#dougie just envelopes him

[jonasiegenthaler]

nico hugs <3

[dreamwatch]

Mine is Yours

Written for @corrodedcoffinfest

Day #23 - Prompt: Up And Coming | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: None | POV: Eddie | Pairing: None | Tags: Fluff, good Uncle Wayne, good nephew Eddie, the Munsons

It’s been a year since Eddie’s been home. 

He pulls up outside the trailer in Forest Hills. Wayne’s truck is more beat to shit than he remembers, but the thing was on its last legs when he left for Indy in ‘87. Theres gaffer tape holding up the rusting rear bumper, and the tires are near bald.

He let’s himself inside, careful not to wake Wayne; the one blessing that came from all the shit of 1986 was that the government gave them a double wide and the old man finally got a bedroom again. That was the one thing Eddie could never quite shake the shame of, especially when he was a high school senior seemingly unable to graduate. He’s hoping today’s visit will make up for it a little. 

He takes his sneakers off, new ones he only bought a few weeks ago, lines them up neatly next to Wayne’s work boots, then heads into the kitchen to make himself a cup of coffee. He had an early start, and what with the flight from LA (a flight!) and the drive from Indy, he’s aching for sleep.

He takes his coffee over to the couch, the red pleather one they picked up for a steal (because it was ugly as shit, Robin had said), puts his feet up and closes his eyes. Just for a minute.

“—die. Eddie. Hey, rise and shine.”

He wakes with a gasp, wisps of a memory, of leathery skin and tails and razor teeth.

“Wayne?”

“There he is.” Wayne straightens up, back cracking as he does. “You never said you were coming, or am I going senile?”

“Both,” Eddie says around a yawn.

Wayne sticks his hand in Eddie’s curls, ruffling them gently. “If you want breakfast and a place to stay, be nice.”

Eddie rolls off the couch, giving Wayne a hug before following him into the kitchen, perching himself on a stool to watch as Wayne sets about making them breakfast at five in the afternoon.

“Is everything okay? Not that I’m not happy to see you, just a long way to drive for a catch up.”

Eddie grins. “Actually, I flew.”

“Flew?��� He whistles. “My boy, the rockstar.”

They sit at the table together, bacon, eggs and toast laid out in front of them, Wayne catching him up on the comings and goings of the plant and Forest Hills; old Rose Hannigan still being a nosey bitch as usual, and Dougie has a new dog and god the damn thing won’t stop barking during the day. It’s nice. It’s so different from LA, so small in the best way, and even though his relationship with home, with Hawkins, is so complex, cut through with slithers of painful memories, he misses it. He does. It doesn’t make all that much sense.

Or is it just Wayne he misses? The man who loved him and protected him when his father couldn’t (wouldn’t). The man who gave him everything and more, who was working himself to an early grave to look after a boy that wasn’t his own.

Eddie grabs his bag from the floor and slides the white envelope out, still neat and crisp. He pushes it across the table.

“What’s this?”

Eddie huffs a laugh. “Open it and find out.”

He gets a raised eyebrow back for his trouble, but he doesn’t take his eyes off Wayne. Doesn’t want to miss this.

Wayne grumbles about envelopes being too sticky these days and then he pulls out the slip of paper tucked inside and comes to a stop.

“What the hell is this?”

“It’s a check, Uncle Wayne.”

He shoots Eddie a scowl. “I can see it’s a check. Where— I don’t understand.”

Eddie fold his arms on the table in front of him. “The album is selling. It’s doing good, actually. We’re big in Germany, the UK, I think we’re doing pretty good in Japan too. You know I wrote most of those songs, right?”

Wayne gives him a little nod.

“Well I got a nice royalty check for that. Just came through a few weeks ago.” He gestures at the paper in Wayne’s hands. “And this is for you.”

“Eddie this is… Jesus Christ. Ten thousand dollars? You can’t be serious?”

And Eddie is full on smiling now, grinning ear to ear. “I got thirty thousand.” He laughs. “I still can’t believe it.”

“Eddie, I can’t take this.”

“You can and you’re gonna.” He’s deadly serious now. “These come quarterly, this one’s the second. They’re getting bigger. Sales are growing, so, there’s more coming. And even if there wasn’t, doesn’t matter. I want you to have this—“

“No—“

“Wayne—“

“No!“

“Jesus Christ, you stubborn old fart. I have money now, which means we have money now. I’m not in LA busting my ass for me, I’m doing it for us! And this is the start. That truck should have been put out to pasture before I started high school. You’ve never had a vacation. I’ve never seen you spend a dollar on yourself.”

“Never needed anything.”

“How about wanting? You get to want, Wayne. You deserve to want. And how about not having to worry where the money’s coming from when the roof leaks, or the boiler breaks? I don’t want you to have to worry anymore.”

Wayne shakes his head, but the fight is leaving him. “Ed…” he says, a little choked. He reaches his hand across the table and Eddie grabs it.

“I love you, old man. I want you to have this. Please?”

“I’m so fucking proud of you, you know that? Even before this,” he waves the check in the air. “I’ve always been proud of you.”

“I know. So, you going to take it? Get a new fucking truck?”

Eddie can see the pride on his uncle’s face, but he doesn’t need to; he’s always known. Always felt it.

Wayne squeezes Eddie’s hand, still looking a little shell shocked but smiling. Happy. 

“Reckon I might.”

[generalllimaginesss]

Can you do a part 2 of the finsta one with Nico where the reader lets someone scroll through it as part of their Christmas gift?

Like the whole team knows it’s a thing and no one has been able to find it because she blocked them and everyone is dying to see it. Maybe it’s her contribution to a white elephant gift exchange and everyone fights over it. But it’s not Nico who ends up with it and he’s like “but I’m the love of your life” and she’s like “yes and?”

I’m just imagining this finsta has an insane amount of followers and no one knows it’s Mrs. Cap running it. Like all the followers just think it’s run by a diehard fan who understands the sport. And whoever on the team wins the scrolling privileges from her phone dies dead when he sees the amount of followers

I feel like this went so much better in my head, but I couldn’t quite do it justice when I actually wrote it. I’m slowing down writing some just because the holiday season is chaotic and I don’t have as much time. I’m sorry if it’s not quite what you thought of, but I hope you like it!! Thank you for requesting!! Also, Merry Christmas❤️

••

It was a last minute get together, a few of the members of the team lingered in Jersey, some not making it home at all this year. Nico, being the lovely captain that he is, decided to have the few stragglers over for some games and drinks, enjoying the time together without the pressure of hockey lingering over them.

The group currently consisted of Hughes squared, Dougie, Timo, Toffoli, Bratt, Nico, and you, all gathered around the living room. The smell of cookies had infiltrated the room, wafting from the kitchen as a result of your afternoon baking session. Nico was responsible for the decorations and drinks, leaving the sweets and games in the hands of you.

Earlier you had made a group chat with everybody that was planning on coming, explaining the concept of a white elephant gift (gag gifts only edition) and preparing everybody that there would be a game of Cards Against Humanity.

So far Jack had opened a puck from Dougie that was signed, Dougie claiming that it was "priceless." Luke opened the gift that Nico had found at the thrift store, a sequin pillow with Danny DeVito's face on it. Timo opened Bratt's gift, a $25 gift card to Victoria's Secret, a gift that you were going to fight for. Luke's gift was unable to be wrapped properly, a sheet thrown over it instead. Nico picked his and discovered that it was a young palm tree. Dougie opened Jack's gift, a gift card that was specifically for OnlyFans. Bratt opened Toffoli's gift which consisted of an assortment of chocolate in a ziplock bag, the kicker that they were all unwrapped and mixed together. You had opened Timo's gift, a small box that contained Band-Aids and alcohol wipes.

The last box wrapped was small, but wrapped with care, a small bow decorating the top of it. It was Toffoli's turn to open a gift, expecting something good since the last gift was obviously one from you. He pull the bow off and tore into the box, confusion coming across his face as he discovered an envelope labeled TOP SECRET. He cut his eyes at you, you urging him to open the envelope.

"You can't show anybody, Tyler. I mean it," You warned as he opened the envelope and read what was inside. His brows furrowed at first, not sure why the word "finsta" was on the inside, that is until it clicked with him.

"NO WAY," He yelled, the other boys looking at him as if he had grown a second head.

"I can't show you until everybody has had an opportunity to steal gifts," You explained, the other guys becoming increasingly impatient as they tried to figure out what it could be.

"What the hell did she put together?" Luke asked, trying to peer over Toffoli's shoulder to see what he had.

"Whoever ends up with my gift gets to spend 5 minutes on my finsta," Revealing what the top secret was caused a brief moment of chaos. Luke tried to jump on top of Tyler, but he overshot the distance and ended up face planting on the couch.

"Hey! You have to win it fair and square," You scolded the youngest Hughes.

"Oh, I will. You can bet your ass on that," He gave a warning look to Tyler as he regained his composure and returned to his seat beside Jesper.

"Ok, remember, there's only 2 steals. After the second steal the gift is dead and whoever has it wins it," As you explained the rules, eyeing the Victoria's Secret gift card, the stealing began.

You started it off by handing Timo back his gift, stealing the gift card you wanted.

"Ooh, Cap, you might get lucky with a new nighttime outfit with that gift card," Dougie teased, a pillow chucked at him shortly after caused a wave of laughter from everybody.

Jack was up next, stealing the finsta envelope immediately. He knew he wouldn't end up keeping it, but he had to get his hands on it somehow, even if it wasn't the actual account.

The gift immediately died the next turn, Luke snatching the paper from his brother.

"Give me that," He threw the Danny DeVito pillow at Jack.

The game continued until everybody had either kept their gift, or stolen something. The entire time everybody complained that they didn't end up with your finsta. Nico pouting the most.

"Babe, come on...I'm your boyfriend...the love of your life...your future husband. I think I deserve to see the account," He was trying to pull at your heart strings, but nothing would work. Not his puppy eyes, his pleads, or his hand that was dangerously high on your thigh, covered by a blanket, of course.

"Mhm...and?" Your eyes were filled with a playful banter, but your face was emotionless.

He rolled his eyes, tickling your sides to erupt laughter from you.

"Alright, I've waited long enough. Let me see it," Luke pointed to your phone, his hand motioning for you to hand it over.

You did as he said, but not before starting the timer.

He immediately took note of the username: @/hotforhischier causing his eyes to go wide and his laugh to rock his whole body. The shock didn't stop there, though.

"Holy shit, you have over 25,000 followers? What the hell? You've posted over 3,000 times, like do you even have a life?" He commented on everything he saw while all of the guys were inching closer and closer to him, trying to get a glance of the infamous account. Luke feigned a faint when he realized that you had a viral hockey account.

Nico stared at you the whole time, darkness clouding his eyes as he thought about ways he would get you to show him the account later.

Luke's laugh caught his attention, interrupting his eye contact with you.

"This post says 'The Devil's need to get their head out of their butt and realize that showing off doesn't win games. Somebody relay that message to Jack Hughes." Jack narrowed his eyes at you, not mad, but ready to get his revenge on you.

"There's a ton of thirst trap edits of Nico...a happy birthday post for Coach...SHE MADE A THIRST TRAP VIDEO OF ARBER XHEKAJ," He squealed as he flashed a smirk at Nico, "Damn, that is one good looking man."

Your cheeks were bloodshot. You didn't think he would take the time to watch the videos, but focus on the trash talk that you had posted.

“She calls Mercer ‘Raw Dawg,’” he chuckled.

“Luke, did you just say she made a thirst trap for Arber Xhekaj?” Nico asked, jealousy beginning to boil under his skin.

“Wanna see it?”

“NO! Your 5 minutes is up,” You tried to snatch your phone from him, but he stood up, holding it over his head as if playing a game of keep away.

“Luke Hughes, give me my phone,” You sent warning signs through your gaze, but he didn’t listen, tossing the device across the coffee table to Nico.

It was as if a magnet connected you to the phone, your body flinging itself wherever it went. You tried to climb onto Nico’s back, but he just shook you off.

“Hmm, ‘I’m no doctor, but I have this feeling that Nico feels good enough to come back. Should he really be missing this many games?’” You looked away as his eyebrows created wrinkles in his forehead as they raised.

“Thank God you’re not a doctor because I wasn’t good to go back sooner,” he pinched your side as he continued to scroll through.

“Jack she shits on you, Vanacek, and Schmid a lot,” he chuckled, still pushing you away, keeping you at an arms distance.

“Geez, what did I ever do to you?” A smile rose from Jack, one that was ready to tease you to no end.

“You keep up with the comments too….do these people have any idea who you are? Like you have a few fan accounts that you talk to almost every day!” Nico laughed.

“That’s enough,” You force yourself close enough to snatch it back.

“So what we all can gather from the finsta is that Y/N is the biggest supporter of the Devils and the biggest hater of Jack. I like her,” Luke leaned back on the couch, propping his feet up on the coffee table and tilting his head back to sip the beer in the bottle that he was holding.

“I’m not a hater,” Trying to defend yourself was useless, all of the guys looking at you as if to point that out.

“She’s like Jekyll and Hyde,” Bratt pointed out, “To Mrs. Cap, also known as Jekyll and Hyde,” he raised his Old Fashioned to you, the others following with their drink.

“I hate you all,” You blushed, trying to hide the smile that was threatening to expose your lie.

The night was long, most of the guys deciding to stay the night because of the amount of alcohol that coursed through their systems. You didn’t mind though, covering each of the sleeping bodies that littered the living room with a blanket before joining Nico in bed.

“You’re nicer than me…I was going to let them freeze,” he said as he snaked his arm around your waist. He pulled you back to lay down, getting in position to spoon you.

“They’re family, Neeks,” you hummed as he placed a kiss right under your ear.

“Mm, so what are you going to buy with that Victoria’s Secret gift card?”

*

*

*

*

[millie-multifics]

Though I Yearn • Part 5

Masters of the Air

Secret Admirer x Reader

A string of anonymous letters causes a stir at Thorpe Abbotts. Who could be the author of the tender correspondence you have been receiving?

Warnings: Gossip, mentions of death, mentions of cheating, singular use of a petname.

Word Count: ~1.3k

Masterlist Previous Next

x x x

After Douglass had made a big fuss, words of the letters had spread across Thorpe Abbotts like wild fire. Everyone was pointing their fingers at possible culprits, bringing the once quiet situation to absolute chaos. It had been weeks since a letter had arrived, the writer forced into hiding from the attention. The men had gone to Africa, their numbers dwindling on the journey, a few notable losses were Curt and Dickie. Replacements had arrived- you held such a hatred for that word.

You craved your own peace more and more as the days passed by. You had found a spot in the empty field passed the runways that was void of people, Lemmons crew left you alone.

“What are you doing out here?” Blakely’s boots crunced the weeds as he approached, his shadow blocking the sun from your eyes as they fluttered open.

“It’s usually quiet out here,” Your tone was teasing, “No questions, accusations or chatter. Just the birds, the breeze and occasionally the hum of a few planes. What are you doing out here?”

“You’ve got mail.”

You sat upright, brushing blades of grass from where they stuck to your dress. “New duty, Blakely?”

“You know you can call me Everett, I’d like to think we are friends of some sort.” He huffed as he handed over the mail. Three envelopes: one from home, one with a return adress of New York City and finally a new letter that was missing a return adress.

“Did Douglass send you out here? Since he is ever so concerned that he couldn’t help himself but to corner me in front of atleast half the company.”

“Carrier said they hadn’t seen you all day, entrusted me with your mail but you really ought to talk to Dougie, he feels terrible for bringing you attention like that.”

“I believe Lieutenant Dye’s celebration is underway, I thought you would be there?” You changed the subject, avoiding Blakely’s words just as you had been avoiding the man they were about.

“I’ll keep an eye out for you later on, save me a dance?”

You sent him a nod of agreement, waiting for him to be out of sight before turning your attention to the letters he had delivered.

You read the letter from home first, it was filled with the ususal wishes for your wellbeing and updates on events or gossip that you had missed. You did not recognize the loopy femine cursive on the envelope adressed from New York and it felt very thin between your fingertips. You open the flap, revealing only a single photograph inside. A man and woman in a busy street, he was handsome in his dress greens and she donned a plain yet elegant wedding gown… but it was not just a photograph of two strangers. Your fingertips gently ran over the mans face, absorbing his features as this was the first time you had set eyes on him since he had left you broken hearted on his porch not quite a year ago. There was a date written on the back of the picture, August 20 1943.

Despite the deep ache in your chest from the photograph, a spark of excitment filled you as you opened the third envelope. There had been a drought of letters from your Secret Admirer since the secret flooded the base, you had missed reading his words more than you had liked to admit.

“I did not intend to draw such attention and for that I must apologize. I have come to the conclusion if any of the men were to find out that these clandestine correspondence were written by me, I would be heckled for my aberrant ways. I am not perceived as a romantic, many see me to be brash and arrogent but since I met you I have been reformed. I feel a fool to be so cowardess with my affections while the possibility of death looms so heavily but I fear my mind over heart mentality will not crumble.”

Your mind spun, it was someone unexpected but who? With each letter you felt more more drawn to his words and your eagerness to discover the identity of the writer grew.

You clutched the recent letter and the photograph to your chest as you lay in the field, unbothered by the setting sun.

Hours had passed, the field had been swallowed by darkness but your body felt too heavy to move under the weight of the papers on your chest. The quiet yet rough trampling of the tall grass behind you alerted you to a new presence.

“If Blakely told you I was out here then he can find himself another dance partner.” You spoke loudly, nearly startling the man as he had not seen your silhoutte on the ground in the darkness, despite actively searching for you.

“That is a shame.”

The voice was unexpected, you honestly had expected it to be Douglass or DeMarco, maybe even Blakely with the intention of dragging you to the party but surely not Major Egan.

“Major, I thought you would be at Dye’s celebration?” Your eyes found his through the darkness as he now towered over you.

“I could say the same for you. Blakely mentioned you were out here earlier but when you failed to show at the party some of the men got worried. I volunteered to come check on you, I don’t think it’s safe to be out here in the dark like this.”

“I would hate to damper the celebration.”

“It got dampered anyway, sweetheart,” He moved to lay on the ground next to you, unbothered by any stains the grass may leave on his uniform, “By the men we have lost and the men we will lose.”

It was quiet for awhile, both enjoying the silent company of another person, unaware of the battling thoughts happening in the others brain. Your worries felt silly compared to his, he had lost friends and men under his command, you briefly wondered if he had volenteered to find you to escape the ghosts of them at the party.

It was silent for a moment before the Major spoke again, “The stars sure are pretty out here.”

Your eyes searched around the clouds, only a few bright stars visable in the dark of the night. “When they peek out of the clouds anyway.”

“Are you alright?”

The genuine concern in his question had taken you off guard. You took a second to debate how much you were willing to share with the Major as every aspect of your life had been previously aired, but remembered divulging a little to him before Dougie had brought attention. You handed the Major the photo you had recieved, glancing over as he angled it under the moonlight to see it clearly. “Before the war, it was all him, he was the one I would marry and bare my soul to. Suddenly everything changed, he had enlisted and just a week before our wedding I discovered that he was being unfaithful. I was foolishly willing to forgive him but he chose her, now they are married and I am here; my lonely soul wondering what is next for me, if my soulmate is out there somewhere or perhaps I am just unlucky and he won’t make it through this war so I shall forever be alone.”

You swallowed harshly, washing the thickness from your throat as your eyes burned looking up at the stars.

“What of your writer?” Egan returned the picture, his eyes scanning your face as the grass fanned your cheeks in the soft night breeze.

“How am I supposed to call someone mine if I don’t even know their name?” You sighed, heavily as if to lesson the weight, “I wish I could tell him that he makes the ache in my heart bearable.”

x x x

@jointherebellion215 @orchiidflwer

[winniemaywebber]

'in love and scared' prompts

22 & 25 for Olive & Dougie 💙

hello nonnie! thanks for the request - writing this one made me soooo soft and mushy <3

from this prompt list (still trucking on with these, but my inbox is still open for others should any take your fancy!)

under the cut to save space (tw/cw pregnancy)

laying with your back to their chest!!! their hands around your waist

lazy kisses, softly sighing and gasping into each other's mouths.!!

 It seemed everyone Olive spoke to these days -  once they’d spotted that ever growing baby bump (who could miss it, in fact?) -  was telling her to get as much rest as she possibly could, because there’d be none of that once the baby arrived. She runs that thought over in her head with a titter, sleep not having come for her now for the past four nights. If it wasn’t grisly heartburn making her nauseous, it was the being stuck with only two sleeping positions, both of them disastrously uncomfortable. Olive was beginning to miss silly things like sleeping on her back and being able to drink something other than milk to keep that angry acid reflux away. Sometimes, it was a hefty kick in the bladder multiple times a night that got her out of bed to use the bathroom, the act of walking and switching on lights being enough to pull anyone out of drowsiness, but especially a tired pregnant woman. Sometimes, Olive feels like she’s the only person in the whole world that’s wide awake - tonight, especially, that thought is too much to bear. 

The kick comes, along with the other small foot tucking itself into her ribcage. This is what makes her yelp in pain as she peels her husband off her to make her way to the bathroom, James Douglass waking up at the sound and movement with his signature snort. 

“Babydoll, what’s up?”

“Your darn daughter won’t stop booting me,” she cries, fat, hot tears dripping down her swollen cheeks. “I need to pee again and she’s got a foot in my ribs. A foot, James! It hurts, this all hurts and I am tired and I haven’t slept…” her voice drifts as it cracks with her rambles, her hands now covering her face to muffle the sobs. “How am I supposed to get rest before she gets here if I can’t get comfortable and when I need the bathroom every few minutes?” “Honey, shh,” he soothes, clambering out of the blankets and kneeling in front of her, kissing her stomach gently. “Relax, hm?” “I’m trying,” she snarls through gritted teeth, the foot finally shifting but now kicking at her stomach. 

“Hey, now,” he replies, sitting next to her. “I’m trying to help,” “I know, I know,” she exhales, wiping her eyes. “I’m sorry, I’m just–”

She sees the cogs whirring in his head - she’s sure she’d see a lightbulb go off on top of his head with the face he makes when he comes up with an idea. She’s even sure she hears a little ping! as his eyes widen, his cute face totally melting her heart. 

“Why don’t I run you a bath?” Amazed she didn’t think of that for herself, she nods keenly. “Gosh, yes please, honey. That would be wonderful.”

He stands, kisses her forehead and pads to the bathroom, Olive hearing the faucet squeak as it turns on. She hears her husband humming softly from the bathroom as he opens cabinet doors to find the bath salt and bubbles, him sniffing at each to make sure they’re up to par for his grumpy wife. Within a few moments, it’s done, the steam billowing out of the door. 

“Ready, beloved!” he calls, Olive beginning to shed her clothes and place them on the bed. 

***

“Aaah,” she breathes out, the warm water enveloping her and instantly relaxing every aching muscle. The warmth and the ease seems to calm the baby too, the kicks now less violent but more making sure everyone knew she was still awake. “That’s better, huh?” Olive says, stroking at her swollen stomach. “Much better.” 

James sits on the floor, head on the sink. His eyes softened in total adoration at the sight in front of him as he smiles, just watching Olive relax in the warm water.

“Honey?” she murmurs. “Wanna get in with me?”

He gets up with such gusto that he bangs his head on the porcelain sink, Olive laughing at the sound. “Holy shit, slow down,” she cackles, her whole body shaking with it. “Are you okay?”

“Yep…fuck, that hurt.” “Come on, klutz. Get in.”

He slips in the water behind her, pulling her towards him and having her back rest on his chest. His hands top hers, stroking bubbles and warm water over the bump. 

“I’m sorry I was mean,” she sniffles, taking his hand and kissing it.

“Not mean, just grumpy,” he replies, his cheek resting on her hair. “Cmere,” he whispers, adjusting with a small splash so he can reach her mouth. His hand on her face, he kisses her slowly, the loveliness of it causing Olive to gasp and sigh into his mouth. 

“Better?” he asks, kissing the tip of her nose.

“Mmm…much.”

[transformee]

5th Annual TF Writer Christmas Exchange

Thank you to my new friend @fridayotter for the wonderful story, and Merry Christmas!

———————————————————————

Can’t touch this… 😉

Doug chuckled to himself as he hit send on his latest gym selfie along with an old cheesy MC Hammer gif. Being the alpha top that he was, he loved giving his partner Chase a little lighthearted teasing. Chase had started to work out with him some days to try and put on some real size like Doug, but his progress had been slow. Chase’s one standout asset was just that - his ass - and Doug certainly relished in it as well. He even secretly tailored some of Chase’s workouts to focus more on his glutes. Doug was an ass man through and through, and Chase’s belonged to him. Not that Chase was against it himself. Their relationship worked for them overall, and Chase couldn’t get enough of that feeling when Doug’s alpha cock would work its way through his cheeks. But once… just once… Chase longed to know what it would be like on the other end, plunging into Doug’s muscular haunches. He had topped with other guys before, but never with Doug. Doug was adamant about his position in the relationship, in a nice and caring way thankfully, but he was unwilling to make an exception, even for special occasions. It was the one part of their relationship that made Chase sigh a mix of longing and frustration. He quickly packed that all back away as he heard Doug coming back in the door from his last pre-Christmas workout.

“Cute pic, stud, haha,” quipped Chase as he gave Doug’s ass a playful slap as he headed to the shower. A smirk crossed his face as he had indeed touched that. “Hehe, you know that’s not what I meant, babe…. Maybe one day!”

Chase sighed again as he heard the shower started up. One day…

——————————————————————

Christmas Eve came and went with presents opened and merriment had. The winter sun streamed in the window, rousing Chase from his dream. He stumbled towards the kitchen for some coffee when something caught his eye in the living room. There was a single stocking on the floor under the tree with something inside. Doug followed moments after Chase made his way to the tree.

“Morning, Dougie! Hey, do you remember this stocking last night?”

“Morning, babe,” said Doug with a grin. “Nah, it’s not mine. Go for it - all you!”

Chase reached inside and fished out a single item.

“What the… what is Wishing Lube? Cute, haha. I assume you got this for us to play with later…”

Doug had an oblivious look on his face. “Nope, was me,” he shrugged. “Sounds like a gag gift but only one way to find out!” he said with a grin.

“Haha, well how about I wish you finally let me use it and top for a change!”

“Maybe when you really commit to those workouts and get bigger than me, haha. How’s that for a deal?” Chase just smiled. “Bet!” He knew better than to actually get his hopes up. “But in the meantime… I’ve got a stocking you can stuff if you want to give it a try…” Chase playfully traced his finger along the tube as he headed back to the bedroom. Doug sprinted after Chase and tackled him onto the bed with a grin. “Don’t have to ask me twice!”

Clothes flew off, and Chase assumed his position over the side of the bed. He could hear Doug squirting the lube into his palm and moaning as he slathered his stiffening cock. “Mmmm, Merry Christmas to- mmmmm, me!” Doug shoved his rock hard cock into Chase’s ass with a moan as he had so many times before. Back and forth, in and out, he animalistically pumped into Chase, failing to notice the slight wisps of… something swirling around Chase’s body. It looked almost like a frosty mist as it flowed around him, slowly working its magic. Unbeknownst to Doug, Chase’s eyes had long since rolled back under its influence. Doug simply raced towards his climax, feeling a massive load building up. Something about it felt like the biggest cum of his life. It soon became overwhelming as the wisps of frost quickly grew, enveloping the couple. And from somewhere inside that frosty veil, Doug blew his enormous load into Chase’s ass with a roar, and with it went so much more.

———————————————————————

“Babe! Babe! Wake up! Doug…!”

Doug startled awake as someone violently shook his shoulders.

“Look at me! I’m huge! This feels amazing!”

Doug’s eyes went wide as he watched the gargantuan stranger snap his dog’s huge bone in half.

“Who… who the fuck are you?!?! What are you doing in my house?!”

“Babe, Dougie, it’s me! Chase! I must’ve passed out, and when I woke up, I looked this! And you…” Chase’s voice trailed off. Doug sprang up off the bed, but something felt off. He rushed over to the bathroom mirror. “What do you mean??? What about me-“ Doug froze as he looked at his reflection. Sure enough, it mimicked his movements perfectly as he slowly moved his hands around an unfamiliar face and body.

“Wha- wha- I- I’m?!?”

Doug could only stare at the mirror in disbelief, but somehow he could feel it and knew it was real. His muscles… his height… his age… it had clearly been sapped away, and it seemed like Chase had been the benefactor.

“Wha- how-?” Doug stammered. Chad threw up his massive shoulders in a giant shrug. “How should I know? One minute we were having sex like normal with that Wishing Lube and then…” Chase’s voice trailed off as they both instantly thought the same thing. It couldn’t possibly…

“Where is it?!? It has to be here somewhere!” Doug barged past Chase, bouncing off him in frenzy before pouncing on his prey on the bedside table.

“To Chase. From Santa. Use responsibly. Effects may last for up to a week?!? The hell…?!?”

“I dunno! I thought it was from you. And you’re the one who used it, remember? Calm down. We’ll figure this out!”

And with that, somehow, some way, Chase’s words washed over Doug, dissolving away the moment of panic and uncertainty. “Yeah, you’re right. At least I’m still cute!”

Chase’s eyebrow shot up at Doug’s remark. Cute? He had never referred to himself that way before. And why was he suddenly so calm? “Are you sure you’re OK? You seem… different all of a sudden…”

“Yeah, babe, I’m fine! It was just a shock at first. Who knew that stuff could actually work?”

It… worked? Chase’s mind started racing. Had he really made this happen somehow? If so… he had to test it.

“Hey, so, ummmm, do you remember our bet, Dougie?”

“Bet? What bet? I don’t…” Doug paused as he realized what Chase meant. “Ohhhhhh, that. I, um… hmmm, well I guess a deal’s a deal?” Part of Doug couldn’t believe what he was saying, but another part of him was curious. Chase was definitely bigger than him now, and what would it feel like to have this monster boyfriend inside of him? “I guess I can make an exception given the circumstances, but only til this wears off!”

“Sold!” Doug was quickly tackled onto the bed with ease by a gleeful Chase. They pretended to wrestle for a moment, not that it would have been a contest at that point, before Doug found himself bent over the side of the bed just as he had done to Chase so many times before. He found himself surprisingly excited though. He had never bottomed before, much less with someone as big as Chase had become. A familiar squirting sound snapped his back to reality as Chase lubed up to fulfill his wish.

“Just go easy on me, big fella!” Doug joked. “This is a first for me, so- aaaaAAAHHHH!” Doug yelped in surprise from the unfamiliar sensation as Chase plunged into his virgin hole. “Oh Jesus! Shit shit shit!” That was all Doug’s brain could process as Chase’s thick cock rammed his prostate on repeat. Is… is this what he had been missing out on all this time??? I… I could get used to this! God, I wish this could go on forever! The men moaned together from their new perspectives as those nearly invisible traces of frost blew lightly through the room, shifting reality ever so slightly in response to Doug’s newfound desire. The increase in his moans was definitely not slight however, as Chase exploded into Doug’s for the very first time. It went through him like a wrecking ball, both physically and mentally as his knees buckled, and deep down in his soul, his old preconceptions of being an alpha top shattered like glass as the men collapsed on top of each other once again.

———————————————————————

The rest of the weekend went largely the same way, save for a few changes that went unnoticed by either man. With Doug’s cherry popped, he found himself craving the sensation of being filled up to the brim, and with every load that Chase pumped into him, slowly but surely, his past desires to top simply melted away. And with every time Doug felt that climax inside of him, those cold wisps of magic passed by once more. As his inhibitions about bottoming fell away one by one, aspects of reality shifted as well, balancing back towards a happy medium of the mens’ desires. The new Chase remained as he was, but Doug began to change. After one round, his glutes grew rounder and stronger. The next, some of his previous bulk began to return. And some more. And some more. Before long he was almost as muscular as he was before. However he was so happy and content with his new dynamic, Doug however didn’t even notice. Everything simply felt right as his beard started to return with some flecks of gray. A few days later, the last bit of lube remained. By the point the wishes of both men were perfectly in sync. Rather than returning to his former height, Doug’s age grew instead as reality snapped into place one last time. Chase ultimately got what he wanted in his new size and alpha top role, while Doug received what he never knew he desired. When the last traces of magic dissipated, Doug stood proudly as a power bottom muscle daddy, and all was as it was supposed to be…

[latibvles]

27. boxed for harriet morgan

##27 — BOXES

harriet morgan u are a national treasure and the whole of the bomb group adores you (literal). that's all the notes I have for this one. send me a prompt for the bomber girls!

—

Airmen were superstitious by nature — Harrie was no exception to that.

She knew she had a package or two waiting for her this morning. Her ma made it a habit to send her a plethora of things: books she left at home, hair ribbons, and some type of snack, too. Enough to share with the rest of her crew and still have leftovers. And her ma always wrote too — testifying that she prayed over them too, sending her love and blessings with all the pastries and articles of clothing.

Harrie made a point to never open these packages before they took off. She’d always pick them up from the post, set them gingerly atop her cot like she was setting the table back at home, but she’d never opened them.

She figured if they had something to look forward to on the way back, then it’d help them beat the odds. That, and gorging themselves on her mom’s homemade cookies and blessings seemed like a hard earned reward. Harrie made a point to send back the tins they were sent in, often with some type of trinket for her little cousins to fawn over.

Word traveled fast in Thorpe Abbotts — not so much about the blessings, but definitely about the treats.

“Anybody seen Juney?” Harrie asks, turning her head this way and that in the armchair. “Don’t want her missin’ out this time.” Fern waves her hand dismissively from her spot perched on the arm of the chair.

“We’ll just save her one. She’s got a grandpa’s bedtime anyway.” Fern explains, which makes Harrie laugh quietly under her breath. Of course, this corner of the front room had garnered its fair share of curious eyes. Fern perched on the arm chair, Carrie by the fireplace and Inez returning from the snack bar with napkins — likely to run Viv and Willie their hard-earned luxury rations, straight from the kitchen of Mary Morgan herself.

There were also a couple editions, men trying to stake their claim on the inevitable leftovers: Harper, from DeMarco’s crew, sat right across from her, burning a hole through the packaging. And although Blakely was keeping his distance, Harrie didn’t miss the way the pilot’s curious eyes would drift to the boxes balanced delicately in her lap every now and again — she makes a mental note to run one to him when she’s handing them all out.

There’s a whistle behind her, the soft thump of hands smacking the hard leather of the chair. She turns around to grin up at Douglass, who’s grinning right back at her, all teeth and mischief as he eyes the packages.

“Another package from my best girl?” he drawls, which has Harrie groaning and batting at his hands as he reaches over to pick at the packaging.

“Quit talkin’ like that ‘bout my ma, Dougie,” Harrie huffs, knowing he doesn’t mean it. “And lay off, we got manners ‘round here. Gotta read the card first,” Douglass’ hands retreat, but he sits on the opposing armrest. Part of Harrie feels like she’s ten years old again, and all her cousins and her brother, too, are watching her open up all the presents or blowing out candles. She takes the envelope too and tears into it, clearing her throat. “Dear Harriet…”

She goes through the typical stuff — local baseball scores, church gossip, how the animals were fairing. She skips over the more personal stuff for the sake of not dampening the room with her at-home worries. That was to be further looked into in the barely-there privacy of her cot, not read aloud among her friends.

“Send your friends ma’ love. Prayin’ over ya always, I hope these treats do somethin’ to make ya’ll smile a bit. Love momma. P.S, Pa sends a welcome gift for your new Commandin’ Officer,” Harrie wraps up, smiling by the end of it — an ear-splitting thing that makes her face hurt as she pockets the letter and then tears into the first package, undoing its wrapping.

The box is a well-polished wood thing with a gold latch, and Harrie recognizes it immediately as her pa’s cigar box. She can’t help the small gasp as she pops it open. Covering the cigars, however, was a small stack of photographs that she’s quick to snatch up before shutting it quickly, shuffling through photographs. She’s never been more happy she committed to not opening up her packages until after today’s flight.

“Look Carrie, s’that calf I was tellin’ you about. Nervous Nellie,” Harrie beams, extending her arm to give her friend the picture. “N’ these are the baby chicks. Well… I guess they ain’t babies no more, but they was when I hatched ‘em.” She points to the one still tucked under their hen’s wing. “I named that one after you Dougie, that one’s Hammy n’ that one’s Juney. Oh! There’s Harper.” Harrie points out each chick named after a bombardier in the company, and although his eyes roll at first, he starts chuckling as she goes down the line.

There’s a few others in there, some with her cousins and all the animals Harrie doted on at home. She pockets the pictures too, closes the cigar case and sets it before her on the coffee table. Then, she gives her small audience a sweeping look.

“Now don’t ya’ll go grabbin’ at me. ‘Specially not you two,” she points to Harper, who makes a noise of half-hearted offense, and then Dougie. “Rules are rules. Ladies first, then you can go callin’ dibs and what-not.”

With that in mind, she opens up the second, smaller box, and lets out a disbelieving laugh.

“Thank you, Mrs. Morgan,” Fern declares as Inez passes Harrie a napkin. She takes out one of the apple turnovers delicately packed into the metal tin and immediately passes it to Fern, who passes it to Carrie, until they’ve gone around their immediate circle. Then Inez plucks two to run to Viv and Willie, and Fern takes another for June. Harrie rises with the tin, laughing at the prolonged stare that the guys are giving her.

“Alright, alright, one each — Blakely!” The pilot, who was now making conversation with Kidd, snaps to look at her. “Quit actin’ polite and come over here ‘fore the rest are gone.”

As Blakely makes his way over, Harrie does the quick mental math to save enough for Jo, and one for Colonel Harding, to go with the box of cigars. And she silently prays that the blessings her mom sent with the turnovers will last to the next flight, the next package. But when they approach — she doesn’t admit to that. She just smiles and continues to hand out the extras, more than happy to share all of her gifts.

[devils-pirate-crew]

Once he verifies that the ship's not going anywhere, Dawson heads into the sailors' quarters. Most of the crew is finishing up - he sidesteps Mikey and Nate who are laughing together about God knows what, then spots Boqy and Mac whispering about something in the corner close to his hammock.

"Hey boys," Dawson waves, sliding over - Mac freezes up, midway through putting on his coat.

"Mercer," Boqvist greets, pivoting their conversation. "How're you planning to spend your share?"

The pilot's mate shrugs, changing into his shore clothes - old, scuffed boots swapped for new, shiny ones; baggy brown trousers replaced with white stockings and navy breeches; worn off-white sailor's shirt becoming a fancy white ruffled shirt; simple blue fearnought changed into a noble navy coat and gold-trimmed navy waistcoat, both with gold buttons. "Don't have much to buy," he mutters. "I'll probably look for some extra paper, some ink, a few pens to spare, maybe a book or two if there are any I haven't seen." Dawson considers it for a moment. "Could go look if there's a pocketwatch or pin or something that catches my eye."

"You're not gonna come to the pub with us?" Mac asks. "Get a drink, get three, maybe get a girl for the night..." He grins. "Chicks dig scars."

Dawson flinches, hand coming up to rub at the left side of his face instinctively. "I'll pass, thanks."

"Got a girl back home, then?" Mac sidles up to Dawson, elbowing him in the side. "Ooh, are you going to write to her?" He lifts his hand to his forehead, mimicking a fainting lady. "Charlotte, my love, I'll be home from war soon!"

Dawson stiffens further, turning around with a long, drawn-out sigh to snatch the small bag of coins from his hammock. He ignores Mac laughing, ignores the stabbing pains of his throbbing headache, ignores the swirling of the Voices getting louder and louder around his head, and slips past the small clusters of pirates to reach the door, opening it and escaping the sailors' quarters.

"Hey," Nico calls Dawson over to where the captain stands in a huddle with the other officers. The circle opens slightly to make room for Dawson, who presses himself to Dougie's side. "We're discussing who's doing what - we didn't come here just to drink and gamble, despite what Woody might tell you, but to get supplies as well." Nico rolls his eyes. "Ondrej and Vitek already agreed to restock food for us. Akira and Damon were going to get the ship-maintenance materials. We need someone to accompany Johnny to check for medical supplies, then the rest of us should deal with the hostages and keep an eye out for miscellaneous items."

"I'll go with Marino," Dougie interrupts, almost automatically.

Nico looks at him for a second, then nods. "I expected that. So that leaves me, Jonas, Jesper, Jack, and Dawson on hostage duty. Jack, Dawson, you can take the letters and send them off?" He holds a stack of envelopes out.

"Yes sir," Jack salutes, snatching the letters and pushing them into the pockets of his coat. He turns back, looking as Curtis and Miles drop the gangplank to the dock while the rest of the gunners cheer.

Jack dashes over the gangplank and jumps onto the dock, coat billowing behind him as he runs into the town of the Cove. Dawson looks at Nico, who shrugs (clearly having given up), then to Luke, who nods to follow. The two younger pirates jog behind Jack, who tears through the main street, only skidding to a stop at a tavern. The Master-at-Arms pushes the door open, the tavern's sign swaying in the breeze he's made.

"Quinn!"

[cursivebloodlines]

Was she…surprised? Dougie’s brows furrowed, almost unconsciously mirroring her reaction without even realising. He couldn’t imagine a universe where he wouldn’t be glad to know. It was a lot to digest, but he figured that was a given considering their circumstances. But in what world wouldn’t he be glad to know? So he could help her in any way she needed him, if she even wanted that.  What would have been worse was if he continued life, remaining clueless and oblivious while Emma carried around this…secret? Or not-so-secret anymore. But he couldn’t imagine letting someone he cared so strongly and deeply about go through this journey by herself, no matter the outcome in the end. They still had time to figure that out though, didn’t they? Momentarily forgetting how to speak, Doug stumbled and stuttered over his words in response to her seeming surprise or disbelief.

After a string of, ‘I-um - I-wha’s’ he finally regained the ability to speak by clearing his throat, his voice feeling raspy as it left his lips. “Yeah - yes! Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?” His words were quiet, but still carried the weight of conviction. “If I carried on with my life like it was normal, not knowing that you were carrying this around with you…god, Em.” He shook his head, trying to shake the thoughts of the alternative. A frown deepened on his expressions though, lines creased into his forehead as he asked gently, “Did you think I’d…I don’t know…be mad? Upset at you?” His threshold for anger was…a lot. The only time he ever got angry was if the people he loved were wronged. And whilst the overall situation could be confusing to say the least, he couldn’t imagine getting mad at her. Why would he? It took two to tango, equal responsibility, equal blame. He had no problem with facing up with reality. But the thought of Emma worrying about him being potentially upset with her? That broke his heart. But it wasn’t her fault. Figured it was only natural to feel that way. He was glad he could give her a sense of peace in that regard, that he could nip that worry in the bud before it could manifest into something malignant.

A hint of a smile traced his lips, his heart pounding in his chest when she squeezed his hands. The warmth radiating from her touch, the comfort that washed over him when…wasn’t he supposed to be the one comforting her? Same difference. Swallowing thickly, he tried to keep his own emotions in check when she pulled him into a gentle one armed hug, which of course he responded to with an eager yet gentleness. He allowed his other hand to drop though so he could envelope Emma into a proper hug. Fingertips brushed against the fabric against her back as he rubbed soothing circles, and a light squeeze. A feather-light kiss pressed against the top of her head. It felt so natural, almost too natural and Dougie had to remind himself to keep in check. But it was his way of offering comfort, his way of offering love without stumbling and professing declarations that would end up with him apologising and retreating in shame and embarrassment. He nodded quickly to Em’s question, a slight glimmer of confusion etched his features. Wasn’t it obvious?

“Of course I want to come. I want to be there for you, Em. Any and every way I can,” he promised her before a little anxious thought came trickling in. “I mean…that’s if - if you want me to? If you don’t then I completely understand and it’s fine and you can just tell me and -” There he went. Rambling tangent, trying to justify himself but also assure her it was okay if she didn’t want him to come and…it was just classic Dougie.

The only person Emma had spoken to about this prior to Dougie was her sister Ella, and it had all been in far away terms. That she was asking for a friend, and while she was sure her sister may have seen through that; she didn't push, she just gave her two cents which was what Em had been asking for. No, with only a week's knowledge and no medical confirmation, and certainly no clear idea of a decision, she hadn't spoken to her mother or to friends, and certainly not to Dougie. She figured why stress him out and ratchet up his anxiety if she decided not to go through with having the kid in the first place. God, she should have taken better care of that stupid test. She didn't want him to hate her.

Her brows furrowed slightly as her green hues lifted to meet his gaze when he said he was happy to know. She didn't know what reaction she'd been expecting...she'd been fearing the worst sort of reaction, but she didn't know what she'd been expecting especially since she hadn't been planning on telling him anytime soon. Still, this was far better than what her imagination had scared her into. "You are?" she asked, unable to hide the slight hint of disbelief in her voice. Even if he was lying, she'd be grateful for it in that moment, that he wasn't angry with her.

A small sigh of relief left the brunette as his hands moved over her slim arms and down to her hands and she didn't hesitate to switch their hold from a cup to lace their fingers together, squeezing his hands gently. Despite not believing it himself, Dougie had the distinct power in Emma's life to always know the right thing to say, and somehow this moment was no exception. When he assured her that he had her back no matter what, she nodded slightly, one of her hands letting go of his to wrap around his neck and pull him into a half hug. "I know, thank you." she practically whispered, trying to keep her emotions under control.

The brunette pulled back slightly at his question, though her hand stayed on his shoulder, brows furrowing slightly. "You, do you want to come?"

[secretswiftymarvelfan]

Fixer Upper: Drinks Maybe? - Mechanic!Curtis x Reader

A/N: Okay! I’ve made you lot wait long enough! I’m also squeezing this prompt in too!

Summary: You and Mollie visit the Tail-end crew and a very important and overdue question gets asked

Word Count: 1.4

Warning: Language! Fluff! 

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Masterlist / AU Masterlist

You were stood in your kitchen boxing up some cookies and brownies that Tanya had asked for. You hummed along to the music you were playing as you worked. You were halfway through your task when you heard a knock on your door.

You brush your hands off on the yellow gingham apron you wore. Walking over to your front door you open it up to see Mollie grinning.

“Hey Mollie, you okay? What’s up?” You greet with a smile.

“Just thought I’d pay you a visit, what you up to?” Mollie asks as she steps inside.

“I’m about to head out actually, I said I’d bring some cookies and stuff over to the tail-end lot” you say walking over into the kitchen.

“Oh can I join?” Mollie asks excitedly.

You glance over at her, eyebrow raised in question “why?” You ask slowly.

“Because I want to help out, and meet the guys that I’ve heard so much about, specifically a ruggedly handsome mechanic you have the hots for” Mollie smirks making you roll your eyes.

“Fine, but I swear to god if you say anything I will kill you” you say pointing over at her.

She gasps dramatically, clutching her chest as she smirks “How dare you think so ill of me” she gasps.

“Please Mollie” you plead.

“Fine, but you do seriously need to ask him out” Mollie resigns shaking her head.

“I don’t know” you sigh turning away to finish boxing up the sweet treats.

“What’s to lose, worse thing he can say is no” Mollie says moving over to stand next to you grabbing a cookie and taking a bite.

“Exactly! It would be mortifying! I really like hanging out with him and the guys, I don’t want to ruin that, I’ve made that mistake before” you exclaim shaking your head.

“I’m sure you won’t, just think about it at least” Mollie presses gently.

“Fine, but no promises, come on lets go” you say snapping shut the containers, passing a couple to Mollie.

You arrive at Tail-end motors just as the team were stopping for lunch. The team animatedly discussing something as you walked in. Curtis who stood to the side pouring himself a coffee, glances up spotting you. A confused smile appearing on his face.

“Y/N, hey what are you doing here?” He asks surprised.

“Tanya asked me if I could bring some sweet treats around, said you were running low” you explain nodding over to Tanya.

“Oh nice, here let me give you a hand” Curtis smiled walking over to take some of the containers from you.

“Hi I’m Mollie, I don’t know if you remember me, I was there when you first picked up Dougie” Mollie says holding her hand out to Curtis.

He glances over at you quickly, as if looking for help, before looking back over at her “um yeah sure, nice to see you again” he nods.

You place the containers down on the table, Edgar eagerly grabbing one as soon as he could.

“We were just about to stop for lunch, would you guys like to join us?” Tanya asks you.

“Oh no I don’t want to intrude-“ you start to say before Mollie interrupts.

“Yeah sounds great thank you” she smiles quickly sitting down next to Tanya.

You shot her a look, but she smiles innocently shrugging her shoulders.

“Do you want a coffee or something?” Curtis asks grabbing your attention.

“Oh yeah, a cup of tea if that’s okay?” You ask walking over.

“Sure, not a problem” Curtis smiles turning to make you your drink.

You lean back against the kitchenette counter, watching Mollie chat with Tanya and Edgar. You bite your thumb nail nervously as you watch them, worrying about what Mollie could be telling them.

You hadn’t even noticed Curtis trying to pass you your drink. That was until he reached out to take your hand, pressing the mug into your hand. You jumped slightly at the warm sensation that instantly enveloped you when you felt his hand against yours.

“Oh thank you sorry” you mutter taking the mug, taking a large sip surprise to find it exactly how you like it.

“Its okay, you alright?” Curtis asks leaning against the counter next to you.

“Yeah I’m good was just in my own little world” you lie giving him a small smile.

“They seem to be getting on well” Curtis says nodding over to Tanya and Mollie who were animatedly talking and laughing.

“I dread to think what stories they’re telling” Curtis adds making you laugh.

“Glad I’m not the only one” you chuckle.

Curtis then turns grabbing a sandwich from the side “hungry?” He asks.

“A little, but its okay” you say waving it off, shaking your head.

“Its fine, there’s plenty to go around thanks to you” Curtis grins passing you half of his sandwich.

The two you chat quietly in the corner watching the rest of the team laughed and chatted while they snacked on the sweet treats. You couldn’t help but smile whenever Curtis would lean closer to whisper something to you quietly.

At one point you glanced over to Mollie to see her nodding her head over to Curtis. Giving you a look to tell you to grow a pair and say something. You pursed your lips as you thought glancing up at Curtis.

No matter how much your brain was trying to explain everything away so you didn’t get hurt. It was getting harder and harder to ignore all the signs, your heart screaming for you to do something. Maybe Mollie was right, you’d never know if you didn’t ask.

“Hey um, I was thinking maybe um- me and you could do something together sometime- drinks or something?” You ask hoping you weren’t stuttering too much.

Curtis doesn’t say anything instantly making you glance up at him worriedly. Finding him looking down at you completely stunned. You instantly panic and try to dig yourself out of this hole.

“I mean if you don’t want to that’s fine, we can just meet as friends or something” you say beginning to ramble only stopping then Curtis grabbed your hand.

“Whoa, whoa, calm down, I’d love to, I was just surprised that you asked me” he admits with a small chuckle.

“Really?” You ask surprised, blinking a couple times.

“Yeah, I’ve been meaning to ask you out for a while, I just wasn’t sure you were interested” he explains with a smile, squeezing your hand gently.

“So how about this Saturday?” Curtis offers smiling down at you.

“Yeah sounds great, where are we going?” You ask grinning up at him.

“It’ll be a surprise” Curtis smirks making you chuckle and nod your head.

“Okay well I look forward to being surprised” you smile.

Far too soon for your liking the team had to get back to work. Curtis passes you some empty containers from last time before walking you and Mollie out.

“It was great seeing you, thank you for the treats, I’ll see you Saturday” Curtis smiles as you step outside.

“See you Saturday” you smile looking up at him.

You were about to turn away when Curtis leant down to press a kiss to your cheek. You felt heat rise to your cheeks as you feel his beard scrape against your cheek. When he pulled away you bit your lip glancing down at the floor hoping you didn’t look too flustered.

“See you later” Curtis smiled before heading back inside.

When you turn back around to face Mollie you see her staring at you, her jaw practically on the floor.

“What’s Saturday!?” She exclaims.

“I asked him out and he said yes” you tell her biting your lip slighter.

“Holy shit! You actually did it! Oh I’m so happy for you!” She squeals hugging you tightly, making you laugh as she jumps with excitement.

“C’mon we need to go buy you an outfit” she exclaims grabbing your hands and dragging you in the direction of the shopping mall.

Inside the garage Curtis smiled to himself as he walked back to his office. He hadn’t even gotten halfway across the workshop when Tanya slapped him hard across the back of the head.

“Ow! What the fuck!” He exclaims grabbing the back of his head, turning around to face her.

“You literally had the perfect moment and you didn’t ask her out! Mollie was telling me how much Y/N liked you!” Tanya complains shaking her head at him.

“I know” Curtis tells her continuing to walk towards the office.

“Then why didn’t you do it!” Tanya exclaims.

“Because she beat me to it” Curtis smirks turning around and heading into the office, shutting the door before Tanya had a chance to say anything.

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Masterlist / AU Masterlist

I don’t have a tag list by follow @secretswiftymarvelfanlibrary​ and turn on post notification to keep up to date!

[harlowhockeystick]

omg i was JUST talking about dougie lmao but he’s very much one of those tall guys that tries to crouch down so he’s more level with people and he thinks it’s like. very normal but you are so affected by it like imagine you guys are out at a bar and you’re sitting on a stool and he’s like leaning over you with his hand behind you on the bar just like surrounding you and its so intimate bc all his attention is on you and all you smell is his cologne

yes!! he always hugs you from behind just bc it's easier for him to do so. he can wrap his arms around you like that, rest his chin on your head and just completely envelop you in his embrace. you can feel his heartbeat against your back, you can smell his expensive cologne, you can feel the breath from his nose on your forehead. he likes being close to you, even if he's twice your size he still wants to be as close to you as possible in any way he can.

[writercole]

Whoops

Square fill: Donna Hanscum: @spnaubingo​  // Healing Pod Malfunction: @badthingshappenbingo​ // Reporter: @acrosstheuniversebingo​ bingo // Writer’s block: TMAS // Break up/Make up: @spnmixedbingo​ // Temporary Break up @anyfandomkinksbingo​ // Trust you? I’m not sure I ever even knew you: @badbitchesbingo​

Word Count: 710

Rating: Teen

Warnings: lying, misunderstanding

Credits: Header by me // Img from google // no beta // Divider by @firefly-graphics​

A/N: Interesting Donna one-shot idea. Got a little distracted about halfway through though lol.

“Donna, don’t you trust me?” the man asked the bubbly blonde woman who was currently storming through his house after hearing part of a conversation he was having on the phone.

“Trust you? I’m not sure I ever even knew you,” she spat at him as she stomped down the stairs towards the front door.

“Baby, please just listen to me.”

“Doug, I’m not doing this with you right now,” Donna maintained as she walked into the foyer to collect her bag and her coat. “You lied to me.”

“I didn’t, Donna. Could you just let me explain?” Doug begged as he followed his girlfriend to the door.

“No, Doug. I’m done. We are done. I’m out of here.” Donna walked out of the door, slamming it behind her and drove to her office, infuriated.

Donna had been having trouble compiling ideas in the week after she broke up with Doug. The news had been slow for an investigative reporter since the new president was elected. There wasn’t as much to cover or to even investigate. Until her email pinged.

It was from an email address she’d never seen before and the subject was just “You might be interested in this.” She was wary of opening the email but once she saw the photo of the document, she was interested. It was a document detailing the practices at the new spa in town. There was no signature nor was there anything in the body of the email that would point to a sender.

Donna read over the attachment several times before deciding to see about making an appointment to try several services and maybe, just maybe, catch some of these things in person.

Donna arrived at Spa Braden about half an hour early. She was hoping that she'd be able to take a look around after checking in but she was quickly ushered to the back to get changed into a plush white robe and slippers. 

“Miss Hanscum. I’m Lisa. I’ll be your spa liaison today,” the small brunette woman greeted. “We’ll start with our healing pod and move on to facials and massages after.”

“Okay,” Donna replied, taking note of everything. She allowed the woman to lead her to a strange looking chamber and get her set inside. The machine turned on for only a moment before turning back off. 

The liaison appeared in her field of vision with an apologetic face. “I’m so very sorry, Miss Hanscum,” Lisa said. “It appears that our healing pod machine is malfunctioning. I will have to rain check this service but we can proceed with the rest of your treatments.”

“Sure, you betcha,” Donna agreed, bummed because the healing pod was supposed to be the focus of her article. She finished up her massage and facial, heading home feeling much better about everything. 

When Donna arrived home, she saw Doug waiting for her on the front steps. Sighing, she walked up to the steps and stood in front of him and just waited for him to say something.

“Donna, I’m so sorry I didn’t explain what was going on but it was supposed to be a surprise,” he explained as he stood with his hands in his pockets. “I had everything planned out for us to go away for the weekend to visit your family. The hotel, the itinerary, everything was planned out down to the minute. I was going to tell you this week when this arrived.” He pulled a small envelope out of his pocket and handed it to Donna.

She looked at him skeptically as she slowly opened the envelope to reveal two tickets to a KISS concert. “Dougie, why didn’t you tell me?” She looked up at him with tears in her eyes, feeling guilty that she broke up with him over a misunderstanding.

“I tried to,” he told her sadly. “I’d like another chance. I promise not to blow it this time.”

“You betcha,” Donna replied with a smile. Doug stepped forward and pulled his girlfriend into a passionate kiss. 

The couple pulled away after a moment, breathing heavily. “I was gonna tell you at the concert but, Donna, I love you.”

Donna was stunned by the declaration but was elated. “Oh Dougie. I love you too.”

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[actordougjones]

Helen Chavez 1959 ~ 2020

Sitting in silent conflict today, some numbness, many tears, grief, and the happiest memories that make my heart smile. To lose a close friend (whom I referred to as my big sister for the last 16 years) to complications from covid-19 and other health issues, is a blow I could not be prepared for. Yet to sit with my memories of her is a relished joy.

Many knew her as “Hellmistress” on the Sony Pictures Hellboy message boards in 2003. As I was an occasional visitor in those boards while filming Hellboy, I took special note of the witty, gentle, sarcastic, encouraging posts from this woman I found myself wanting to know more of.

She made her way into those message boards by way of her love for Ron Perlman, as she also was a contributing writer for a site called ThePerlmanPages dot com. But once in there, and once we got to interacting, Helen and I both found kindred spirits in each other, about the same age, about the same irreverent sense of humor.

She jokingly described herself as “windswept and interesting.” When we finally met in person the first time around the premiere events Guillermo del Toro had arranged for these fans of Hellboy in April 2004, I found this description of her to be true.  All I had to hear was that Helen had sold a cow to finance her flight from Scotland, and I knew I was right about this one!  Yes, she and her husband Mark raised cattle on their rural farm outside Aberdeenshire, Scotland.  But she was also a highly knowledgeable archivist at the local museum there.  With a thirst for learning, and a lover of history, artifacts, classic film, TV, music, literature, science fiction, and all things geekery, she did indeed earn her “windswept and interesting” title.

(Our first in-person meeting after “Hellebration” 2004 with Sony Pictures Hellboy message board regulars, Left to Right: Maurice Mpayamaguru, Dougie, Pat Paone, Helen Chavez - who was so excited to be having a burger with American ketchup!)

She flew away the next day in 2004, but that would not be the last of this Helen. Upon returning home to Scotland, her friend and ThePerlmanPages creator Pat Paone (who had also been on this trip) said something to Helen that lingered in the air... “After this entire ‘Hellebration’ weekend in Los Angeles, do you realize you haven’t stopped talking about Doug Jones?” which struck Helen odd since she was a devout Perlman fan who was gushing about someone other than Ron after a weekend to celebrate a movie in which Ron held the title character.

That’s when I received an email from Helen proposing an official website she wanted to create for me. So was born TheDougJonesExperience dot com, a site that was lovingly poured over and updated by Helen as her pet project that she never let me pay a dime for, no matter how I tried, from 2004 to 2014, when her own life required her to take pause. That pause from the site included finishing up her Masters Degree, still working full time at the museum, still tending the cattle, and now caregiving to her husband’s failing health ... followed by her own health issues.

She was ever the stoic type, though, who never ever, EVER wanted to be a burden on me, so I would rarely hear of her trials in life unless I told her, “I’m not hanging up until you start talking.”  She would always brush off her own issues and turn things back around to doting on me like the protective big sister she loved being.  She also took in Mrs. Laurie as her little sister with great pride.

To sum up the amount of life shared with this incredible woman would take volumes.  Volumes that could be tied together with one thread.... “cheerleader.” She championed me personally and professionally with the kind of care and tireless energy that gave my own mother and Mrs. Laurie a run for their money!

Her cheerleading came in the form of not only that exhaustive website with endless fan correspondence as she wrote with a voice that was uncannily like my own, then later helping administrate “The Tank” forum on DelToroFilms dot com where “FanSapiens” would gather to chat about little ol’ me, but also trips to see me when I was in the United Kingdom for a fan convention in Birmingham, or a make-up trade show in London.  She also ingratiated herself to Guillermo del Toro and was invited to visit our Hellboy II: The Golden Army filming set in Budapest with her old friend Pat Paone, spending a large part of that visit with me through my whole day, from make-up, to the Troll Market set, to lunchtime, to afternoon naps in my trailer for all of us, to touring the city on a rare day off. 

(During Hellboy 2 set visit 2007 at Budapest, Hungary’s “Hero Square” pictured Left to Right: Pat Paone, Dougie, Helen Chavez)

And I could never tally up the countless hours of phone chats, messenger chats, book-length emails, where she was often celebrating successes with me, calming my nerves when I had failed, giving me some well-needed big sisterly advice on life, or playfully nagging me to sleep and eat more.  Boy, was she ever stern about those last two.  If I even hinted that I had been pushing myself too hard, not sleeping enough, not eating right, she would give me “the look.”  You don’t want “the look.”   It was that raised eyebrows, all-knowing eyes searing into me kind of look, with a probing stare over the top of her glasses into my soul kind of look. You could hide nothing from her when she gave “the look.”

I adored hearing all her tales from her museum, getting history lessons all the while about who used what in what century in what country for what purpose, everything from farm tools to ancient toilet paper.  To keep me in her loop, one year for Christmas she sent me some ancient Roman coins, after I had mentioned how I love looking at coins, waving it off with, “those things are so easy to come by.” Her gifts were always accompanied by authentic Scottish shortbread cookies.  But my favorite story of hers was the mummy head she had no better place for, so he lived under her desk ... for years.  And of course, she named him “Marlon.”

I’ve always been a hugger, but Helen is the one who taught me about “Bosies.” The difference being that a Bosie is a huggle that doesn’t need to end anytime soon, where you envelop the other person in a cradle that makes them feel safe.  She was masterful at those Bosies.

I could tell Helen stories for hours, as could so many of you puppies whose lives she touched with her listening skills, mentorship, and her tireless encouragement to keep all of us creatives reaching for our dreams.

(Pictued at “Hellebration” 2008 with “FanSapiens” Left to Right: Tim Rosenberger, Katie McGregor, Helen Chavez, Stephanie Metz, Dougie, Kate Daley, Seth Lombardi)

(Pictured at Hellboy 2 premiere after party 2008 with DelToroFilms regulars; Top row: Paul Kindschi, Gary Deocampo, Maurice Mpayamaguru. Bottom row: Helen Chavez, Dougie)

But I’ll leave you with one last story.  It was 2008, and we flew Helen out to Los Angeles (I didn’t want her to sell another cow) to join all the festivities for the premiere week of Hellboy II: The Golden Army, and to see the finished product of the film set she visited with me the year before. Everything from having a salon day with Mrs. Laurie to get all done up for the red carpet premiere, and the next day she was sporting a fancy fish-print top to dutifully lead Team Blue (those beloved FanSapiens) at the Del Toro sponsored “Hellebration” party and screening night. Another experience I wanted to give her that week was her first press junket, so Mrs. Laurie gladly went to her own job that day, and Helen went with me down to the Four Seasons Hotel in Beverly Hills, where many film press junkets take place on a floor full of press suites. These are high energy days, as one after another, TV, radio, print, and dot com journalists interview us back to back all day. Helen watched from behind the monitors with Publicist John, and every time I glanced over, she was just beaming as she gave me a thumbs-up. At the end of this marathon day, we were heading home in the back of the studio-hired limo, and my eyes were getting droopy in the dark.  Helen glanced over the top of her glasses with “the look” and said with all the doting mother, favorite auntie, protective big sister she had in her, “Awe, little brother mine, come here.” I leaned my head onto her shoulder, while she pet my hair and told me how overjoyed she was with this phase of my life, and how watching me handle all the press that day made her “buttons burst with pride,” a phrase she used many a time. She always knew how to bring such peace, such calm, such encouragement, such a safe harbor.  The next thing I knew the car stopped in front of the house, and I awoke with her still holding my weary head.

Oh how I wish for one more limo ride.  One more chance to soak in her uplifting words, so I might know how to handle whatever comes next.

She went by many names -- Hellmistress, Webmaster Helen, or her preferred “Webmistress” Helen, Auntie Helen, Mentor Helen, Therapist Helen, Dear Friend Helen, Big Sister Helen, but there was only one Helen in this wacky world. She leaves a void that no one else can fill. It’s painful how much I miss her already.

I pray the angels gave her a thrilling ride to her rightful place in Heaven.  I can almost feel her gaze again right now, as she sits at the edge of a crescent moon, tilts her gaze down over the top of her glasses and gives me “the look”.....

Alright, Big Sis, I’ll eat something and get to sleep now. 

[viandnyl]

#003-Brijean

Brijean

Duo

Based in LA

Genre:Indy Electronic Bedroom Pop (Jazz/Disco/House/Psych)

Instagram:＠heybrijean

Q:How did you first start doing music? (For example: what made you fall in love with music, how did you start working with music) 
 (Brijean) I grew up within a musical family in Los Angeles. My father was a percussionist who played with lots of groups including Tito Puente, Harry Nilsson, Crazy Horse, Hiroshima. Some of his closest friends and bandmates became mentors to me- honorary aunts and uncles. When one of his best friends- percussionist Vince Charles- passed away I inherited his congas. I had always been enveloped and inspired by music but this was a deep moment that shifted my interest into becoming a musician.

Q:Which of your songs do you recommend the most? (a song that represents you as an artist) and please explain the reason why you chose it.   
 Our song "Wifi Beach" is a good intro to our world... it touches on our biggest musical influences, jazz, house, disco, psych. It's flirty and fun with a driving rhythm that makes you want to move.

Q:Please tell us about your latest single (or album). 
 We just put out a collaboration with Tycho and Ben Gibbard (of Death Cab for Cutie). It's a reimagining of their song Only Love.  It was so awesome to get to work on this piece. I first met Scott (Tycho) while touring with him and the band in 2019. I play percussion in Poolside, and we supported the last Tycho tour, bunking with Tycho on a double decker bus throughout Europe in February and March of 2020. The tour was wonderful, still hard to believe how the world turns.  

Q:What kind of music are you creating right now? (For example; a current source of inspiration, a certain sound you are into, or some other specific example).   
 We are currently finishing up our next EP. Throughout the pandemic we've found ourselves in a very transitory space and I think the music reflects that. Accompanied by familiar sounds from our latest album, we're also drawing up new sounds and moods that explore uncharted territory for us. I'm really excited about this new body of work.

We've been listening to a lot of different stuff: Lonnie Liston Smith, Piero Piccioni, Shuta Yasukochi, Buscabulla, Astrud Gilberto, Broadcast, Anthony Ferraro, Gabor Szabo, John Barry, Candido, & Moodymann, America, Bonnie Raitt, Kool & The Gang.

Q:In what kind of environment and with what equipment do you make your music? (For example a guitar in a park, in a studio using an AKAI MPC2000 etc) 
 (Dougie) We are so thankful to have a studio at our home in Los Angeles, and that is where we work best. It's got soft lighting and a shag carpet which influences everything we make, no doubt. We work on Logic, and the instruments we use the most are live percussion, Roland TR-8S, Fender Rhodes, Roland Juno 60, Korg Minilogue, and the Fender Precision Bass. We occasionally use some software instruments as well, but try to avoid those when we can.

Q:Something you have been really into recently? (For example: a game, a type of food or dessert, a show on Netflix. Please share a specific example).   
 We've been making a nice soup. It's a tuscan kale, white bean and ciabatta soup. The ciabatta turns into a dumpling of sorts and the recipe has got a sneaky and subtle anchovy and red chili flakes in it that makes its pop off.  

Q:What is something that has caught your interest recently, and why? (For example: NFTs, an election, Climate change, or some other general topic that you have been interested in recently) 
 I've been getting reinspired by portrait photography recently. I'm picking up a photography project I started in 2015 when on tour throughout the US and Canada. I'd take portraits on Polaroid and ask about a song from their life- mainly capturing moments at clubs, airports, gas stations, restaurants and homes.

I recently bought Paul Trevor's "In Your Face" . His work is captivating,intimate, disoridenting and inviting. This book is a collection of black and white, impromptu portraits from the 1970-90s in England. I think it can be categorized as street and portrait photography- he would take photos extremely close to the subjects. 
 Martin Parr's work is also incredibly inspiring. His technicolor portraits have deep and quirky character. I've been gaining some inspiration for paintings through his work.

Q:What is important to you when making music? 
 Having fun, feeling encouraged to follow thoughts without attachment, and feeling supported in getting as creative and weird as possible. Remembering that notes and tones on their own don't always make sense but following that sound or intuition can take you to some really expansive and lovely worlds.

Q:Tell us about your next music release or other upcoming activities you have planned. We've got a couple collaborations and an EP coming early 2022. We'll also be supporting Washed Out on their North American tour in January and February of 2022.

Q:What is music to you? 
 Music, to me, is deep and amorphous. Outside of its more permanent form when pressed it has so many different lives. It can represent stories, communities, thoughts, dances. It can be conceived, lived, repeated and yet intangible and unique- a host of emotions. It can encapsulate and evoke so many expressions- annoyance, rage, bliss, ease. I love that.  

Q:What is the story behind your artist name?

Our band name is Brijean but it's a duo- a collaboration between Dougie Stu and I.  

Q:Any music or other art that has had an influence on you. 
 I'm also a visual artist. I just finished a commission for Outside Lands - a music festival in San Francisco.  Much of my work is illustrative. I grew up watching the Yellow Submarine, Daria and Rocky and Bullwinkle. I think that influenced my style and color pallete- and much of my art is inspired by social environments (clubs, festivals, subways, bars)- I started making posters and flyers for jazz nights I hosted in California and from there started painting murals, designing stained glass, and beer cans.


 Q:Who is a person who has influenced you?

Oh man. There are so many to list but I would say my dad and uncle Fundi. They both have lived big and full lives. I grew up part time with them at my dad's house in Los Angeles. They filled the house with great tunes, big parties, lots of laughs and rich food.   
 Fundi was a roadie for Herbie Hancock amongst others. His stories are endless but to cherry pick one was when he was first at Red Rocks Amphitheatre. He described the event as if time slowed down. A beautiful big life moment when backstage he looked out, into the dark, to a sold out amphitheatre carved amongst the rocks of colorado and the people went up so high they looked like they could touch the sky and the only way to make them out was by their hoots hollers and embers from their cigarettes lighting up the darkness. 
 I've alway appreciated his awe and appreciation for life. Same with my pops. He has got a way of prioritizing good times and somehow always manages to execute that.

Q:What was the first song/album (and from which artist) you bought, and why did you buy it? 
 Hard to say exactly but in highschool I drove my sisters old '91 Saab that you could hear from a mile away with busted windows and breaks but it had a CD player and in the rotation was Yo Yo Ma performing Astor Piazzolla, Missy Elliot Under Construction and Radiohead Hail to the Thief and The Motorcycle Diaries Soundtrack.

*This interview was conducted on VI/NYL #002, which published on Dec.30th, 2021.

*All photos are courtesy of the artists.

■VI/NYL

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[winniemaywebber]

Very sorry you're having a bad day!

Can I request ^^ "what the hell was her problem?" "that's what i said!" for Olive and Dougie, please?

-lestweforget5

hi, friend! thanks so much for this request, I loved it!

from this prompt list (inbox is still open for these!)

under the cut! (:

The skies had begun to turn slate gray the moment Olive had left the office, back aching from hours of sitting in a ghastly uncomfortable chair and answering phone calls. Since leaving her job at the department store, Olive had enjoyed her time at home until she found she was bored out of her mind - the novelty had worn off extremely fast, now finding herself as a personal assistant to the mayor of the city. James had been extremely proud when she told him the news, the interview going so swimmingly that Olive somehow felt seasick. 

“That’s my girl,” he’d said, pulling her into a hug and lifting her. A squeal had escaped her at the surprise, pressing kisses all over his sweet face. 

Today had been her first bad day - a momentous occasion at a new job, Olive feeling the frustration stuck on her skin in such a way that she felt the need to shower and scrub it all off immediately. But it was as she got off the bus that the day was truly down the shitter: it began to rain. Groaning, Olive digs in her purse for an umbrella, only to come up empty handed. Half a mile from home, no jacket and the rain coming down in sheets, she begins to run. 

Her hair and clothes saturated, she slams through the red front door and throws her purse down in a rage. Olive knows the purse flinging is a mistake from the moment she does it, it landing by the window sill and knocking a glass vase over. It all happens in slow motion, the vase seeming to burst as it shatters.

“Shit!” she yells, angry tears pricking at her eyes. James pokes his head around the corner, seeing the soaking, shivering mess that is his wife as she stands stock still in the hallway, breathing heavily.

“Hi, beloved,” he says, his voice instantly soft as he retreats back to the living room, seeming to pull something from his wrists. “Bad day?” “Mhm,” she grumbles, feeling the day’s mascara run down her cheeks from both the tears and the raindrops that remained on her cheeks. 

“Oh, my girl,” he soothes, wiping the tears from her cheeks. “Wanna talk about it?” “Not right now,” she replies, trying her best not to blow up on him or pick a fight to satiate her frustration. “I just need to shower and just be alone for a few minutes. That okay?” “Of course, honey. You just shout when you need me, hm?”

Olive nods mournfully, furrowing her eyebrow slightly at the glitter and what looks like tinsel on his fingers. “What have you been doing?” she snorts. “Did you get into my craft supplies again?” “Yes, but for good reason this time,” he laughs. “Go shower, come back when you’re ready and you’ll see.”

***

The warm water envelopes Olive as she stands under the flow of it, steam billowing around the room from the heat of it. She feels herself breathe out properly for the first time in a few hours, her body seeming to be on fight or flight mode ever since that dreadful phone call. She pokes her head out of the curtain and aims her head towards the slightly ajar door. 

“James?” she calls, her voice coming out as more of a croak.

“Yeah, doll?” “Uhm…can you hop in with me?” “Be right there!”

He steps in behind her, his arms enveloping her and pulling her close to him. 

“Hi,” she whispers, the back of her head on his shoulder. She feels his cheeks rise a little on her head as he leans down and smiles, resting his head on hers. 

“Tell me who I need to fight,” he murmurs, pressing kisses into her wet hair. 

“The mayor’s wife, of all people.” 

She feels his head snap back a little in surprise, and she turns to see her husband looking very surprised. “That’s not the answer I was expecting,” he laughs.

“Very unexpected for me too, honestly,” she replies, obviously exacerbated. “She called to see if her husband was free for lunch.” “Uh-huh, and?” “Well, he was in a meeting and he told me not to disturb him,” she shrugs, now scrubbing shampoo through her dark hair. “It was already 5 minutes to lunch time by this point, so I let her know that the meeting may possibly run into lunch time but I’d call her back as soon as possible.” “That seems reasonable,” he nods, helping Olive rinse the shampoo from her hair. “Oh, it doesn’t end there! She called me a really bad word and hung up!” “What did she call you?” “A wh–” “Woah! What the hell was her problem?” “That’s what I said!” 

“Wow, honey. And it’s only your first week.” “Yep,” she sighs, pressing her face into his chest. 

They stay like that for a few minutes, the warm water pouring over them. He holds her close to him, tracing circles over her bare back with his fingers. 

“You ready to see what I’ve been doing?” “Oh!” Olive says, having totally forgotten about it. “Yes, please!”

It’s dark by the time they get downstairs, both now cozy in pajamas. “Okay,” James murmurs. “Flip that switch.” 

Soft white light surrounds the room, James looking at his wife with a soft smile as she gasps. The Christmas tree stands in the corner of the room, surrounded by tinsel and glitter, rainbow lights dangling from each branch. 

“James!” she whispers, eyes twinkling in both joy and the lights reflecting within them. “You did this for me?” “Yeah…” he nods, kissing her temple. “I’ll clean up the mess I made - did you know glitter gets everywhere?”

“Darling–” she cries, not quite sure what to say. She pulls him in by the collar of his pajama shirt and kisses him, their noses rubbing together sweetly. “This is amazing.” “I’m glad you like it, honey.”

[scottyunfamous]

#RunningWilde Ch. 35 | Fallen from Grace

Remove her, send the cheetahs to the tomb

Our war is over, our queen has met her doom

No more she lives no more serpent in her room

No more he has killed Cleopatra

-Pyramids

Frank Ocean

*

What should she have done; said yes and risked Aiden's wrath or denied it and seized her first real opportunity of freedom? Because this thing -this all-consuming, dark, glittering vice that enveloped their indomitable attraction wasn't right, no matter how right it felt... Yes, Aiden was unfairly handsome, attentive, thoughtful, loyal, protective, downright irresistible...but he was also a murderer; cruel and dangerously impulsive with an army of murderers and narcotic dealers who would fulfil his every whim. With she who would fulfil his every whim (hard limits not included). He was the anomaly that perplexed and predicated her. A monster crafted by the harsh hands of the city's ghetto and a poor excuse of a woman who was no more his mother than an addict who had an accident. What was she meant to do?

Aiden stepped in front of her once more, shielding her from his mother's beady eyed gaze. "Her name is Heaven Michaels. She is my wife and I forbid you from speaking to her."

"Your wife," Grace guffawed, "As if any woman in her right mind would marry a twisted little fuck like you!"

Aiden's nostrils flared and his colour deepened.

"The only bitch dumb enough to want that title is dead –good riddance." She spat on the ground. "This is the Lockewood girl. I know it." She swiped the back of her arm across her chapped lips where remains of her spit lingered.

Heaven tried her best not to scrunch her nose up at her only way out.

"Poor thing; I don't even want to think about what my son has been putting you through, but don't you worry, we're gonna help each other out, you and me." She peered around Aiden and flashed Heaven a nefarious smile the same colour as her stained walls, "Looks like I don't need your money, A. Once the police get wind of this they'll be offering me a fuck-load of it on a silver platter. No doubt you will too, ain't that right sweetheart? Gratitude and all that shit. I bet you can't wait to get home and be back with your friends and family again. Won't that be nice; to be free of this cunt?"

Aiden gripped Heaven's hand tightly, "You're high," he tried unconvincingly, wanting to convince his mother that it was the drugs skewering her perception. He knew he'd have to deal with Heaven being recognised eventually, but he'd anticipated it being by someone easily disposable, not his mother. He couldn't dispose of her...could he?

No!

It was out of the question, and even entertaining such a thought only made Grace's words ring truer -twisted little fuck.

"High doesn't mean stupid, Aiden. I know it's her. It's hard to forget such a pretty face –I expect that's why the media are still so obsessed with you, girl, because you look the way you do. So pretty..." she reached out to graze her haggard fingers against her new meal ticket.

Aiden knocked her hand away, glaring at her like she was mad to even think she could touch Heaven. His jaw clenched and his chest rose and fell making the still wet droplets of Titan's blood gleam under the naked lightbulb that hung from a wire in the middle of the kitchen ceiling. He'd bought her a shade because she complained the light had been too bright for her bloodshot eyes, but it wasn't there anymore. No doubt she'd sold it.

It's unquestionable. I could never. She's my mother...

"What do you want, Grace?"

Grace rose up and wobbled on her tip toes, futilely trying to be at eye level with her son's towering frame. "I want to see you rot in a jail cell for the rest of your life, you little shit. The money is just a bonus. I've got a new piggy bank. You can't control me anymore," she cackled.

"I'll double your allowance."

"Pfftt!"

"Triple it. Just keep your mouth shut."

"Hmm," Grace straightened up, "And the funeral?"

"No."

"Well then I can't help you."

Aiden's hand slammed against the flaky door jamb close to his mother's head, making her jump back as tinted paint flakes crumble to the sticky linoleum floor. "You can't do that. There are people after her. Bad people. If they find her, she'll die."

"Is that what he told you?" She looked past him and at Heaven, "Is that how he's kept you foolishly at his side, because he's trying to save you? Listen girl, if anyone will be the death of you, it's him. Ask the white girl...oops, sorry, you can't," she smiled sardonically at Aiden with more pleasure than a soul should possess for such a ugly subject, "She dead." She barged past him and staggered in the dank dimness of her living room.

"Grace," Aiden growled, his tone inflected with warning. She was really toeing the line right now.

"I have nothing else to say to you." She picked up her handset, yet another tar stained object -a retro fashioned (formerly) baby pink rotary dialer. She stuck her gnawed finger in the hole with a 9 inside of it and dragged it around thrice.

"Didn't you hear what I said? They will kill her."

His mother turned her back on him and waited for the calm enunciated voice of the lady working at the emergency services switchboard to monotonously drone, "999, what's your emergency?"

"Yes, hi. I'd like to speak to the police please."

His heart turned to stone...

"Okay ma'am. May I ask what it's regarding?"

"I've found the Lockewood girl."

...And sunk with the quickness of an anchor with a broken chain, falling aimlessly into the boundless darkness below.

"Okay ma'am. I'm putting you thr..."

A hulking roar masked the end of the operator's sentence and a terrible tearing and popping sound played percussion beneath it. The line went dead.

"Hello?" When Grace looked back at her son she saw his eyes void and the severed phone cord sparking and hanging from his prominently vein encased fist, looking like wrought iron placed underneath his skin to hold that terrible, terrible thing inside of him in.

"What the fuck are you doing, you little shit?"

Wordlessly, Aiden allowed for her chosen terms of endearment to roll off his back and glided into the hallway with savage elegance. He was too calm on the surface –it contrasted with the hell that had risen inside of him, all thick black smoke, and fire, and brimstone and claws rattling his rib cage.

She'd attempted to take his life and now she was risking Heaven's.

The unquestionable became questionable.

He hooked his arm through Heaven's and dragged her half walking, half stumbling behind him to the front door. "Dougie?" he rumbled.

Dougie raised his eyebrow.

"Take Heaven down to the car and wait for me. Tell Driver to turn the engine on. The rest of you," he looked at his men, each of them as still as the gargoyles on the Notre Dame with worry etched into their features. Calm Aiden wasn't a good thing, not when he was this calm; his voice levelled and lulling like the ocean gently lapping against a rocky cliff, his eyes beholding the macabre soul of the underworld... "You can go."

"Until when, boss?" one of them spoke up.

Aiden narrowed his eyes at the one who dared to speak. "Go. Now."

They scattered like cockroaches.

Dougie didn't move.

"What's going on, A?"

"We're done here. Do as I say. Go."

"Aiden," he came closer and lowered his voice, "I know that look. I invented that look... Think about what you're about to do."

Aiden blinked at his best friend like he hadn't heard a word he'd said, "Why are you still here? The feds will be here soon. Stop wasting my time." He pushed Heaven out and closed the door in their faces.

"Shit," Dougie muttered. He rounded on her, "What happened in there?" he snarled.

Heaven flinched, "T-they w-were fighting."

"They always fight. What else?"

"S-s-she called the p-police," she squeaked, trembling under his unnerving stare. "She was going to t-tell them that she f-found me."

Dougie's blood ran cold and he glared at her, "Of course. You." He grabbed her arm and tugged her down the empty cement block stairwell, "It's always you. If he'd just killed you like he was supposed to, we could have avoided all this extra shit, but no_"

Finding her voice, she tugged her arm away, "Stop acting like I asked for this. I was happy. I didn't want any of it."

"Didn't you?" You could have stopped this a long time ago if you'd had the common sense not to get involved with him."

"Then I'd be dead!"

He gritted his teeth and growled, "You were dead the day he met you. It's only a matter of time now."

*

They sat in the truck in silence; Heaven milling over her Dougie's words whilst Dougie peered up at the third floor every so often, both anticipating, and dreading, the moment Aiden appeared over the tarnished red barrier of the public balcony of the flat. Aiden was going to hate himself after this. Maybe not right away, but when the magnitude of what would be his deadliest sin finally caught up to him, not even his rationality would let his soul rest. He took a break from staring at the blocks and peered at Heaven in the rear-view mirror. This infuriating young innocent would be Aiden's end...and possibly the only thing capable of pulling him back once he got too close to the edge. He was pretty damn close already. If it hadn't been for that fact Dougie would have did what he does best a long time ago.

Aiden appeared at the foot of the stairs, his body glimpsed and concealed between the grease and dirt clouded glass of the security door, with the same unreadable expression on his face. Too composed, too calm. For a moment Dougie wondered if he'd actually gone through with it, but when he got in the car and closed his eyes, speaking only on syllable to order Driver to "Drive", Dougie feared the worst had come to pass.

Driver pulled out of Myatts Field Estate car park.

He had to know; "Do the maids need to do a double clean up?"

"No. I took care of it."

God dammit Aiden!

"Better safe than sorry," he replied gravely, the burden that would surely rest on Aiden's shoulders starting to weigh down on his own. He should have stopped him. Why the fuck didn't he stop him? Fuck!

"The police will be here soon. There's not enough time. I took care of it."

"A, you can't just leave her there..." he lowered his voice, "She's your mum."

Aiden curled his fist u tightly in his lap and opened his eyes to glare back at his friend in the rear-view, "Stop. Talking."

Heaven shifted closer to her side of the car.

Yeah, so...that happened. On a scale of '0-what the actual fuck bruh?!?' how out of control do you think Aiden is right now? Should Dougie have stopped him or do you think Grace had it coming?

Please click the heart and leave your comments below.

Love Scotty x