#i am begging america to consider having a five-minute stretch of NOT being in the middle of an election

[mangled-by-disuse]

ngl one of the wild things to me about US politics is like

the election cycle is fucking neverending, yeah? everyone drops everything and starts poll-watching at least a year in advance of the actual election. people get themselves all (understandably) worked up and scared about the incoming president, for months. then they vote, and in november, they all have a horrible panic and crisis and are afraid and cling to everyone for support and yeah, ok, I get it, that's an understandable response to a terrifying outcome.

BUT THEN

SOMEHOW

y'all have to wait two months for it to matter? and then have the whole crisis again?

like i am seeing so many people right now reprising the same emotional crash they had in November, and because it's had a couple of months to settle, it feels like it's almost as intense the second time around?

this is not a dig against Americans I just do not understand why the American political system seems purpose-built to put people through the emotional wringer as thoroughly and protractedly as human possible. it's like it's trying to make everyone depressed and tired and unable to cope and...

...oh.

[donutloverxo]

Stevie

Authors note- listen... I'm sorry for this but at the same time I'm not. Anyway this was inspired by an arc from the anime gintama.

the female captain america graphic does not belong to me.

Do not repost or steal my works. Reblogs are welcome

Summary- Steve has been on a space mission for a week. When he gets back he's a completely different person.

Pairings- Steve Rogers x reader, Stevie x reader

Warning- smut, sex toys, bi curious reader, gender bender(Tony nat and steve get turned into the opposite sex)

Word count- 3.3k

Masterlist

You had been monitoring Steve’s mission status for the past week. You were both used to the other being gone on missions. But a mission in space was something else. Steve, Tony and Nat were helping Carol out with a situation in space. Since the guardians were mia. In another galaxy. It was still hard to wrap your head around. Last you heard going to Mars was considered a huge accomplishment now people are travelling to another solar systems.

It was hard not to worry. So many things could go wrong. They could be sucked into a black hole or encounter a hostile species. You were one of the few Avengers who had never been to space. As you were blipped after the snap.

You had heard about it from Steve. He had a far away melancholic look in his eyes whenever he talked about it. You understood how hard those five years must’ve been for him. You weren’t sure if you could even last 5 weeks without him.

As much as you would’ve liked to go explore space you had decided someone had to stay home.

You were going about your night drinking some coffee to help with your fatigue in front of the monitor waiting for updates from Steve’s team. You had not left the room, you pretty much lived there. They were supposed to be home two days ago. With no updates from either of them you were at the end of your rope.

You were jolted awake when you felt your chair along with the whole room vibrating. You didn’t even realise you had fallen asleep. You rushed outside hoping that the team had made it back.

You looked at Carol approaching you from the ship landed on the compound lawn.

“Hey there”, she greeted giving you a nervous smile.

“Is something wrong?”, you asked looking at the ship hoping to see Steve come out of it.

“Well yes and no. Something happened. I’m going to need you to stay calm.”

“I’m always calm”, impatient you walked towards the ship.

You stopped in your tracks when you see three more people come out of it. Two women and a man. Confused you looked back at Carol who just smiled and shrugged.

“This must be weird for you”, you heard the man say, his hoarse deep voice say.

You looked back at the three of them and wished to pinch yourself or slap yourself, anything to wake up from this dream. You looked the three of them up and down. It wasn’t too obvious but they looked a lot like Steve Tony and Nat.

The redhead man had broad shoulders, a square jaw and a Bob haircut. He was shorter than the blond woman standing beside him.

You stopped breathing for a minute when you looked at her. She was tall, taller than any woman you’d ever seen probably taller than most men. She had a sharp jawline and high cheekbones. Her short blond hair was slicked back. If you didn’t know better you would be scared by her sharp features but you couldn’t help look away from her piercing blue eyes. That’s when you realized.

“Steve?”, you breathed out after what felt like forever.

“No no, she’s Stevie now”, you whipped your heard to look at the short brunette woman standing behind the redhead. Her hair was short with flicks of grey. She had wrinkles around her eyes and mouth.

“Yeah and she’s Toni now. As in Toni with an i.”, she redhead said.

“What is going on here?!”, you yelled and looked at Carol for an explanation.

“Well we were on the mission everything was going quite well. But then somebody decided to make some sexist jokes.”, she gave Toni and the red head a icy stare. “So they changed these idiots into the opposite sex. To teach them a lesson. They will go back to their old selves soon enough.”

“Ok it was just a joke! How was I supposed to know they would be so sensitive”, Toni whined.

“Wait who are ‘they’?”, you asked her

“Aliens”, she answered and walked back to the spaceship “alright I have to leave good luck”

“Oh no you don’t. How are we supposed to fix this?” Toni chased behind her asking and then begging her to stay.

You looked at the red head who would most probably be Nat and then at Stevie. Not really knowing what to say your gaze went down Stevie’s body. Your eyes widened when you looked at the curve of her breasts. You couldn’t see them properly under her tshirt but you could tell that they were big. It was no surprise, Steve did always have big assets.

“Uh... can we go inside?”, Stevie asked awkwardly rubbing her forearm with her hand.

You hadn’t uttered a single word still speechless and in shock. Was this real life? You had solved so many problems, seen so many things over the years but never in your life did you think you would be here. Looking at your boyfriend or girlfriend, you couldn’t deal with the feelings emerging inside you or how much you wanted to touch her to see if her skin was as soft as it looked.

You could only see her arms and face as she was wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt. She had a soft sheen of blond hair on her arms, not nearly as coarse as Steve’s arm hair used to be. Her arms were still muscular and definied but much more slimmer. And she clearly wasn’t wearing a bra. Not that you were complaining.

She was looking down at her thighs closing them and then opening them again, probably not sure how to sit. She looked up at you and smiled.

“How are you feeling?”, you asked her.

“Strange”, she said running her hand through her short hair. “Are you okay?”

“Well...”, you started not knowing how to finish. Would she be mad if she knew what was going on in your head? She was confused and in distress this is neither the time nor the place to have unsavory thoughts.

Nat came into the common room and plopped down beside Stevie. “I just used the bathroom. It was quite interesting.”, she said nodding to herself and staring off into space. She looked like she was contemplating her entire life.

You looked at Toni grumbling and making herself a drink. “She left. Said we’ll be back to normal by tomorrow”, she sat down on the sofa in front of you sipping her drink. She looked down at her breast before squeezing one.

“Toni!”, Stevie chastised him and looked away. You laughed at both of them, Nat and Toni joined you as laughter filled the hall.

“Imagine if Stark was born a woman”, Nat wondered.

“They definitely wouldn’t call you a playboy. They'd call you much worse names.”, you said before going back to admiring Stevie in all her glory while you had time.

“I’m going to head out. Good night kids. Pray to your gods that we go back to our old selves tomorrow”, Toni said putting her empty glass on the coffee table before leaving.

Nat yawned and stretched her back. “I’m going to bed as well. Long mission. Good night”

“So, what do you wanna do?”, you tentatively asked Stevie. You were suddenly nervous around her, the way someone would be around a new crush. You went back and forth between looking at her eyes, breasts and your lap.

“Let’s just go to bed. But... uh.. I could just sleep in the guest room if you like.” She scratched her neck blushing just like your Steve would. You smiled at her. There was no need to be nervous. This was the same Steve you knew and loved.

“No. We can sleep together. I’ve missed you”, you take her hand in yours. It felt the same but a bit different. Maybe because her hands were much smaller than Steve’s.

“I’m not me though”, she mused looking at your fingers linked together.

“I don’t mind. In fact I like it”, maybe you were being too bold but this might be the only chance you ever get.

“Oh?”, she looked at you her pink plump lips pouting. They looked even more kissable right now. Her nose was slimmer but still a bit crooked. The cute confused expression on her face reminded you so much of your Steve. Which was bizarre because she was still your Steve.

You couldn’t help it anymore, you leaned in putting your hand on the armrest for support and joined both your lips. She was stiff at first but then relaxed. You licked her lips and she opened her mouth kissing you deeply. She had missed your lips and your touch for the past week.

You broke apart after a few minutes. You looked into her eyes trying to catch your breathe. You decided to sit on her lap like you usually do. She put her hand around you as you nuzzled into her neck breathing her in. She smelled different, more feminine, but you could still smell hints of Steve’s soap and cologne.

“Are you sure about this?”, she asked intensely looking into your eyes.

You cradled her face in your hands. “I am as long as you’re comfortable. I’ve always wanted to do that. Be with a woman. Just never got the chance.”

“I... uh.. wouldn’t know what to do to”, she murmured looking away.

Steve, bless his heart, would never go anywhere near porn. He always found it too gratuitous. Never mind that the few sex tapes the two of you did make were plenty gratuitous.

No matter how much he liked to act like a boy Scout you knew all his kinks and perversions. But you had seen and read your fair share of erotica and you knew what you liked. You could make it work.

“You’ve always wanted to be with a woman?”, he asked and you nodded “you never told me that”

“I don’t know. I like women but don’t even feel like thinking about anyone else when I have you. Man or woman”, you shrugged. She blushed at that giving you a wide grin.

“Well... maybe Carol..”, you trailed off. You had developed a slight crush on her since the moment you met her. She was so fierce and strong. She didn’t take shit from anyone. You smiled at how she just left everyone here and went on her next mission to save the universe.

She was someone admirable. Or maybe it was just because she was a lot like Steve. Captain and everything.

Stevie hummed at that. She had seen you looking at Carol in adoration, her suspicions were just confirmed. She didn’t feel bad or jealous. She knew you were hers.

***

You had made yourself at home between Stevies leg while she laid her head on your pillow. She was apprehensive about letting you go down on her or see her. But you were adamant about giving her the experience of a female orgasm.

Maybe you had your selfish reasons as well. You couldn’t stop looking at her pretty pink pussy. It might be the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. You were tempted to whip out your phone and click a few pictures.

There were little dirty blond hair sprinkled around it. You wondered if you liked it because it was objectively pretty or because it was attached to the love of your life.

You smiled to yourself when you noticed it was glowing. She was probably getting impatient. She had been on a tasking mission, she deserves some relief. You were a bit anxious even if you knew what you had to do, you had never done it before. Your core tingled when you remembered the first time Steve ate you out. How you had to direct him and tell him exactly what to do. He was pretty much a pro at it now.

You licked a shy stripe up her lips. You gained a little bit of confidence when you felt her gasp and shiver. You licked a few more stripes before sucking on her clit. She seemed to like it when you did it faster so you increased your pace.

You pushed your tongue inside of her while licking her up. You decide to try incorporating your fingers as well. Pushing one and then two inside of her before thrusting them in and out with purpose.

She grunted and pushed your head back towards her core. “Shit”, she screamed as you began lapping her up again.

Steve never had any qualms about cursing during love making. It gave you great pleasure knowing you’re the only one that ever gets to see this wild feral side of him. Or her.

“Oh god”, she clutched your hair fisting them in her hand before coming all over your mouth. You lapped up everything you could.

You climbed up on your bed and looked down into her eyes. “How was that?”, you asked stroking her cheek.

“Pretty good”, she smiled up at you her blue eyes twinkling.

You raised your brows at her frowning. “Just pretty good?”

“It was perfect. But nothing different, I think”, she replied bringing your hand to her lips giving it a kiss. “Now it’s your turn”, she smirked.

“No”, you said firmly and got off the bed disappearing into your closet.

“No?”, she asked before sitting up trying to see what you were up to.

You return to your bed tying your favorite strap on to your hips and coating it with a generous amount of lube. You smirked when you looked at her staring at it. “What do you think?”

You already knew the answer to that question. You had used the very same toy on Steve’s ass more times than you could count. As much as you loved being dominated by him you also liked pleasing him, having him completely at your mercy.

She visibly gulped down. “How do you want to do it?”

“I’d like to look at your face.” You said holding her face in your hands stroking her cheeks. You push her down on the bed. Kneeling between her legs. You groped and stroked her body. It was unsurprisingly as soft as you imagined it would be. You held her breasts in your hands for a minute squeezing them and stroking her nipples. “they’re so soft”, you wondered out loud.

“Now you know why I like yours so much”, she said chuckling

You squeezed her pink hard nipple between your fingers before taking it in your mouth, giving it a harsh suck.

“Fuck... doll I need you”, she whined grabbing your dildo lining it up to her pussy.

You released her nipple with a pop swatting her hands away. “Be patient”, you scolded. She pouted at you but kept her hands to herself.

After sucking on her breasts for a while you lined your dildo upto her pussy. You snaked a hand under her hips to pull her up towards you, just like Steve used to do with you. You needed to be as close to her as possible.

You have her an open mouthed kiss slowly pushing into her. She moaned into your mouth. You fucked her nicely and slowly. Holding her in your hands as if she was the most precious thing to you, which she truly was.

You increased your pace when you felt her moaning and grunting loudly, knowing she was probably very close. You looked down at her face scrunched up in pleasure as she came around your cock.

You had never been able to look at Steve’s face when he came, either you were too fucked out from your own orgasms or were focusing on making him last longer.

Now looking down at her, doing something that was only pleasure able for her felt incredibly intimate. It felt better than any orgasm could’ve.

You pulled out of her, taking the strap on off before cuddling with her.

“That was something else”, she mumbled feeling high from her intense orgasm.

***

Later that night you had some how convinced Stevie to let you put make up on her. She didn’t agree at first but with some pouting she was basically putty in your hands.

You lips were set in a firm straight line in concentration as you tried not to mess up her eyeliner. Her hair was incredibly short so there wasn’t much you could do with it. You wondered if she would let you take some pictures.

“So what exactly happened? Why did they turn you into women... and man”, you asked still not sure how they were able to do it.

“It was something Tony said about never understanding women and then Natasha argued with all men are the same or something along those lines”, he said a frown on his face as if he was trying hard to remember it “I was caught in the middle of it trying to get them to stop fighting” You decided to let it go for now. Maybe she’d tell you the whole story some other day.

“One good thing about this is now you can take my name”, you smiled as you imagined Steve with your last name.

“I always thought you’d take mine. I like the thought of you as Mrs Rogers”

“Oh and why would I do that? I was one of the most renowned sheild agent and I am the best avenger”,you said puffing your chest out proudly.

“You might have some competition with that”, she teased smirking at you to which you stuck out your tongue putting some final touches on her face. “I guess our kids could just hyphenate”

You gasped at that, “kids? If you think I’m having more than one child then you’ve lost your mind. You know what it’s like to have a vagina now. Imagine pushing a child the size of a watermelon out of it”, you huffed but looking at her pretty face all your anger melted away.

“I’m sorry sweetheart. You know if I could go through it instead of you I would”, she said stroking your thighs and you knew she was sincere.

Steve would never let anything bad happen to you. Not if he could help it. After he got you back he had vowed to you that he would always protect you.

You looked at her sad face hunched down staring at the ground. She looked as if she was in another world. “Stevie what’s wrong?”

“It’s just what if the kid inherits all my illness. Or the super serum. That could be a danger to you”

You knelt down between her legs so you could look into her eyes. “Hey it’s okay”, you said softly “we don’t have to have kids. And we can always adopt. That gives us much more time”

“Are you sure?”, she asked shyly playing with a strand of your hair.

“Absolutely positive”, you beamed up at her.

***

The next morning you woke up earlier than usual. Stretching your back muscles you smiled looking at the sun shining through the window. It was a beautiful day. Perfect for a picnic. You looked to your side smiling at Steve sleeping peacefully. Wait a minute.

“Steve”, you shook him harshly.

“What?”, he rose his voice heavy and hoarse. He looked down at his body touching his pecs and abs before looking back at you. “I’m back”

“Yeah you’re back”

You both went down to the common room to find if Toni and Nat had went back to their normal selves. They were already waiting for both of you.

“Oh Rogers is back too!”, Tony said eagerly.

“Did you two have fun last night?”, Nat smirked suggestively at the two of you.

“I see neither of you learned your lesson then”, Steve shook his head at them before looking at you, catching you staring at him. “What do you miss Stevie?”

You shook your head at him. Lightly slapping his chest. “I like what’s in here. Doesn’t matter how you look”

[let-it-raines]

Second in Command: Ch. 7

Summary: Life as the "spare to the heir" isn't all that it's cracked up to be when you're the supposed screw-up of the family, but people don't know what really happens behind closed doors.

Rating: M

A/N: If anyone isn’t a big Halloween movie watcher, you can find the clip of a line Emma says here. I also highly recommend the movie. It’s a personal favorite. 

And as always, this chapter and the rest of the story can be found on ao3

|  here  |

The world has known about Emma for three months now, summer slowly drifting into autumn. The longer the month of September goes on, the more the heat begins to subside and the leaves begin to prematurely fall to the ground, a myriad of colors scattering the sidewalks.

 Autumn has always been his favorite season. The humidity seems to fade away, and the streets tend to smell less like hoards of sweaty, hurried people and more like the occasional clear air that will waft through England when the stars align to create a day where the air is neither filled with smoke nor rain. September is a fine month, his birthday always falling toward the tail end of it, but he tends to favor October.

It’s a month most people pass by without much thought, directly between the thrill of summer vacation and the merriness of the winter holiday season, but to some, often those with small children or adults who have a sense of imagination and adventure (and often those wanting the opportunity to imbibe in a few libations), it’s the month that marks its end with ghouls and goblins and witches oh my.

 He’s never been one to celebrate Halloween as an adult. He’d been to one or two parties while at university, sure, always throwing together a last minute costume that more often than not resulted in him throwing on a tux that he already owned and going as James Bond. If he got really creative, he’d shave his beard, throw on a pair of spectacles and go as Clark Kent.

 So he likes Halloween, enjoys the sweets and the horror films and the way the store fronts fill their windows with intricately carved pumpkins, yellow candles flickering inside as the sun sets into darkness.

 He likes it, but Emma loves it. She loves everything about it. As soon as the calendar flips from September to October, she pulls a chest out from under her bed that’s full of DVDs (We can just watching them online, darling, he’ll say. It’s not the same, she’ll say) to watch at least one a day until the clock strikes midnight on Halloween and the pumpkins turn into Christmas trees (or turkeys for those living in America). In her closet there’s a box of every Halloween costume she’s ever worn that somehow managed to make the trip from America to London.

 He once found a princess costume that was made for a girl no older than five, and when he teased her about how she’s obviously had a thing for him for her entire life, she told him that it was really Liam she had a thing for, her lips curling up into a smirk as mirth danced in her eyes. He was left speechless holding a sparkly blue dress as he watched her proudly bask in the glory of her joke. Later she told him, whispered in the darkness of her room after she had physically reaffirmed that he was the only man for her, that she could have dressed as a princess every day of her life and still never have been prepared for him and every way he’s surpassed any dream she ever had of a prince sweeping her off her feet just by being Killian.

 He could have never prepared for her.

 Emma carves pumpkins and buys candy ahead of time only to eat it all and have to purchase more before the holiday passes (and then buying the discount candy on November first so that she has enough to last her until the Valentine’s Day sales). She researches ghost stories online and then retells them with the enthusiasm of someone who likes being scared shitless at the possibility that the dead haunt her movements.

 So his girlfriend loves Halloween, and he knew that going into their relationship, part of the basic getting to know you process that happened over late nights and glasses of rum she eventually didn’t charge him for. However, he didn’t get to experience Halloween with her until they’d been dating for over two years. The first year he’d had to miss it because he rearranged his schedule so that he’d be around for her twenty-first birthday the week before. She’d told him she loved him for the first time that night, and he would trade all of his Halloweens for the rest of his life just to keep that day the same. The next year he’d been on his two-month North American tour that had resulted in them not speaking for a few weeks, so he hadn’t even gotten to listen to her enthusiasm about the holiday (She was a bar wench he later found out. An appropriate costume that ended up looking very inappropriate on her).

 When he realizes that he can finally celebrate with her on his third try, the smile that crosses his face may rival Emma’s when she’s watching Hocus Pocus.

 “So you’re sure about this?” she questions as she pushes her box of movies back underneath her bed, settling on the creepy and the kooky Addams Family.

 They both had the day off, and Emma had begged, not that she needed to, for the two of them to spend the day watching movies and eating candy out the bowl she’d already depleted at least once – he would know, he had to stop and buy her a mixed bag of candy on his way here. If she pulled a pumpkin primed for carving out of her closet, no part of him would be surprised.

 “I am positive,” he tells her as she crawls into bed next him, moving his arm so that it wraps around her shoulder, his fingers instinctively going to find the skin just below her shirt. “I have purposely arranged my entire autumn schedule so that I will be free to spend Halloween night with you.”

 “You know what this means, though, right?”

 “That I’m going to have to schedule an extra dental appointment because you’re going to force feed me candy until my teeth rot?”

 “I mean, obviously,” she teases, kissing the underside of his jaw from her vantage point below him. “But it means you have to wear a costume. Like, a real costume that you buy ahead of time because we have a costume party every year downstairs. And, like, not to be like the clichés of all the movies about royalty going out into disguise on Halloween, but if you could wear something that partially covers your face or alters your identity, that would be great because then I can kiss you downstairs and no one will even question it.”

 “Are there really movies like that?”

 “You have no idea.” She kisses his jaw again, the sensation running all the way through him. He is so crazy in love with her that sometimes he doesn’t know what to do with himself.  “One day I’m going to teach you about all of the clichés that you fall under.”

 He can’t help but laugh, pulling her closer to his side as the theme of The Addams Family finally begins to play on the television. They spend the rest of their day watching movies that have him ranging from laughing to sweating to being incredibly turned on. He eats more kit kat bars than he’s proud to admit, his stomach rounding where it’s usually more defined, and by the time he’s leaving to make his way home, he feels more like one of those pumpkins he thinks Emma has hidden in her closet than anything else.

 Emma’s just kissed him goodbye, a little more enthusiasm than usual, when he realizes something he missed out on earlier.

 “Wait,” he pulls back from her lips to look her in the eyes, “if I’m dressing up, that means you’re dressing up. What the devil are you wearing?”

 “Be patient,” she begins, lifting up on her toes to give him another kiss, slow and sensual and something he very much wants to continue, before pushing him out the door, “because that is a surprise that you’re just going have to show up to see. It’s kooky.”

 Damn. That’s something he can’t wait to see.

 Finding a costume that won’t make him feel ridiculous ends up being more difficult than he thinks. He considers several that require him to wear a mask that completely covers his face, but those seem to be farcical more than anything else. He thinks of going as a pirate, but that just didn’t seem to call to him, the leather and eyeliner unappealing. When he comes across an entire section that’s full of prince costumes, one even entitled Prince Killian, he almost buys it just for the look on Emma’s face. Eventually after all of the sailors and clowns and police officers are eliminated, and he settles on being Tom Cruise in Top Gun. It’s a happy medium between what he’s comfortable with and what really getting into the spirit (pun intended) of Halloween means. Plus, he can mostly be himself with dark shades used to cover his eyes. It’s surprising how many people don’t recognize him simply because he has on a pair on sunglasses.

 It’s Halloween, and Emma’s been suspiciously silent, only texting him short little nothings when he texts her first. It’s not totally abnormal, but for this to be one of her favorite days of the year, she doesn’t seem to be too excited. It unnerves him, and even though he was supposed to wait until the pub’s patrons are pleasantly buzzed, he ends up sauntering through the door at a quarter after ten to find Mary Margaret and David, dressed as a cat and a dog in the way that only two people in their late forties can, but with no sign of Emma anywhere.

 The place is unusually busy, the younger patrons outweighing the older crowd that usually frequents the place, making the space feel smaller than usual. It doesn’t help that the Nolans have stretched fake cobweb across the pillars and between booths, causing people to duck around them if they don’t want to end up with whatever artificial material is used to make the decorations. On all of the tables are carved pumpkins he knows the three of them worked on two days ago. He spies the one he did a week ago, crooked smile from where the knife slipped in his hand. It’s on the table of the booth in the back – their booth, he likes to think, the one where they met – and he can’t help but think that Emma Nolan can be sentimental sometimes, too.

 Right now, though, he’d really like to find Emma Nolan and whatever costume she’s hidden from him.

 It’s then that he sees her, short black dress with a white peter pan collar, the sexiest thigh high boots he’s ever seen, and a black wig parted down the middle into two braids, her lips painted in a black lipstick the he imagines she won’t let him kiss her with. She’s Wednesday Addams. She gave him a clue by the movie they watched last time he was here, and no part of him even thought about it. He spent a hell of a lot of time thinking about it. Of course, knowing her, she very well could have come up with her costume idea while they were watching the movie.

 He makes his way over to where she’s refilling a few glasses of ale, grabbing her wrist and pulling her to him so that he can kiss her cheek and squeeze her hip just because he can.

 “Where’s your costume, darling?” he teases when he pulls back from her skin, knowing exactly what her answer is going to be, the Halloween-loving woman.

 He can tell she has to hold back a smile before she deadpans, “this is my costume. I’m a homicidal maniac. They look just like everyone else.”

 She delivers the line exactly as she should, identical to Wednesday Addams, not even throwing him a wink like she so often will when she tells a joke, the lines on her face as straight and narrow as possible.

 It’s only when she seems to take his costume in, her eyes perusing the jumpsuit and the dark aviator sunglasses in a way that makes him feel like there’s no air circulation in the pub. He tries to reign in his nerves, leaning down to whisper in her ear. “Do you like it?”

 Emma pulls back so that he can see her, the corner of her lips lifting up on one side. “Eh, I prefer how Maverick looks on the beach, but this’ll do.” And then she’s walking away, flipping the pigtails of her wig behind her, finally giving him the wink he expected earlier. The little minx.

 It ends up being such a busy night that he doesn’t get to see much of Emma. She’s always refilling drinks or wiping down tables when people leave. He doesn’t mind, though. Just watching her, he can see that she’s having a blast with all of the people who dressed up tonight. When a group of girls all dressed as the Addams Family women walk in, Emma practically squeals, a very un-Wednesday like thing to do.

She convinces them to take a picture with her, telling them that it’s going to go up on the wall where her family keeps pictures of big events that happen here.

 Seeing her this happy keeps a smile on his face throughout the night, even when he’s had one too may rums and realizes he has to take off the jumpsuit to relieve himself. It’s annoying and inconvenient, and when he comes out of the restroom cursing under his breath about bloody fucking Halloween (though no blood was involved in this Halloween), it’s to Emma leaning against the wall with her arms crossed waiting on him, right eyebrow perched high on her forehead.

 “You know, Nolan, that’s a little creepy you waiting out here for me.”

 “I wanted to get another picture of us to put up on the wall.”

 “Won’t that be suspicious?”

 “Nah, I’m just going to say it was a really hot guy who came by on Halloween, and I needed an excuse to get close to him. Who knows? Maybe later I’ll even get his number.”

 She’s…happy. She’s happy and flirtatious, two things he’s seen her be so many times before, but it’s like it’s contagious tonight, a disease which he’d very much like to catch.

 So they take the picture for her to hang up on the wall. He’s smiling in it, wide toothy grin as he wraps his arms around her shoulder. She’s not smiling. Instead, her body is stiff and her hands are placed at her sides, unhappy look on her face that has him in stitches when he looks at it later. It’s a picture he’d like to keep just for the look on Emma’s face.

 His favorite picture of the night, though, happens later when everything is closed down, and he’s starting to get tired, the only thing keeping him awake is the way that Emma’s mouth is moving against his, lazy and sloppy but all together delicious. He thinks that they’re on their way to other activities, his jumpsuit suddenly even more restricting, but then Emma starts hysterically laughing, tears rolling down her eyes as her hair, wig removed, falls in her face.

 It’s not often that a woman laughs at how he kisses, so he can’t help but feel a tad bit insulted.

 “Emma, love, what the bloody hell are you laughing at?”

 She just leans over to her bedside table to grab her phone, snapping a picture of him without him knowing what’s happening.

 “What are you doing? Why are you taking a picture of me?”

 “Just hold on a minute, and I’ll tell you.”

 It’s then that she twists in his lap so that she can take a picture of the two of them together, her head leaning on his shoulder. He thinks that maybe she just felt the overwhelming need to document the night, but then she’s thrusting her phone in his face and he sees why she’s laughing.

 It’s a wonderful picture of the two of them. They look happy and vibrant despite the late hour. It would be just like every other photograph except for the fact that the black lipstick she had on with her costume is now smeared all over his lips and his chin, even a bit of his nose. He looks bloody ridiculous, and when he looks over to Emma she’s covering her mouth to hide her laugh.

 “That’s really not your color, babe.”

 It’s a night that he remembers fondly, the picture saved on his phone and the lipstick tube tucked away in a box of things that he’s collected from Emma over the years.

 It’s not yet October, though, and Killian knows that a Halloween like that will most likely be a thing of the past for the two of them. They’ll have different kinds of holiday celebrations now, and while that does make him feel a tinge of longing for the ways of the past, he’s excited for the future.

Killian turns twenty-nine this week, and he’s having a quiet – by his family’s standards – celebration with just his family – his entire family, extending beyond just the immediate – as well as Emma and her parents. It is a bit of a combination event, both a celebration of his birth and an introduction of his girlfriend to the extended family she hasn’t met and vice versa, an introduction of her small family to the largeness of his.

 “Are you nervous?” Killian questions, moving to zip Emma’s dress, one hand caressing her hip as the other guides the zipper up its path.

 “Honestly,” she sighs out as she moves her hair off of her back and over one shoulder, exposing her neck to him, which he gives a soft kiss to when he finishes zipping her into the dress. It’s this little black thing she got from Abigail that’s long enough to be acceptable in the new dress code she’s trying to adhere to when she goes places with him that are a step up from the supermarket, but it still shows off all of her glorious curves. She looks beautiful, radiant even, and it doesn’t matter that he’s the slightest bit biased. “I don’t think I can really be nervous around your family anymore. It’s more this feeling I can’t describe, kind of like I’m walking on eggshells but only sometimes, I guess. It’s fine tonight, though, babe. It’s your night. I think I’ve officially grown a tough skin. I’m immune to all of the new bites from the Windsor clan.”

 She’s ghosting over things, he can tell. He caught some of the flashing “it’s fine” signs in her little spiel, but he goes against his better judgment and ignores it for tonight. He ignores his own signs, too.

 “They’re not piranhas, love.”

 “No,” she says, turning around and placing her hands on his shoulders, straightening his shirt collar, “they’re not. I’ve already faced those.”

 “And you did it swimmingly.” He leans down to quickly meet her lips with his.

 “Was that a pun?”

 “Always. I’m just naturally witty like that.”

 “I think you’re fishing for compliments.”

 He laughs, leaning down again to peck her cheek so as to not mess up her lipstick anymore. “You, my love, are the only fish in the sea for me.”

 “Okay, I’m done with the bad puns. We’ve got a party to go to, old man.”

 “What a kind, loving birthday wish from my girlfriend.”

 “That’s what I’m here for, babe.”

 And at that she walks away, hips swaying enticingly in that little black dress. When she gets to the doorway, she turns her head and fucking winks at him, and he’s got to make it through the entire night with her looking like that.

 He catches up to her, jogging just a little down the hallway as they walk to his car on their way to Windsor Palace. It’s where his parents have been staying recently, as it’s much more low key than the busyness of London, even if it’s a bit of a drive from Kensington.

 When they get there, it’s still about an hour before most of his family is supposed to arrive, but he wanted to spend some time with just his parents and Emma’s parents before all of the others arrive. The Nolans met his family two weeks ago, and they’ve all gotten on surprisingly well despite the rocky start this whole thing had. It probably helps that he and Emma decided to keep some of the nastier details of her introduction to his family to themselves.

 Mary Margaret and Allison have become fast friends and have discovered that they share many of the same interests, having even gone to a few of the same schools growing up, though Killian’s mother is several years older than Mary Margaret. David and Brennan get on fine. They don’t have a lot in common, but they don’t have to. As long as they have Killian and Emma in common, they’ll always have things to talk about.

 Emma’s never been to Windsor before, so he decides to giver her a small tour before joining his family in one of the dining halls. She did tell him the first time he brought her home that she’s fascinated by being able to see buildings she studied in primary school in real life. She’s brilliant, his love, with a mind most people can only hope to have half of, and though he knows that she’s happy with her decision not to attend university in exchange for helping her parents, he finds himself wondering what it would be like for her to take history classes. Would her face light up as she delved into research for papers? Would she hate having to stick her nose in a book to learn about history instead of getting to explore it for herself?

 They’ve broached the subject, her going back to school before, but she always says that she’s happy. She likes her job, and she likes spending time with her parents and her regular patrons. So he doesn’t push it. He doesn’t need her to have a degree. He has one in Philosophy that he’s never once used before. He just wants to make sure that if she has the opportunity to do something she wants to do, she can.

 “Babe,” she calls out from her spot a few feet ahead of him, and he already knows what she’s looking at before he catches up to her. “How old are you here?”

 She’s staring at a portrait that’s far too large, something he protested with his mum for what felt like hours on end, and he can tell she wants to reach out and touch it, run her fingers along the lines of his face.

 “I was fourteen, and before you say anything else, yes, I had to pose for it. It was bloody awful.”

 “Can we get one of these at our house?”

 She’s teasing him, playful smile on her lips, but all he can focus on is that she just said “our house.” They’ve been living together for a few weeks now. He’s sure she’s said something similar before, but it hasn’t hit him until then.

 “Hey,” she says when he doesn’t speak for a moment too long, turning to caress his cheek, her face level to his with the heels she has on, “I was just teasing. I think this is amazing. I love getting to see more of you when you were young.”

 Killian moves to wrap his arms around her waist, pulling her into his side so that he can rest the side of his forehead against the top of her head. “Aye, I know. We can have anything you want, Emma.”

 She tilts her head back as much as she can, his grip on her waist more snug than usual. “Are you okay?”

 “I’m fine, my love. I was just thinking about how if we get one of these for home, we also have to hang up that photograph of you from the time you dyed your hair brown and it ended up as some kind of purple.”

 She scrunches her nose, mouth twisting in disgust. “Mom never should have documented some things. But fine. No giant portrait of teenage Killian. Though, I thought it might look really good over the bed.”

 He can’t help put laugh, kissing the crown of her head before releasing her from his side and grabbing her hand so that they can finish their tour and show up to the dinner.

 When they walk in the door to the dining hall, they don’t even have a chance to breathe before they’re ambushed.

 “Mummy,” Alex squeals, squirming away from where he was sitting with Abigail and Liam on a couch so that he can make his way over to them, pointing at Emma as he waddles over to them, “it’s Emmy.”

 Emma just hurries her steps up, swooping Alex up into her arms and covering his face in kisses, leaving red marks from her lipstick all over him that he always finds hilarious when he looks into a mirror later (Killian likes to think he wears Emma’s lipstick marks better than Alexander, but who is he to compare himself to a toddler?). She’s his new best friend, and Killian’s not saying that he’s upset that a soon-to-be-two-year-old is ignoring him for his girlfriend, but he’s worked hard for that favorite relative position just to be usurped by Emma in a matter of months.

 Forget all of the murders and strategic arranged marriages of the past for people trying to overtake the thrown. Emma usurping Killian as Alex’s favorite person outside of his parents is the real royal scandal.

 “Emmy,” Alex giggles, squirming in her arms as she’s moved on from kissing him to tickling his stomach. “Mummy has baby in belly.”

 “Really?” Emma gasps, over-exaggerated voice that she’ll use sometimes when talking to him. “Mommy has a baby in her belly! That’s so exciting, Alex! Are you excited to have a new brother or sister?”

 “Yay, baby,” Alex shrieks, raising his hands in the air and clapping, something his parents have obviously taught him to do with the mention of the new baby.

 “Yay baby, indeed,” Abigail says, walking over to Killian, Emma, and her son, slight but obvious stomach reaching them before she does.

 “Alex, darling,” Abigail coos, reaching to take him from Emma and transfer him to Killian, “what did daddy teach you to say to Uncle Killian today?”

 Alex just stares at Abigail, like he has no idea what she’s talking about, his little face all scrunched up in confusion as he thinks.

 “Does Happy Birthday ring a bell, Alexander?” Liam asks, making his way over to them from his spot on the sofa, clapping Killian on the back and resting his hand there. Killian’s flinch is barely noticeable.

 The two of them are not best mates or anything now, as that would be hoping for miracles in a land where those are scarce, but there’s definitely less hostility between the two brothers – at least, on the surface. Killian knows that on top of the talks (talks, yelling matches, hushed conversations with Emma and Abigail in the other room) the two of them have had over the past few weeks, their father also sat down with Liam and talked about some of the changes they’re making and how they’re attempting to be more of a family in private, rather than just being kind in public. Killian hopes that with some work, it’ll be something that actually works out. He hopes that he can have the heart to let it work out because his feelings on the situation are about as messy and as convoluted as one’s thoughts can become.

 Emma still tenses when Liam’s near, however, and obviously he does as well. She doesn’t make it obvious, but he can see how she squares her shoulders the slightest bit, the way her smile fades at the corners. He can’t blame her. He does the same. But the sacrifices she’s making for him are evident in the way her smile fades from brilliant to polite.

 Alex gets it now, eyes lighting up as he stares at Killian. “Happy Birfday!” he shouts, just a little too loud, but it’s cute and he truly appreciates the fact that Liam took the time to teach Alex how to wish him happy birthday.

 Everyone in the room bursts into laughs, clapping for Alex and he just grins, showing off his little toddler teeth in pride.

 “Happy birthday, brother,” Liam wishes, clapping Killian on the back again, and this feels like the most normal interaction they’ve had in years. “You’re getting on up there in the years.”

 “Says the man who’s closer to forty than thirty now.”

 “Daddy old,” Alex adds in, and Emma lets out a series of loud giggles, having to cover her mouth with her hands to contain her laughter. Killian raises his eyebrow at her, silently asking now where did the little lad learn that? She just shrugs her shoulders, mouthing it wasn’t me at him.

 After all of the happy birthdays are exchanged and Killian’s aunts and uncles and cousins (and second cousins and third cousins he’s not really sure he’s related to) show up at the allotted time, they have dinner, table full of conversation and laughter. He’s not quite sure when the last time he felt this comfortable at a family event was. Maybe he’s never felt this comfortable – and comfortable may be the wrong word, but he’s not dreading every move his family makes, knowing that they’re on their best behavior. But he just looks over at Emma next to him, hands wildly moving around as she tells a story to his aunt Carolyn about what it was like to grow up in America, and he can’t help the grin that blooms on his face. It won’t always be like this, but at least he has tonight to push down all of the dark thoughts that threaten to emerge.

 It’s then that his father stands from his seat at the head of the table, wine glass in hand.

 “Good evening, everyone,” Brennan greets, his lips forming a small smile. “Allison and I would just like to thank everyone for making the trip up here. I know it’s a little too rural for some of you.” The room laughs at that, and Emma turns to him to mouth how in the hell anyone could consider this rural. “But nevertheless, I’d like to make a birthday toast to my youngest, Allison’s baby as she still calls him despite Killian’s protests. Killian, my boy, you’re twenty-nine now. At your age I was this unrefined, unmarried man whose mother had to remind him to get his clothes washed before he went on to an event as a representation for Britain. You, on the other hand, are this intelligent, well-composed, brave young man who understands more about life and love than I think I ever have. To see you come into your own, find a love of your own, especially in the last few months, brings me a joy that I didn’t know was possible. So may you continue to be as happy and as vibrant as you are tonight for the rest of your days! Happy birthday, Killian!”

 The room echoes with happy birthday, Killian, smiles gracing the faces of people who usually look so stern when all gathered together. His parents are beaming at him, Brennan kissing Allison’s cheek as she wipes away a tear that’s fallen to her cheek.

 “Happy birthday, Killian,” Mary Margaret echoes, reaching over Emma to pat his arm. “Now not to be nosy, but has Emma given you her gift yet?”

 “Mom,” Emma hisses, lightly smacking Mary Margaret’s arm, her lips slightly parted in surprise.

 “What? I wanted to know if he liked it!”

 “I wasn’t going to give it to him until later.”

 Emma looks so frustrated with her mother, like Mary Margaret actually gave away whatever this secret present is. She didn’t, and while he’s bloody curious, he can wait until later since Emma obviously wants to give it to him alone.

 “Oh,” Mary Margaret squeaks, placing her hands on her lap as David tries to hide his laughter next to them. “Well you’ll have to call me and tell me in the morning.”

 Emma leans her head to her left so that she can rest it on her mother’s shoulder, the two women interlacing their fingers. “I will, Mom. I promise.”

 The rest of their time there goes well, everyone in that blissful state of being just buzzed enough to let their inhibitions down. He and Emma somehow get roped into having dinner with his parents next week, and Emma’s grip on his hand tightens the slightest bit. The four of them have been trying to spend more time together, them getting to know Emma for the first time and Killian for the second time around – possibly the first if he truly considers it. Despite that, or possibly because of it, Emma’s still tense around them, for more reasons than one. But she handles it as best as she can, and he couldn’t be more proud. She handles it with more grace than he ever has.

 Later that night he’s lying in bed, reading his book like the old man he now is, and Emma saunters out of the bathroom, clad in nothing but the lacy black bra and underwear she had on under her dress. He doesn’t pay her much attention, trying to finish the chapter he’s on, but then she’s crawling over the covers and onto his lap, knees on either side of his thighs.

 “Babe?” she prods, nestling further into his lap, and honestly it’s killing him not to buck his hips up into hers, the early friction already enough to send a buzz down his spine. But this is the path he’s chosen to go on tonight for some insane reason. The old age must be making him delusional.

 “Mhmm,” he answers back, flipping his page.

 She starts kissing the side of his neck, working at the skin between his neck and his collarbone, worrying a faint bruise there that won’t show in the suit he has to wear at his events tomorrow. Crafty lass she is.

 He’s got no idea what’s going on in his book anymore. It’s like he’s never read before in his life, pleasure coursing through his veins distracting him. She’s working her way back up his throat, slowly running her tongue across his jaw before she starts nibbling on his ear. He’s just about to give in, to pull her lips to his and her body so close they’re basically one, when she pulls back, propping her hands up on his shoulders and adjusting herself so that her hips are no longer aligned with his.

 He could groan at the lack of contact. He does groan at the lack of contact.

 “What are you doing, love?”

 “Well I was trying to seduce you for your birthday.”

 “Is this my present?” he questions, fingering the cup of her bra, lifting it so that the top of her nipple is exposed as his other hand runs down her side, cupping her waist. “As much as I appreciate this, and I do plan on appreciating it later, I can’t help but think that this is quite the odd present to have told your mum about. And for her to be excited about it on top of that. I didn’t know you shared about our sex life with your mother.”

 Her face twists, lips pursing into a scowl. “The only person who gets details on our sex life is you, despite Ruby’s protests now that she knows about you. And this is definitely part of your present, but I do have something else if you want it.”

 “Of course I do, darling.”

 “Okay,” Emma tells him, extracting herself from his lap and making her way to the closet. The cut of her panties makes her ass look particularly firm, and he’s really beginning to regret not immediately devouring her when she came out of the bathroom.

 She’s wrapped herself in her dressing gown by the time she comes out of the closet (he has to hold back a groan at that because damn) holding two wrapped presents that have bows that he’s come to know as Mary Margaret’s specialty.

 “So Mom doesn’t know about the first gift,” she motions between the two of them before settling beside him on the bed, her feet tucked under her as she faces him, “but she did help me pick out this other stuff. I know we go over this every time we have a holiday or anniversary or whatever, so you know the drill. It’s not super expensive or nice or –”

 “Hey,” Killian reaches forward to press his thumb against her chin, running it back and forth as he smiles down at her, “and you know that I don’t care about any of that stuff. We do the same routine every year. I think we should probably stop doing it.”

 She leans down to kiss his thumb, nuzzling the finger further into the dent of her chin as her eyes flutter shut.

 He loves her so much it’s ridiculous.

 Emma hands him the larger package. It’s light to the touch, and he puts it next to his ear, shaking it slightly to see if it makes a sound. His father used to do that to presents when Killian was younger, and it’s one of his traits that he got from his father without ever realizing it. Emma hates it, and once she realized he did it, she’s always made sure to never wrap anything fragile.

 “You can open that one first because it’s the more casual one.”

 When he opens the box it’s to several new dress shirts, all different shades of blue and white, some with stripes or small dots. He just smiles at her, folding each shirt back into the box before she shoves the smaller box into his hands. Inside are several different sets of cufflinks, ranging from normal black and gold circles to ones in the shape of pizza and martini glasses.

 “These are fantastic,” he laughs, admiring a pair that are in the shape of umbrellas. She looks nervous, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth, and he can’t help but wonder why she’s so nervous over cufflinks. “Though I do have to ask what went into the decision making for buying these because I feel like you had a purpose behind them.”

 She bounces a little from her position on the bed, the mattress squeaking with the movement. “So,” she begins, taking the pair of umbrella cufflinks out of his hand and running them between her fingers, “I pulled a you and decided to be kind of sentimental.” He leans toward her with the intention of pinching her side, but she moves away from him at the last minute. “The umbrellas are because it was raining on the night we met. The beer mugs and the martini glasses are because we’ve spent most of our relationship in a pub, obviously. The pizza is because that’s what we had to eat on our first date. Um, it was kind of hard to find other things because I don’t think cufflinks are really made to showcase relationship progress, so I just got the other ones, like the anchor and the initial ones, just because I thought you’d like them.”

 “I love them, Emma. I love you.” He leans forward to quickly press his lips against hers. “Thank you. I’m going to wear the umbrella ones tomorrow.”

 “I love you, too. And you are, really?”

 “Most definitely. Though, if I’d had an umbrella that night we might not have met.”

 Her face changes then, the nervous smile fading into a frown. “I can’t even imagine, Killian. I mean, can you? What would our lives be like? It’s just insane to think about. It honestly freaks me out a bit.”

 “I know, love, but we don’t have to think about it. It happened, and now we’re here.”

 Emma moves to take the boxes out of his hand, placing them on her bedside table (she has a bedside table) before curling up into his side, her head on his shoulder and her hands wrapped around his middle.

 She’s quiet for a moment, nuzzling her nose into his bicep.

 “How did you deal with today? With all the family? I thought everyone was good today, but I always just feel so edgy around your dad and Liam. I could tell that you do, too, even if today was a better day.”

 A sigh passes through his lips before he reaches to pinch his nose, his other hand rubbing soothing circles on Emma’s back. He doesn’t want to talk about this right now.

 “I’m confused, to be honest,” Killian admits. “It’s like I don’t know how to feel. Father is fine, I guess. He’s really turned things around in the effort he makes to be kind to me and to you, which is what I find to be the most important. He works with me on things, listening to my side instead of just going with his. I appreciate it, truly. But I just don’t know how to feel about Liam. He’s…he’s trying. But sometimes it’s like he doesn’t understand the gravity of everything we’ve been through. It doesn’t matter how many talks we have, how much I say. I think he knows he’s wrong and understands that, but I think he has a difficult time owning up to it, if that makes sense? It’s like he wants to say sorry and just move on without acknowledging things. And sometimes I just become frustrated to such a degree that I need a physical way to express that. I think it’s why I’m running even more now.”

 Emma turns to nuzzle her head into his chest, kissing the skin there, soft little butterfly kisses that he can barely feel. “Killian, I’m so sorry. I wish I could help in some way. Make things better besides us just talking.”

 “You already do, love.”

 “That’s sweet, babe, but a lot of this is because of me. At least the recent stuff. You can’t ignore that.”

 “Hey,” he reaches to squeeze her side before continuing to rub her back, something that’s probably more for him than for her, “you’ve done not a thing wrong, my love. It’s not because of you. He reacted to you because of the way he is. It’s from a lifetime of living on a high horse and never being knocked down until recently.”

 “What would make the whole thing better for you? Do you think it’s better to just drop this whole trying to be better toward each other thing and live as you were before? Do you think it’s worth it? I mean, really think it’s worth it to try to be on friendly terms instead of just faking it when you have to? Is that something you actually want, or is it something you’re doing just because you feel like it’s what you should do?”

 He doesn’t want to talk about this. He’s so tired of talking about this.

 “I don’t know. I do think it’s better, that what we’re doing is better, and sometimes he and I will be having a conversation and it’s like all of the shit fades away and we’re just normal, you know? But then my brain reminds me that we’re not. It’s almost like, before I didn’t care how bad our relationship was. I had just resigned myself to it being messed up. But now, now it’s like I’m so desperately searching for something that’s just out of my grasp, and it hurts that every time I reach for it, it moves just a little bit further away.”

 She hugs him a bit tighter, a sure sign that she doesn’t have any words to comfort him, left with just the physical touch that he relies on almost as much.

 “Do you still think it’s possible to forgive him? Do you even want to? Not for him but for yourself?”

 “Is it possible to not forgive and still try to move on with him as someone who has to be a part of my life?”

 “Killian, I’m not sure. That has to be something you decide for yourself.”

 He means his next words, but he doesn’t intend for them to come out as gruffly as they did, harsh and disparaging, and he knows this isn’t how tonight should have gone at all.

 “I’m damn tired of thinking and talking about this. It’s like it’s been my entire life lately. As much as I appreciate you trying to help, I’d really rather not talk anymore tonight, Emma. I’d just like to go to bed.”

 She’s silent at his side.

 At least she’s still at his side.

[aguirreann1995]

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Stay Beautiful - Chapter 2

A/N: Here’s the second chapter to this piece of work you guys have blown me away with the response to! (hope that sentence made sense but I haven’t slept and it’s 5 am.) I hope the tags are working this time, and I want your guys’ opinion on me setting up a ko-fi link? Also I promise Gen will be nice again soon! Anyway, enjoy this chapter! :D

Trigger Warnings: Kidnap, missing child, fake adoption (if that’s one)

Word Count: 2542

Tag list:  @winchesters-favorite-girl @winchester-writes @storyofawinchester @rosie-winchester @bea789  @inkedinpastel @alicat-life @wayward-marvel-sommer1196 @straightasdeanwinchester (room for anyone who wants in!)

“Wait, so you’re finally coming around to the idea?”

Morgan and I placed our lunch on the table in front of us and sat down.

I shrugged, poking at my salad. Don’t get me wrong – I’m not one of those diet freaks who’s obsessed with how skinny they are. I just notice how stick-thin my mum is and how pudgy I am in comparison.

“I don’t know. Maybe. It’s just – you didn’t hear their argument yesterday. Let’s say they were involved, did they give me a bad upbringing? I mean, yeah, I’ve never felt that parental connection you’re supposed to get. But that doesn’t mean they treated me badly.” I tried reasoning with her.

“Babe, no offense, but you’re not thinking straight. If they were involved, then they did something completely wrong. No matter what their reasoning is, you don’t know what they’re capable of if they can take a child away from their parents.” She said.

I guess she’s right, but it doesn’t make it feel any less weird that I’m conspiring against my parents.

“So what do I do?”

“I’m pretty sure you mean we. And I don’t know yet. We could always go on that holiday to America we’ve been planning since we were kids.”

I rolled my eyes.

“Morgan, you make everything sound so simple, but first off, that trip was to New York which I’m pretty sure is a while away from Texas, and second, we have no money for that kind of trip. Where are we gonna get over £1000 from?” I asked.

“Well it’s either that or you call the hotline. Unless…”

“Unless what?”

“Well, your parents said it was okay if one of them escorted us. Now I think we know why, but that’s beside the point. We can ask one of them to take us?” She suggested, making me raise my eyebrows at her.

“Yeah, right. I’ll just ask my parents that we had a sudden change of mind and we want to go to the state where I was kidnapped, shall I?” I said with urgent but hushed tones.

“For crying out loud, just hear me out;” She began. So I did.

The plan was for us to ask my dad to take us – he’s far more lenient. We’d travel to New York together, and there, Morgan and I would get on a much cheaper flight to Texas. We’d tell dad that we’re gonna get some things from duty free and run to the plane that leaves half an hour after we get to New York. It’ll be tight but I think we can do it.

A few days later I decided to bring up the topic of a holiday in a few weeks’ time.

“No. Absolutely not.” Mum said straight away.

“But it’s not like we’d go alone, we’d ask dad to take us while you take Jack to that theme park he’s been banging on about.” I begged.

“Oh, come on Judy. I can take a week off work.” Dad said, clearly happy for this to go along.

“Dave, can I talk to you in the kitchen?” Mum demanded.

“Not fair.” Jack commented.

“What’s wrong, toad face?” I asked with a snarky smile on my face.

“You get to go to America! They have the best theme parks!” He said, slamming the remote control on the seat next to him.

I felt a pang of guilt at that. Okay, I hate Jack. He’s the worst brother. He once locked me in the garden for hours. But I was double-crossing him just as much as my parents. Still, I didn’t feel too bad for him after he gave me evil looks, which I know doesn’t sound like the worst thing he could do, but any time he gives me an evil glare he’s up to something annoying and bratty.

“Okay,” mum began as her and dad came out of the kitchen. “As long as you and Morgan help pay us back for the plane tickets once you come back, I suppose your father can take you.

“Yes! Thank you! I’m gonna tell Morgan.” I exclaimed. I hopped out of my seat and ran upstairs to my charging phone.

Get your suitcase packed. We’re going to Texas. – Kendra

My stomach was already in my throat when the stewardess announced that we were beginning our descent into Newark Airport.

The last few days had been – well – hectic to say the very least. I was trying to find Jared’s address online which took seven long, frustrating, tiring hours with Morgan being pessimistic and muttering under her breath that it wouldn’t work the whole time, then we had a nasty panic when Morgan said she couldn’t find her passport. But once we were on the plane all I had to do was think.

And my thoughts led to one inexorable conclusion: I was totally and perfectly insane.

I was planning to venture my way through an unfamiliar airport to buy a ticket to another unfamiliar airport and then take a bus to a house which may or may not belong to my birth father who may or may not even know I exist. I mean, sure – if I am Chloe, who’s to say Jared was even aware he had a child? And to be honest, I wasn’t even sure about anything to do with my mum. I was mad.

I looked at the seat next to me where Morgan was sitting. She was looking out the window and must’ve sensed me watching her because she looked back at me and smiled. There’s no way I’d ever admit this to her, but if she weren’t with me I probably would never have gone through with it.

Don’t get me wrong. It’s not like I’m some timid little dreamer who needed someone with her at all times to look after her. I’ve been around London on my own loads of times, and I’ve been on aeroplanes before. It’s just that I needed someone to share this with. A friend. My best friend.

It took ages for us to be allowed off the plane, and then we had to go through customs and everything. This was the guiltiest I’ve ever felt. My dad’s like the most innocent man in the world. He once saved a bird from certain death by a cat. He took it to the vets and they just kept it in for a few days then it was free to go.

Now I’m abandoning him.

“Dad, me and Morgan are desperate for a drink. Can we have some money for duty free please?” I asked. He rolled his eyes with a slight smile. He knew how excited we were for today. Only he didn’t know why.

“Here you are. Don’t spend it all. The rest of it is for emergency use only.” He said.

For me this is an emergency.

Going through this huge airport was confusing. Okay, it wasn’t any more big and confusing than the ones back home, but it was still massive. We bought tickets to Austin-Bergstrom Airport and headed to the plane.

We should’ve been back with dad by now. I felt another stab of guilt at that thought. But if he told me, I wouldn’t be doing this. Morgan and I turned our phones on to aeroplane mode and just sat. We’re five hours behind London, and it was only 11 am here. Once we land in Texas I’d text dad that I’d be okay – although I’m sure he’d have told mum by now and she’d be ringing me constantly. She’s the biggest worry bags ever.

“You okay?” Morgan asked once we landed. I shook my head.

“Of course I’m not okay.” I answered in a very upbeat tone to let her know I wasn’t angry. Once we left the plane the first sign that perhaps I hadn’t planned this as well as I’d thought hit me like the thin air does at a sauna. It was absolutely boiling, and I brought no sun cream, no sunglasses and no shorts. I hadn’t been waxed in ages so I’d blame it on that. Still, I didn’t need to wear all black.

“Look, over there.” Morgan pointed to a row of bus shelters. We looked at the different ones that led close to his address. We sat at the back of the red and grey bus and I looked outside the window.

Finally we drove out of the airport and onto wide, empty roads marked with green signs. Beyond the roads were lakes that stretched out for miles. And the cars were so big. Longer than the ones we have back home. But the space was what got me most. The roads were so wide, and the land around them went on forever. Even the sky seemed bigger. I smiled at Morgan and I felt strangely calm considering what was ahead of us.

Mum! I totally forgot. I turned my phone back to its normal setting, and sure enough I had 20 missed calls and about 50 texts. I decided to just send her one back.

We’re okay. See you later. – Kendra

I knew she wouldn’t be satisfied with it, but it was the best I could do. I switched my phone off again and just focused on the journey ahead. Once we got to our stop I asked the bus driver about the address.

“What about it?” He asked, clearly noting we were tourists. Or at least that’s what we let him believe. He was a jolly bald man who reminded me of the way dad looked.

“Do you know where it is?” Morgan chimed in.

“Sure. Just down that road and to the left. Keep walking ‘til you see it. Big houses there. You going to a party?” He asked. I just gulped.

“Something like that.” Morgan answered for me.

We walked on what felt like miles of pavement. Past loads of low, detached houses. My stomach was twisting in knots. My whole life depended on the next few minutes, and I was terrified. Then we stopped to a halt as we noticed the house.

It was more of a mansion really. Not surprising considering his success. It was huge and beautiful. It had cobble stones leading up to his front door. This was all too intimidating. I might not be her. I probably wasn’t in all honestly. It was so far-fetched. I mean, what was I gonna say anyway? That I was his possible daughter after seeing a picture of a baby on a website? He’d call the police.

“Nuh-uh. No way. I know that face.” Morgan said.

“What? What face?” I asked.

“The face you make when you’re about to back out. You can’t back out now. So either you do it now or I drag you through those gates and ring on the doorbell myself.” She said so casually it was almost laughable. Still, my jelly-like legs followed through with her instructions. I wobbled along the paved stone and made my way to the front door. I was about to ring on the bell when the door opened anyway. It was Genevieve, Jared’s wife. Not mum.

“Oh. Sorry. I was just going to put the trash out. How can I help you?” She asked. I searched her face, desperate for any sign that she knew.

“I… I…,” Now I was here, I noticed yet again that I had no clue what I was going to say.

Genevieve’s eyes narrowed.

“What do you want?” She asked, getting kind of freaked out. For a moment I thought I was going to be sick.

“I’m looking for Jared. Chloe’s father.” I said.

Genevieve frowned.

“It’s Chloe I’ve come about,” I said, noticing that perhaps she had no clue who I was talking about. “She’s a baby who went missing. A long... a long time ago.” I stuttered.

The surprise in Genevieve’s eyes morphed into contempt.

“Who put you up to this?”

I blinked, bewildered.

“Was it next door?” She demanded.

“Who is it, Gen?” A man’s voice called from the house.

“You should leave. Now.” Genevieve hissed. “What you’re doing is sick. It’s so unbelievably sick I can’t believe it.” She said. Behind her Jared came into view.

He was a middle-aged man with long, flicky hair.

“Whoa. What’s going on?” He asked.

“This girl’s here on some disgusting dare.” She decided to say.

“No.” I said.

It took a few seconds of unbelievable tension hanging in the air before I decided to speak up again.

“I think… I think I might be Chloe.” I said. Jared’s eyes widened and he swallowed a great big gulp of air and Genevieve just glared at me. I don’t blame her. If someone claimed to be your stepdaughter it’s impossible to take it without a grain of salt at the very least.

“Chl- My Chloe?” He asked, tears filled in his eyes.

“No. No! Jared can’t you see this is another prank or something?” Genevieve begged for Jared to listen.

“Come inside.” Jared offered. I ignored Genevieve and walked in with Jared. The whole house was huge and I sat down with Jared on a massive sofa in the foyer.

“This is ridiculous. I’m getting the boys.” Genevieve said, storming off to someplace else.

“Hi, sweetheart.” He said, looking at me, with deep, genuine love and concern.

This can’t be right. Surely if he were my dad I’d feel some sort of connection with him.

Something that tells me he’s my father.

But I don’t.

He’s just a man.

I explained everything. How that stupid essay bought me to here. How I found that missing poster. As I was explaining how I felt guilty by running away from my parents, two men and one woman walked in. The taller man bent down to me and he looked angry. Pissed.

“Who the hell are you?” He asked.

“Jensen!” Jared warned.

“No. I want to know. Now. Because I don’t believe it.” He said.

“It’s Chloe, guys. I… I really think it is.” Jared said.

At his words, pandemonium broke out. Everyone in the room began talking at once. Jared shouting at Jensen, completely ignoring me.

“It’s not her, dude. She’s not just gonna walk in here-“ Jensen started

“It is. She has.” Jared said getting teary. “Don’t you see? She-“

“Stop it!” Genevieve’s voice broke out in a terrible screech. “Stop it. Stop it. I can’t take you doing this anymore.”

I glanced around the room. The man and the woman who didn’t speak to me yet were just talking loudly by the door, and some kids started wandering in at the sound of it.

I wanted to leave, but I felt rooted at the spot.

“Guys, please…” I started. But no one heard me.

“You’re being ridiculous!” Genevieve shouted.

“If you’d just listen…”

“I’m calling 911!” Jensen shouted.

“Enough!” Morgan’s voice bellowed from the door. Everyone stopped what they were doing and looked at her.

I’m always grateful for Morgan. She always knows how to make herself the star of attention when I didn’t want to be. Or at least that’s what I thought.

“Let’s just let Kendra explain what’s going on.” She said.