

The back-door opening pulled us out of our peaceful quiet. Justin walked in with a box of pastries from Monet’s and placed it on the counter. “Hey Mom. Hey dad. Rachel, Monty.” He greeted us absently. He took an apple from the bowl on the island and began making his way out to the boys room.

“Dinner is in like 15 minutes bud.” Dad said passively. They were still wary of scolding Justin about food close to meals.

Suddenly, he realized just what he was witnessing because he stopped at the door and turned around. Justin scanned the room as though doing a headcount. He blinked a few times when his eyes landed on Monty. “Mom. What’s this here?”

“He is your sister’s dinner guest Justin.” Mom explained.

“Uh-huh. Hey Rachel? Can I talk to you?”

“Sure Justin.”

“Outside please?” I rolled my eyes at him but followed him anyway.

[quinnhayden]

21 and 42 for the 50 prompts thing? Steve and Bucky? If you're doing the prompts, please.

21. “Sometimes, being a complete nerd comes in handy.”

Note: Since the term nerd didn’t actually come around until the 50s, I’m using the closest word the 40s had which is egghead.

Just as Bucky’s about to stand up and make another round for patrol, Quinn stumbles out of the tent. He can’t help but watch fondly as she takes a few minutes to rub the sleep out of her eyes, yawn widely, and clutch her coat closer when the cold of October nips at her skin. After she’s a little more awake, she shuffles over to stand in front of him, and then shoves her hand in front of his face to help him stand to his feet.

 “Did you have a bad dream?” Bucky asks worriedly because, most of the time, if she ever wakes up before dawn, she flops down next to him and sidles up nice and cozy in front of the fire. Only if she has a bad dream does she want to be up and walk around.

 “I have to piss,” she says bluntly and he does have the decency to cover his mouth when he cracks up so he doesn’t wake up the Commandos. “Hey, I don’t have to pussyfoot around until the sun is up.” She pokes him in the stomach. “And it’s not like I can head off on my lonesome because someone is superstitious, so you’ll have to be my escort.”

Bucky immediately sobers and scowls at her. “No. I’m worried because the town we came from has a damn killer on the loose that takes ladies from their beds and does God knows what before he cuts their throats.”

Bucky shudders when he remembers what the SSR rookie translated from Romanian to them. Women were found naked, marks of teeth littered across their bodies because their killer chewed them to hell, and their throats cut and drained of blood. Hydra’s supposed nearby presence is what made headquarters send the Commandos in to check it out. If they’d known ahead of time what was up in this town, Bucky would’ve pleaded for the top brass to leave Quinn in London.

 “We’re away from the town,” she points out quietly.

 “I know, but…” He hunches in on himself a little, feels vulnerable. “I don’t want to take the chance. None of us do, but me especially. You don’t know what it’d do to me if I ever saw you end up that way.”

Quinn’s entire expression softens. “James Barnes, you’re the sweetest man on the face of the planet and I hope your momma knows what a damn fine man she raised.” She shoves her hand back out toward him which he quickly takes in his own. “C’mon, let’s take the scenic route. I can hold it.”

-

Under the full moon, the two of them walk around the campsite, hand-in-hand. As nice as it is to walk around with one of his sweethearts, he can’t…settle down completely. He does try, he swears to God, and tries to convince himself that it’s only because Halloween is close and he’s spooked because of the murders.

“How about you pick out a tree?” Bucky would feel a lot better back inside their tent where Steve is and where he can hold Quinn close. “Then we can head back and wake up Dum-Dum and Monty to take patrol, yeah?”

“Can we fool around a little when we’re back in the tent?” she asks hopefully.

“You bet your ass we can,” he answers.

Quinn kisses him on the cheek before she zeroes in on a tree that she can hide herself behind. He starts to whistle a little tune to let her have a little more privacy. Almost a year she’s been with them and he still can’t help but feel sorry for her—one woman with a bunch of men. They’re almost always in the middle of the woods, they’ve dealt with each and every season, and she has to eat, drink, sleep, piss, and shit the same as the fellas but with more of the stigma. Plus, she has to bleed every damn month. She’s a saint to deal with all that she does.

Bucky switches tunes, but stops because he hasn’t heard any noise out of Quinn. She’s learned to be quieter, but there should be some noise. “Quinn?” There’s no response from her. For a second, he thinks about if he should head behind the tree to check on her. It would be awkward if she’s in the middle of a piss, but he’s also seen her naked, been extremely up close and personal with the most intimate parts of her, so he gets over it quickly.

Bucky heads toward the other side of the tree and starts to say, “Quinn, hey—” but stops when he spots Quinn sprawled out in the dirt, unconscious. “Quinn,” he says worriedly but there’s the snap of a branch so close his head snaps to the side to see what made the noise.

He doesn’t have time to block the hit to the side of the head and the world fades away.

-

When Bucky comes back to, it’s still dark outside so he prays he hasn’t been knocked out too long. He scrambles to his feet and his head that aches doesn’t appreciate the motion, but he can’t afford to lose any more time. Some maniac has Quinn and if he’d paid more attention, this wouldn’t have happened. He knew he should’ve sent her back to the tent when she came out. Bucky heads back to camp, rather than set off on his own like he wants to, because a team would be better than one man.

Bucky is close to panic when he finally wakes the rest of the Commandos up. He’s about ready to murder someone because of how long it takes them to wake up. A gun shot in the air definitely does the trick. When Bucky informs them of what’s happened, the panic that had them up and out of their tents doesn’t fade. Steve looks as horrified as Bucky probably does.

“How the hell do we find this asshole?” Dum-Dum booms as they all make a mad dash for their weapons.

“Small town, Dum-Dum,” Jim says in response. “There can’t be many places for him to hide.”

This little town nestled near Bran is a small part of Transylvania and Transylvania resides within Romania. Come to think of it, like Jim said, there shouldn’t have been that many damn places for the murderer to hide unless—

Bucky’s eyes settle on the castle that looms in the distance. Bran Castle is the technical name for it, but it’s better known as Dracula’s Castle.

“Vampire,” Bucky blurts and why no one’s put the pieces together yet, he doesn’t know. He feels dumb now that he’s actually realized it. Everyone looks over at Bucky, confused, and he starts to wave wildly as he explains, “He bites the ladies and drains them of blood, right? And Dracula’s Castle is up there. This fucker thinks he’s a vampire or some shit.”

Everyone stares at Bucky and he’s about to snap at them when Dum-Dum says, “Dracula’s not real.”

“I know that, nimrod,” he snarls. “But the writer based his castle off that one—Bran Castle.” He points at the castle in the distance.

“That castle’s a hospital now, Buck,” Steve counters. “We were there earlier.”

They were there earlier. Quinn wanted to see the hospital for herself, see if they needed any help from a nurse while the Commandos tried to find some information about why Hydra would be in the area. “That rookie from the SSR, didn’t he say those ladies were let out of the hospital a few days before they were killed?” Someone who worked at the hospital, they would’ve seen Quinn today.

It clicks for Steve, too. “We need to see who works at that hospital.“ If they can find someone that’s worked the same days that Quinn and the other ladies have been there, they could possibly find their killer. "Dum-Dum, hurry up and fire up the truck. We don’t have time to hike it there.”

-

Turns out that they didn’t even need to make it all the way up to the castle. After they turned off the truck, in the dead of the night, it was easy for Steve to hear Quinn’s short scream before it was muffled. It really is a shame that the town didn’t have a super soldier of their own because there probably wouldn’t have been so many bodies piled up if they did.

If Steve hadn’t thrown himself in the way to take the kidnapper out himself, Bucky would’ve put a bullet between his eyes the second they tore down the door. It takes the bravest Commando—which is Quinn—to make Steve stand down before he pummels the doctor to death. She spotted the patch of Hydra on him and shows it to Steve.

“We have to question him,” she explains quietly. Steve stares at her tear-stained face for a minute and turns to aim his punch that’d been headed for the doctor to the wall. His fist puts a hole in the wall. Bucky can’t blame him—he wants to do the same. “Y’all don’t have to be so mad. The worst he was able to do to me was bite me.” She kicks at the unconscious doctor with her foot petulantly.

Bucky was so focused on the fury that he didn’t even stop to check on her. He feels terrible and quickly rushes over to touch the mark on her neck that she reveals to everyone. There are a few sympathetic hisses of pain. “Jesus,” he mutters. “How bad does it hurt?”

“I can’t even feel it past my extreme need to pee. Someone help me find a fucking outhouse or somethin’. That’s the reason I’m crying. Gotta pee so bad it hurts.”

Steve and Bucky are the ones who go outside and watch Quinn waddle behind a tree. As she does, Steve breathes out a sigh of relief and presses his forehead to Bucky’s shoulder. “All this started because of Dracula’s Castle.” Now that they know Quinn’s okay, the total absurdity of this situation drops down on them, and they both start to giggle like two schoolgirls. “And none of us would’ve ever figured it out if wasn’t for how you always have your nose stuck in a book.”

“Sometimes, being a complete egghead comes in handy.”

42. “I’m only here to establish an alibi.”

It hasn’t been this bad for a few months. Bucky closes his eyes and can only see his hand wrapped around Quinn’s throat. He can’t stay in the same bed as her. So, he replaces himself in her arms with a pillow and then sneaks out to the kitchen where he zeroes in on Quinn’s chocolate stash. He takes the last two bars and walks back out to flop down on the couch to puts on a documentary that he can immerse himself in. Neil deGrasse Tyson’s smooth voice is always helpful.

An hour later, when it’s almost four in the morning, Bucky can hear the bedroom door open and looks over his shoulder to see Quinn quickly dart in the bathroom. The shower starts up the next second and he frowns, but turns back to his show. He didn’t hear her talk on the phone, but maybe Steve or Natalia or someone texted her and she’s needed on their mission. He could’ve sworn he heard from her that the mission wasn’t that much of a hassle, but he knows from experience how quickly shit can hit the fan.

Bucky’s theory, however, is blown to pieces when the front door opens a little bit past four and Steve walks inside their apartment. He looks exhausted, but there’s no limp, there aren’t any visible bruises or cuts, and there’s no wounded puppy look, so Steve’s okay. Quinn’s not needed on a mission, so Bucky’s confused why she’s up so early. Maybe he infected her with his bad mood and she woke up from her own dreams.

“Everyone’s up, huh?” Steve shouldn’t sound as fond as he does. “Couldn’t sleep?” he questions and Bucky nods. He doesn’t explain exactly why he couldn’t sleep to Steve. “Okay,” Steve adds quietly before he heads back toward the bathroom. “I’ll see if Quinn’s okay to share. You can too, y’know,” he tacks on. “Maybe it’ll help you feel better.”

“I have chocolate,” Bucky informs Steve and holds up the half-devoured bar. The wrapper from the first one is next to Bucky on the couch. He wonders if he can convince Steve and Quinn to leave him alone on the couch. It’ll be hard to look at Quinn in the eye. Bucky wants to be miserable in peace. Steve knows Bucky too well because stops behind the couch and leans down to kiss the top of Bucky’s head. It briefly makes Bucky’s skin crawl—he doesn’t deserve kindness. Steve quickly leans away and heads back to the bathroom.

Bucky can hear the low murmur of conversation, but doesn’t try to focus his attention on it to hear. Instead, he takes another bite of sweet, sweet chocolate and focuses on Neil deGrasse Tyson. He doesn’t realize that the bathroom door opened back up until Steve drops down on the couch next to Bucky. Bucky opens his mouth to ask what’s up, but Steve quickly whips his phone out, wraps an arm around Bucky’s shoulders, and takes a selfie of them. The flash puts spots in Bucky’s line of vision and he shoves Steve away from him.

“What the fuck, Steve?” Bucky snarls and rubs at his eyes like that’ll help clear up the spots. “Jesus, turn off the flash next time. What was that for, anyway? Why are you here instead of in the shower?”

“I’m only here to establish an alibi,” Steve answers which isn’t an answer at all. He locks his phone and stands up from the couch. “I think I’ll see if I can find a place that’s open this late…or is it early?” He hums. “Anyway, I don’t want to be here when she’s out of the shower.”

Bucky’s more confused than usual—and he’s an amnesiac so the usual for him is pretty damn bad. For some reason, he feels like he’s made a critical mistake, but he doesn’t know what it could possibly be. “Steve? A little help would be appreciated here, sweetheart.”

Steve, as headed back out the door, turns around and stares at Bucky. There’s a serious expression on his face, but there’s mischievousness behind his eyes. “Quinn’s cramps woke her up,” Steve informs Bucky. Then, oh-so-innocently, he asks, “Hey, was that the last of the chocolate? Should I stop by the store to get some more?” Almost on cue, the shower turns off and Bucky stares down in horror at the now-empty candy wrapper.

Oh God. Quinn’s period started. She’s not an early riser the way Steve is and she’s up early because her cramps are that bad. Quinn, by the way, has an exceptional tolerance for pain because of the super soldier serum. Chocolate is and always has been her relief when her period starts…and Bucky ate the last of it.

Steve cackles before he’s out the door. Behind him, Bucky hears the bathroom door open, and peers back over his shoulder to watch Quinn shuffle out. She looks exhausted, pained, and ready to cry—Bucky’s about to cry with her. She heads directly to the kitchen and Bucky takes the opportunity to shove the wrappers down between the couch cushions, but that won’t help him. Bucky will be her prime suspect because the two of them have more of a sweet tooth than Steve’s ever had.

“Bucky,” Quinn says slowly, loudly, and sweetly—too sweet.

Bucky Barnes is fucked.