#i have never seen the menu but a woman on my flight was talking about it so here we go i guess

[pricetagged]

Someone has surely suggested a 'The Menu' AU with Simon as the head chef? No? I feel like he's the perfect candidate.

Butcher turned-cook-turned-chef. He could never be described as friendly, as a well-socialised wheel in the kitchen machine, but he is good at his craft. Respects it. Only somewhere along the line, he ends up serving the kind of people he wouldn't spit on if they were on fire. Stupid, deconstructed fine-dining bullshit that he hates, but that he can serve and charge a three-digit figure.

And so, he chugs along. Makes a name for himself and builds a clientele. They're all abuz with the mystery of the chef - always in a mask. All in black from head to toe. They titter at his gruff comments and flat jokes - 'he's such an interesting character! Part of the atmosphere of the restaurant'; a little thrill born of his dead eyes and silent kitchen.

He finds it infuriating - and infuriatingly boring. So, he invites some guests to an undisclosed location for a once-in-a-lifetime dining experience. They actually pay to be black-bagged and taken there - to eat crumbs of 'gourmet' cuisine in an old industrial factory. 'Such an interesting commentary on the cycles of production and consumption!' Makes him scoff.

And then you come along as an unauthorised plus one.

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

If I Fell For You (Part 8) - Good Days, Bad Days

Summary: The reader has a special birthday surprise for Jensen and starts to get to know Jared more. When Jensen returns home from Toronto for good though, he and the reader have their first big fight and make more moves in their relationship...

Masterlist

Pairing: Jensen x nanny!reader

Word Count: 5,300ish

Warnings: language, angst, fighting, smut

A/N: Enjoy!

________

Thursday Night

“So how do you want me?” asked Jensen, leaning against his closet door in nothing but his boxer briefs. 

“Oh well that’s a dangerous question,” you laughed. “Jeans are fine for where I’m taking you.”

“Alright,” he said. He ducked into the closet and returned wearing only a pair of dark jeans, smirking at you with his hands behind his back.

“Being a little shit?” you asked.

“One of my best qualities,” he said. You hummed and went past him into the closet. “So what should I be wearing on this date out?”

“I’m kinda a sucker for you a henley and flannel. Not to let that go to your head at all,” you said.

“Oh you should never watch Supernatural then,” he chuckled, grabbing a long sleeve white henley off the hanger and pulling it on.

“I did sort of start watching it,” you said. “You look like a little baby that hadn’t hit puberty yet.”

“I got better with age, sweetheart,” he said, flashing you a wink.

“Oh yes you did,” you said. “I like it. It’s kinda scary but not too bad if you watch during the day.”

“It gets less scary pretty fast,” he said, putting on his red and gray flannel. “I all set?”

“You look very pretty,” you said, walking out with him on your tail. “So does the show end happy? Like they live? It’s got this angsty feel to it where I feel like something bad is gonna happen.”

“Do you want me to spoil it?”

“Dean doesn’t like die, right,” you said. He made a face and you frowned. “No. Why? He doesn’t deserve that.”

“Eh, calm yourself woman. Things could happen in the future...he might not have to die...or he might come back and I really shouldn’t be discussing these things.”

“You’d do more?” you asked.

“Oh for sure. On a streaming network where we get to do all the shit we couldn’t on cable. Get some fresh eyes in on the writing or maybe we’d even take a crack at it. It’s not really an if, more of a when so don’t go worrying about Dean. I like my new friends at work and everybody’s great but I miss Jared and my old ones. I’m definitely working with them again.”

“That’s great! Now come on, move that tush. We have reservations.”

“Reservations. Fancy,” he said. He put on a pair of socks and shoved his wallet in his pocket, following you out to the hall when you spun around. 

“Oh yeah,” you smirked. “You may also have a little birthday surprise waiting for your downstairs so eyes shut mister.”

“You’re devious. I like that. I like that a lot. We should explore that later in bed.”

“Tempting. I’ll have to take you up on that,” you said. “Eyes shut.”

You held his hand and he shut his eyes, going down the hall with you. You went slowly down the steps, Jensen’s arm around you the whole time. You grinned and walked him over to the family room before leaving him in place.

“Open,” you said. He blinked open his eyes, quickly landing them on a grinning Jared standing there.

“How the hell are you here?” said Jensen, Jared giving him a big hug he quickly returned. “Shit I missed you man.”

“Me too. But it’s someone’s birthday this week and I don’t have work tomorrow so I caught a flight up this afternoon. Y/N thought I’d make a good present.”

“Fucking awesome present,” he said, still grinning ear to ear. 

“You doing okay?” asked Jared, Jensen nodding. He gave him another hug and you smiled. “So how’s that crush on the nanny working out?”

“Shut up,” said Jensen, smirking as he pulled you into his side. “Jared. I know you guys met already but Y/N is your soon to be best friend just as an fyi.”

“Oh we’ve already started chatting,” you said, Jared chuckling. “He’s really sweet. I had to legit stop him from jumping on a plane that second when I texted him he thought something was wrong.”

“I think between the two of us we can keep an eye on him,” said Jared. “So you mind if I crash your date?”

“Not at all,” you said. “I’m taking both you boys out. My treat.”

“I’ll be back in a minute,” said Jensen two hours later while he excused himself to the bathroom. Jared finished off the last of his beer and smiled as he leaned back in his corner of the booth. 

“You know I’m totally covering this right,” he said.

“Dutch?” you asked.

“I’ll take the alcohol, you take the food.”

“That I can agree to,” you said, glancing over the dessert menu. “I’m really happy you were able to come up to hang out. I know you got your own family and everything and this was last minute.”

“He’s my family too,” he said. “I’d do anything for him. Literally. Don’t ever hesitate to call me, no matter when or where. I’ll be there for him like he’s always been for me.”

“I’m not sure I’ve ever seen a smile on his face like that before.”

“I have. You just didn’t notice that night at the bonfire.” You shrugged and he cocked his head. “How long you two been dating?”

“A month or so,” you said. 

“You like him?”

“He’s alright,” you said, smiling before you took a sip from your glass. 

“Thanks for taking care of him lately.”

“Don’t need to thank me for that,” you said, sliding the dessert menu over to him.

“Yeah but I’m still going to,” he said. “I meant what I said earlier. Between the two of us he’ll be okay again.”

“He’s never gonna be the same. He’ll be happy and it won’t hurt as much. But it’ll come back and hit him time to time.”

“There’s a reason he’s my best friend and it’s not just because we worked together for so long. He’s always been there for me and I’ll be there for him. I feel better about him being up here when he’s got someone else watching his back.”

“You had the hard job, not me,” you said.

“He’s come a long way. Doesn’t mean this is a cakewalk though I’m sure.”

“No, you’re right about that,” you said as you spotted Jensen returning.

“You guys order dessert yet?” he asked, sliding in beside you.

“Why doesn’t the birthday boy pick,” teased Jared, handing the menu over to him. “You guys ought to come home for a weekend when you get a chance.”

“It’s kinda a long way to go with the kids for just a few days,” said Jensen. “But we’ll be home soon. Hopefully.”

“I can get you a gig on Walker anytime you want it dude, just ask.”

“Maybe. I kinda want to get with the guys and maybe work on that Supernatural stuff. I need good stuff to look forward to, you know?”

“I do,” said Jared. “As long as you come home eventually I’ll learn to live with just using your jet skis in the meantime.”

“See what I’ve been dealing with for over a decade?” asked Jensen.

“Oh yes. He’s horrible,” you teased. “We really shouldn’t have him sleepover then, should we?”

“You’re staying at the house?” asked Jensen with a grin.

“Duh. I didn’t just fly a thousand miles to not see you dude. I’m here all weekend. Let’s have some fun.”

“Boys I’m heading to bed,” you said around two in the morning. 

“Yeah we ought to go to bed ourselves,” said Jared.

“I’ll grab you some sheets and stuff,” said Jensen. You waved goodnight to Jared, heading down the hall towards your room when Jensen wrapped an arm around your waist. “I thought you were gonna sleep with me from now on.”

“I am. Want to check something real quick.”

“Hurry back,” he said. He kissed your temple and ducked into his room, leaving you in the hall. You went down to your own and checked your email, smirking when you saw what you were looking for. A rattling of fingers on the door made you glance up, Jensen smiling there. “Texting your other boyfriend?”

“No, I sort of...submitted one of my stories to a publisher. They’ve been talking to me this week and said they’d get back to me today on if they wanted to move forward. They want to do a five book deal. I already have the stories done and mostly drawn anyways. They gave me an offer just now.”

“That’s awesome,” he said. “Seriously. We’re gonna celebrate tomorrow for sure.”

“It’s no big deal,” you said.

“It really is,” he said. He picked you up and grinned, carrying you back to his room. “I’m proud of you.”

“They’re stupid stories,” you said.

“I love those stupid stories,” he said, setting you on the bed. “The kids do too.”

“You’re just saying that cause you’re supposed to say that.” You set your phone on the nightstand and crawled under the covers, Jensen pulling you into his chest when het got underneath.

“My children think their mom is really okay now. They don’t get sad anymore and they ask questions about her again and I don’t want to cry every time I talk about her because your story reminded me that the wolf dad can be happy again for him too. That’s really fucking important to me right now in life.”

“Okay Papa Wolf,” you said. You grinned and he returned it. “Night Jensen.”

“Goodnight sweetheart.”

Two Months Later

“Hey Jared,” you said as you answered your phone. “What’s up?”

“Jensen at work?”

“Yeah. Late night again,” you said. “He’s answering texts between breaks I think.”

“Cool,” he said.

“You need something?” you asked. 

“No, no. I’m good,” he said. “Thanks. I’ll catch you later.”

“You doing okay?” you asked.

“Yeah. Just want to talk to him for a minute,” he said. He was a little quiet and you sat down on the couch. 

“You want to talk to me?” you asked.

“That’s okay.”

“Jared...Jensen and I are starting to get serious which means we’re gonna be together a lot considering how you two can’t go more than a day without talking. We can be good friends too,” you said. He was quiet and you hoped you hadn’t sounded too corny.

“I uh, I have bad days sometimes. Really normal days can be bad days in my head. It’s kinda how I was built I guess,” he said. 

“Nothing wrong with that,” you said. “Today a bad day?”

“Kinda. Nothing happened. I had a normal day at work and home. I’m just off. He um...Jensen makes me feel better as lame as that sounds. Just talking for a few minutes helps my head get on track that somebody really does care.”

“He’s very good like that,” you said. “I know you mean the world to him. You’re his brother. It’s not lame that he makes you feel better. You make him feel better too. I owe you a lot for taking care of him after the accident.”

“I much prefer when I’m the one freaking out and he takes care of me,” chuckled Jared. “You guys coming home soon?”

“He’s got a few weeks left of filming but I might head down a little earlier, try to get the house sorted out down there with the kids and stuff,” you said. “He’s literally counting down the days.”

“He really likes working on the show though I thought.”

“Oh he does but he’s got a big circle on the calendar for the fifthteenth called Jared day. I think your boy is planning something fun.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” he said. “You mind if I ask a personal question?”

“Shoot, buddy,” you said, stretching in your seat.

“Do you love him?” he asked. 

“Going full throttle out of the gate I see,” you said.

“I know. I know how he talks about you though. There’s no...casual relationship with him.”

“Well I haven’t said it to him yet and he hasn’t said it to me so...maybe another time I’ll be able to answer that question.”

“It’s been almost four months. You get to spend more time together than most couples starting out. I’d think you know by now,” he said.

“I do. But he deserves to hear it before anyone else,” you said. 

“So you love him.”

“Most things I love have a habit of going away,” you said. 

“He won’t,” he said. “You do more than make him happy, Y/N. A lot more.”

“I just wish he didn’t hurt.”

“He hurts a lot less lately. Some of that’s time and some of it’s you. Enjoy being one of his best friends. He doesn’t let that many people in that close.”

“I know. We were supposed to be talking about you I thought.”

“Eh, sometimes I just need the talk. Thanks. I got somebody else I can call now too.”

“It’s never a problem,” you said.

“It’s getting late there. I’ll let you go. Thanks for talking, really. I feel better.”

“Anytime Jared.”

“You too, Y/N.”

Three Weeks Later

“Doug you’re a lifesaver,” you said as finished washing Jensen’s truck in the driveway back home in Austin. He smiled as he wiped off his hands and gave Arrow a wave goodbye. 

“I owed you for that 3am incident,” he said. “You got easy kids. Mine are vultures.”

“Yes, yes they are,” you laughed. He gave you a kiss on the check and smiled as he headed back for his car, another one coming down the open driveway. “Later Doug.”

“Later,” he said. Jensen exited the back of the car along with his backpack and a suitcase, the car pulling out, Doug following after.

“Hey. How was the flight?” you asked.

“Who was that?” he asked, dropping his bags on the pavement.

“Oh that’s just Doug. He’s a nanny. I needed an extra set of hands today watching the kids trying to finish up these chores before you got home and it was perfect timing,” you said. You smirked and walked over to kiss him, Jensen taking a step back. “Something wrong?”

“You kissed him.”

“No. I didn’t. He kissed my cheek,” you said. Jensen narrowed his eyes and you scoffed, wiping the sweat off your forehead. “Seriously? He’s my friend.”

“That kisses you.”

“He’s affectionate,” you said. “Also he’s kinda married so you can tone it down with the judgemental looks.”

“Oh. I’m sorry. You’re right. You should be able to kiss whoever you want despite being in a relationship,” he said. He grabbed his bags and brushed past you inside. You grumbled and went after him, finding him upstairs in his room. “What?”

“What stick is up your ass today? I haven’t seen you in almost three weeks. None of us have and you’re in a bad mood.”

“I was perfectly happy until I saw you kissing somebody else.”

“I wasn’t kissing him!”

“It didn’t look like that from my perspective.”

“Jensen.”

“Is this just a little game to you? You get bored of the older guy with kids finally?” he asked, crossing his arms. “Or maybe you just got caught finally.”

“I don’t cheat,” you said, getting in his face. “He kissed my cheek. I’ll call him to come back and explain this situation right now but I apparently you just think I’m a cheater.”

“Well maybe you are. Geez, we’ve been together over four months and no real sex yet? Cause that’s not sending red flags.”

“Because you weren’t fucking ready!” you shouted. “I’m not your wife and I’m never gonna be her. Don’t be mad at me for it.”

“No that’s for sure,” he said.

“The kids are in the front yard. Don’t expect me back today,” you said. You stormed downstairs and into your room, shoving some things in a bag before taking your purse and getting behind the wheel of your car. 

You were seeing red by the time you were out of the suburbs. You slammed your hand against the wheel and shouted.

“You fucking asshole,” you said. You sniffled and drove for a bit before finally pulling off. You drove down a long road, rolling your eyes when of course you passed by his brewery. You’d never been but he’d told you about it more than once. You kept going down the road, eventually finding a park to pull into. You shut off the car and shut your eyes, a knock on the window making you jump. You put down your window when you saw a cop there and did your best to wipe off your face.

“You’re double parked,” he said. 

“What?”

“You’re parked on the line,” he said. 

“Sorry,” you said. 

“Bad day?” he asked.

“Something like that,” you said. You could feel snot threatening to drip down your nose, the officer reaching into a pocket and handing you a tissue. “Thanks.”

“Best not to drive when you’re upset,” he said.

“Yeah. I’m just gonna sit here for a little while,” you said with a nod.

“Probably not a great idea to sit in a car next a playground,” he said. “The mom’s are kinda intense around here.”

“Of course they are,” you said, squeezing your eyes shut.

“Why don’t you move your car and you can join me on my patrol,” he said. “It’s only a short walk. Fresh air might do you good.”

“Last time I talked to another man my boyfriend sorta freaked out on me so maybe not a good idea,” you said. You blew your nose and realized what you’d said, the officer staring down. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Why don’t we take that walk so I can find out what you did mean.”

Two minutes later you were walking next to the cop. He had a baseball cap on and was in all black. You weren’t sure how he wasn’t boiling considering it was May in Austin.

“This boyfriend got a name?”

“You gonna run his name or something?” you asked.

“Do I need to?” he asked. You shook your head and he smiled. “He the jealous type? He get angry over you talking to other men?”

“It’s complicated.”

“If it doesn’t get uncomplicated I might have to pay this boyfriend a visit you understand.”

“His wife died last June.”

“Okay. I understand part of the complicated thing now.”

“Why’s he gotta be a dick? Called me a cheater,” you said. You crossed your arms and the cop chuckled. “Sorry.”

“As long as you don’t call me a dick we don’t got a problem. Did you cheat on him?”

“No. He...he works away and he just got home today and my guy friend was over helping me with watching my boyfriends kids while I did some chores and my guy friend is like, a really affectionate guy and he kissed my cheek as my boyfriend was coming in and my boyfriend thinks I was kissing him back and been cheating on him for the past three weeks.”

“Why don’t you just call the guy friend over to explain?”

“He got so pissed so fast and accused me of cheating. I’ve been dating him for nearly five months and he brings up the fact we haven’t had sex yet like that even matters when I’ve been holding back for him and he just blows up on me for fucking nothing,” you said.

“You’re both stubborn people, aren’t ya,” he said.

“Maybe,” you grumbled.

“Maybe this guy is scared and looking for a way out of the relationship. Or maybe he thinks you want out. You mentioned kids. That’s not easy.”

“He’s also...older. There’s an age gap. I was the nanny and now I’m the girlfriend nanny. He’s also kinda...famous,” you said.

“So there’s a lot of stress in this relationship then.”

“No,” you said, dropping your arms to your sides. “It’s not like that.”

“Maybe the dumb bastard just got scared of losing someone again,” he said. “Just a theory.”

“I wish he wasn’t scared,” you said. “I don’t know how to make him not afraid.”

“You ever think maybe he said that because you’re getting in there pretty good now and he’s getting real scared that losing you might hurt just as bad as this wife did.”

“He’s an idiot. But he’s my idiot,” you said. 

“Talk to him. Get an apology and try to forgive him.”

“I already forgive him. I know him. He was scared and I got mad instead of realizing after so many weeks apart all he needed was a freaking hug.”

“Then go home and give him a hug,” he said.

“Thanks,” you said with a nod. “I must have looked like a hot mess or something.”

“Oh for sure,” he chuckled. You smiled and he laughed. “That looks better.”

“Jensen probably left like five messages on my phone by now,” you said. The cop you were with paused and smiled. “What?”

“A kinda famous Jensen. There’s really only one of those in town,” he said.

“Oh. Yeah. Please don’t share that he’s dating. He really wants to keep things private for a lot of reasons right now,” you said.

“He’s my buddy.”

“Your buddy?”

“We went to school together,” he said. “In tenth grade he went for a slide on second base, ripped his pants right down the middle. His hanes bright blue covered ass still managed to get around to home base.”

“He split his pants in a baseball game?” you smiled.

“I know quite a few of his dirty secrets,” he said. “I don’t really know that whole acting thing but him I know and that must make you Y/N. You ever in trouble kid, ever just got a bad feeling and want a cop to come by, give me a call.”

“Thanks,” you said as you took his card. “You really think he’s a dumb bastard?”

“Oh knowing it’s him, 100%. Give him a break. We like him when he smiles,” he said.

“I’m gonna give him a call,” you said. “We should hang out sometime now that Jensen has a break.”

“Definitely. I gotta finish my patrol,” he said. “Take care Y/N.”

“Bye,” you said as you headed back towards your car. You pulled out your phone and saw seven missed calls and twelve unread texts. You tapped the screen and put the phone up to your ear, only ringing for a second.

“I’m sorry,” said Jensen.

“Me too.”

“I’m the one that...shit I’m so sorry, Y/N. I don’t know what happened.”

“You missed me and you were scared and seeing Doug probably hurt like a bitch,” you said.

“I’m so sorry. I don’t want to be the stupid jealous boyfriend.”

“I’m not too far from your brewery if you want to meet there. Get a beer. Blow this over,” you said.

“I’m sorry.”

“I forgive you. Stop apologizing. I want to give you a hug,” you said. 

“I’ll meet you there in thirty minutes?” he asked.

“I’ll see you soon honey.”

“Hi,” said Jensen as you sat at a quiet table in the back, sipping on a beer and eating a piece of pizza. You smiled and stood up, giving him a hug. He tucked his head down and sighed. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey we survived our first big fight as a couple,” you said. “That deserves beer and pizza.”

He sat down next to you, forcing a smile on his face. You reached over and cupped his cheek, Jensen turning into it. 

“Please forgive yourself,” you said.

“I don’t really want to,” he said.

“You called me a cheater. I get what I want today and that’s for you to forgive yourself.”

“I don’t know why I said that.”

“Jensen,” you said, stroking his cheek. “I love you.”

He stared at you, a different look in his eyes, the tiniest sliver of a smile peeking through. You inched closer and slid your hand around to the back of his neck, pulling him into a kiss. He felt softer than usual, lips barely moving against yours. 

“I love you,” he said. He wrapped his arms around you and grinned. “I have loved you for a very long time.” You kissed him again, Jensen returning it. 

He left his arm around your back, smirking when you did the same to him.

“Can we forget about earlier?” you asked. He nodded and rested his head on your shoulder.

“One last I’m sorry though,” he said.

“Just don’t call me that again and we’re all good, Jens,” you said. “Now eat some of this pizza so I don’t feel like a glutton.”

“I don’t have to slip into a superhero costume any more so dad bod here I come,” he chuckled.

“Does that mean Solider Boy meets some untimely end?”

“No spoilers,” he said. “But I don’t think I’ll be going back to that show. At least as often. I know I want to direct an episode of walker in the fall. I talked to Jared about it actually so that’ll be fun. I might do a duck and run guest appearance on it. I’ll line up something for next year but I want to be home for awhile, do work around here.” 

“I know quite a few people who would be more than okay with that,” you said. 

“Don’t make any plans for Saturday,” he smirked.

“I thought you were having your Jared day tomorrow.”

“Oh we are. Gen invited you and the kids over. She’d like to get to know you. You’ll love her,” he said.

“So what’s Saturday then?” you asked.

“I’d like to take you and the kids out on the boat. We haven’t been since before the accident. Maybe we can go out for dinner and put up the tent in the backyard, have a sleepover out there with the kids.”

“That sounds fun.”

“And...I’d like to maybe next week take you out for the day, just us, maybe...spend the night somewhere,” he said.

“Like a hotel?” you asked.

“Yeah. Or the kids can have a sleepover at Jared’s. Maybe.” He glanced down and you moved your arm from his back, reaching behind yourself to hold his hand. Green eyes flickered over to yours and you smiled. “I’m-”

“You know if you keep apologizing about earlier I’m not going to have sex with you,” you said. “That’s just facts.”

“Okay,” he chuckled. “No more apologies. Aside from...I really am sorry about what I said. I’m the one that’s been holding back and not once have you asked for more.”

“We said we’d take it slow and that’s okay,” you said. He squeezed your hand and nodded. “I don’t like you because you’re attractive or your hair is great or your arms are massive. Having fun with you is fun but that’s not why I’m here.”

“I don’t know if I can give you things you want,” he said.

“Just give me you and that’s good with me,” you said.

“Okay,” he said quietly. You scooted closer to him, Jensen tucking a stray hair behind your ear. “Let’s do it now.”

“Uh, what?” you said, taking a sip from your beer.

“The kids aren’t home and I don’t want to wait and-”

“You don’t have to ask me twice,” you said, knocking back your beer and flipping the cardboard down over your pizza. He stared and you burped, picking up the box. “There’s like six slices left and this is too good to waste, even for sex.”

“You have literally never been more attractive than in this moment,” he said. 

“I could be.”

“I’ll see you at the house in twenty?”

“Yes you will Ackles.”

Forty minutes later you hand was slapping against his headboard, legs squeezed so tight around his waist you were shocked he wasn’t complaining. You moaned loudly as he teased your clit and he delivered one more hard thrust. He grunted as you gripped his shoulder with your other hand.

“Jensen,” you breathed out. “I’m right there. Please, please, please…”

You arched your back when he thrust hard, fingers rubbing just a bit rougher and you came all around him, every muscle tensed and riding out that high, long, deep, absolutely perfect orgasm. Jensen thrust a few more times before he groaned and rested his head on your shoulder, big panting breaths fanning over your skin. 

He was sweaty but pulled out slowly, plopping down on the bed beside you, hand resting on his chest.

“I don’t know about you but that was good,” he said. “Damn good.”

You giggled between breaths, nodding your head slightly. You tilted it over towards his, Jensen already staring at you with soft hooded green eyes. 

“Definitely damn good,” you breathed. His lips tugged up into a smile, warm and gentle, his head inching closer to you. You sat up and leaned down to kiss him, Jensen breaking off when he needed air. You trailed a finger down his chest before climbing out of bed and excusing yourself to the bathroom. After you cleaned up you found Jensen chucking the condom in the trash and wiping himself off quickly. 

“Come here you,” he said. He picked you up bridal style and carried you back to the bed, laying you down carefully. “I’m big on after sex cuddling just so you know.”

“I find that to be a very attractive quality,” you said as he lay down. He reached down to the end of the bed and grabbed the bunched up blanket, pulling it over the two of you. His arm slid under your head and he pulled you into his side, encouraging you to use him as a pillow. “You’re warm.”

“So are you,” he said. He kissed your temple and let out a deep breath. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“I never thought I’d be able to do that ever again. Let alone not feel bad about doing it,” he said.

“You okay?”

“I’m great,” he said. “Really. I know Dee would have been telling me to not worry so I didn’t. I don’t...I feel like I can talk about her again, you know?”

“You used to call her your wife a lot. Recently you’ve been saying her name more. I think you really are healing, Jensen.”

“I knew the second you left earlier I messed up. I dropped the kids off at Jared’s and then I wound up at the cemetery. I saw these purple flowers there. It’s kinda a different flower but they were her favorite. I’ve only ever told one other person those were her favorites,” he said. You traced your finger over his pec and rested your palm flat on his chest. “Why’d you put flowers there?”

“Why wouldn’t I Jensen?”

“That’s how I knew I can stop being so scared when it comes to you. Purple fucking flowers. You’re just…”

“I love you too,” you said, giving his whole body a squeeze. He returned it, holding you for a long time, neither one of you saying a word. It wasn’t until you noticed the light starting to change in the room that you both moved. 

“Y/N,” said Jensen when you sat upright. You looked over your shoulder, a smile on his face. “Do you want to stay upstairs with me from now on instead of your room? It’s okay if-”

“I’d love to,” you said. “To be honest, I slept up here the other night.”

“You did?” he asked as you nodded.

“I missed you.”

“Me too,” he said.

“I know three little faces that really missed you too,” you said. He smiled and nodded. “Let’s go get the rascals.”

______

A/N: Read Part 9 here!

[simpingfortheages]

//OUT OF ALL THE THINGS// part 4

Miss Venable x Fem Reader.

Tw: Motherly love??, Manipulation.

You were excited for  the weekend to arrive. However Julia's words were stuck in your head. Your father never really did talk to you much.  It was no secret, almost everyone knew about it.

He was never a big part of your life anyway, the only person who matter to you was really your mother.

Speaking of your mother she was coming to visit you today. You ensured that your place was as best as it can be.

Julia wasn't entirely wrong, It wasn't your parents that sent you away. It was your mother. She wanted a better life for you, so when you turned 17 she scraped up all the money she could to send you to college. She was the reason you had this apartment to call home.

Occasionally she sends you money to sustain yourself, she writes to you monthly. From before it was weekly but due to her new job she has been frequently occupied.

Last week she wrote that she was coming to stay for the weekend. At the back of your mind you wanted to ask her to stay longer but you knew it wasn't her choice. Her boss was an asshole but she only tolerated because the pay was honestly quite good.

From a waitess to a busy business woman. You were proud of her.

3 loud consecutive knocks *knock knock knock*

Well now or never, you haven't seen your mom in 2 years.

With excited yet nervous hands you open the door to welcome her. It would be a lie to say that you almost closed the door in her face. If it wasn't for the fact that she hugged you and called you by your nickname you wouldn't have known it was her.

She was all dressed up in a professional black pencil skirt and a loose white blouse with a wire Bluetooth ear piece stuck to the side of her face.

"Mom?" you questioned as you pulled away from the hug.

"Just a sec honey" she told you as she spoke into the earpiece about some business transaction.

Sigh....

After about 5 minutes of her yelling, she finally won whatever argument she was having.  You could have told since she had a satisfying smile lingering on her lips as she turned to face you.

"Ohh there you are baby.  I've missed you so much" her arms wrapped around you once more.

"Look at how you've grown.  I hated the fact that you never sent pictures of yourself like I asked you too. " She frowned a bit.

"Then it would have ruined the surprise of how beautiful I got" your snarky comment got a small whack on the arm as well as a soft chuckle from your mom...how you missed that sound.

"I have to tell you something baby" the smile that you created on her lips fell.

She guided you to the small makeshift living room you created. "Don't be mad at me.  It wasn't my choice. I didn't have  time to tell you but I can't spend time with you today...or this weekend. I'm not even supposed to be here. I got the call on the way here on the plane. "

You didn't have have to speak, your body language did that for you.  Your posture slouched and allowed your body to sink into the couch.  You weren't mad at her, it was her asshole of the boss.

"Well can we atleast eat dinner together ?"

"Yes baby of course we can"  She brushed the stray hairs from your face.

"Do you have anywhere to stay? do you want to bunk with me?" You blurted out one question after the next.

"Muffin I have to leave to the next state at 6 so it didn't make sense I packed any clothes to stay. "

"oh..." she cupped your face and kissed your forehead pulling you back into a tight hug, "I really am sorry y/n if I could change this.  I would.  You're my baby and always will be."

------ time skip-------

"Have you decided on what to order?" your mother flipped through the menu.

"Mom no. And get off the phone.  You're worse than me." you laughed as you plucked the device from her hand.

"I need that! Next thing my flight leaves me. "

"Terrible Terrible lie. Your flight leaves in 4 hours and the airport is 45 minutes away, 1 hour of you count traffic" You completely trashed her excuse.

"Okay okay you got me , I was waiting for a call from a friend. " She said smiling at you

"Ouuuuu a 'friend'?" you made emphasis with air quotes.

"Yes." she laughed "and no, not like that no. I'm way too busy for a relationship."

"Iffff youuuu sayyyy soooo" you mocked her in a sing sing voice.

The dinner you spent with your mother was something that you treasured.

You were in the middle of winning  your mouth with a napkin until you felt your mother's phone vibrate under your elbow that was resting in the table.

"Ouuu that's them , give me the phone" She urged you as she pushed her empty plate of Alfredo away to the end of the c table.

With a simple roll of your eyes you unwillingly have her the phone. "Hello you're here already?" she spoke with glee on her voice.

Who tf is that?

"Are you sure you're okay with the arrangement you can tell me right now if you want to back out?"

You know you shouldn't be spying but again it was her own fault for answering her phone in the middle of spending time with you.

"Okay great come in we're in  a booth not to far from the kitchen" she smiled as she placed her phone on the table.

A loud satisfactory sigh left her lips.

"Ummm tf was that mom? Aren't you going to tell me?" Your face contorted with confusion.

"Right well... I should tell you that. I have studied the neighborhood in which you decided to live in and I didn't like it.  So I made arrangements for you to live elsewhere."

"Mom. What the fuck?" You yelled at her.

"Young lady Don't speak to me like that.  I am paying everything for you.  I have sacrificed so much to get you this far in life."

Your mouth twisted in an unpleasant manner.

" What is the arrangement you made?"

" You're staying with one of my colleagues and for your benefit they live closer to your university."

You were disgusted at your mother. You hated to even think it but you wanted her to leave.

" Oh there she is. BE NICE!" she whispered harshly to you as she looked over your shoulder to meet whoever jt was.

Your mother quickly left the booth leaving you by yourself. It took everything on you not yo hey up and ditch.

" Well well if it isn't  Ms y/n."

WHAT. THE FUCKING. ACTUAL FUCKING FUCK????.

You didn't even try to hide your surprise as you turned your head to face the woman you hated.

Miss Venable was Standing next to your mother . Smiling. SMILING!! you swore you yourself that the woman didn't even have teeth since she never showed it.

" Y/N, Ms Venable.  Ms Venable, y/n" your mother seemed oblivious to the whole situation.

" Oh we are well acquainted with one another. " Ms Venable dark lips pulled into a tight smile.

You felt sick. Out of all the things and people.

"No fucking way " was all you said out loud at the two women.

part 5

[drabbles-mc]

Tempting Offer

EZ Reyes x OFC (Aanya Reyes)

Request by @garbinge: Ok and 43 with whoever your heart desires as well cause I’m a sucker for a good ol true love trope (from This List)

Warnings: so much fluff

Word Count: 3.3k

A/N: I’m still not out of my writing slump. Still got a lot going on. But Anj sent me this request literal months ago and it’s been living in my brain ever since. Plus, I haven’t updated Remind Me in a hot minute so I figured doing a fluffy little prequel/spinoff would be a nice change of pace for a story that is so heavy with angst haha. I have a future chapter planned that actually references what happens in this story, so I’m excited to be able to share the real context for it all with you guys. Hope you enjoy! xo

EZ Reyes/Remind Me Taglist: @ly--canthrope @noz4a2 @queenbeered @sincerelyasomebody @sadeyesgf @thesandbeneathmytoes @appropriate-writers-name @tomhardydallasstarsgirl @kelpies-shed @louisianalady @gemini0410 @paintballkid711 @chibsytelford @yourwonkywriter @sesamepancakes @mayans-sauce @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @plentyoffandoms @georgiaaintnopeach @twistnet @themoonandthewicked @bucky-iss-bae @enjoy-the-destruction @encounterthepast @everyhowlmarksthedead @rosieposie0624 @mylittlelonelyappreciationtoo @mijop @xladymacbethx @blessedboo @holl2712 @lakamaa12 @masterlistforimagines @kkim120 @toni9 @shadow-of-wonder @crowfootwrites @redpoodlern @punkgoddess-98 @black-repunzel99 @lexondeck @mrsstevenbuchananstark @berniesilvas @lovebishoplosamiguelgalindo @amorestevens @angelreyesisdaddy04​ @samcrobae​ @langiinspirations​ @bigcreatorwombatdreamer​ @lightblindingme​ 

She knew who was at the door before she’d even heard the knock. She laughed as she made her way through her apartment, trying to slide her earring into place as she did. Pausing in front of her door, she took a moment to take a deep breath and get herself mentally prepared. It wasn’t their first date, but she still had the jitters as though it was.

Undoing the chain on the apartment door, she pulled it open. EZ was standing on the other side, hands hooked onto his belt since he hadn’t worn his kutte this time. Without a second thought his eyes scanned her over, a smile immediately taking over his features the longer that he looked at her.

“You look beautiful,” he nodded.

She bit down on her lip for a moment, her face heating up at the compliment, “Thank you,” stepping back, she waved for him to come in, “You can come in, I just gotta grab my shoes and purse and I’ll be good to go.”

“Take your time,” he lingered close to the door, glancing around her apartment.

It was the first time he’d ever stepped inside. He’d picked her up and dropped her off the last few times they went out, but he never went past the threshold of her place. She didn’t necessarily offer, and he wasn’t going to push it if she wasn’t ready or comfortable. However, as he stood there and looked around her living room and into what he could see of the kitchen, it seemed exactly like the kind of place she would live. It also made him very nervous to ever have her over at his trailer. Her apartment felt so fresh, all warm colors and walls covered with bookshelves. The one big set of windows that she had, had a bench with a few plants on it that were coming along well for being in a small apartment.

“Alright,” she was pulling the back of her shoe over her heel as she half walked, half hopped towards him. Standing upright as she landed in front of him, she flashed him a smile, “I’m ready.”

“You sure?” he chuckled.

“Positive,” she motioned for him to open the door, both of them walking through before she turned to lock it behind them. As she followed him, tucking her keys into her purse, she asked, “So do I get to know where we’re going tonight? Or is it a big surprise?”

He smiled at her as they walked down the flight of stairs to the ground floor of her apartment building, “It’s not a big secret.”

“Are we taking the bike?”

He shook his head, “It’s within walking distance.”

“Ooo,” she smiled over at him, “now you’ve got my attention.”

As the two of them walked along the sidewalk, EZ listened with genuine interest as Aanya recounted her day to him. He reveled in her stories of new books that she’d gotten into, and strange customers that she’d encountered during her day. Although if EZ was being honest with himself, he would have sat there and listened to her read every page of the phone book and he still would’ve kept his interest. She had more love in her words than most people had in their entire bodies, and he was captivated.

He stopped outside the door to a small diner, smiling over at Aanya before pulling the door open for her, “Right this way.”

Her face lit up, “I haven’t been here yet!” she walked through the door and turned around to face him, “I always meant to come here and just never made the time.”

EZ nodded as the two of them walked and found a booth to sit in, “My pops is really good friends with the woman who owns the place—she’s been buying from him for years.”

“You know,” Aanya casually flipped through the menu, “I’ve been to your father’s shop plenty of times and I’ve never seen you there.”

The statement got him to look up from the menu, “You’ve been to the shop?”

She laughed, looking over at him, “Of course. Only butcher in town, Ezekiel.”

“He’s never mentioned that he sees you.”

“Something tells me your father isn’t one for gossip,” she laughed for a moment before she paused, “You talked to him about me?” her lips curled into a smile.

“Well,” he drummed his fingers on the tabletop as he bit back a shy smile, “yea. Of course.”

They’d long since finished their dinner, but the two of them were perfectly content to just sit at the table and talk. The waitress knew EZ well enough and she very casually brought over coffee for each of them when she saw how good of a time the two of them were having. It’d been a long time since she saw EZ bring anyone around, let along someone who had him smiling the way that he was.

“I just can’t believe,” Aanya laughed between sips of her coffee, “that I’ve already met your brother. I should’ve known! I should’ve known that was him.”

“Why would you have known?” EZ chuckled.

“Because he was at your father’s shop! And he had on, you know the,” she gestured vaguely to her shoulders and chest, “the vest.”

EZ smiled, “The kutte?”

“Yes!” she pointed at him and nodded, “The kutte.”

“I feel like maybe I should mention that not everyone in a Mayans kutte is a Reyes brother. Angel just so happens to be both.”

She chuckled, nodding, “I figured that much.”

“I think Pop would lose his mind if there were any more of us,” he smiled.

Aanya laughed, “I think Felipe is usually on the brink of losing his mind anyway.”

“Raising Angel will do that to you,” he replied without missing a beat, both of them laughing.

“I’m sure you weren’t a cakewalk either, Ezekiel.”

“Well what makes you say that?” he leaned back in the booth, feigning offense before giving in and laughing.

Shaking her head and taking a moment to finish her coffee, she replied, “Your very sweet and handsome smile doesn’t fool me, EZ. I’m sure you’re just as much of a troublemaker as your brother.”

“You think I’m handsome?” he smirked.

Laughing, she nodded, “Of course I do.”

The two of them walked back to Aanya’s apartment. Along the way she’d casually linked her arm with his, leaning against his side as they walked. EZ tried not to get too lost in the sensation of it, trying to focus on what she was saying to him. He was trying to focus but there was something so comfortable, so right, about the feeling of her leaning into him the way that she was.

They made their way up the stairs, and EZ leaned against the wall next to her door as he watched her slip the key into the lock. The smile on his face was practically a permanent feature whenever he was with her, and it had been a long time since someone made him feel that way.

“I had a really good time tonight, Ezekiel,” Aanya leaned against her doorframe with a smile.

He adored the way his name sounded coming from her. With a slight nod, he replied, “Me too.”

“I’ll give you a call tomorrow when I’m done with work?”

“Yea, yea that works,” he reached forward and gently slid his hand into hers, “Let me know if any of the new deliveries look any good.”

“I always think they look good,” she chuckled, “If you want a real critic’s opinion, you should come in and talk to Laura. It’s…it’s hard for me to find a book I don’t like.”

“If you want, I can bring you some pretty terrible books.”

Rolling her eyes, she laughed, “Tempting offer, but I’ll pass.”

“Alright, but you’re missing out.”

“I guess I’ll have to live the rest of my life knowing that,” she laughed, shaking her head. Looking up and meeting his gaze, her smile softened, “Thank you for tonight. Get home safe, okay?”

“Always do,” he smiled before lifting her hand up and pressing a light kiss to her knuckles, “Talk to you tomorrow.”

Standing up onto her toes, she placed a brief kiss on his cheek, “Goodnight, Ezekiel.”

“Goodnight,” he smiled as she walked through the door and closed it behind her. Taking a deep breath, he forced himself not to linger as he made his way back down the stairs, replaying the night over in his head with a smile.

The next morning, both EZ and Angel had shown up to the carnicería first thing to help Felipe with a large delivery. Angel had immediately gotten on his little brother’s case when he saw what a good mood he was in. EZ had always been the biggest morning person out of the three men, but even with that being true he still seemed peppier than usual. After a lot of questioning from Angel as they carried in one box after another, he caved and told them about his date from the night before.

Angel shook his head, wiping sweat from his brow, “No way. No way she’s real, bro. I just don’t buy it.”

“What do you mean you don’t buy it?” EZ laughed and shook his head, “She literally stops here all the time. She’s seen you here!” he gestured to the shop in its entirety.

“Really?” Angel seem perplexed, “She talk to me before?”

“I’m assuming not if you don’t remember.”

“Not everyone’s got a memory like yours, Boy Scout.”

“Nah, but you’d remember her.”

Angel rolled his eyes, mocking his brother, “You’d remember her. Jesus, EZ. Two dates with this girl and you’re already in love with her?”

“Four dates.”

“But who’s counting?” Angel smirked, “Look, I’m very happy for you and your very real girlfriend.”

EZ gave his brother a shove, but before it could descend into an all-out wrestling match, Felipe started ushering them both towards the door, “Go finish this somewhere that I don’t need to pay for everything you break.”

“Love you too, Pop,” Angel laughed as he let his father push them both out the door, the sign on it still saying that the shop was closed.

Despite the fact that they didn’t get to talk for their whole ride over to the clubhouse, as soon as they parked their bikes Angel was right back to giving EZ grief for the girlfriend he was convinced didn’t exist. EZ shook his head and laughed, taking the jokes and low-level verbal abuse in stride the way he always did. He knew that arguing past a certain point just made it all that much more fun for Angel.

By the time the afternoon rolled around, Angel had moved on from making fun of EZ and has started going in on Coco and Gilly. EZ couldn’t say that he was upset about his brother’s shift in attention. He did, however, find himself frequently checking his phone to see if she’d texted or called. It wasn’t often that she messaged him while she was working, but it didn’t hurt to check.

He was just about to slide the phone back into the pocket of his kutte when it started to vibrate. Glancing down at the screen, he smiled when he saw Aanya’s name lighting up the screen, “Hey.”

“Hey!” her voice was bright, happy, on the other end of the line, “I’m just getting ready to leave—they got someone else in to close up tonight.”

“Oh, nice. I’m, um, I’m still at the scrapyard,” his free hand gripped the edge of his kutte.

“That’s fine, I figured. I thought of you earlier, though, when I was going through the new shipment of books that came in.”

“Did you?” he scuffed the toe of his boot against the dirt.

“I did. There’s one in here that I think you’ll really like. Can I swing by and drop it off?”

“You don’t gotta drive all the way out here. I can swing by your place if you want.”

“It’s fine, really. Besides, I have all this extra time on my hands now,” she laughed.

“Alright,” he didn’t have it in him to tell her no, “If you don’t see me, the guy Chucky who works the front office can come and get me.”

“Perfect. Alright, I’ll see you in a little bit.”

He knew that telling Angel that she was coming was only going to make the situation worse. If there was no time for him to prepare comments beforehand, there was the possibility that EZ could just do a normal introduction. It helped that everyone was relatively busy with club business.

EZ was walking back down the steps of the clubhouse, about to head towards the front office when he saw Aanya walking next to Chucky. The two of them were talking and EZ couldn’t help but to take on her contagious smile. He couldn’t hear what the two of them were saying but Aanya looked thoroughly amused, and knowing Chucky he had to assume it was something good. When she locked eyes with him across the yard, EZ could see her thanking Chucky before turning and heading in his direction. EZ immediately spotted the book hanging from her hand as she walked up to him.

“He seems so fun,” she nodded back over her shoulder in Chucky’s direction.

“Yea,” EZ laughed, “he’s somethin’ alright.”

EZ was too busy looking at the woman in front of him to see that Angel had seen her come onto the yard, watching intently as she walked over to his brother. Angel saw as the woman laughed at something his brother said, and for a second he really couldn’t believe that EZ had been being honest with them this whole time. Angel really thought that his little brother had just been exaggerating to get him and the rest of the club off his back.

“Looks like you’ve been working hard,” Aanya smiled as she reached up, cupping one side of his face in her hand as she thumbed a streak of dirt off his cheek with her thumb.

He felt like his skin was on fire at the contact, but he tried not to let it show, “Just trying to stay busy.”

“That makes two of us,” she laughed, “I hope you don’t mind me just popping up like this. I don’t want to intrude on everything you’ve got here.”

“You’re not intruding. If anything, you’re a very welcome distraction,” he chuckled.

“At least I’m welcome,” she smiled.

“Always,” he couldn’t stop looking at her.

The two of them stood there for a few moments before Aanya cleared her throat, remembering why she’d shown up at the scrapyard in the first place. She held the book close to her chest for a moment before handing it over to EZ.

“Just came in today, so I haven’t read it. But I read the first chapter or so while it was slow this afternoon and it seemed like something you’d enjoy.”

“I’ll be sure to write up a full report when I’m done with it,” he smiled.

“Lucky for you, I grade papers as generously as I review books,” she laughed, resting her hand against his chest. Her fingertips traced along the stitching of the leather covering his torso. Looking at his prospect patch for a moment, she looked back up at him, “Kutte.”

He laughed, nodding, “You got it.”

“It’s my one new piece of information for the week.”

“That and all the first chapters of books you’re going to be reading for the rest of the week,” he gave her a knowing look.

“Like you wouldn’t do the same thing if you worked there,” she lightly patted his chest.

“Maybe,” he rested the hand that wasn’t holding the book over hers, completely enveloping it.

“I don’t know how late you need to be here tonight, but if you want to come over later, you can.”

He raised his eyebrows, surprised by the invitation, “Yea?”

She nodded, “Yea. If you have plans with your brother or something I totally understand. Just thought I’d mention it.”

“I’ll be there,” he didn’t have plans, but even if he did he would’ve dropped everything for her, “I’ll give you a call when I leave here in case you need anything.”

“Sounds good!” she felt her heart beating a little faster in her chest, “Alright. I’ll let you get back to work. I’ll see you tonight?”

He nodded, “See you tonight.”

He was expecting her to flash him a smile and a wink before turning and walking away. But, much to his surprise, she gently cupped both sides of his face in her hands and pulled him down into a kiss. It took him a moment to really register what was going on, but once he did, he wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her closer. He could feel the way she smiled into their kiss and in that moment, he realized that there was nothing else in the world that he’d rather do. He’d drop damn near any and everything to be able to kiss her like that all the time.

She pulled away, hands still resting on the sides of his face. She smiled as she took in the slightly dazed look on his face. Tracing her thumbs along his cheeks, she gave him a soft peck on the lips, “Bye,” she let out a quiet laugh.

It was hard to get himself to force out the one-syllable word as he stared at her. He’d never been good at taking things slow, and as he stood there looking at her, seeing the way that she was practically glowing, he knew that he was very quickly falling in love with her. He wished he knew how to articulate the way that she made him feel, but instead he settled for getting his thoughts enough to say goodbye to her until he saw her again later.

He’d offered to walk her back to her car but she waved him off, insisting that she was fine and if nothing else Chucky would gladly escort her, which EZ knew was true. He watched her as she sauntered back towards her car and he couldn’t take his eyes off of her. His fingers curled tighter around the book in his hands, pressing it against his chest.

The feeling of his phone vibrating in his pocket snapped him out of his daze. He reached into his kutte and pulled it out, sighing when he saw that Angel had sent a picture to the group chat with all the guys. Not knowing what to expect, he opened the message and saw a picture of himself and Aanya, one hand on his cheek while the other held the book. The next message was a text from Angel, one that made EZ shake his head, “Guess boy scout wasn’t lying after all. She’s real”

Before EZ could try to respond and come to his own defense, Gilly sent a message to the chat, “Still don’t buy it. I wasn’t there. Didn’t happen”

Knowing that it was just going to descend further into chaos, EZ decided he might as well play into it, “Alright. Guess you won’t care if I leave early to go and see my not real girlfriend then. See you guys tomorrow”

Angel called out to him from across the yard when he read the message, “Hey, hey. I don’t think I said all that!” Angel walked over to his brother, laughing the entire time, “Nah, nice to see she’s a real person.”

“Yea, that’s one of my favorite things about her,” EZ chuckled and shook his head, tucking the new book close to his chest.

[drazzilder]

A Winter’s Flight

By Drazzilder 

I suggest reading A Hellish Encounter first as this is a continuation of the story but Hawks and Fuyumi centered.

Chapter 1: Encounter

Being a hero isn’t all fame and fun, it’s a lot of work and loneliness. Keigo Takami, Hawks, might be the number 3 hero but he never really wanted to be that high in the list. He just got the news a week ago, after All Might’s retirement, and isn’t taking it the best. He is flying over the city, head in the clouds thinking about everything: his life, his hero work, and more.

Keigo is on his way to meet the number 1 and number 2 hero at their agency as an effort to try to build some bridges. The speech he made last week makes him worry about how they might react. He is a little distracted, checking his phone while listening to the streets below. He hears the young women below swoon over him, asking who he is talking to on his phone. What they don’t know is that he is looking up a menu for some takeout for dinner. That’s when he hears a scream in the distance. He rushes off at full speed towards the voice.

A car is turned over and on fire. A teenager is on the sidewalk freaking out, screaming and trying to break free of the grip of others holding him back. He is trying desperately to get to his sister who still is trapped inside. There is no hero in site when the vehicle starts to become more engulfed in fire. Suddenly, red feathers start flying in at high speed followed by Hawks himself. He uses dozens of feathers to pry open the door and a few more to pull the young woman out. He uses his quirk to gently lower her to the ground. She has pure white hair with red highlights. Hawks looks at her, she is so beautiful that he can’t help but stare for a moment. Unconscious and barely breathing, Hawks breaks his gaze and calls for an ambulance when who he assumes is her brother comes over and starts thanking Hawks for saving his sister. He hears her call her “Fuyumi” before Hawks the rushes off, knowing sidekicks and medical personal will be taking care of everything.

Hawks is worried he is going to be late for his meeting so he goes full speed towards the Endeavor agency. He decided to save time and head right to the top floor window.

H: “Oh, knock knock! Sorry if I’m late.”

E: Looking up from his computer screen “Really…. (Y/N) could you open the window.”

(Y/N): “Why can’t you just use the door like a normal person?” You say while opening the window.

H: “Lighten up! I just thought I’d save some time since I was already up here.”

(Y/N): “Now that you are here, let’s get this meeting started.”

E: “Yes. What did you want to discuss, Hawks?”

H: “Now that I am the number 3 hero, I’d thought I would reach out and build a relationship so we can work together better, you know save more citizens and all.” Now holding out a hand towards Endeavor.

E: “Aren’t you the one who said he really didn’t want to be number 3 hero because it’s too much work?”

H: Pulling his hand back and scratching the back if his head “Yea…that’s me… I would be happy in the 20s. A lot less work but that’s how the people voted.”

E: “Then why are you here? If you don’t want to be that high up on the ranks, why would you want to work with us?”

(Y/N): “Calm down, Endeavor. Listen to the kid.”

H: “Thank you. I really do enjoy helping people and I know if work together we can take down any baddy. With my quirk, I can save a lot of people.”

Z: “We have heard a great deal about you. Your quirk is very interesting.”

H: “Ooo, I finally get to meet the big demon himself! My quirk lets me split off my feathers and control them individually to save dozens of citizens at once.”

(Y/N): “That sounds fascinating. That would be a very useful quirk to save people inside of buildings and evacuations.”

H: “Hellboy, I always wanted to ask what’s it like living with a demon inside of you.”

(Y/N): “Not too bad, it was a little strange at first but he is really fun when you get to know him. I know you must have seen that news conference.”

H: “Is it true that he really tried to take over your body?”

Z: “Yes but that was a long time ago. I wouldn’t do anything to hurt (Y/N) or even Enji. I like hero work and I think it’s the right thing to do with the power we have together.”

E: “Back to the subject at hand… I have seen videos of your work, Hawks, I can easily see why your number 3, your speed and quirk work well in saving citizens and even helping with smaller tasks. However, your personality could use some work. You are too cocky and I have heard your hard to work with.”

H: “Well…. you see I’m willing to work with you three. Most other heroes can’t keep up with me but you all should be able to.”  

Z: “What do you mean ‘should’?”

H: “Well, Endeavor, you aren’t young as you used to be…”

E: “Are you calling me old?” He says with anger in his voice, coming to a standing position.

(Y/N): “Let it go, Endeavor. He just means that we are quick, and he isn’t wrong, you aren’t getting any younger.” Endeavor just snorts as some smoke comes out of his nostrils. “Hawks, I understand you want to work with us but you need to work on your people skills. Do you even realize who you are talking to right now? Endeavor has been a hero longer than you have been alive. If he says you need to work on something, he knows better than you do. I’m not going to say we aren’t going to help you if it’s needed but you need to mature a great deal. Not just to be a better hero but to be a better you, got it?”

H: “Eh… my offer will still stand if you change your mind.”

The office phone rings and Endeavor answers. Once he hears the message, his eyes widen and he quickly hangs up.

E: “Our daughter is in the hospital. We need to end this meeting early, Hawks.”

(Y/N): “Oh my god, I hope she is ok. Zaheer, let’s go!”

All 3 of you quickly are teleported in a red flash to the hospital while Hawks is left in the office. He goes through the door, letting Sanji know he is leaving. He still can’t stop thinking about that young woman he saved. He wishes he could have gotten her number but he knows dating is difficult when you are a hero. Once outside, he opens his wings and flies into the sky, looking for more citizens to save.

*At the hospital*

F: Waking up in a hospital bed. “What happened?”

N: “A truck ran a red light at flipped the car. You went unconscious from the smoke.”

F: “Who saved me?”

N: “It was Hawks, but I don’t know if telling dad that is the best idea. I heard how he talks about him.”

F: “I remember seeing dad after Hawks’ speech, I haven’t seen him that mad in a while.”

N: “Then we are in agreement?”

F: “That’s fine, we can keep is a secret.”

All three of you rush into the room. “Fuyumi, are you ok?” Enji says almost bursting through the door.

F: “I’m fine, dad.”

Z: “Natsuo told us you were in a car accident. He said the car flipped and burst into flames”

Enji goes to Fuyumi and gives her a tight hug as a few tears form. Almost suffocating, she manages to say “Can’t breathe…” and he releases her.

E: “I’m sorry, I got the message and my mind went to a million different things.”

F: “I’m just a little shaken up right now. I managed to crawl out before the fire got too intense. The doctors said I should be able to leave soon.”

(Y/N): “That’s a relief, I was so worried.” Looking at pictures of the car on your phone “Well, it looks like I’m going to have to teleport you everywhere until we can get you a new car.”

F: “Actually, I don’t want a new car at the moment….it scares me a little.” She says looking away, trying to hide her fear.

E: “That fine. Whatever you need, just let us know and we will make it happen, ok?” Giving her a lighter hug.

F: “Thank you.”

~

At the end of the day, Keigo returns to his apartment, his head still filled with the name of the girl he saved. “Fuyumi, Fuyumi…. Such a beautiful name for a beautiful girl.” He thinks as he twirls and spins in his apartment, wings hugging himself as he heads to the bathroom. He looks in the mirror, revealing he forgot to take of his goggles. He remembers that he is a hero, he knows that being a hero gets in the way. He takes off his goggles and places them with the rest of his hero suit. He eats his takeout alone and looks at this phone. Going to bed, he can’t help but still dream about the woman he saved.

Next Chapter

[cakesunflower]

Just My Kind [Teacher!Calum AU] Part 4

Previous Parts: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

           “Everything alright, kiddo? You were pretty quiet at dinner.”

           Odessa inhaled deeply as Grandpa sat down next to her on the step of the back porch, her blue eyes gazing out to the backyard. Grams’ rose bush was thriving, as was her little vegetable garden with growing tomatoes and red bell peppers. Odessa chewed on her lower lip for a moment, trying to push away some of the weight settled on her chest as she told him, “My dad called earlier today. Said he was in town and he wanted to have lunch tomorrow.”

           The phone call hadn’t been one she had been too glad to have received. Her dad had called her right when she’d gotten into her car after school, and the second his name appeared on the screen, Odessa had gaped at it, wondering if she was imagining things. But it was as real as the vibration of her phone in her hand, as real as his voice on the other end when he asked if they could meet up for lunch the next day. Odessa wasn’t sure how many minutes had passed spent with her just sitting in the parking lot after he had hung up, wondering why in the world he wanted to catch up now, basically giving her no choice in the matter.

           “Wow,” Grandpa sounded, resting his arms on his brought up knees as he glanced down at her. “Are you going?”

           “I talked to Mom about it,” Odessa shrugged, gaze on the way she picked at her burgundy painted nails. “She said at the end of the day it was my choice and she’d be fine with whatever I decide. I still don’t know what that is.” Rolling her lips into her mouth and knitting her eyebrows together, Odessa shook her head. “All I know is that I just—I don’t want any kind of relationship with him.”

           She heard Grandpa take in a breath. “Well, if you end up going with an attitude like that, kid, then it’s not going to be very productive, is it?”

           “Who says I want it to be?” Odessa retorted, the frustration evident in her tone as she glanced up at her grandfather. The frown felt heavy on her face as she scoffed. “I’m perfectly fine with getting birthday and Christmas cards from him. He made his choice when he left to live with his secret family.”

           “I understand, sweetheart,” Grandpa stated, his calm tone contrasting with her sharp, bitter one. Odessa couldn’t help but notice how relaxed her normally straight-backed, sharp eyed grandfather was. That wasn’t surprising—he always had been like that with her, at least. But under the topic of her father, Odessa had figured there’d be some tension in his muscles, a glare in his eyes at the mention of the man who cheated on his daughter and all but abandoned his only granddaughter. “Trust me, I ain’t the biggest fan of your dad’s either, but he’s had time to think over what he’s done. Maybe he’s just trying to make things right. Be your dad again.”

           Odessa scoffed once again, running her tongue along the inside of her lower lip as a gentle breeze tickled her skin. “Yeah, nearly ten years later,” she muttered, twisting the bracelet she wore. Her chest felt heavy, the mere topic of her father churning her stomach as she tried not to fall into the pit of hurt and betrayal she had felt when he first left. Her mom had been so angry and Odessa had been so confused, hurt, and with his call, she was left wondering if she’d moved on from it. “I don’t need a dad again,” she added quietly. “I’ve got you.”

           She felt Grandpa’s arm wrap around her shoulders, pulling her into his side as he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “That you do, kid,” he said with a soft chuckle, rubbing at her arm as Odessa wrapped her arms around his waist. He smelled like tobacco and wood, a combination she’d become so used to and loved. “Listen, Odessa, if you want to go and hear what he has to say, that’s alright. If it’s too much and you decide against it, that’s fine, too. At the end of the day, it’s your decision. You’ve got our support.”

           The next day, Odessa arrived to the cafe about ten minutes before she was meant to meet up with her dad. Those extra minutes were spent sitting in her car, hoping for the music that played loudly through the radio would be enough to distract her from what she was about to do. She’d spent the night before and this morning considering her options, knowing she needed to make her mind up quickly because she was chaperoning the school’s Fall Festival dance later tonight, but kept wondering if showing up to have lunch with her dad would be worth it. Truth be told, she didn’t think it would be.

           She had become an expert in bottling up her feelings, only letting them out in her journal to keep it a secret between the pages. Ten years later and Odessa still hadn’t let her dad know how hurt she was with what he did, how he made both her and her mom feel completely worthless, like they could be so easily replaced—which was what he essentially did. He never even apologized for his actions, not to Odessa at least, and maybe this lunch was his opportunity to do so. But Odessa doubted it would change anything. He did what he did, and there was no going back. Frankly, she couldn’t help but feel she was only going to end up getting hurt by the end of this cursed lunch. She might as well get it over with.

           It was easy to spot her dad in the cafe. He’d aged over the past ten years, of course. With his thick dark hair peppered with gray and silver scruff spread along his chin and jaw. But Odessa still recognized him—though not as the man she’d spent the first fifteen years of her life looking up to. He no longer belonged on that pedestal.

           “You look well, sweetheart.” Odessa pressed her teeth together once she had settled in the chair across from him, biting her tongue to keep herself from telling him not to call her that. It felt wrong. “All grown up,” he added with a short chuckle.

           Yeah, ten years has that effect. “How long are you in town for?” Odessa asked after she’d forced a smile at his statement. The small talk was already starting off awkward, trapped in a bubble of tension amidst the busy cafe.

           “I head back tomorrow,” he answered. “Promised Alex I’d make it back in time for her dance recital.”

           Right. Alex. Her half-sister who was, what, eleven years old by now? Odessa had never met her—or Georgie, her seven year old half-brother—who all lived in Seattle with her dad and his wife, Louisa—the woman he’d been cheating on her mother with. Frankly, Odessa didn’t want to know them, or have any kind of relationship with any of them. Although she knew she couldn’t blame the kids, Odessa still harbored resentment towards her father and his new family—towards Louisa, who knew fully well that he was a married man with a daughter and yet still stayed with him, had a kid with him.

           It wasn’t often Odessa took the time to think about them, but when she did, her blood boiled, threatening to give into a reaction far more explosive than she’d like.

           Before Odessa could say anything, a waitress appeared, asking if they were ready to order. She barely glanced at the menu, eyes catching the option of buffalo macaroni and cheese, which was what she decided on. She wasn’t that hungry, the nerves of sitting across from a man she hadn’t seen in so long killing her appetite.

           “So, uh,” Odessa spoke up, clearing her throat as she glanced around the cafe. They were sat by a window, giving them a view of the busy Los Angeles foot traffic. “Why’d you want to meet?”

           She didn’t miss the way his smile faltered, probably wishing for the small talk to continue some more. But it had been difficult for Odessa to show up to the cafe, to find the courage and pride to accept his offer in the first place. She just kind of wanted to get this over with.

           “Well, uh,” her dad cleared his throat, sitting up in his seat. “I was in town for some business and I remembered you’re staying with your grandparents so I just—I wanted to catch up.”

           Oh, right. The only reason he knew she was living in Los Angeles was because of their yearly phone calls. That’s what he did. He’d sent her a birthday card with some money and then on her actual birthday gave her a call. They’d talk for a couple of minutes, she’d answer his questions without asking any of her own, and that was it. Last year he’d asked her how teaching back in Ely was going, and she mentioned she had taken a job in Los Angeles and was moving there a few weeks later. The fact that he remembered that—it didn’t do anything for Odessa, honestly. She realized, not for the first time, that she didn’t care if he remembered any details about her or her life. She felt numb to it.

           “Right,” Odessa said, not entirely ready to dive into an uncomfortable silence, so she forced herself to ask, “How are Alex and Georgie?”

           Odessa couldn’t help the way her fingers curled into fists under the table as her dad started talking about her half siblings. How Alex was really into dance and Georgie was showing a lot of interest in baseball. How they were so smart for their ages, so funny. Odessa noticed the light in his hazel eyes when he spoke of them, the love he had for them, and she was left wondering if he ever spoke of her that way. When he met people back in Seattle, did he only ever mention Alex and Georgie? Had he ever brought up his daughter from his first marriage—the college graduate, the teacher? Was he proud of her accomplishments the way he was theirs?

           Did she want him to be?

           No, she realized, she didn’t. But the envy still burned her veins—not that her half siblings were receiving the father that had belonged to her first, but that they wouldn’t have had him in the first place had he not stepped out on Odessa’s mom—on her. They apparently weren’t enough for them, so he found something more.

           As Odessa ate her food, more so she was distracted momentarily than feeding a lack of hunger, her father asked, “How’s your mother?”

           She heard the hesitation in his voice and her grip on her spoon tightened. Keeping her gaze on her bowl, she responded, “She��s good. Fell back in love with being a flight attendant.” With a slight scoff, Odessa added, “I guess everyone needed a change.”

           “So she left to fly around the country without anyone to look after you?” Her dad scoffed. “That’s—”

           “No, she didn’t,” Odessa snapped, her tone hardening as her gaze narrowed into a glare directed at the silenced man across from her. She wasn’t about to sit there and let her dad scoff at her mom—who gave him the right? “She waited until I left for college because you weren’t there to look after me, were you?”

           There had been a lid on her anger, one that instantly burst off the second her dad tried to paint her mother as a villain. Odessa wasn’t going to let that happen, not in a million years. If there was a villain in this story, it was the man sitting across from her.

           He put down the sandwich he’d been eating, jaw tightening briefly as he started, “Odessa—”

           “No—what gives you the right to look down on Mom for restarting her career?” Odessa questioned sharply. She kept the level of her voice even, not one to cause a scene in a busy Los Angeles restaurant, no matter how pissed off she was getting. It was only a matter of time until she did, anyway. Her dad just casually trying to insult her mother was not going to sit right with Odessa, and she sure as hell wasn’t going to stand for it. “She needed to do something after the shit you pulled.”

           Odessa could tell that he was figuring out that he was losing control of the situation, losing whatever little patience she had for him. He inhaled sharply as he leaned forward. “Look, I know what I did was wrong, but—”

           “Wrong?” Odessa repeated with an incredulous scoff, shaking her head at him as her eyes narrowed in contempt. “Are you even sorry that you cheated on Mom? That you completely walked out on your family for a newer model?” She put down her spoon, her already wavering appetite completely gone with a churn of her stomach. “Call it a choice or a mistake, whatever makes you feel better, but you—”

           “It wasn’t a mistake.” His words silenced Odessa, her voice dying in her throat as she looked at him, eyebrows drawn together as his hazel eyes met her blue. Her throat tightened when he continued, “If I said it was a mistake, then that’d be like saying my kids were mistakes—which they aren’t. I love my family, Odessa, and I’m sorry that their existence came from hurting you and your mother—but I will never say they’re mistakes.”

           His words felt like a slap to her face, enough to make her eyes sting with frustrated, hurt tears she refused to let fall. She knew this would end up hurting her. Knew that whatever he had to say would not be what she wanted to hear—which she didn’t even know was what. Logically, Odessa knew it was unfair to get him to admit to his mistakes, his choices, if it meant bad mouthing his kids. But Odessa would be lying if she said she would be satisfied to hear it. Now, to know—to have it be confirmed—that he was happy, content with his new family after destroying the one he had at first, had Odessa realizing that she was so better off without him. She didn’t want him or his damn birthday cards. She didn’t want to know about Louisa or Alex or Georgie—she didn’t care.

           Fifteen years with her father was all she was going to get. And Odessa would rather visit those memories, if she ever wanted to, than give another thought to him or his new family now.

           She’d gotten an apology. A shitty, backhanded one, and she knew that was all he was capable of.

           “Wow,” Odessa finally sounded, the word accompanied by an empty laugh as she leaned back in the chair. Gaze meeting his somewhat apologetic, yet stern, one, she gave a shake of her head and mused dryly, “Aren’t you just father of the fucking year?”

           His eyebrows drew together, the situation lost. “Odessa—”

           She was already grabbing her bag, uncaring of the food she’d barely eaten as she stood up, successfully holding back the tears that threatened to fall. “You can hold off on the birthday and Christmas cards—they end up in the trash, anyway.”

*****

           Something was weighing down on Odessa, and Calum couldn’t ignore the need to help her—not that he’d ignore that instinct in the first place. She looked troubled the moment she arrived into the transformed cafeteria, tables set up in a way to provide a dance floor in the middle, and decorated with pumpkins and leaves and streamers of the orange, red, and yellow variety. String lights had been set up along the ceiling and on the tables with the food, providing a soft glow throughout the room, but it didn’t do much to hide the trouble that danced across her features, which Odessa failed to hide behind the smiles she offered everyone else.

           She had greeted him briefly, which was when Calum had noticed something was off, but Odessa had quickly been pulled away by Justine Greggs, gone with a flutter of the long, deep red dress she wore that made her blue eyes pop.

           But Calum had realized, amidst chatting with a few of his students, that Odessa wasn’t around, that he hadn’t been able to spot her for a while, and he couldn’t help the furrow of his eyebrows as he glanced around while approaching Justine. “Hey, Justine,” he greeted the AP Lit teacher, offering her a smile as he asked, “D’you know where Odessa is?”

           “Oh,” Justine blinked before her gaze wandered around in search for the woman in question before finally looking at Calum and saying, “Well, she told me she was going to the bathroom, but that was a few minutes ago.”

           Calum nodded, an absent, “Alright, thanks,” slipping past his lips before he turned to walk in direction of the doors, exiting the cafeteria and heading towards the nearest bathrooms.

           But to get there he had to pass the teachers lounge, and he would’ve walked right past it, too, if it weren’t for the single light on inside that caught his attention. He came to a quick stop, eyebrows subtly drawn together as he neared the door that was ajar, finding exactly who he was looking for seated on the couch, gazing out the window into the dark courtyard.

           She hadn’t noticed him enter the room, facing the window with her arms folded on top of the back of the couch, legs folded as the skirt of her long dress spread on her lap, the heels of her shoes just barely poking out. For the moments she didn’t notice him, Calum took the opportunity to admire the glow of the lamp against her, mixed with the soft moonlight filtering through the window she was peering out of. Odessa was lost in deep thought, unaware of his presence as he took a tentative step forward, hesitant on disturbing her and the silence she was finding comfort in.

           Except it had been difficult for Calum to ignore the troubled look she had worn upon her arrival, itching at him to make sure she was alright because that’s what friends did, right? And they were friends. Just friends. But he wouldn’t focus on that now.

           Licking his lips, Calum finally spoke up, gently, “Odessa?” He heard her release a small gasp at the sound of his voice, head instantly turning towards him before her shoulders relaxed upon realizing who was in the room with her. Calum offered her a small, somewhat sheepish smile as he slowly approached her, watching as she let out a breath while he asked, “What’s going on? You alright?”

           “Yeah, yeah—crap, sorry,” she said through a nervous chuckle, shifting so her lower back leaned against the arm rest of the couch. She looked up at him, a sheepish smile on her face as she said, “I didn’t mean to disappear.”

           When she made a move to get up from the couch, Calum held his hand out to stop her. “Hold on, hold on—I’m sure a couple of more minutes won’t hurt.” Odessa relaxed as he sat down on the couch as well, left elbow propped up on the top of the couch as he got a closer look at her. She kept pursing her pink lips, the subtlest of frowns on her face above downcast eyes. Calum didn’t like seeing her so. . . Off. “What’s bothering you?”

           “Life?” Odessa answered with a dry chuckle and Calum’s lips quirked, recognizing her feeble attempt of deflection. She let out a long sigh, running her fingers through her dark hair to push is back. She looked out the window, jaw working momentarily. “I had lunch with my dad today—it went as well as you’d expect.”

           Calum’s expression fell, teeth pressing together as he gazed at the furrow between her eyebrows. He knew from what Odessa had told him that she didn’t have a good, or any, relationship with her father ever since he left her and her mom. Judging by how down she looked, lunch hadn’t been gone over too well. “I’m sorry about that.”

           She clicked her tongue, waving him off. “Nothing to be sorry about,” she responded with a shrug. “I knew it was only going to upset me but I went anyway. It was a stupid decision.”

           Calum was silent, unable to smooth out the crease in his eyebrows as he watched her profile. He didn’t think anything he could say to Odessa would help. He was lucky enough to have a good relationship with both of his parents, though they were divorced as well. And as difficult as it had been to watch their marriage fall apart when he was young, his parents didn’t let it affect their individual relationships with Calum. Knowing Odessa wasn’t as lucky as he was in the matter had his chest tightening, the need to help out his friend great but the inability of doing so unsettling.

           “I think,” Calum slowly spoke up, picking his words carefully as Odessa glanced at him. He offered a small, encouraging smile. “I think what you need right now is to get your mind off of it, instead of sitting by yourself and letting your thoughts weigh you down.” Odessa quirked an eyebrow as Calum got to his feet, putting on a smile for her as he offered his right hand. “Let’s dance.”

           He watched her blue eyes glance down at his hand before meeting his gaze, something flickering in her eyes that he couldn’t quite place. Calum briefly wondered if it was hesitance, but as quickly as that look in her eye appeared, it was gone. It seemed Odessa came to a silent decision over something, allowing for a smile to quirk on her lips as she placed her hand in his, and Calum felt a relaxed smile grow as he tightened his hold to allow her to shift her legs, dress in mind, before standing.

           Calum reluctantly let her hand go, immediately missing the warmth of her touch as they made their way out of the teacher’s lounge, flexing his fingers as he allowed for Odessa to walk out first before following her after shutting the light off.  They wandered down the hall towards the cafeteria, the muffled music growing louder the closer they got to it, and right as they entered the crowded room, the song changed into one Calum recognized as Finally / Beautiful Stranger by Halsey, and he felt a smile tug at the corner of his lips.

           “Right on time,” he hummed, earning an amused raise of an eyebrow from Odessa, before her gaze dropped to his hand, which he offered her once again. “Shall we?”

           She smiled, sweet and pretty, accepting his hand for a second time as he led her to the center of the room where many students had paired off, even some teachers. His left hand gripping her right, Calum rested his right hand on Odessa’s hip as her other rested on his shoulder, and he could pick up on the way her lips curled up in a small, shy smile as they both swayed to the ballad playing through the cafeteria.

           He tried not to focus too much on their proximity, this closeness between them new and familiar all at once. He tried to keep his attention on their movements, and not on how this kind of closeness with Odessa was something he had been silently wanting. Calum bit the inside of his cheek, willing those thoughts away. They were just friends, colleagues—he couldn’t be thinking of her this way, couldn’t be thinking of her as anything more than what she was. Despite her smile making his heart race, her laugh hitching his breath, her touch sending electricity shooting through his veins—Calum shouldn’t dive deeper into whatever feelings he was developing.

           But, God, he couldn’t help it. Because the more he got to know her, the harder it was to keep himself from falling for Odessa. And how couldn’t he? She was proving herself to be everything he looked for in a woman, and more.

           “Thanks, Calum,” she murmured, blue eyes lifting to meet his dark ones. The appreciation danced in her eyes and being this close to her, Calum was teased by the fruity scent that delightfully clung to her. If he were to guess, he’d say it was watermelon, which he found himself enjoying. When she noticed the subtle raise of his eyebrow, she continued, “For dragging me out of the lounge. I’m kind of irritated I let it get to me at all.”

           Calum clicked his tongue. “No need to thank me, Essa.” He wasn’t quite sure when he started calling her that, having heard Luke utter it a couple of times, but soon enough it was slipping from Calum’s lips and she didn’t seem to mind, so it stuck. “I think it’s perfectly normal for you to feel like that—just know that I’m here to listen.”

           Her smile was grateful, soft in her features, and the sight of it had a beat or two of Calum’s heart skipping. He meant what he said—he enjoyed this relationship he and Odessa had fallen into, a camaraderie during school hours and a genuine friendship outside of it. It was easy to talk to her, to joke around, the two of them finding a rhythm far quicker than Calum would have ever expected to. Getting drinks with her and everyone else on the weekends was relaxing, but so was finding Odessa in the teacher’s lounge during their lunch breaks and chatting about their lesson plans and their favorite novels that aren’t on the roster to teach their students. He’d get to know her as every day passed, finding out that the favorite writer she taught was Edgar Allan Poe and a certain professor in college made her develop a hatred for Herman Melville. He didn’t blame her—he preferred Nathaniel Hawthorne’s works, himself.

           “I appreciate it all the same,” Odessa told him. Calum kept the smile on his face, despite feeling the breath silently hitch in his throat when she gave his hand a grateful squeeze. Then, with a gentle laugh, she teased, “You’re a solid work-husband.”

           He grinned, the warmth of her smile sinking into his skin as they continued swaying to the gentle melody of the song. Calum couldn’t help but think chaperoning school dances just got a whole lot better with Odessa with him.

--

tags: @irwinkitten @sweetcherrymike @meetashthere @astroashtonio @loveroflrh @softforcal @loverofhood @captain-what-is-going-on @angelbbycal @singt0mecalum @hopelessxcynic @lfwallscouldtalk @bodhi-black @findingliam-o @softlrh @highfivecalum @calumsmermaid @erikamarie41 @quintodosuniversos @longlastingdaydream @babylon-corgis @lukehemmingsunflower @miss-saltwatercowgirl @pastelpapermoons @conquerwhatliesahead92 @rotten-kandy @metangi @ohhmuke @mindkaleidoscope @5sos-and-hessa @trustmeimawhalebiologist @vxlentinecal @pettybassists @vaporshawn @lu-my-golden-boi @visualm3nte @isabella-mae13 @dontjinx-it @lifeakaharry @neonweeknds @antisocialbandmate @ixcantxdecidexwhosxmyxfave @calpalbby @grreatgooglymoogly @sunnysidesblog @miahelizaaabeth @dramallamawithsparkles @kaytiebug14 @hoodskillerqueen @bitchinbabylon @empathycth @xhaileyreneex @inlovehoodx @bloodlinecal @sublimehood @madbomb @raabiac @britnicole11 @outofmylimitcal @wildflower-cth @bloodmoonashton @vxidhood @gosh-im-short @thesubtweeter @mycollectionofnuts @cthwldflwr @everyscarisahealingplace​ @socorroann​ @talkfastromance4​ @calumftduke​ @musichoney​ @treatallwithkindness​ @partlysunnycal​ @dead-and-golden​ @kaeleykaeley​ @harrys-sun-flower​ @br-hoe​ 

[pinkbubbles-and-bigtroubles]

BEST YEARS

gh

I am feeling very out of character so here is some a fluffy crazy romantic Calum blurb. It’s not even smutty. Who am I?

Calum grinned as he glanced over at the bouquet on his desk. It was just like you to surprise him with flowers at work. You were wildly romantic and refused to let his cynicism affect that. Your refusal to be anything but optimistic is what drew Calum to you in the first place. You refused to be daunted despite what the world threw at you, and he marveled at your toughness. 

When you met neither of you had been single, he was dating a woman who had the potential to be serious, and you were getting weary of a relationship that had seen better days. Your sister got involved with Calum's roommate, and while you found Roy incredibly tedious, Calum and Duke made the house one of your favorite hangouts. 

Your friendship grew closer and everyone noticed. Calum's relationship petered out. Meanwhile, your relationship quickly fell apart under constant accusations that you were cheating with Calum, or both him and Roy depending on how nasty the fight became. At that point, you hadn't even been alone in a room with Calum, and after such an ugly breakup you had no intention of jumping into a new relationship. The two of you had an easy friendship, and even after your sister upgraded her romantic partner you still came around to hang out with your boys as you called them.

Calum plucked a peach rose from the bouquet inhaling its scent, remembering your first date. It wasn't supposed to be a date, the two of you were bored out of your minds and decided to get out of the house. Calum wanted to get food, but you weren't hungry and insisted on going for a drive. You'd taken over the music, randomly selecting songs and making Calum sing along. Within an hour you'd rocked out to "London Calling," shimmied to "Jungle Love" and "Whatta Man  " His high notes in "Dancing Queen" had you giggling, but his rendition of "One Less Problem" sent you into hysterics. You made him pull over at every cheesy tourist trap and buy postcards. After a while, you were both starving and Calum pulled into the first restaurant he saw that wasn't fast food.

Opening the door he found a tiny Italian restaurant almost empty except for an older couple sharing a pizza in a corner booth. The hostess looked like someone's grandmother from the old country in Sicily. Her eyes lit up when he saw the two of you. She fussed over the two of you, blatantly ogling Calum in his blue jeans, docs, and a tight black T-shirt. 

"I'm Bianca, my husband works in the back," she introduced herself. "You two make a cute couple," the hostess commented, leading you to a table, decked out with a white linen tablecloth with white red checkered placemats.

"Thanks, it's our first date," Calum told her, leaning in towards the older woman,  lowering his voice as if he were telling her a secret.

"You came to the right place," she told him, patting his arm before giving you a not so subtle thumbs up. 

After she lit the small candle on the table, she left to let you look over the menus you'd looked at Calum, confused. 

"Shhh play along," he whispered with a wink and a brilliant smile. "We can pretend to be on a date, can't we? 

The staff went all out, starting with complimentary bruschetta which Calum made it a point to fawn over when Bianca told him it was her specialty. That was followed by antipasto before the house specialty pasta Verde, linguini with white wine sauce, chicken and spinach. There was so much food you both took several boxes to go. The drive home was slow, the music turned down so you could talk as you watched the sunset over the hills. 

You'd been a little drowsy when Calum dropped you off and walked you to your door. 

He hesitated before giving you an awkward hug and hurrying off leaving you cursing yourself for not being bolder. He was halfway home when he realized you'd left your leftovers in his car. He knew you were looking forward to the tiramisu you'd insisted on paying for yourself. He sent you a text and turned the car around. He still got butterflies thinking about how nervous you'd looked when you answered the door. How when he'd finally been ready to make a move you'd pounced first. Standing on your tiptoes in bare feet as your arms wound around his neck your lips found his, and just like that his heart was yours. 

Calum was snapped back to the present by his phone ringing on his desk. He frowned at being pulled out of his daydream until he saw your face flashing across his screen. 

"My love," you could hear the smile in his voice when he answered. "Thank you for the flowers." 

"I was about to say the same thing, but I think you went a bit overboard," you laughed holding the phone out so Calum could hear your coworkers cheering in the background. 

You worked at a small design firm with just three people and the company owner. Calum had sent all of them flowers although much smaller than the ostentatious display of orchids overwhelming your desk. 

"Nonsense, you all work so hard, and I may have had an ulterior motive," Calum confessed, putting his feet up on his desk.

"Yeah I can tell, suddenly my boss is insisting I take the afternoon off. So what's the plan Hood?" 

"What if I  order takeout from Mama's Kitchen and if you'll pick it up, I'll stop and get wine and meet you at the house. I've got a couple of calls to make, but I've canceled everything else. Sound good?" He asked her. 

"Of course, what's the special occasion?" You asked, a little confused. You'd sent him flowers on a whim, and now you were wondering if you missed something. 

"I'm in a romantic mood, what can I say? I'm not allowed to woo my beautiful girlfriend while also giving in to my craving for tiramisu," he paused, "and other sweet things," he finished, his voice trailing off to a deep rumble. 

"Order a whole one this time, you always eat more than you think you will. I'll see you at the house, love you," he grinned when he heard the "ooohs" of your coworkers. 

"Love you too, sunshine," he hung up and called the restaurant. 

The nickname, sunshine, came the day he'd asked you to move in. Nine months as a couple and he was set to go home for the holidays when his regular dog sitter fell through. You jumped at the chance to stay at Calum's place to take care of Duke. You'd sent Calum a video each night highlighting your day with Duke. One night while video chatting with he'd suggested you go through his closet a bit to try on his clothes, and take a few pics. He still had one of you in his silver sparkle jacket with nothing else on except red heels and lipstick as his lock screen.  By the time three weeks were up Calum was frustrated by how much longer the flight home seemed to take. He'd arrived home grumpy but relieved to see your car in the driveway. He'd come in the front door but heard nothing until he got further in the house. Your voice was coming from the backyard and Calum followed the sound until he saw you. You were singing to Duke, bouncing and shuffling your feet and he danced with you bopping around on his little paws.  

"You are my sunshine, my only sunshine," you'd sang, almost finished with the song before a twirl brought you face to face with him, stopping you cold. He remembered the bashful look on your face and the way you couldn't meet his eyes. Duke has been caught off guard and toppled over when he ran into the back of your legs. Calum didn't say a word as he took two steps before folding you into his arms and singing the final lines. 

"You'll never know dear, how much I love you. Please don't take my sunshine away." He'd asked you to live with him that night and you'd been his sunshine ever since.

The cars might be different but the relief at coming home to you was still the same. Duke met him at the door and he could hear you in the kitchen. He set his flowers down on the hallway table under the mirror, and scooped Duke up to give him chin scratches. He found you setting the brushetta out on a plate while the pasta was kept warm in the oven. 

"Hey handsome, dinner's ready." You greeted him with a smile wiping your hands on a napkin as he set Duke down. 

"Food can wait, I want you first," he sighed sliding his arms around your waist and pulling you in close. 

"Mmmmm I don't know what's gotten into you, but I like it," your voice caught in your chest as Calum's lips found your neck. 

"I'm hopelessly in love," he murmured feathering kisses across your collarbone. "I know I'm not always good with words but I just wanna tell you how I'm feeling. I gotta make you understand." Calum's hands began unbuttoning your shirt and he backed you up against the counter. Your fingers tangled in his dark curls as his teeth scraped against your skin. 

"Understand what," you gasped as he pushed the food aside before he lifted you onto the counter. 

"That I'm never gonna give you up," he whispered, pushing your shirt off your shoulders. "Never gonna let you down. Never gonna run around and desert you. Never gonna make you cry. Never gonna say goodbye. Never gonna tell a lie and hurt you. Never gonna give you up. Never gonna let you down. Never gonna run around and desert you. Never gonna make you cry. Never gonna say goodbye. Never gonna tell a lie and hurt you. Never gonna give you up. Never gonna let you down. Never gonna run around and desert you. Never gonna make you cry."

@kiiiimberlyriiiicker1995​ @sexgodashton​ @tea4sykes​ @sublimehood​ @irwinkitten​ @kchillout​ @cal-pal-cuddles​ @ghostofmashton​ @noshamenion​ @ukulelecal​ @maluminspace​ @calteahood​ @h0tsos​ @wildmichaelflower​ @itstheholls​ @dukehoods​ @toofadedtofight​

[aloysiavirgata]

Henry Compilation

@perplexistan is an outstanding human who compiled all my little Henry ficlets into one document for me. So here it is, for your perusal. It all began with this:

Anonymous asked: Would scully consider remarrying if she wouldn't work it out with mulder in season 11? ;)

@kateyes224

As long as Mulder is around, I don’t know that she’d be willing to start from scratch. But that makes me very sad for Scully. If she and Mulder did decide that they couldn’t be together, I would want for her to find someone who loved and appreciated her and made her feel completed, even if that person wasn’t Mulder. I just think the ways that she and Mulder have been rent apart by this life mean that their torn edges fit together in a way that makes them as whole as they can possibly be.

AV: 

She gets the younger two out the door in time for the bus, backpacks bouncing as they run down the block. Their sister had left well over an hour ago, driving herself to school for early lacrosse practice. Scully shuts the door once Alice and Simon join the cluster of children trooping along the sidewalk. Everyone knows there is safety in numbers.

The dog, a half-grown keeshond, trots over in response to the breakfast noises. “Here, Wicket,” Scully says. “It’ll make your coat shiny.” She scrapes leftover eggs into his dish before fitting the greasy plates into the dishwasher.

Footsteps on the stairs, and Scully smooths her hair back.

“Morning,” Henry says, grabbing a nectarine from the bowl. He wears only striped pajama pants. “Thanks for getting them out the door.”

“Mmm, not a problem. You almost never get to sleep in.” She smiles, tips her face up to his.

He kisses her, and Scully tastes toothpaste and Listerine. “You’re an angel,” Henry claims.

Not me, she thinks. But Joan is. Henry’s first wife, the mother of his children, the lover of keeshonds, the gardener of exotic bulbs, is dead and beyond reproach. Scully finds her harmless, though occasionally irritating. The children find her flawless.

Henry pours them each a cup of coffee, fixes hers exactly how she likes. Scully settles onto a bar stool to savor it.

“Good?” he asks.

“Perfect.”

Henry beams.

She watches her husband as he putters around the kitchen, dumping coffee grounds into the composter, putting frozen fruit into the Vitamix. His back is broad and muscular in the buttery morning light, his silver-flecked hair gleaming.

“You eat?” he asks, after his smoothie has been whirred to perfection.

“Eggs with the kids.”

“They love you,” he says happily, if not accurately. “Can you believe we’re coming up on a year, Dana?”

She cannot. The wedding had been small. Quiet. Family attended, some of their friends from work. Joan’s parents, uncomfortably.

Mulder had sent flowers for her, gifts for the children.

Scully takes another swallow of coffee. “Paper anniversary, Henry. Hot date at Barnes and Noble?”

He walks over, wraps his arms around her from behind. Scully leans into the heat of his chest, her head on his bicep. She sighs with contentment as he noses her hair.

“I was thinking plane tickets,” Henry murmurs, nuzzling her neck. “Paris. Rome. Somewhere decadent. Between work and the kids you’re running yourself absolutely ragged, Dana. Joan’s parents can take the younger two, and Vivian can stay home by herself if she wants.”

Paris. All she has seen of Paris is the airport, eating overpriced pain au chocolat while Mulder argued with the ticket agent in his lousy French. They barely made their flight.

“Paris,” Scully muses. “I could do Paris.”

“Voulez-vous coucher avec moi?” Henry asks, purring in her ear.

She rolls her eyes. “So predictable.”

“I’m a tax attorney, Dana. I’m supposed to be predictable.”

She laughs a little. Predictable. Solid, predictable Henry with his beautiful children and his beautiful house and his beautiful wives. She has never heard him say a truly unkind thing about anyone. He is a charter Rotarian and a sucker for the wounded animals Simon brings home. He’s been unfailingly gracious to Mulder on the few occasions they’ve met. He’s a wonderful dancer.

“Predictable is good,” she assures him. Henry would never ditch her in strange motels or mix her up in a global conspiracy. Henry calls when he’s running late.

“You have time for a run before work?” he asks.

“I wish I did. I’ve got a consult with a family in about an hour.” Scully turns the bar stool, looking up at Henry’s green eyes. She takes his face in her hands, thumbing his jaw. “Paris sounds lovely. I’ll talk to Gwen about my schedule today.”

He kisses her palm. “You deserve Paris.”

Scully holds him close and doesn’t tell him how rarely anyone gets what they deserve.

***

From @mangokiwitropicalswirl

[I could NOT stop thinking about your short brilliant painful take on Scully’s marriage to Henry, and I woke up needing to write this. If you think it fits your vision of things in that universe, feel free to share!]

***

Note from AV: There are not WORDS to describe what a compliment this is, my goodness.  <3 Thank you, @mangokiwitropicalswirl

***

On the morning Scully marries him, she takes a long look in the mirror as she smooths her hair and touches up her makeup. It goes without saying, without thinking, that she wishes her mother were here. Maggie would have cried to see her in the ivory dress, would have coddled the step-grandchildren, would have joined her elbows-deep in topsoil in his garden.

Everyone believes the day that you get married you’ll feel uniquely whole, blissfully free from uncertainties. Happy.

And she is. She catches her own gaze in the mirror and knows that she’s the only one who’d see the wistful mote of resignation in her eyes. But not a resignation of defeat, it’s one of understanding. She better understands at fifty now than she did at thirty that there are choices. Always choices.

Someone told her once that love flows through us like water, softening our edges the way water wears down sandstone, or even granite. It carves out space for itself inside of us, making us larger, widening the heart.

Mulder’s love had been a tumult, a raging river, a flood. It had opened her like a canyon, revealed a grandscape of dizzying heights and crevices inside her. It had split over into corners she herself had not explored. Together, their love had flowed and thrashed and roiled, until she was hollowed out like a deepend cavern, like a riverbank destroyed by sudden flood.

And then it had receded, slowly, like the bitter end of a geologic age.

The thin ribbon that still trickles through her even now was not enough to fill the newly-barren spaces. As years went on, the heart crumbled like loose rock, eroding like a monument to a long forgotten era.

Contrary to popular belief, love is not all you need. Sometimes you need therapy. And meds. And sometimes you need to let it go.

On the little card that came along with flowers there was just one word, “Always.– M”.

There were years she would have bristled at the word, hearing in it all the codependency and desperate possession that were the hallmarks of their bond. But she hears it now the way she knows he means it, with the openness of someone who will always be her friend. Before all of it, at the very heart of it, he had been her dearest friend.

When Henry came into her life, it crept up on her like the warm waters of a bending river. His love curled and soothed and nourished until she felt green and young.

In the mirror, she smiles the half-smile of a woman blessed to find there’s more of her to give. And more to know. She dabs perfume on each wrist and behind her ears, between the shadowed valley of her breasts. Beneath them in the hollow of her chest, she’s wider now and knowing, surprised and grateful she is able to bloom again.

***

Anonymous asked: So even though Scully and Henry have this perfect life, which I love, what kind of things do they fight about? Is Scully relieved it's not about conspiracy or monsters in the dark? How do they handle arguments and disagreements? Also, I love Mulder dearly but Henry is kind of perfect....which is a little scary but awesome at the same time.

They really don’t fight much. They disagree (Henry’s a bit more liberal than Scully)  they annoy each other on occasion (he constantly fails to put his laundry in the hamper and she moves all the papers he leaves on the kitchen island) but fights? No, no fights.

N.B. Before anyone messages me to say how boring that sounds, let me explain that I have been with my husband for upwards of 17 years. In that time, we have had 2 fights. Like, ugly unpleasant ones. Lots of arguments and disagreements, but two fights. Our relationship isn’t boring, and I refuse to even entertain the validity of the notion that relationships need drama to be exciting.

One of the things I love best about Iolokus is that Rivka and Sally show Mulder and Scully figuring that out, that conflict isn’t necessary for intellectual stimulation.

***

Anonymous asked: So I know Mulder and Henry aren't hanging out playing poker together every Thursday night, but are there any occasions where they do find themselves in the same room? What was that first size-up like from either guy's perspective?

Scully has scheduled the dinner at a restaurant so it isn’t on anyone’s turf. Besides, Mulder’s house would be torture and she finds Henry’s elaborate kitchen somewhat daunting. She agonizes over reviews and menus, trying to eliminate as many variables as possible. Henry had tried to help, but her snippiness drove him off in short order. She is nauseous for a week beforehand, asking Henry if she had lost her mind and should cancel, asking Mulder the same.

“I want to meet him,” Henry says, passing her a glass of wine. “He’s part of you, so he’s important to me.”

“If this is to get my blessing, Scully,” Mulder says over the phone, “you already have it. But yeah, I’d like to meet the guy wonderful enough for you to ignore the fact that his job title contains the words tax and attorney.”

***

She puts on a black sheath dress, then decides it looks too much like the one from their movie premiere. My god, the movie…has Henry seen it? Or Viv? She is afraid to ask, and afraid not to know. She pushes the thought from her mind for now, pushes her and Mulder and that limo away. Scully rummages through her closet with increasing anxiety, finally settling on a burgundy pencil skirt and fitted navy sweater. Her hair is being impossible, and after half an hour with the curling iron, she opts for a French twist. She keeps her makeup light and tosses back a handful of Tums to quell the acid tide in her stomach.

Henry’s in jeans and a blazer, drinking coffee with Viv and her girlfriend. There’s a heated argument about Iron Man taking place. “You look great,” Henry says. “Ready?”

“No. But let’s do it anyway.” She plucks at invisible fuzz on her skirt.

He takes her arm and they head to the garage.

“Have fun at the circus, kids!” Viv calls after them.

***

They are seated at a table for four, Henry and Mulder facing one another, herself between. She holds a multigrain roll from the breadbasket in her lap, using her nails to pull out every tiny piece of millet, extract every last pumpkin seed. She drops them to the floor like daisy petals.

“I read your book,” Henry says. “Really impressive research. I recommended it to some colleagues.”

Mulder stirs his drink. “Thanks. Spend a lot of time on the dark web between billable hours, Henry?”

Scully kicks him lightly under the table, nostrils flared.

Henry chuckles. “No, I’m just a dilettante.”

The silence is thick and heavy as they peruse their menus, and Scully curses herself for this egregious decision. The back of her neck prickles, her face is hot and itchy. Moments stretch like saltwater taffy on a summer day.

“So, uh, Henry,” Mulder says at last, rubbing the side of his face.

Henry looks up. “Yep?”

“My, uh, my finances are pretty complicated due to some trusts and inheritances, plus my pension. The accountant I’ve been using is retiring. You think you could recommend anybody trustworthy?”

“Oh, absolutely. I’ve got a great guy in Alexandria,” Henry says. “He’ll save you a fortune.”

Mulder nods thoughtfully. “”I’ll put it towards my post-apocalyptic underground bunker. To which, of course, you’re all invited when the end times come upon us.”

Henry’s eyes crinkle at the corners, Scully sees, and her chest loosens. “We’ll bring a pie,” Henry says.

Mulder smiles. “Don’t let Scully make it. Great cook, lousy baker.”

The waitress comes for their orders, and they are chatting easily by the time the food arrives.

***

Henry sits outside on the porch, staring up at the sky. He names the constellations to himself as he sips a tumbler of Macallan. Dana perches on the arm of his Adirondack chair, knees drawn up to her chest.

“I like him,” Henry says at length. “Very funny guy.”

Dana nods slowly. “He is.”

Henry crunches an ice cube. “He’s still in love with you.”

“Does it bother you?’

He looks at her, ethereal in the moonlight. He is afraid at times that he will awake to find she has disappeared, burned off like the mist. “I want everyone to love you.”

She shakes her head, smiling. “Henry.”                                                             

“You love him too,” Henry says.

She hunches her shoulders, glances down. “Does that bother you?”

It might, he’s not sure. He felt the ineffable thing between them, but he understands the weight of history. “Love doesn’t have to be a zero sum game. Is there space in you for both of us?”

“It is impossible for more than one object to occupy the same space at the same time,” she says. “There are different spaces for each of you.”

Henry considers this. “Why’d you leave, Dana?”

She cants her face to the sky, eyes wide. “There’s a…a recklessness in me, Henry. A self destructiveness you haven’t seen.”

Is this where his gentle doctor ends and Mulder’s sure-shot partner begins? “Scully,” he says, trying it out.

Her eyes slide closed. “Don’t.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t…please keep going.”

“That part of me blooms with him. It thrives. And I knew, I know, I couldn’t live like that. I couldn’t survive it another year. And I…I ripped it away and left it behind. That’s the place in me for you, Henry. That wound. You and Viv and Alice and Simon; you heal me there.”

He hears the thickness in her voice, feels it rising in his own. “Dana,” he says roughly. He knows about wounds and empty spaces. A piece of him went into the dark earth with Joan.

She turns her head to look at him, a slice of her lovely profile. “If that’s too much, I understand. I do. It’s a lot to ask.”

He shakes his head. “I’d rather share you than lose you,” he breathes. “If I….if I can make you feel whole, that’s a privilege.”

She makes a small noise, a hiccup or a sob, and crawls into his lap.

“It’s okay,” he says, arms wrapping around her. He kisses her temples, her eyelids.

She curls tight against his beating heart.

***

They don’t bother with the superfluity of hellos. She calls, he answers, they talk.

“I liked him,” Mulder says, bouncing a basketball. “I didn’t particularly want to, but he seems like the kind of person people just like.” Mulder finds this a kind of character flaw of its own, but does not mention as much.

“Yes,” Scully says, her voice soft. “He is.”

“A tax attorney though, Scully. Ouch.”

“Mulder, please.” The note of actual pleading in her voice startles him.

“I’m sorry,” he says, sincere. “I know this isn’t easy.”

“It’s okay.”

He shoots the ball into the hoop at the end of the driveway. “Three-pointer,” he tells Scully.

“The crowd goes wild.”

There’s a long silence, just one another’s breathing.

“Listen, I don’t know if you know this, but I have a bit of a background in psychology and behavioral science.” He makes a foul shot.

“You don’t say.” There’s a smile in her voice.

“Truth. So I want you to know that my impression of Henry is that he, um, he knows the value of what he has. With you.” It hurts to admit this to her. To himself.

“Oh,” she breathes. “Mulder, I didn’t exp-“

“No, I just, let me finish. And he, um. He’s really a good guy. His life is, you know, well. Your life, really, I guess. It’s good. It’s what I wanted for you and I’m just, you know. I’m sorry I couldn’t give it to you.” His eyes sting.

Silence.

“Scully?”

“I’m here.”

He hears tears in her voice. “Okay. Okay, good. This is hard, but we, um. We’re always friends, aren’t we?”

“Of course. Always.” She sniffles.

“I feel like Henry, he understands that. He seems like he really wants you to be happy, that he’s not the jealous type.” Shit, shit why did he say that? “Not that he should be jealous, I don’t mean to imp-“

“It’s okay. And you’re right. He knows that I’m…that we…he knows how we are.”

Mulder swallows hard. “How we are,” he repeats.

They never say goodbye, either. The silence grows and drifts, then she finally disconnects the call.

***

Anonymous asked: What would you do if Henry rocked up in season 11 (other than sue)?

Wait for him to die, I guess. That’s Chris’s MO.

***

Anonymous asked: I love Henry. I know it's sad that in this fictional world she's not with Mulder, but as much as they deeply loved each other, I must admit it's lovely to read a world where Scully is appreciated in the day to day. I'm sure that perhaps Mulder did, but we didn't see too much of that. It felt like it was only when she was kidnapped or in hospital with cancer that he realised how much she meant to him. Henry is what she deserves, and it seems to make Mulder step up too. I'm on board for this.

I feel this way too. Listen, I am diehard MSR and was a shipper before fandom had even settled on the term! I am here for Mulder and Scully hobbling across that bridge like everybody else. 94% of what I write is MSR, either set within canon, or trying to give them a happier AU. Even in this story, their love is still palpable. I don’t think it works otherwise.

But the challenge of trying to create this unconventional AU in a way that is relatable to people is really enjoyable to me as a writer. MSR is inherently easy. It exists. It’s fun and satisfying as a fan, but it’s not a hard sell. This is really pushing me to approach the characters in a new way. I’m just immensely surprised it has gone over so well, and endlessly grateful to everyone who has been willing to engage in the narrative. Especially to @kateyes224 for the idea and @mangokiwitropicalswirl and my 10/13 anon for fleshing it out. 

(10/13 anon, got your message. Just developing an answer in my head.)

—

Anonymous asked: How would Henry cope if Scully's cancer returned? And how would Mulder? OR... how would Scully cope if something happened to Mulder, but she isn't free to drop everything and go to him? Would she want to, or would she have closed the door on that reaction? How would Henry deal with that? #TeamHenlly

Henry paces the hallway outside her room, one hand to his forehead, the other holding his phone. “Pick up, pick up,” he mutters.

Mulder does, finally. “Henry?”

“Yes. Yeah. Listen, this isn’t easy, but I’m at the hospital with Dana and I’ve got some, uh, some bad news.” He is proud of his steady voice, his steady hands.

“Is she hurt? Is she sick?” Mulder sounds almost accusatory, as though Henry has been derelict in a simple task.

“She’s sick. They…” he runs his hand through his hair, circles around the vending machine again. “They found a mass in her sinuses, Mulder.”

The silence on the other end goes on too long. “Mulder, are you there?”

“Do you know her medical history?” The words are clipped.

“She told me, told the doctors this isn’t new. But she said something about a chip, about that scar on her neck. What the hell is going on here, Mulder? I’ve never pushed her about her past, but I’m seriously in the dark here.”

There’s a heavy sigh on the other end. “It’s not my story to tell you.”

Henry, his frustration peaking after hours of obfuscation and obliqueness from Dana, slams a fist into the wall. “She’s my wife, goddammit! Whatever you two have, Mulder, whatever it is, I never pried. I trust her and I trust you and I accept it. But you need to tell me, right fucking now, what I don’t know.”

People are staring, but he doesn’t care, he feels righteous and productive.

“Henry, I-”

“You tell me,” he growls, “or I will drive over right now and beat the living shit out of you. I have a lot of impotent rage I’d like to direct somewhere.” He’s not entirely sure he can make good on this, but he thinks adrenaline will give him an advantage.

Nothing.

“Mulder.”

Breathing.

“It’s medicine,” Mulder says slowly. “The chip in her neck is some kind of medicine that stops her cancer.”

Henry is appalled, “That’s it? That’s the secret you couldn’t share? Am I losing my goddamned mind? Call the fucking manufacturer right now and get another one, for Christ’s sake!”

“It’s not that simple,” Mulder says, his voice soft. “It’s, ah, not on the market.”

“You’re telling me you know of a medicine that treats cancer effectively and you can’t get it? Is it foreign? Illegal?”

“It was a sort of custom design,” Mulder says.

“Give me an answer, a real answer. You two and your doublespeak, I swear to god…” He’s gripping his hair by the roots.

“Fine, Henry. Here it is.” There is anger in Mulder’s voice now, and Henry finds it satisfying. “Her cancer was specifically engineered to manifest if she ever took the chip out. The chip is a tracking device. I don’t know why it stopped working, but before you come over and kick my ass, you have a lot of fucking questions to ask your wife.”

Henry’s mind is reeling. He leans against the wall. “A tracking device?” he repeats. “Engineered cancer? How do you engineer cancer? Why do you engineer cancer?” He can’t process this, not this and Dana asleep in the hospital bed with a demon behind her eyes.

“Shit,” Mulder breathes. “Goddammit, Henry. How bad is she?”

“She’s weak, very thin. She kept saying it was the flu, you know how she is. But she had a few nosebleeds and went in. And here we are.”

“Yeah, I know how she is,” Mulder says, and Henry hears the pain in his words.

“There’s a man,” Mulder says. “Who knows about the chip. He might, uh, he might arrange a deal.”

Henry is baffled, but tries to swim with the current. “A deal? Why would an- never mind. Call him. I’ll pay whatever he wants, no questions asked.”

“Oh, I don’t think you can pay what he’ll want,” Mulder says. The words are measured, heavy. “But I can.”

The line goes dead.

***

Anonymous asked: In the Henry universe, how does Scully react when Mulder finds someone else?

She’s sorting lunch components for the twins into plastic bins in the refrigerator; bags of chips and carrot sticks and foil-wrapped triangles of pizza. Her phone rings as she picks up a webbed bag of clementines.

“Hey,” Mulder says, his voice a warm pulse.

Scully lets the oranges slump back onto the counter. “Hey.”

“I’m, uh, I’m headed up to New York to talk to my publisher this afternoon,” he tells her.

She can hear the noisy old dishwasher going in the background, imagines Mulder fidgeting at the kitchen table. There’s a chair with a wobbly leg he likes to rock in. “They still talking about the miniseries?”

“Yep.”

Scully chews her lip, considering. She tucks the phone against her shoulder. “That’s not why you called, though.”

A long pause. “No.”

“Okay.” She shuts the fridge and begins assembling sandwiches on the counter. Teasing information from Mulder can take a quiet, steady patience.

“I met someone,” he says at last.

Scully sets the knife down, knuckling the cool granite. “Did you?”

“I just, you know, I wanted to call you. You were very open about Henry so I thought I should extend you the same courtesy.” In the background, the squeak of the chair leg.

“Mulder, that’s great. I’m happy to hear it.” She is, she is, she doesn’t want him alone.

He coughs. “Thanks. Um, well, I guess that’s it, really. I should go pack.”

“No!” she exclaims. “Mulder, I need some detail.” As a friend. As a concerned friend who is wary of his general taste for women who will betray him.

“Oh, Scully, you don’t have t-“

“Really, I do. Let’s have the 411.” She hopes she sounds casually interested, and begins spreading peanut butter on a slice of bread.

Mulder guffaws. “The 411? Scully, let me tell you about the internet.”

She blushes, waves her hand. “Whatever. Details, something.”

“Ummmm…”

Scully imagines him pacing now, tossing and catching an invisible baseball. “You know, it’s okay, I don’t want to pressure you.”

“No, hey, I’m sorry. Just trying to generate a quick dossier. Uh, well, her name is Elizabeth. She works for the EPA, coastal ecology.”

“Science nerd, huh?” she says, and immediately wishes she hadn’t. She swallows, stabs a spoon into the jam jar.

“Yeah,” Mulder says. “She does something with zebra mussels and ship ballast water that I need to brush up on.”

“Probably invasive species in coastal communities. I’ll give you a crash course if you like.” She picks up the sandwich to tuck into a plastic bag.

‘It’s okay. I’ll Google it; you remember that internet thing I mentioned before. It’s got lots of stuff on it.”

She is stung, and words sticks in her throat like lumpy oatmeal. “Oh,” she manages. “Okay, then.”

Mulder coughs again. “I just figured you’re pretty busy, with work and the kids and everything.”

“Yeah. Yeah, it’s pretty crazy.” She toys with the jam jar, rolling it in her hands. It is cool against her palms “Well, you know, enjoy your research. Look up copepods too.”

“I will.”

Seconds tick by on the kitchen clock.

“When’s the second book out?” Scully asks. She picks up the sandwich, zipping and unzipping the plastic bag.

“Around Thanksgiving, I think. You want an advance copy? I’ll sign it for you.”

She laughs. “No, don’t give them away. I want to buy it, boost your sales.”

“In that case, stock up and send them out with the Christmas cards. Even mine.”

“I’ll pre-order on the….what did you call it? The in-ter-net?”

Mulder chuckles. “Have them shipped right to your house, or take your velocipede down to the book-seller to fetch them.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

A lengthy pause, but they don’t hang up.

Scully finds that the sandwich in her hand has been wadded into a dense ball, peanut butter and jam squeezed all over the inside of the bag. She hastily shoves it into the trash can. “Mulder, um, when you get back in town, why don’t you give me a call? We’d love to have dinner with you and Elizabeth.” She says it so smoothly she believes it.

“Oh,” he says. “That sounds nice, that sounds really good. Yeah.”

“Okay.” She squeezes her eyes closed, her stomach sour.

Mulder breathes for a long moment. Then he says, “Well, hey. I’ve got to get going, but thanks for listening. I know how busy you are.”

“Yeah,” she says. “Sure.” She holds back this time, doesn’t say she always has time for him.

An empty silence now, the call disconnected.

Scully sits on a bar stool, hands clasped beneath her chin, elbows on the breakfast bar. She sees the absurd expectation she’s held onto, the cruelty of it. Mulder like a sundial in the garden of her life, static and reliable as she moves through the seasons around him. Ticking off her hours as she spends them.

Scully goes to the sink and slaps cold water on her face. She sees Elizabeth in her mind’s eye. Lanky and brunette, of course. Long legs and khaki shorts, probably lots of trips to REI. She assigns her a sporty dog too. Maybe with a bandanna.

She says a prayer for his happiness, and leaves it to God to sort out what exactly she means by the idea.

***

Anonymous asked: 10/13 Henry anon here, dearest Mrs. Virgata and mangokiwimagicswirl, either or both of you please feel free to flesh it out. It delights me my little something could turn into a bigger something. I'm not above begging. *begs*. Look what you all did, my MSR heart really does belong to MSR, but I can carve a little spot out for Henry/Scully/Mulder. Mulder is earth, Henry is the stick, Scully is Archimede's point bc we all know she makes the choices and drives the consequences.

A Saturday in late September, and Henry and Scully sit on the back porch watching the twins lob lacrosse balls at Viv. She catches them expertly, flicking her wrist to send them flying back at her younger siblings. They dodge them, squealing and chasing one another and Wicket, who makes off with one on occasion. He exposes his preposterously fluffy belly in hope of scratches.

Scully pours herself a glass of sangria, pours Henry another two inches of Macallan. She is pleasantly buzzed, work blurring out of her mind’s eye. Henry is somewhat more than buzzed, she suspects. Joan’s parents had been over, which exhausts him.

“There’s, ah, there’s something I want to discuss with you,” Henry says. “And with a bit of liquid courage, there’s no time like the present.”

Anxiety rises in her like a barometer. “That’s quite a lead-in,” she says, keeping her tone light while her stomach churns.

“Sorry,” Henry replies. “It’s not, it’s nothing bad.”

“Let’s have it, then.”

“Mulder’s birthday dinner,” Henry begins. “I know what he…I know that you two are…dammit.“ He trails off in frustration.

The anxiety is now constricting her throat. “Henry?”

He shakes his head, still watching his children. “What I’m mangling here is that if you, um, if you ever felt a need to, you know, take a night off from all this-“ here he nods at the yard, “I’d not hold it against you.”

Comprehension begins to dawn, and Scully is aghast.  “You’re not suggesting that I….no. Henry, no.”

Henry shrugs. “It’s not a moral failing, okay? I asked you once if there was a place for both of us in you and you said there were two places. And I said I’d rather share you than lose you. I know a marriage is a compromise, and I’m, you know, I’m trying to figure out what that looks like here. You took on three kids and a guy with some heavy emotional baggage.”

Scully’s cheeks burn. “So your solution is that I offer myself up to him as a birthday gift? Is this some kind of magnanimous man-to-man gesture, sharing your woman as a show of friendship?”

Henry turns to her now, mouth open. “Oh god, oh….shit. I had no idea it sounded that way. I’m sorry.”

Scully drains half her glass in one gulp. “This is the life I committed myself to, Henry. It’s not a job I need a sick day from, and you and the kids aren’t baggage, for heaven’s sake.”

Henry stares into the yard, watches Wicket play tug of war with Viv’s lacrosse stick. “I’m terrified of losing you,” he says. “Partially because of Joan but partially because…” he shakes his head.

“Because what?”

He swallows the rest of his Scotch. “Because there are these dark places in you I can’t see, places that have been redacted. And I told you I wouldn’t pry, and I won’t, but I have this fear of them. That they’ll swallow you one day, and you’ll just disappear. I guess I hoped that if I offered you a night to visit, so to speak, you might not feel tempted to run away to them.”

Her sinuses burn. “Henry…”

“I wasn’t trying to offer you to Mulder as a birthday gift, Dana, that’s really fucking sick. But I was trying to offer you a night in the parts of yourself you haven’t let me go to yet.”

She reaches for his hand and grips it hard. “I’m sorry,” she says.

“A vacation home,” he says, smiling weakly at his own joke. He squeezes her hand back.

“I don’t need a vacation,” she assures him.  She tugs Henry closer, pulls him down so that his head is resting on her lap. His legs dangle over the armrest of the wicker settee.

“I just want you to know I meant it,” he says.

She nods. “I do. But you can’t keep me by giving me away.” She traces his face with her fingertip, his eyelashes and tragus and philtrum. She etches him deeper into her heart.

***

Anonymous asked: Original 10/13 anon here, I suppose i'm down for consummation of free pass too. Heck, you can do both versions for all I care!

aloysiavirgata:

Oh @perplexistan and @kateyes224…

A continuation of this

***

It’s sticky outside, a mid-Atlantic fall day not fully committed to the reality of October. A late season hurricane has been stirring up the ghosts of summer off the Carolinas, the air close and heavy. Scully steals hairpins from Viv’s vanity to help tame her bun, and is reasonably pleased with the results.

It’s just Mulder, she tells herself, zipping up her navy dress. It has a boatneck that shows her clavicles to good advantage, cap sleeves that feel feminine but not frilly.

It’s just Mulder, she thinks, choosing beige kitten heels that lengthen her legs, swiping Lancome’s Perfect Fig across her mouth. She skips perfume.

The sky is thick with shaggy clouds, the sun slipping away nearly undetected. Scully slides behind the wheel of her car, and leaves tire tracks on the grass when she swerves backwards down the driveway.

***

The restaurant is new and well reviewed, with nothing served in Mason jars or on slate tiles. She asked when she made the reservation, as these things leave Mulder snarky and cross.

Mulder arrives at the table a few minutes after her, wind-whipped, mud on one of his loafers. They embrace, a quick kiss on each cheek, and she breathes shallowly. It would not be good to inhale the scent of him.

“Happy birthday,” she says, settling into her chair, napkin spread across her silken lap. “I’m sorry the weather’s so ominous.”

“I blame you entirely.”

She smiles. “I should have e-mailed Holman Hart, called in a favor.”

Mulder peruses his menu. “Next time. I’m just glad you got to come out and play for an evening.”

Scully frowns. “This isn’t the fifties, Mulder, and I’m not a kept woman. Don’t make it sound like that.”

He is taken aback, but nods. “I’m sorry. You’re right.”

Scully sighs. She doesn’t want to begin like this. “It’s fine. I’ve had a long week and I’m a bit snappish. I just don’t want things to be strained between us because of….well. It’s your birthday, Mulder.”

A waitress comes by with a bottle of champagne in an ice bucket. She sets it on the table, handing them each a flute.

Scully looks at her in confusion. “I didn’t order this,” she says.

The waitress nods her head towards Mulder. “The gentleman called earlier, ma’am.”

The gentleman denies this, and the waitress furrows her brow. “Sir? Someone called earlier and ordered this for Dana Scully’s table. For a birthday celebration.”

Scully blushes, twists her wedding ring around her finger. “It’s fine, thank you,” she tells the waitress. “Just a misunderstanding on my part. Sorry for the confusion.”

“Shall I open it?”

“Please.”

The cork makes a wonderful popping sound, the champagne golden and sparkling as it flows into their glasses. The waitress tucks the bottle back into the ice before she leaves.

Scully stares at the silver bucket, the frost of condensation on it, the mounds of crystal ice. She runs a fingertip along the rim of her flute, making it squeak.

Mulder raises his glass in a toast. “Many thanks to Henry,” he says, without a trace of irony.

***

Mulder is clacking his empty mussel shells like castanets. The champagne is gone and so is half a bottle of Sancerre. The candle on their table has burned low.

Scully is laughing helplessly, her napkin pressed to her mouth.

“I can’t believe you never told me this,” she manages. “The Spanish ambassador, how could you?”

He drops the shells back into the bowl, grinning. “It’s was university and I was an asshole. Plus my girlfriend was semi-psychotic. Phoebe,” he clarifies.

Scully groans. “Oh, God. Phoebe. She was a mess, Mulder.”

He laughs. “Gorgeous though. My main requirement at the time.”

She wipes her eyes. “I’ll grant you that, yes. I was a little intimidated, I won’t lie.”

“You were looking pretty good too.”

Scully wrinkles her nose in reply.

A boom of thunder comes suddenly, making the chandeliers rattle. Seconds later, a jagged fork of lightning splits the sky. Gasps come from the other diners when the lights go out.

Mulder dribbles wine onto the candle,  extinguishing it. “Pouring one out for my homie Zeus.”

***

They make a mad dash to their cars in the rain, Scully nearly diving into her SUV. She slides on the wet leather, blasting the air to dry herself off.

Across the lot she spots Mulder’s car, his battered old two-tone Land Cruiser 70. It has not been started. Worried, Scully drives over, hydroplaning on the slick asphalt. She parks parallel to him, oriented nose to tail.

She sees him through the downpour, scowling at his phone. She waves to get his attention and he frowns at her, shrugs. A round of hurried texting reveals that the car won’t start and he’s got at least a 2 hour wait per the AAA app.

Scully reaches behind her seat for the huge wood-frame golf umbrella she keeps there. Opening the door, she unfurls it into the storm. The wind nearly drags it from her hands. She makes it to her trunk before Mulder sees what she’s doing and leaps from his car.

“Are you out of your fucking MIND?” he yells into the wind.

“JUMPER CABLES,” she shouts back. “YOU CAN’T STAY HERE FOR TWO HOURS!” Scully rummages around, then hoists them victoriously.

Thunder crashes, and the hail begins.

Mulder shoves her into his open driver’s door and she clambers into the passenger seat so he can get in. Hail the size of quail eggs bounces in with him.

He slams the door, panting. “You have a degree. In physics.”

She twines the cables around her hands, shamefaced. “I know.”

Mulder starts to laugh. He rests his head on the steering wheel, shaking with laughter while hail rattles around them.

Scully glares at him. “Let’s agree it wasn’t my finest moment, okay?”

He catches his breath. “No, it’s fine. It’s good. I appreciate the laugh. But we picked the wrong car for this little adventure.” He clicks the useless ignition to demonstrate.

Scully groans. “My phone’s in mine too.”

Mulder peels his jacket off, his shirt mostly dry underneath. “Scully, you’re soaked. I’d offer you my jacket, but…” He holds it up, letting it drip water onto the floor.

“I’m good,” she says. “Just turn on the - oh.”

“Yeah.”

She folds down the visor, inspecting herself in the mirror. She looks like the undead prom queen from a slasher flick, straggling hair coming loose, smudged rings of waterproof mascara.

She snaps the visor back up.

Mulder brightens. “I think there’s a blanket in the foot locker. I’ll climb back and get it.”

She waves him off. “I’ll get it, I’m smaller.”  Scully turns, her silk dress clinging like wet paper as she wriggles. She and Mulder studiously ignore her hip against his shoulder. Her shoes drop beside him to the floor.

She squelches into the back, feeling clammy and uncomfortable. There is loose grit on the floor, which hurts her knees. She tugs a quilted moving blanket from a folded-up seat onto the floor, then opens the foot locker. Inside is his old Navajo blanket. She touches it, smiling.

“You find it?” Mulder asks.

“Yeah, thanks,” she says. Scully unfolds the blanket and wraps it around herself. It smells of dry wood and motor oil, GoJo hand cleanser. “I forgot how much room there is back here with the side seats up.”

He adjusts the rearview mirror to see her, and they hold one another’s eyes for a beat. Scully looks away, watches the storm shred leaves off the trees. She twists her wedding ring.

Mulder climbs through the seats, grunting, then sits next to her on the moving blanket. “I texted Henry,” he says. “Let’s him know you’re safe, just waiting out the storm. Thanked him for the champagne.”

“I appreciate that,” she says, touched

“I’d want him to.”

Scully pulls the blanket tighter.“I’m sorry your birthday is going like this,” she says.

He looks at her, surprised. “Good dinner, great company, spooky storm. You wanna tell ghost stories and creep each other out?” He bumps her shoulder.

Scully smiles. “I’m don’t think we can surprise each other anymore,” she says softly. “We’re like two magicians trying to show each other card tricks.”

“You can always surprise me,” he says.

She holds her left hand out for his inspection. The diamonds reflect scraps of yellow streetlight. “This?” she asks.

Mulder shrugs, looks away.

Scully touches the rings. “He told me to go home with you tonight if I wanted. He said he would understand, like shore leave. That it wouldn’t change anything.”

Mulder swallows, closes his eyes. The air is becoming steamy with evaporate, the windows fogged. The smell of damp silk, damp wool hangs about them.

“I told him I couldn’t, that I didn’t need it anyway. And that I certainly wasn’t going to offer myself to you like a gift from the lord of one manor to another.” She reaches out to touch his face, to turn it towards her.

“Don’t,” he rasps.

“Mulder, look at me.”

He shoves her hand away, stares at her. “I’m getting in your car,” he says. “Before we do something really stupid.”

Scully drops the Navajo blanket to the floor. She unpins her hair, lets it fall down her sticky neck to just past her shoulders. She sits back on her heels, wet dress like seaweed. “Mulder.”

“One of us needs to get the fuck out of this car,” he whispers, his voice ragged. He doesn’t move.

She unzips her dress, but it doesn’t fall away like she’d planned. It clings to the tops of her arms, the tops of her breasts, the back gaping open. Gooseflesh rises.

“I thought I could get out of the car,” she says. “ But maybe a joyride every so often isn’t such a bad idea. Henry says it’s not a moral failing, Mulder. And I’m quoting directly.”

They stare at one another, her face tipped up, her mouth swollen. Mulder gazes down at the shadow between her breasts.

Scully runs her tongue across her top lip.

He reaches forward, slides his hands down her shoulders, scraping the ruined silk away. His breath, his heart, are louder than the thunder.

She is bare to the waist now, her chest heaving, her dress a puddle between her hips and the quilted grey blanket. Her nipples ache.

Hail smashes against the windshield, and the wind howls.

She unbuttons his shirt, her fingers trembling, and his chest is deeper, broader than she remembered it. His scars are just as she left them.

Scully moves closer, her breasts grazing his skin when she kisses his neck, bites at it. He shudders, fingers tangling in her hair.

She cups his erection through his trousers.

“I thought you said…” he gasps, hands sliding down to plane her back.

“I thought I meant it,” she mumbles, unbuckling his belt, unfastening his fly.

“I wish you had,” he groans when she pulls his boxers to his knees.

Scully lays back on the blanket, her dress still rucked around her abdomen like a painting of Venus. She reaches beneath it to pull her underwear down, kicks them away.

Mulder is on top of her then, his hands on either side of her head, his shirt tenting her torso. He moves one hand against the hot skin between her thighs, comes away slick from even so little contact.

She whimpers as the storm roars, and he presses his wet fingers to her mouth.

“Scully,” he says, his eyes searching hers. “We can’t undo this, you know that.”

She knows, she knows, she saw what happened to Daniel’s family, what she had done.

“Please,” she says, raking her manicured nails down his back, her pelvis arched against his.  “Please.”

Mulder is not her conscience, and enters her in one thrust.

He cries out to her god.

***

It’s past one when she stumbles into the kitchen, past one by the little clock above the sink.

Henry jumps up from the ladderback chair. “Dana, thank God,” he says. “Mulder called about 45 minutes ago, said you’d left, but I couldn’t reach you.”

Scully holds up her phone, the screen black. “Ruined in the rain,” she says. She slumps into a chair, drained. “And the hail cracked my windshield.”

Henry watches her, concerned, then takes his robe off. “Look at you, you’re soaked.” He tucks the thick cotton around her, smoothing her hair out of her eyes. “Dana?”

She leans up, kisses him. “I’m sorry, the roads were awful and I’m exhausted. I don’t remember a storm like that since Sandy.”

He runs his thumb over her cheekbone, smiling at her freckles. ”I’m just glad you’re safe.”

Scully nods, pressing his palm to her face, to her lips. She’d stood outside in the rain, after the storm burned itself out, to wash the yeasty scent of sex from her pores. She’s afraid, somehow, that it has lingered. That she is marked, tainted forever.

“Probably too much wine, too,” she admits ruefully. “I drank more than my fair share and my head hurts.”

“I got his text,” Henry tells her. “I’m glad he liked it.”

Scully looks back at him, her heart aching with how much she loves him, how much she despises herself. “Oh, yes,” she replies. “He loved your gift.”

 —

For everyone who asked.

***

He rattles up the driveway, the rattling a function of his automobile rather than the O'Keefes’ smooth asphalt. He parks under the basketball hoop, blocking the garage.

Fallen branches litter the yard. A shutter is down from one of the dormer windows, and the landscaping looks threadbare in places. A Japanese maple is split down the center.

Henry is gathering this debris from the storm, hauling it into a large pile in front of the house. He wears a Princeton sweatshirt and jeans, a Nationals cap pulled over his hair. He pauses in his work to greet Mulder. There are wet leaves on his hands.

“Didn’t expect to see you,” Mulder says, stepping over a rake to shake hands. “I was planning a drop-and-dash.” He holds out Scully’s wooden umbrella, her jumper cables.

“Well, you can just, um, set that stuff on the bench I suppose. Dana’s in surgery all day, but I can put it in her car when she gets home.” Henry jams his hands in his pockets, rocks back on his heels.

“Okay,” Mulder says. He lays the items on the bench, then surveys the yard with a kind of awe at the destruction. “Hell of a mess.”

Henry sighs. “I know they were calling for it, but I guess I wasn’t prepared for what we got. You know Dana has a big crack in her windshield.”

Mulder’s eyebrows go up, as this is news to him. “She okay?”

“Oh, she’s fine, but she was pretty shaken when she got home last night.” He studies Mulder carefully. “Must have been a rough drive home, huh?”

“Must have been.”

They are silent for a time.

“You need any help cleaning up?” Mulder asks. “It’s the least I could do after you were nice enough to buy me birthday champagne.”

Henry shakes his head. “No, thank you for the offer though. Glad you had a good night despite the weather. You’re hard to shop for, though Dana said you wouldn’t want a gift.”

Mulder looks away. “I don’t need much.“

Henry picks the rake up, leans on the handle as he presses the tines into the soft earth. “I love my wife,” he says. “And so do you. Some people might say that puts us at odds, Mulder.”

Mulder meets Henry’s gaze. “It would be an understandable, if incorrect assumption.”

Henry shifts. “I don’t want to be at odds with you. You….you’re her friend. You represent a part of her life I can never fully understand. When I lost Joan I thought I’d…well. I know we all have our ghosts.”

“Nothing happened last night, Henry.”

Henry stiffens. “Pardon?”

Mulder holds his hands out, open. “I feel like I need to just say it, okay? Nothing inappropriate happened. My battery was dead and we realized we both had too much to drink, so we waited the storm out in my car. Her phone got wet and ruined so she couldn’t call. She adores you and your kids and that Ewok of a dog.”

Henry closes his eyes for a long moment, then opens them. “Thanks for bringing her things back. I’ll tell her you came by.”

Mulder nods. He gets into his car and backs down the driveway, navigating fallen limbs as he does. On the radio, Tom Petty’s singing about his last dance with Mary Jane. Mulder turns the volume up and sings along.

***

Anonymous asked: We can just blame love for the Henry saga. Loved fucked all of them over. In Victorian times, after the free pass, Scully would've killed herself, Henry would remain unmarried for the rest of his life and refuse to talk about Dana, and Mulder would go on some stupid quest as penance and probably get himself killed.

I think I saw this movie and Gillian was very good in it.

***

Anonymous asked: I beginning to feel like eventually Henry is going to realize Scully's connection runs so deep emotionally that he's just not going to want to deal with it anymore. He says he's fine with how things are, how Scully doesn't tell him much about her past, that she is still very close to Mulder and gives her a free pass, but eventually he'll want more for himself in a relationship and leave her. In my mind, Scully want want that life and deserves it, but she unintentinally sabotages it.

I think you’re right. Scully has a deep self-destructive streak that rears its head on occasion. I think there’s a part of her that doesn’t feel like she deserves familial happiness after William, and that she doesn’t deserve Mulder or Henry. She’s almost created a perfect storm for herself where she can lose them both by capitalizing on their feelings for her.

***

Anonymous asked: How did Henry and Scully meet?

She wore navy peau de soie and nude stilettos, a beaded bag on her wrist. Her hair hung in sculpted waves just covering her collarbones.

She chatted, she mingled, and she ducked into the kitchen with unnecessary frequency to check the flow of the food.

“Everything’s fine, Dr. Scully,” the staff assured her each time. She pursed her lips, scanning the bison tartare and vol au vents. She sampled a grilled shrimp, nodding tersely.

Scully calmed herself with a third vodka tonic, a poor decision, she knew, but the bar was open and her nerves jangled.

“It’s perfect, Dana,” her intern said, a glass of white wine in her manicured hand. She was a child, scarcely old enough to legally consume her drink. Her father was Someone.

Scully smiled, thanked her. The crowd was too dense, the room too warm, and the talk too loud. There was drunken laughter, cloying perfume. She longed for home, for the reliability of solitude.

Next to her, a man in a grey suit ordered a 15 year Macallan, neat. Scully appraised him out of habit, saw the fine tailoring and coordinating pocket square. The haircut was good, the shoes excellent. She sensed funds for her pet project.

“Dana Scully,” she said, holding out her free hand.

He took it with his left. There was no ring. “Henry O'Keefe,” he said. “You’re on the committee, aren’t you?”

Scully blinked in surprise. “I am,” she said. “Have we met?”

He shook his head. “My firm’s the title sponsor and I recognized your name.”

She smiled in the way she knew people liked, all her teeth on display. “Impressive. Have you checked out the auction items yet?”

He nodded. “There’re a few things I’d like for my kids, I put in some bids. Quite a variety this year.”

“It’s much appreciated. I hope you win them.” She left a tip for the bartender, turning to go.

Fingers at her back, and she sucked in her breath at the ghost of a memory.

“Dr. Scully?”

She turned back to Henry O'Keefe. “Yes?”

He looked into his drink, then at her. “It’s a very good cause.”

“Yes.”

“Perhaps…perhaps you could tell me more about it. About how you got involved. It would be nice to hear from someone with passion rather than just a calculation for client endearment.” He offered her a hopeful smile.

Scully set her empty glass on the bar. “I’d love to,” she said. She rested her hand on his offered forearm, and waded back into the fray.

***

Anonymous asked: Henry story: if Mulder and Scully were asked to consult the FBI on a strange case (and a once only basis), what would happen?

She’s got a stack of patient files next to her, dog-eared, the corners grubby. Scully dutifully logs their contents into her computer, wishing the hospital would spring for software upgrades. Her phone rings, startling her from the mind-numbing task.

“Mulder?”

“There’s a case.”

She pecks at the keyboard. “I’m sorry, but the person you’re trying to reach is no longer available. Please hang up and try your call again.”

“I’m not kidding. You’ve gotta make arrangements, you’ve gotta-”

“Mulder, slow down. What the hell is going on? What case, why are you freaking out like this?”

A pause. “It’s Skinner.”

***

“I realize the government is slow with the red tape, but they are aware that they no longer employ you, correct?” Henry’s fingers tap his forehead as he paces the kitchen.

She traces her nail along the grain of the kitchen table. “Strictly consulting,” she says. “All behind the scenes. Probably no longer than a week.”

“Forgive me, but why you two? Why now?”

She looks down. “It’s classified.”

“Of course. And where will you be going? Can I know that at least?”

“Classified,“ she whispers, still not meeting his eyes.

Henry throws his hands in the air. “Of course. Of. Fucking. Course. Your whole life is classified, why shouldn’t this be too?”

Scully squeezes her eyes shut. Any other case and she would have said no. Anything else and she would have hung up on Mulder, gone back to her filing, eaten Viv’s outstanding lasagna, and gone to bed.

“Are you allowed to say no, even? I mean, you’re a civilian, right? They can’t force you to do anything.”

“I have to,” she says, heartsick. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. But I have to.” Her throat is tight.

Henry knuckles the counter, his back to her. “I have never asked you anything, Dana. Not a single goddamned thing. I agreed to leave the past behind and move forward, but it seems to keep popping up. Flying off with your ex husband to your ex job? I’m supposed to be fine with that when I know…” He shakes his head.

“When you know what?” she breathes, nauseous. She is afraid he will say it, even though she knows he knows.

Henry turns, his eyes hard. “Enough, okay? I know enough.” He considers her. “What would you do if I said no?”

She is taken aback, this possibility not having occurred to her. “I didn’t think we forbade each other things, Henry,” she says slowly.

“The requests are getting pretty one-sided. So what would you do?”

She presses her trembling hands flat to the table, palms cool against the lacquered wood. “I’d go anyway,” she says. “Not for anyone else, but for Ski-” she bites off the end of her sentence, furious with herself.

Henry sits across from her at the table. “For whom?”

 She remains silent, shaken.

“Classified,” he says, with faint contempt. “Right.”

Scully chews her lip until the inside of it bleeds. Experience has taught her that there are reckonings, crossroads past which a life can take on an entirely new direction. She does not want this to be one of them.

They look at each other for what seems like a very long time.

“Henry,” she says carefully. “What I’m about to do is completely illegal, all right? I’m putting your life and my life in danger by telling you this. But you’re right; I owe it to you. To us.” She reaches across the table for his hand.

Henry nods. “I understand.”

He doesn’t; he can’t possibly, but she plows ahead before she loses her nerve. “FBI Director Walter Skinner has been taken by a militia group called the New Spartans. We believe he’s being held inside their compound, located near Casper Mountain, Wyoming.”

Henry gapes. “The Director. Of the FBI. Has been kidnapped?”

“So it would seem.”

Henry shakes his head, appalled. He withdraws his hand from hers to run through his hair.“Why isn’t this national news, why isn’t the, uh…who? The SEALS or the Army Rangers all over this? Why are they pulling two agents out of retirement to deal with a huge fucking disaster? Were you hostage negotiators, what?”

“No. But we….um. We, along with Director Skinner, have dealt with this group before. Mulder infiltrated them undercover at one point. August Bremer, their former leader, spared Mulder’s life at one point.” She looks at him sadly, reminding herself of all that he doesn’t know.

“Shouldn’t they be making demands, on TV or something, I don’t know…. Bragging?” Sweat beads on Henry’s brow, and he wipes at it with a paper napkin.

Scully shakes her head. “Maybe in a Bond flick. These are not people who want attention. They see themselves as the last true patriots and this is symbolic for them, for their followers. They don’t want to cut a deal with the federal government. They’re anarchists, and see no difference between the FBI and the KGB, Henry. This is a power move.”

Henry, dazed, shreds the paper napkin into minuscule fragments. “How the hell did they get him, anyway?”

In for a penny, in for a pound, she figures. What’s a little more treason between husband and wife? “A member of the group had been leaking plans to the Director for about eighteen months, all of it credible. The source claimed that the New Spartans had been working with anti-federal groups overseas to plan an attack that would take down power grids in 20 major US cities. Based on our prior dealings with the group, the Director found this consistent with their MO. He agreed to meet with the source to obtain satellite footage of the other groups’ headquarters. But it turned out to be a setup, an ambush. Four agents were killed and the Director was badly injured.”

Her husband looks ill. “My god,” he mumbles. “And you’re wading back into this? And I’m supposed to just nod and wave like it’s fine?”

“Just consulting, Henry, I promise.” She speaks softly, like she does when the twins wake up from nightmares they can’t remember. “I’m past fifty, and hardly in peak form. Intel only.”

“But why, Dana? Can’t someone else do this?” His voice is pleading.

“I owe him my life, Mulder’s life,” she says. “He risked himself to save us. And when I had no one, nothing, he was there.” She shrugs. “It’s a debt I never thought I could repay.”

Henry frowns. “No one and nothing? Dana, what happened to you?”

And now, Scully knows, now is the crossroad. She gulps air, takes her husband’s hands again in her own.

“I have a son,” she says.

***

@perplexistan asked: I need something from the Henry-verse. Something happy, though. Maybe Scully finally divorcing Henry and going back to Mulder. I know that's not the point of this AU, which I truly do love, but I just want it. Sue me.

You are asking a lot of our friendship. Can’t I just send you cookies?

***

Anonymous asked: Who is being eaten up by the repercussions of free pass more Mulder or scully?

Scully for sure. I think that, particularly post IWTB, he’s stopped taking responsibility for her decisions. I have a line in there where I say that Mulder is not her conscience, and I think he really feels that way now. She’s a grown woman capable of making her own choices. I think he knows what they did was wrong, but Scully isn’t some wide-eyed innocent anymore.

***

Anonymous asked: Does Viv know about Emily and William? Has she met/seen Mulder?

Henry doesn’t know about Emily and William. Viv has met Mulder twice. She thinks he’s a compelling, charming weirdo but, given her stepmother’s tendency to organize closets by color and make spreadsheets for every conceivable topic, she’s baffled that they were together as long as she’s heard they were.

***

For all the anons who have so sweetly asked after Henry, here’s a little intersection with Ghouli.

***

Simon and Alice run squealing from the living room, slamming into Scully when she comes around the corner from the kitchen.

She staggers back under their combined weight, bumping into the dog. “What’s wrong?” she asks, steadying herself against the counter.

Viv stalks in behind them, waving her phone. “I told them it was too scary,” she says. “But they hid behind the couch to read over my shoulder, and now they’re all freaked out.” She punches Simon in the arm. “Serves you right.”

“We’re never sleeping again,” Alice asserts, cuddling against Scully.

“Ever,” Simon adds, punching Viv back.

Scully rubs Alice’s small back, running her fingers through her thick hair. The irrational squabbles of children are still hard for her to follow, but she tries. “What was too scary?”

“Ghouli,” Viv says, crunching into an apple.

***

Scully is curled up on the chaise longue in her bedroom, lost in reading, when Henry comes in. He’s shed his suit for pajama pants and a Georgetown sweatshirt. Scully smiles at his mussed hair, an untidy silver haystack from wrestling with the twins. The nails of his left hand are painted with purple glitter polish.

“You get them settled?” she asks.

He rubs his face. “Yeah, finally. Alice is good, but Simon’s still pretty sure this Ghouli thing is coming to eat our family.” He sits at the edge of the chaise, reaching out to massage Scully’s neck. His hands cover her shoulders, thumbs meeting at the base of her cervical spine.

“Mmmmmm,” she says, rolling her head forward. “You’re going to distract me.”

“That’s the plan,” he says, trailing butterfly kisses along her jaw, then stops when he notices what’s on the screen. “What the hell is that?”

“Ghouli, apparently. Viv showed me the site. it’s pretty well done, actually. I can see why they’re freaked out.” The drawing of the monster has the clean, architectural lines of a scientific sketch.

Henry stretches out on the chaise, wrapping himself around her. Scully tucks herself into the solid warmth of his body and adjusts her laptop so that they can both see. Late night cuddling over images of cryptids brings back memories that she shakes off.

As though reading her mind, Henry says, “So whatcha thinking, Agent Scully? This is your former wheelhouse, right?”

She shrugs. “Not exactly It’s fascinating from a cultural standpoint, I suppose. I was talking to Viv about it. There’s an internet phenomenon called ‘creepypasta,’ kind of like urban legends with a paranormal bent. Some of them have taken on a sort of folk-tale quality.”

Henry tucks her head beneath his chin. “Is this that Slenderman thing? Those two girls in Wyoming?”

“Wisconsin,” Scully corrects. “Yes, like Slenderman.” She switches tabs, pulling up a new post. “Ceci n'est ce pas une pipe,” she reads, in her bad French.

“This is not a pipe,” Henry translates, musing. “What the hell does that mean?”

Scully taps her lips. “It’s a reference to a painting by Rene Magritte. He did, um, a painting of a pipe with this phrase below it, as a reminder that the symbol of the thing is not the thing itself. The map is not the territory. It’s a semiotic concept addressed by Alfred Korzybski.”

Henry kisses her temple. “You didn’t even have to Google that, did you?”

She, grins, admits that she did not.

“So hot,” Henry says. “Anyway, so what? Some emo kid who’s read too much Sartre decided to make some of this, uh, creepypasta stuff.”

Scully scrolls around some more. “Probably. It’s just impressively complex. Like, here. Look at this. It’s got a Baconian cypher, it references atomic bomb tests,it’s got sketches of RNA…which. That’s odd, actually.”

“Hmmm?”

“Well, the post with the RNA base is by a user named K/OMouse. I’m guessing it refers to knockout mice. Those are mice whose DNA has been altered, so why include RNA nucleotides instead of DNA? And an RNA nucleotide shouldn’t contain a diphosphate, but there are two phosphate groups here, plus that terminal oxygen should be double bonded to this carbon, or be a hydroxyl, or at least have a negative sign.” She doesn’t notice that her voice has grown agitated.

Henry has. “Uh, Dana? I think maybe you should avoid this site with Simon and Alice. Go play Neko Atsume for a while, hmmm?”

Scully takes a deep breath. He’s right, of course he’s right.

It’s nothing.

She closes her laptop, laughing a little. “I guess I’m Rever’s target audience.”

Henry grins. “I’ll try to distract you again.”

She ignores the little itch in her amygdala, in her entorhinal cortex, and follows him to bed.

***

It’s two AM and Henry is sleeping, bare-chested and peaceful on the other side of the room. Wicket, dense and furry, is sprawled like a wolf pelt over his feet. Their breathing is even and steady, a lulling hum in the back of her head. It steadies her like a heartbeat. Like the sea.

Her eyes flit back and forth between tabs, her face bathed in the blue glow. She looks at the post by K/OMouse again. The alien head, the RNA.

Alien head, RNA

RNA, virus.

Viral replication occurs via mRNA.

Something tickles her brain again, that little itch.

A virus.

An alien virus.

Purity control.

She grabs a notepad to organize her thoughts.

Baltimore classification?

Two phosphate groups = diphosphate nucleoside? Or non-terrestrial?

It is not the pipe - it is not the territory - what does Ghouli represent?

She looks at KO/Mouse’s post again, copies down the code he’s written. She begins working on it before seeing that user Elizabeth has helpfully done this work for her.

weseeyouwilliamvandekampweknowwhoyouare

andifweknowthentheyknowwhichyoushouldknow

crossroadswasonceanatombombandnowitisyou

WilliamWilliamWilliam pounds in her head.

Her vision is black, suddenly. And just as suddenly she sees a farm, idyllic and flat beneath an Ansel Adams sky.

Back to her room in a flash, gasping for air. Back to Henry dreaming in the safe warmth of their bed.

It’s 2:37 by her watch, but time is only a human construct. She pads out to the hall and down the stairs. She dials, and he answers on the third ring.

“Mulder, it’s me.”

[royallyprincesslilly]

Title: Love, Maybe? {35}**

Chris Evans X Reader OFC Vixen Giovanni

Warning: Cursing, Plot, Fluff, Angst, Slow Burn, SMUT, NSFW

Word Count: 6.1K

Summary: After a night of drunkenness you wake up next to warm, hot as hell body, a migraine and no memory of the night before. When you come to realize that the hot body belongs to none other than Hollywood’s golden boy Chris Evans you freak out. As events unfold you become even more panicked to find out you got married in your drunken haze. What else is there to do but get it annulled, right? Before walking away, you share one more night of molten kisses and passion. Three years later you are still living with the repercussions of your brash decisions, but the surprises don’t stop there. The past has a way of coming back and have you questioning is this fate that you’ve been running from, hell could it have been love, maybe?

NOTE: **Italic texts is an inner Vixen thought. Bold Italic texts is an inner Chris thought.

**Loosley Edited/Proofread**

***Interactive***

Thank you guys for reading!!!! If you enjoyed this please LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG. 😊❤❤️

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 35: San Francisco Bound

 -Chris-

 Two days was all Ella had allowed them once you’d told her that you had to go on a trip. He was impressed with how chill she was about it. There were times she was so attached to you and other times where she was okay if you left her on her own. He took it as her trusting you implicitly, it was the show of what a great mother you were, something he loved more and more about you.

 The two of you left Massachusetts at nine and boarded the private jet he’d arranged. When you found out your annoyance with him over it was evident. You didn’t beat him up too bad for it, you went easy and bit your tongue after he’d told you he did it out of availability and how urgent the emergency was. Thanks to the neary four-hour flight the two of you had some much needed downtime. A game of poker was all it took for the two of you to begin laughing together then two beers later and you’d gotten quiet. You spent the remainder of the flight on your laptop working and he spent the remainder of it just staring at you. It was now his favorite thing.

When the jet landed and the two of you were in the rental car that you took lead procuring it was just turning night. As you passed sights you pointed them out to him. the smile on your face as you showed him around was heartwarming. It made him smile seeing your town through your eyes. The way your eyes lit up at certain things and your smile got bigger at others it made him really want to be by your side and see everything through your eyes.

“Ella loves this view. Sometimes at night when she can’t sleep I just drive here, and park and she’ll just watch the lights. I’ve had to make more trips here in the middle of the night than I can count.”

 “It’s a great view. She has great taste.” You had a faraway look on your face as you stared down the hill at all the lights of the city. He wanted to know what you were thinking, he’d seen this look several times before. “What’re you thinking?”

 “The nights when I couldn’t sleep while I was pregnant, I’d drive here and watch the city fade.”

 “I wish I could have seen you pregnant. I bet you were beautiful.”

 You snorted and laughed then gave him a “yeah right” expression.

 “Whatever, I was hideous. I was huge, I gained so much weight and my cheeks puffed so big. Uugh, you would not have wanted to touch me with a ten-foot pole.”

 He smiled and shook his head. He couldn’t believe it, not one bit. “Whatever, I’m still calling it, you were gorgeous. Plus, it was my kid in there I’m sure I’d have been hopelessly in--.” He trailed his words off and avoided your eyes hoping that you’d let whatever he said fade. Thankfully you didn’t say anything. You just put the car in drive and continued on.

 A little before eight you pulled up before your restaurant, parked and walked inside. It looked just like the pictures online down to the décor and even the flowers. It was elegant but also down to earth as if you could get a filet mignon and a burger off the same menu. It was just how you were, elegant and down to earth. It was a hell of a combination.

 “All right, this is insane Franklin.”

 “I know, I don’t know how you managed it, but the workers were here and they fixed the pipe and pumped the leak. We have the fans running and I think it’s airing out well.”

 As he talked you walked around and examined the dining area and finally walked into the kitchen where you continued to look around.

 “Did the burst mess with the ventilation all of this is bad.” You examined the produce in the fridge and the look on your face was annoyed.

 “Damn it, I didn’t even realize it. Shit!” Franklin looked equally annoyed. You rubbed your forehead and groaned, then interrupted Franklin as he spoke.

 “Okay, we’re not going to panic. I know someone that can help. What time will everyone be here?”

 “Most of the staff are already on their way here if not here. I had them on standby,” Franklin informed.

 “Okay, prep them I’m going to my office.” You walked out the kitchen toward the back, you then turned to him.

 “Oh, I’m sorry,” you began.

 “It’s okay, go take care of business. I’m going to be around,” he assured. You nodded and continued your walk.

 He took the time to walk around the restaurant and admire everything you’d accomplished. It wasn’t like those start-up restaurants or mom and pop diners, this was a well planned and executed establishment. He perused the culinary awards and medals that you’d won in the span of the restaurant being open. He looked at all the prized reviews from the culinary greats and saw a picture of you from some food expo. You looked happy, he liked seeing you happy. He wanted to be the one to make you happy.

 As he scanned the wall of your success, he couldn’t help but be filled with pride and awe. You were this force to be reckoned with, this incredible woman who’d made a life and path for herself by herself facing all the obstacles that came her way. He was impressed. When he’d finished walking around he made his way back into the kitchen and asked Franklin how he could help. The man looked speechless when he approached and could barely put two words together. When he was able to speak he directed him what he could do. He wasted no time rolling up his sleeves and getting down with the rest of them to pitch in.

 An hour later a line of people walked in with crates of produce followed by someone rolling in a brand-new fridge.

 “Oh my god Luke, thank you so much. You’re a lifesaver.” He could hear your voice in the main dining area before he saw you. When he did, you met a tall dark-haired man and threw your arms around him. He lifted you in the air and spun you around.

 “Aw Vixy you know I’d do anything for you.” Your smile was wide before he placed you down back to your feet.

 “I really needed you tonight. Thank you for coming through.”

 “No problem. Anything I can chip in with?”

 “Honestly Luke, you’ve done way more than you needed to. Thank you again.” He watched the man kiss your jaw before he licked his lips pulling the bottom one into his mouth. A pang of jealousy washed through him. It was jealousy he’d never felt before. In his other relationships, he’d never felt threatened or jealous over anyone. He knew what he had and also didn’t really think things were that deep. Now though, he recognized his jealousy.

 You walked into the kitchen and he busied himself with the other workers.

 “Chris? What’re you doing?”

 “Helping out any way I can.”

 “You don’t have to do this,” you assured even with the frazzled look still in your eyes. This was stressful for you.

 “I know, I want to, I really do. Plus I’m not virgin to working with my hands.”

 You looked down to his hands as he continued prepping the produce that was just brought in. a soft smile played at your lips before you nodded.

 “Thank you.” You were looking right into his eyes when you said the words, and he felt how much you meant them.

 “Vixen, I just got word that the rest of the staff can’t make it in. so now we’re operating at about seventy-five percent,” Franklin informed. The frazzled look in your eyes magnified and you groaned again.

 “Okay, all right. We open for the night in about forty-five minutes, we’re fully booked and we’re short staffed. Guess that means I’m here tonight.”

 You walked over to the wall where aprons hung and put one on then proceeded to wash your hands.

 “All right everyone, attention! We open those doors in forty-five minutes, we’re back on track. I want that dining area prepped as if this were opening night, I want everything to be a thing of beauty. I know a lot had happened tonight and I’m not gonna lie and say it won’t be a hectic night. It will be, but we’re in this together and I won’t quit if you don’t quit. Can we do this?”

 “Yes we can!” The unanimous chant of everyone made him smile. That was a pep speech if he’d ever heard one.

 Everyone broke off doing their own thing. You came beside him and watched him for a few moments. “ Are you sure you’re okay?”

 “Vix, I’m good. I promise. Go do what you do best.”

 “And what’s that?”

 “Be the best,” he added. You smiled at him and went off to work.

 You managed your kitchen like a five star regimental general, strict, clean and organized. He watched as you listed off order after order for them to complete and even took the time to demonstrate how you wanted things done. When you began prepping dishes he marveled at your skill with the knives and the ease you combined ingredients to make your dishes. It was truly something to watch you in your element.

 By the time the dinner crowd rolled in you had everything under control and didn’t look one bit worried or stressed. After an hour into dinner service, you came over to him and thanked him for helping then told him to take a breather in your office upstairs. He wanted to protest but the way you said it he knew this was your element and there was no back talking. When he walked out of the kitchen and up the steps he took the time to look out over the packed dining room at all the diner’s faces. There was not one displeased look, everyone looked to be enjoying themselves and their food.

 When he got into your office he slowly examined the contents of your office, the artwork on the walls, sculptures on shelves and pictures in frames. Ella was decorated throughout your office and in every picture, you were with her. You both looked so happy and it filled him with joy. He never imagined he’d see this part of your world, never imagined what he may think or feel and now that he was seeing this while he was happy, impressed and in awe of you there was also a feeling of fear that was lurking in him. It was a fear he wasn’t ready to address though. 

 -6 hours later-

 “Thank you guys again for coming out tonight,” you said to the last of the diners as they walked through the door. You pushed it closed and flipped the sign on the door to “Closed”. You sighed turned your back then leaned on the glass.

 From the bar, he could tell you were tired. You’d just worked an entire kitchen, charmed the whole dining room, and managed for the last few hours and all in heels. Through it all, you remained composed and gorgeous.

 “I think you’ve earned a glass of wine.”

 You snorted then looked at him. “Just a glass?”

 “Hell I’ll give you the whole vineyard if you want, but it all starts with one glass.” You smiled and walked to him at the bar and slipped onto one of the elegant stools with a groan.

 “Oh my god, what a night.”

 “That is all I’ve been saying. You were—are incredible.”

 Studying him, your eyes never left his face. it was as if you were thinking about something, either you wanted to say something or do something. You lifted the glass and drank down the white wine then moaned. “Mmm, one more then let’s get out of here.”

 He poured you another. After you’d finished it Franklin approached. “Everything is good here Vixen, I can handle the rest.” He placed your bag onto the counter along with two brown paper bags.

 “You’re sure?”

 “Yes. What a night,” he responded. You smiled and nodded before slipping off the stool to gather your belongings and the bags.

 “Remember the quiet nights?”

 “Ha, no. we’ve never had one.” You snorted and laughed as you nodded in agreement. The two of you walked to the front door and out onto the sidewalk. He took the brown bags from you hoping to lessen your load.

 “Good night Franklin,” you said as you slipped into the driver’s seat with another groan.

 “You sure you can make it?”

 “Oh, I can make it.”

 “Make it where exactly?”

 “Home,” you answered putting the car into drive.

 Twenty minutes later you parked in front of an impressive brownstone. Quickly you got out the car and walked up the steps toward the front door with him following closely behind you with the bags. When you unlocked the door and walked into the foyer you dropped your bag and kicked off your heels then groaned loudly.

“Oh my god, that feels so good you have no idea.”

 “Do you always wear heels to work?”

 “You know what, if I plan on being in the kitchen I put on my Tom’s, but I was so focused on the nightmare that was today I didn’t even think about it.”

 He nodded and looked around. “So, this is home sweet home, huh?”

 “Uh, yeah. These are my humble beginnings.” You walked further in and stopped in the open space of the living room.

 “If this is humble I want to see your house once you have three restaurants open,” he joked. You smiled and fanned him off.

 “Come on, I’ll give you a quick tour.”

 You walked down the steps and into the living room and tapped a button on the wall that illuminated everything around. The light gave him the opportunity to look around at the tens of pictures that were framed around the room. You were in some, as was Nexus and your parents but the majority was Ella. With the number of pictures around it was clear to see you really loved her and took pride in her. As he walked through the room he eyed different items of Ella’s lying around, dolls, fairy wings, toys, books and then smiled widely when he saw a pile of Disney character toys.

 “What can I say, she loves her Disney.” You took lead and walked throughout the dwelling showing him the kitchen and dining area, bathrooms, and other various rooms.

 When you opened Ella’s room door upstairs he stopped at the door and just looked around. It looked fit for a princess, down to the crown that was etched into her toddler bed. A smile tickled his lips and he backed out into the hallway. He was filled with so many thoughts, so many emotions but he couldn’t let any of them out. you’d built a beautiful life for yourself here, a life for Ella, a life he had no idea where he could possibly fit in.

 You showed him to an empty bedroom that was expertly decorated and screamed comfort. 

“So uh—this is the third guest room. No one has stayed in here, Nex has her own down the hall as do my parents. So you can uh—you can stay here if you want.” Your stutters were cute if he were in a better mental state he’d tease you about it.

 “Do you want me to stay here?” Your eyes met but you didn’t speak. You pressed your back on the jamb of the door and chewed your bottom lip, but your eyes never left his.

 “What do you want?” he leaned back on the other side of the threshold and softly sighed out.

 “You know what I want Vix.” Still, you didn’t speak, you simply took him in. He could hear the gears in your head turning but he had no idea what you were thinking. He wanted to, badly.

 “It’s been a very long day, humor me,” you replied.

 He saw himself go out on this ledge yet again and every alarm said stop play it coy, be chill about it but what he said was anything but coy, or chill.

 “I want you Vixen, in every single way the word want implies.”

 He saw a mixture of things in your eyes, shock, intrigue, confusion, hope, desire but he saw an overwhelming amount of fear. It was then he acknowledged you were afraid of him. You looked from his eyes and down to your feet then cleared your throat.

 “Are you hungry? I’m hungry.”

 You walked away down the hall and steps you’d just come up leaving him there to reassess everything. He didn’t know how to work around that.

 A few minutes later, when he joined you back downstairs he found you sitting on the balcony off the living room. You’d spread out the food containers atop the table and had already opened a bottle of wine. Taking his seat across from you he sighed.

 “This smells incredible.”

 “Bon appetite,” you said holding up your fork. He smiled and clanked his against yours then dug into the warm deliciousness of a steak. He moaned his delight as the juices of the perfectly cooked steak washed over every one of his taste buds.

 “God, you’re an amazing cook.” You smiled and nodded as you ate.

 Dinner was easy. the conversation flowed as it always did, the laughs rolled out effortlessly like clockwork, and the air between you was always relaxing. This dinner reminded him of the one he’d had with you in LA before he’d made probably the biggest mistake of his life. He’d never felt this easygoing with anyone before. There was always some feeling of angst or discomfort but with you, none of that was there. It was like you were an old friend who knew everything about him.

 You told him stories of your life living here, stories that had Nexus in them, stories that had your friends. They were stories that showed him other sides of you, sides that weren’t so professional, or stern. You were able to be goofy and silly and completely destructive and carefree; they were sides he wanted to see firsthand, sides he’d seen in Vegas. He wondered if you ever thought about Vegas.

With the food finished and the two of you on your third bottle of wine sitting in the dim light of the moon’s glow, he watched you.

 “Do you ever think about it?” Your head was leaned back on the chair back, you then turned it to look at him.

 “Think about what?”

 “Vegas. Us?” The mellow look on your face changed to a faraway one. You looked caught up in a memory, or daydream. The silence between you stretched and you were no longer looking at him, you were looking through him. then the look in your eyes changed and you saw him.

 “I do.” It was barely above a whisper.

 The air around you became heavy with the rising energy between you.

 “Me too. Everyday.”

 Neither of you spoke again, you just stared at each other. There was no movement, nothing but this was the first time he felt he was able to see you and the first time he fully realized how much of a fool he’d been.

 Four in the morning. He groaned and rubbed his head. He’d been tossing and turning and still hadn’t found a way to get to sleep. He had way too much going on in his head. After sitting up for a few minutes just staring out to nowhere he knew he wasn’t going to get back to sleep. The house was quiet, you were most likely knocked out. He could feel the exhaustion coming off of you. In the kitchen, he found a bottle of whiskey and fondly smiled. You knew your liquor. With a full tumbler, he hopped on the counter and slowly enjoyed the burn on his tongue and down his throat. It was enough to distract him from the chaotic noise in his head.

 Twenty minutes later, the noise was all-encompassing and he’d had two glasses already. His thoughts were so loud he didn’t hear you until you walked into the kitchen in a robe. You didn’t jump or gasp when you saw him, you just leaned against the counter across the room.

 “Couldn’t sleep?”

 “No, too much noise.”

 “Of the city?”

 “In my head,” he corrected. You nodded and walked to one of the cupboards and took down your own tumbler and put two ice cubes in it and came a little closer with your eyes on his. He held out the whiskey bottle to you and watched you pour a little more than half. Your lips on the glass came next and drew his attention but it didn’t stay there. He followed the trail he knew the liquid made, down your throat, to your chest where he saw the swells of your breasts playing peekaboo from behind the robe you wore. His eyes dipped lower to the loose knot of the material just where your navel was and finally to the hem of the garment that slightly parted at the tops of your thighs.

 When he looked back to your eyes your glass was empty. He tipped his glass to his lips but came to the realization his was also empty. Neither of you moved or spoke, there was no need. After a few minutes, you put your glass on the counter and was the one to walk toward him. When you stopped you were just a few inches from him. You took the glass from his hand and slid it on the counter before you take his free hand slipping your smaller one in his palm before you traced your fingertips over it sending sparks through his hand and up his arm. When your fingers laced together in an impenetrable fashion his heart was beating erratically. You stepped back and gently pulled his hand with you.

 Allowing you to pull him off the counter he let you lead him wherever you chose to go, it didn’t matter. He’d follow you anywhere. The sway of your backside was hypnotizing, he’d only had two glasses, but his head felt as if he’d had the entire bottle. Up the stairs and to the end of the hall you lead him into the room that screamed you from the oversized canopy bed that was draped in a sheer material that looked to be cascading as if a breeze wafted through the room, but there was no breeze. Like in the distance he could hear the soft melodies of music playing, he didn’t know if it was in his imagination or if it were real. He didn’t care. You were the only thing that had his attention.

 At the foot of the bed, you turn to him and slowly rake your eyes over his exposed chest. Under the heat of your eyes for the first time, he felt self-conscious as if he may not be to your liking, or he may not be enough. It was a newfound fear. After far too long your hands moved to the knot of the robe and slowly pulled it free then pushed it off your shoulders to the floor. You stood before him in a soft pink two-piece lace get up. The blood in his veins felt like he was on fire and burning from the inside out. You were gorgeous, a vision of a dream.

 You then brought your hands to the front of the lace bra like contraption and slowly unbuttoned it until you peeled it off and let it join your robe. He took a deep breath in and clenched his jaw trying to remain in control. He hooked his thumbs in the waistband of his sweats and pulled them from his legs then stood before you completely bare and open to you. all you had to do was look close enough and you’d know everything.

 Your eyes again skimmed his body then stopped at his cock and again that self-consciousness reappeared. He watched you pull off the bottoms you wore then slowly took in every inch of you. His heart felt as if it were about to burst right through his chest. You slowly backed toward your bed and every step you took he felt like he was being pulled to you. Soon he stood before you and he couldn’t keep his distance any longer. He touched the back of his hand to your cheek and softly felt your skin and brought his lips to your forehead, then your nose and finally your chin before his lips met yours. It was a soft kiss, a kiss that spoke of timidness, and a need for delicateness. He relished the feel of your lips as he drank in every essence of you before he deepened it.

 Your moan echoed in the room and it hit him where he’d heard the music from. It was playing the second time you were together in Vegas. He tore his lips from yours and gazed deeply into your eyes. He could tell you were both in the same moment.

 “I told you I do,” you whispered before you dropped back onto the bed and waited for him to join you.  

 Slowly he lowered himself onto you and hovered staring into your eyes before his lips again met yours and took control of a kiss he hoped showed you everything he felt that he was not brave enough to tell you. His hands cupped your cheeks holding you still so he could fully explore your mouth with his tongue. Teasingly he sucked onto yours, a groan escaped him once he felt your legs spread wider giving him full access to press onto your core. You moaned then wrapped those sinful legs around his waist. He was a goner from there.

 Pulling his lips from yours he moved them down to your jaw and kissed a path down your throat to your neck where he teased the sensitive flesh at the spot he knew would bring a reaction. Like a moth to a flame, you arched your head back and dug your fingers into his hair. He loved how you reacted to him. slowly he dipped lower and kissed the tops of your breast before wrapping his lips around a cacao colored nipple. Every flick of his tongue and nibble of his teeth had you moaning louder. When he released one to go to the other he used his fingers to roll `the hardened bud bringing you more pleasure.

 As he kissed across your stomach he took a peek up at you, your eyes were on him taking in every move he made. Draping one of your legs over his shoulder he settled between them and savored the sight of you. one kiss began his exploration, then two, and three until he was heartily tasting and pleasing you. Your fingers gripped his hair gently as moan after moan fell from you. He could do this all night and never tire of your taste, tire of the sounds you made or how beautiful you looked with your jaw dropped, eyes closed and back arched.

 “Chris.”

 It was a strangled whisper that was cut off and replaced with a loud screech as your thighs snapped closed around his head and he tasted just how well you responded to him. He moaned as he drank from your well not wasting not even a drop.

 “Fuck!”

 It was high pitched and the next thing he knew you were pulling away from him. he kissed another trail up your body, you pulled him to you and delved your tongue into his mouth and kissed him with such heat it woke desires in him he didn’t know laid dormant.

 Hands tangled as both of you had wants of your own to touch the other. The song playing only intensified the feelings he felt in this moment and made it that much more special. When you rolled onto him and kissed across his skin he fought the urge to roll back onto you. He wanted to enjoy this and savor every minute. You mirrored his actions on your nipples to his before you went across his stomach and kissed the indented muscle just before his pelvis. When he felt your teeth nip his skin he groaned and lurched his hips forward nudging your throat with his need.

 Your eyes met his and he saw red hot desire and it rivaled his. Without making him wait any longer you took his length and he watched as your lips sank slowly over every inch. Keeping eye contact with you right now he was sure you could see everything in him, he held no secrets right now, he was an open book, he was sure of it.

 Your mouth felt so good—too good. He knew if he let you continue the havoc you were wreaking with nothing but your tongue and lips he wouldn’t last. When he pulled you to him and kissed you then rolled back onto you, you didn’t protest, you moaned onto him and wrapped your arms around him and used your hands to softly trace patterns into his back.

 He pressed your hands to the bed and entwined his fingers with yours and stared into your eyes before he slowly sank into you. With every inch he fed you neither of you looked from the other, neither of you spoke, you just looked shocked. Once he was sheathed in your heat dropped his forehead to yours and slowly rocked his hips back and forth into you time and time again. Every thrust had you squeezing his hand tighter and tighter and gasping for air as if every stroke stole your breath.

 With every thrust, the need he felt for you only grew and he tried to get closer and closer to you which made his thrusts deeper and deeper. After a few minutes he couldn’t take looking into your eyes anymore, he had to look away and bury his face into the crook of your neck and breathe you in.

 “Yes, Yes, Chris yes!”

 Your nails dug into his back and just like that he got lost in the combination of sensations he was feeling. His thrusts sped up and became sloppier and more staggered he knew he was close. When your eyes met again he could see how close you were, and his mission was to push you to the edge. He kissed you again but didn’t slow his movements when he heard you moan on his mouth and clench around him he knew all he had to do was one move to make you come undone. He slowed his hips and stared down at you and into your eyes and hesitated then he snapped his hips forward making you arch back and shriek out and bring him with you in the kaleidoscopic panorama of pleasure only you could give him.

 You clung to each other for long minutes as you rode the waves of your coupled release until he felt you shiver. He then brought you underneath the blankets and settled beside you as if he’d done it every day of his life. You rested your head on his chest and the sigh he released was the sigh of complete satisfaction, complete happiness.

 He should have been exhausted, but he wasn’t, his mind was still too loud. He knew when you fell asleep and laid perfectly still listening to the sound of you sleeping and that of his heart beating. He laid there and got lost in the feel of your skin and how perfect it all felt which made him think about the future. A future he didn’t know if he could have, but it was one he wanted more than anything.

 When he was sure you wouldn’t wake he got up and walked out of your room but not before he glanced back to you. He took the time to walk back to Ella’s room and he looked at every detail. It was easy to see her here, easy to envision the life she had, a life without him a life he really wanted to be a part of and would do whatever it took to be a part of. After a few minutes, he ended up in the living room where you’d left your laptop open. The screen’s image was Ella scrunching up her face. He tapped the icon on the screen for your pictures and looked through the images of the years he’d missed. He saw you through different parts of your life, pregnant, not, and he noticed though you smiled, your eyes looked empty in a few of them.

 After clicking through the pictures, a video came up. it took him a minute to figure out what he was watching but when he did he nearly fell over. You were pulling a white veil over your eyes head but before you did you gave a wide grin to the camera.

 “No fucking way.” He dropped into the seat that was there and continued to watch the video of your wedding. He waited at the altar with the biggest grin on his face. he couldn’t help but snort and cover his face.

 “Jesus, look at me.”

 He took notice of the song from The Little Mermaid playing. He had no idea why this was the song they chose for you to walk down to. It seemed perfect at the time. Seeing you in full bridal costume had him smiling again. He remembered it vividly. Your smile was as wide as his. He couldn’t help but snicker at how drunk off your asses you were. Though he knew you both were drunk he couldn’t help but see it differently. You looked happy, he looked happy, like this was the plan all along.

 When his loud animal noises broke out he cringed. He was such a dork, he thought. He didn’t know why you didn’t run out of there instead of laughing and looking at him with those eyes.

 “God.” He groaned and rubbed his forehead and watched some more.

 He remembered holding your hands and thinking how badly he wanted to kiss you and that you were the only woman who liked to hold hands the way he liked—like waffles. He shook his head just watching the two of you beam at each other through the whole ceremony. He remembered a moment of clarity when the minister recited Corinthians that he thought this was the right thing, in that moment of clarity it didn’t cross his mind that he was making a mistake. Deep down he knew even if he couldn’t face it when he was sober.

 He listened to himself recite the generic vows and right now they held a deeper meaning. Have and hold, richer or poorer, sickness and health, forsaking all others. He spoke them then, he meant them now. When you were pronounced husband and wife, not one second was wasted before your lips met. Even then the passion between you was evident. He watched himself grope the two of you walking back down the aisle to Marvin Gaye as Mr. and Mrs. Then you both grinned and showed off your wedding rings. There was no sign of unhappiness or apprehension.

 Long after the video stopped he was still sitting there thinking about it. This was the first time he’d seen it. He’d deliberately stayed away from it because he didn’t think he could handle watching it, he was right. An image of you and Ella together came up on the screen and he saw what he wanted in a new light.

 You’d built this life without him; you didn’t need him. He’d always had a fear of being swallowed by the person he was with. It was one of the reasons he kept most at a distance and cut ties when he saw any evidence that he was becoming a center for them. He had a fear of being suffocated, but with you, there was no fear of that. You had everything your own and he knew he’d never feel the pressure of being everything. It was a relief, but it also showed him that you didn’t need him. You may not even want him the way he wanted you. Looking around him he didn’t know how he’d find a place in your life or vice versa. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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[singledarkshade]

Deadly Puzzle

Summary: Rip's mother is visiting and he's nervous about introducing her to Miranda and Jonas. At the same time a notorious serial killer is on the loose in Central City and is looking for Gideon to play his game. The stakes are high and Gideon begins to fear she could lose someone she loves before they stop him. Author’s Note: Part of the Psych Verse with @incendiaglacies, this is set after Draining The Swamp, The Thing That Wrecks You and Case of the Lying Jerk Face. This is our version of the first Yang episode and some of the transcript from the show was used in parts.Thanks to @incendiaglacies for the support in writing this one. Hope you enjoy.                                *********************************************

Part One

Gideon grimaced as Rip moved her off the couch so he could plump the cushions and gave an indignant cry when he took the almost full mug of hot chocolate out her hands.

“Okay,” she sighed, “Why are you acting like this?”

“My mother is due here soon,” Rip reminded her.

Gideon shrugged, “I know. Why do you think I’m here?”

“To eat my food, watch my tv, use my wi-fi,” Rip listed.

Rolling her eyes, she snatched her mug back, “I want to see Mary. Why are you going insane? Mary loves you and you’re unnaturally tidy as it is. If you clean this place any more surgeons could use it to operate in.”

“Gideon,” he sighed, dropping onto the couch, “I haven’t told her about Miranda or Jonas yet.”

Gideon’s eyes widened, “Oh!!!”

“What if…” he swallowed, “What if this means she doesn’t want any more to do with me?”

“Rip…” Gideon winced, sad to see the vulnerability and fear in his eyes that the only mother he had ever known would disown him.

“My first memory is of my father telling me I was worthless,” Rip whispered, “And leaving me in the street.” Gideon sat at his side and took his hand, “I was eight when Mary came to the home for the first time. I ignored her because no one ever wanted me, why would she?”

Gideon shifted slightly closer to him comfortingly, she knew Rip’s past just like he knew hers but let him talk because he needed to get this off his chest.

“I never believed she’d keep me,” Rip sighed, “Suddenly there were adoption papers and we moved here. What if me keeping this from her…what if she decides…”

“Hey,” Gideon hugged him as he trailed off, “Mary loves you more than anything. I know this. And okay, the fact you kept your marriage a secret will upset her, and I will happily trash you with her about that, but you’re giving her a grandson. She will not disown you. She might be mad, but Mary will adore Jonas. I promise you.”

Rip rested his forehead against his best friend’s while Gideon rubbed his arms.

“Thank you,” he breathed.

Gideon’s phone rang as she watched Rip cleaning the kitchen floor for the second time since she’d arrived. He’d calmed down slightly but he was still in hyper-tidy mode. If she’d realised this earlier then she would have aimed him at her apartment, it could do with a tidy.

“Hi Gideon,” Kendra said the moment she answered, “What are you doing tonight?”

“Nothing much,” she replied, “Rip’s mum is due here soon so just waiting to see her.”

“Well, I have two tickets for the preview of the latest Bleeding Hearts movie,” Kendra told her.

Gideon let out a squeal of excitement making Rip turn to her in confusion.

“You’re serious?” Gideon demanded.

“Completely,” Kendra told her before asking, “Are you at Rip’s?”

“Yes.”

“I will be there in twenty minutes,” she told her, “I don’t want to be late, so please be ready for me.”

“Of course,” Gideon replied, “See you then.”

Hanging up she bounded over to her best friend, “Kendra just called, she’s going to pick me up to go see the next Bleeding Hearts movie.”

Rip frowned in thought, “That’s the hideous vampire romance movies you love.”

“They’re not hideous. They’re fun and cheesy,” Gideon told him before changing the subject, “Mary is due here soon and you’ve got to tell her everything tonight. If you don’t then I will not cover for you.”

Kissing his cheek, Gideon turned when the buzzer sounded.

Mary had arrived.

 Rip hugged his mother tightly when she stepped into his apartment.

“You’re looking well, darling,” Mary smiled, taking his face in her hands. It was something she’d done from day one letting him know that he was important.

“So are you,” Rip replied, before stepping back as Gideon bounced impatiently.

Mary laughed as Gideon hugged her, “Oh my dear sweet Gideon. I have missed you and your smile.”

“It’s good to see you,” Gideon said before sighing, “I have to go. I’m going out with a friend.”

Mary hugged her again, “Okay, sweetheart. Have fun and join us for lunch tomorrow.”

Gideon smiled and kissed Mary’s cheek, “I will.”

While Mary took her case into the spare room, Gideon turned to Rip.

“Just tell her everything in one go,” she told him, “It’ll be easier.”

Rip frowned, “Is that how you’d do it?”

Gideon shrugged innocently, “Of course. How do you think I got away with so much?”

Shaking his head Rip leaned in and kissed her temple, “Have fun.”

With a smile she grabbed her jacket, giving Mary another hug before leaving. Rip took several deep breaths while he made them some tea. He took it out to where Mary was sitting, along with her favourite biscuits taking the seat across from her.

“Is something wrong?” his mother asked, astute as always.

Rip sighed, “Not wrong but I have some things I need to tell you.”

“Okay,” she took a sip of her tea.

Taking a quick drink, Rip finally said, “Do you remember when I was in London for the semester during University that I was seeing someone?”

“Yes,” Mary nodded, “I also remember you telling me not to tell Gideon.”

He grimaced before continuing, “Her name was Miranda and when we were in Vegas for the seminar…” he trailed off.

“Michael, spit it out,” Mary said, “It can’t be that bad.”

Rip winced, “We got married. We ended it quickly which is why I never told anyone.”

“Why tell me now?” Mary asked.

He sighed, “Miranda moved here very recently and she…well…it turns out…” he took a deep breath, “She brought her son, who is also mine.”

Mary stared at him, “You have a son?”

Rip nodded, swallowing nervously.

Mary sat in silence for several minutes, drinking her tea as Rip watched her.

“How long have you known about the child?” Mary asked finally.

“I only found out a few weeks ago, Mother,” Rip whispered, “I promise, and I wanted to tell you in person.”

“What’s his name?”

“Jonas,” Rip pulled out his phone and quickly found a picture, “This is him.”

Mary took the phone and a small smile touched her lips, “He looks almost exactly like you the day I met you. Except he’s smiling.”

Rip smiled, “Mother…”

“I,” Mary cut him off, “Am going to get some rest. It was a long flight and I didn’t get any sleep during it. We can talk in the morning, dear.”

“Mother,” Rip whispered worriedly standing the moment she did.

Mary reached out and took his face in her hands, pulling him down so she could kiss his forehead, “Goodnight, dear.”

Rip watched her head to the spare room, not sure how she was feeling about him after the news.

                                 *********************************************

 “Morning, Gideon,” the hostess greeted her as she arrived at the café, “You’re here first. I’ve got the table in the corner, looking out over the bay set up for you and your party.”

Gideon grinned, “Hi Holly, that’s great.”

“New girl, Vanessa is going to be waiting on you,” Holly told her, “She’s only been with us two weeks, don’t terrify her.”

Innocence covered Gideon’s face, “Would I do that?”

Holly chuckled before ignoring the other woman, “The specials are on the board as always.”

“Thanks, Holly,” Gideon smiled as she slid into her seat, picking up the menu to peruse it while she waited for the others to join her.

 Gideon already chosen what she was going to have for breakfast when Rip and Mary arrived for breakfast. While Mary paused to speak with someone she knew, Rip joined Gideon at the table.

“How did it go?” she asked.

Rip sighed, “She’s barely talked to me all morning.”

Gideon squeezed his hand, “Well, she came to meet them.”

“I guess,” Rip grimaced, he looked up as Mary joined them.

“Gideon,” Mary hugged her, “How was your movie?”

Gideon let out a heartfelt sigh, “It was so romantic and funny. Definitely the best entry in the series so far.”

Rip’s phone began to ring, “It’s work, I’ll be a minute.”

While he moved away from the table to talk Gideon turned to Mary, “You know he’s really worried you’re so upset that you’ll disown him.”

“I’m a little angry he didn’t tell me he married this woman,” Mary said.

Gideon nodded, “I know how you feel.”

“And the fact I’m now a grandmother without any warning,” Mary continued, “I’m just…I’m having a little difficulty getting my head round it.”

Gideon squeezed her hand, “I was really mad at him too about not telling me he had married Miranda, but he didn’t know about Jonas.”

Mary looked over at Rip, “What is she like?”

“I hate to say this,” Gideon wrinkled her nose, “But I like her. She’s honestly the kind of person I would be happy he married. She is smart, creative and we get along really well.”

“And Jonas?”

Gideon let out a soft sigh, “He is so adorable, and Rip is really good with him.”

Rip reappeared just as the final two members of their party arrived.

“Daddy!!” Jonas’ happy voice filled the air as he ran to Rip and jumped into his arms.

Rip hugged him tightly, the wonderful smile touching his lips that Gideon had only seen since Rip had met his son.

“Hi Gideon,” Jonas ran over to hug her.

Giving the little boy a tight hug, Gideon knew that as angry she had been that Rip had married someone without her knowledge, she would never wish away the little boy whose smile brightened her day every time she saw him.

“I want you to meet someone,” Rip said, taking his son’s hand, “Jonas, this is your grandmother.”

Mary leaned forward and offered her hand, “It is lovely to meet you, Jonas.” “Hi,” the little boy said shyly.

“And Mother,” Rip continued, “This is Miranda.”

Gideon watched as Mary stood to greet Miranda, who was looking nervous even though she and Rip were no longer a couple.

“It’s nice to meet you finally, dear,” Mary said.

Relief filled Miranda’s eyes, and she smiled, “You too.”

 Brunch went well.

Mary instantly adored Jonas, while she got along with Miranda well. Gideon smiled at the relief in Rip’s eyes.

“So, tell me more about your work with the police?” Mary asked suddenly.

Gideon glanced at Rip who shrugged letting her speak.

“I’m just using the gifts I have to help the police solve crimes,” Gideon gave a sweet smile, “Rip looks after the business side of things.”

Mary nodded, “Well, that sparkling brain of yours should be used for some good. I never liked how you bounced from job to job.”

“She has solved multiple cases for the police,” Rip added with a proud smile.

“We,” Gideon reminded him.

“And saved my neck,” Miranda noted.

Mary squeezed Gideon’s hand, “Well, our little Gideon was always special. From the moment I met her, I knew she would do great things.”

Miranda suddenly smiled mischievously, “You know I would love to hear the story of how you all met. Rip has never told me, and Gideon simply changes the subject.”

Mary looked at her son and his best friend who both became very interested in their drinks.

“Maybe one day,” Mary winked at Miranda.

Miranda’s phone buzzed and she sighed, “I am sorry, but Jonas has a trip to the zoo in Star City this afternoon. Their hippopotamus had a baby which his nature group at school has been following the progress of and,” she turned to her son who was sitting quietly and tapped his knee, “Why don’t you tell your Grandma what you’re doing?”

Jonas bit his lip for a moment before shrugging, “We’re getting to be keepers for the day.”

“That sounds wonderful,” Mary said, “You can tell us all about it tomorrow when I make us all dinner?”

Miranda smiled, “I think that sounds perfect.”

Jonas nodded.

“Okay,” Miranda said to her son, “Say bye to everyone and grab your bag. Otherwise, we’ll be late to catch the bus.”

Jonas shyly gave Mary a hug, before he bounded to Gideon and hugged her. Gideon held out her pinkie and they did their secret handshake. Finally, Jonas ran to Rip who hugged his son tightly.

“I’ll walk you out,” Rip said grabbing Jonas bag as he hugged his son to him.

Gideon turned to Mary who was watching them leave, “They look perfect together don’t they?”

“As disappointed as I am about how this came about,” Mary noted, “Michael is a natural father. And Jonas is just…” she let out a soft sigh, “He reminds me of my boy when I first took him in. Shy, sweet although not as skittish as Michael was.”

Before Gideon could say anything, Rip returned to the table.

“Kendra just called,” Rip said, as he quickly pulled out money to pay for their food, “Captain West wants us at the station ASAP.”

Gideon nodded, she quickly hugged Mary while Rip spoke to their waitress. Grabbing her bag Gideon let Rip hug his mother before they headed to his car.

None of them felt the eyes watching their every move.

[tomsnovia]

As Long As You’re Happy - G.D.

Y/N POV

It was my first flight back to LA after being with my family for just a little over three months. Spending the holidays back at home was always something that I looked forward to every year. Now that I live thousands of miles away from home I try to take times like these to my advantage to catch up with my family and finally just spend time with everyone. But at this point I was ready to go home. Back to the warm and sunny Los Angeles. Back to the little friends that I have made throughout my couple of years being there. Back to my tall, handsome, 200 pound beefy boyfriend, Grayson Dolan.

Today was Valentine’s Day. A day where everyone is supposed to celebrate their relationships with their significant others. I never really cared for this day. I mean I did spend a good portion of my life single but that is besides the point. Valentines Day was just another day for me up until last year. Last Valentines Day I finally got to experience what all the hype is about. And lucky for me it just so happened to be with someone like Grayson.

A couple of years ago I moved to LA to finally be able to pursue my dreams. Sure I was just barely getting started in the YouTube business but I felt like I was finally at a point in my career where I could potentially live off of the earnings that I made through the platform. My family supported me of course. My parents being more than willing to help aid me in anything financially if I needed (thank the lord). But I took this as an opportunity to finally live my life the way that I wanted. To finally be out in the world as a strong, independent woman (even though I am still technically a teenager).

The first few months of me being in LA went by pretty smooth. I finally met up with some fellow content creators who I have grown fairly close to in such a short amount of time. But this one day.. Whew! This one day is where everything changed for me.

*flashback*

I had gotten invited to a little celebration dinner by my friend Kyle Houck. He had been working on a project with a few of his friends for about a month or so. Kyle and I hadn’t really talked to each other for a while prior to this invitation just because he had been so busy with helping a couple of people film for their channel. So I had absolutely no idea what this celebration dinner was for or why he even invited me.

I of course accepted (mainly because I had absolutely no plans that night other than to lay in bed and watch Netflix or whatever) and found myself dressing semi formal for the occasion. Kyle kept the details very vague. He just told me to dress “kinda fancy but like not too fancy”. 

As soon as Kyle picked me up we wasted no time catching up with each other. I asked him what he had been up to and what he had been working on for the past month and he very excitedly told me that it was a documentary for his friends’ father. His friends who just so happened to be The Dolan Twins.

When I heard about the big project I felt.. a lot of things. One: Stoked and proud of Kyle. Two: like an absolute idiot that I had no knowledge of his relationship with a couple of very successful creators. I mean Kyle was my best friend.. How long was it since we last talked?.. Was I really living under a rock? UGH.

Once we finally arrived we met up with everyone who took part of the documentary.

“Hi,” I said as Kyle and I approached the twins.

“Hey guys, this is Y/N. She’s my friend from back home who I’ve been talking about,” Kyle said.

“Oh right! We heard a lot about you! It’s nice to finally put a face to a name,” Ethan chuckled. “Im Ethan,” he said pulling me into a hug.

“I’m Y/N, it’s nice to meet you,” I smiled hugging him back. The moment I let go of the hug my eyes immediately laid on what I believed to be one of the most beautiful human beings I have ever seen in my entire life. You know- not to be dramatic or anything..

“I’m Grayson,” he said also pulling me into a hug.

“It’s nice to meet you both. Congratulations on the documentary!” I said as we all made our way to the table. I sat next to Kyle, Grayson immediately sitting to my left. Ethan walked over to the other side of the table and sat next to a really pretty girl.

“I’m sorry I couldn't make it to the premier.. I didn't know that was a thing,” I said fixing my vision on Kyle.

“Im sorry! I completely forgot to mention it, my mind went straight to dinner” Kyle chuckled. I smiled and shook my head.

“So how have you been? How do you like LA so far?” Kyle asked as he took a sip of his drink.

“Uh.. well you know, its going okay I guess,” I shrugged. I had only been in LA for a couple of months and this technically is my first outing. I hadn't had much time to get out there because of all the unpacking, and my new found responsibilities taking over my life.

“If Im being honest, this is my first time actually going out since I moved in,” I said as I looked at the menu.

“No kidding?” Kyle asked.

“Kyle, you’re my only friend out here and you’ve been busy this whole time,” I chuckled.

“Fair enough,” he smiled. I skimmed over the menu trying to decide what I wanted to eat. For some reason my appetite completely vanished the second Kyle and I stepped foot into the restaurant.

I’ve never really been good at the whole socializing aspect of life. Being antisocial is sorta my cup of tea.

I sat there in silence, using the menu as an excuse for me not to talk. I was actually pretty focused until Grayson spoke up.

“So where are you from?” He asked as he put his menu down looking at me. If I’m being honest, the moment I made eye contact with Grayson my heart started to beat so fucking fast. His face lit perfectly despite the dim lighting in the restaurant. The way his hair slowly fell down the sides of his face when he would run his fingers through it. Oh what I would do to run my fingers through-

“Washington State,” I said quickly snapping out of my thoughts. “I just moved here a couple of weeks ago.”

“Oh wow! So you’re pretty new to the area?” He asked.

“Yeah.. which is why I haven't really had a chance to go out until tonight. I don’t know anyone besides Kyle here,” I chuckled.

Grayson smiled and nodded. “Well now you know me!”

_______________________________

The whole dinner went smoother than I thought it would. Grayson was very outgoing and easy to talk to and having Kyle there next to me helped ease the little tension I felt occasionally. The dinner was finally coming to an end and we were all getting ready to head home.

“Hey, what're you doing tomorrow?” Grayson asked looking down at me as we both stood up. I quickly took out my phone to check the date.

“Um.. nothing I guess?” I said looking up at him. “I’m most likely gonna end up unpacking some more stuff.”

“You want some help? We can go out to get some breakfast before or something?..” 

YES ARE YOU KIDDING ME? PLEASE LETS-

“Sure!” I smiled up at him. “Is 9 o’clock okay? I need to sleep in at least a little bit,” I laughed.

“Sounds perfect,” Grayson smiled and bit his bottom lip. “Can I get your number?”

“Of course,” I said taking his phone. I added my name into his contact list as “Y/N :)” just a little something quirky. idk. I’m not good at this.

__________________________________

1 New Message

Grayson: 9 AM it is! Can’t wait to bring you to THE BEST breakfast place in LA. Goodnight Y/N 😊

Me: Can’t wait! Goodnight Grayson.

Grayson: You can call me Gray 

Grayson: Only if you want to

Grayson: It's not a big deal if you don’t want to. I don’t want to make you do anything you don't want to do..

Grayson: Even if it is just a little nickname..

Grayson: Okay I’m sorry for the spam

I laughed.

Me: It’s okay! 😂 See you tomorrow. Goodnight Gray ☺️

Gray: Goodnight Y/N :)

_______________________________________

[ a/n: AHHHHHH here it is! the first part to my first series ahhhhhhh. idk how I feel about it tbh lol like I feel like its bad but im going to really take my time with this series just so I dont rush things. I genuinely want it to be good. pls let me know what you guys think. I won't take anything too harsh. ily all I hope you enjoyed even the tiniest bit ♥️

[winchester90210]

The BH 90210 Rewrite. 1x15: Palm Springs (AKA A Fling in Palm Springs)

Rewrite Masterlist

Read the previous chapter here!

Chapter Summary: The gang heads to Palm Springs for President’s day weekend.

Warnings: swearing probably, lots of fluffy feelings, mentions of sex. 

Words: 2,900

My work is not to be reposted and/or edited without my expressed written consent. (Reblogging is fine and encouraged!!!)

Feedback is incredibly appreciated!

A/N: Hope everyone enjoys this week’s episode! We are going to be skipping the next one but Laverne the gum-chomping waitress WILL make an appearance at some point in the series, so don’t worry. Next week the reader moves out with Brenda and deals with Class President election!

-

“You’re really gonna stay and work all weekend?” You launch yourself backwards onto the kitchen counter, the cold marble against your legs, “Kelly says anybody who’s anybody goes to Palm Springs.”

“You’re talking to Kelly again?” Your brother cocks an eyebrow at you as he cuts himself a brownie, stuffing half of it into his mouth. 

“Well, no… Kelly told Brenda who told me— but what does it matter?” You steal the brownie pan from his other hand, and place it out of his reach, “Just because it’s from a secondary source doesn’t mean it’s not true. It’s a ritual. Like the geese flying south or something.” 

“How do you expect to get there? It’s not like you have a car, or a bike, or can afford a plane ticket.” You stay silent for a moment, then give him a pleading, rosy smile. “Oh, no. No! You’re not taking Duke to Palm Springs.” Duke was Eric’s beloved cherry red ‘48 Ferrari. It was given to him on his eighteenth birthday, previously loved and adored by your father, and his father before that and blah blah blah. 

“Please? I always take good care of it!” You beg, “I’ll even fill up the tank when I get back! What is it, a dollar per gallon?”

“Sorry. No way. You’ll have to ask Brenda,” he shrugs stubbornly, reaching around you and swiping the pan while you're preoccupied with the argument. 

“I can’t! She’s riding with Kelly!”

“Then ask Brandon— look, this isn’t my problem, Y/N/N. Either find another ride or don’t go.”

-

“It has the original interior, the original grille work. It’s gorgeous,” Brandon enthuses, slipping his hand under your shirt and to your sides as you both lie in the backseat of Mondale, mid make-out session. Well, you were making out. Until he decided to stop it to talk about that car he wanted. Like guys often do.  “and it’s only twenty-five thousand dollars.” 

“Twenty-five thousand? Brandon! No wonder your dad won’t buy you that thing. Dads are cheapskates, It’s just a fact of life.” 

“Dylan‘s dad bought him a Porsche.”

“Babe, Dylan’s dad is facing a grand jury indictment,” you stifle a giggle as you pop a button off of his shirt. 

“But my dad knows how hard I work,” Brandon grumbles, “And to top it all off, last night Nat told me that I can’t go to Palm Springs this weekend with you, and all of my friends because his sister is sick and now I have to work all weekend. But hey, you don’t hear me complaining, do ya?”

“Yes. Yes I do.” 

-

“Hey there!” You’re greeted  almost immediately by Brandon upon entering the Peach Pit, who’s over at the far end of the counter with a little blond boy. “What a nice surprise. I thought you’d be in packing mode for your trip… but knowing you, you packed early, didn’t you?”

“Always do,” you nod, taking the seat in front of him. You hand Brandon a modest wad of cash and kiss his cheek, making him smile. He mumbles a thanks as he stuffs it into his pocket and hands you a menu. 

“Hey… do you ever get the feeling that the entire world is flying in first class, and you’re stuck with a folding chair in the baggage compartment?” He takes your hand in his, leaning over the counter. 

“Never,” you deadpan. He studies your face, causing you to giggle into his shoulder. 

“Liar!” He laughs genuinely, his eyes crinkling at the edges,“you total liar!”  He straightens himself out, “This is Curtis.” He gestures to the adorable little boy beside you, “the hangout king of Beverly Hills.”

“It’s a free country, I can hang out if I want!” The little boy whines. 

“Hey, hey, relax, sport. No one said you couldn’t… but does your mom know how much time you spend here?”

“She’s the one that brung me! I told her the food’s not that good," Curtis criticizes, mowing down a plate of greasy french fries. 

“See what I have to put up with to make a buck?” Brandon teases, grabbing a plate of food from the kitchen and dashing off to deliver it to a table. Once he’s gone, Curtis turns his stool to you. 

“Is he your boyfriend?”

“Oh! Well, uh… no. But he’s… not not my boyfriend,” you waffle. Curtis narrows his eyes, confused. “Look, it’s complicated, kid."

“You give him that friendship bracelet he’s wearing?” 

“Yeah, actually… he told you about that?” 

The kid dodges your question, chewing on the straw of his drink, “Why aren’t you wearing one?”

“It's a long story, Curtis. Certainly one you don't have time for, okay?" 

"I got plenty of time." 

-

You couldn’t ride with your brother, you couldn’t ride with Brandon, there’s no way in hell you’re riding with Steve… that left one option. Brenda, Kelly, and Donna. 

“Donna,” Kelly giggles, “we’re not going to Europe. You don’t need three bags!”

“Kelly, I have to dress according to the guys we meet. I mean— high school guys, college guys, grad school guys, dropout guys— you cannot dress the same for all guys. No,” Donna shakes her head disapprovingly, like she just dropped a fashion truth-bomb on all three of you. To be honest, though, she kind of did. 

“I guess she has a point,” you laugh, propping yourself up against a locker, “Bring everything.” 

Then Steve saunters over, in his usual confusingly patterned button-down, an agitated look spread across his face. He nods down to the innumerable bags on the floor. 

“What, are we going to France?” He scoffs, only taking a moment before continuing, “Will you guys come on? There’s gonna be a lot of traffic on the roads." Gee, wonder what’s making him so delightful this afternoon.

“Hey gang!” Oh no. David Silver? What was he doing here? “Are we going to have a blast or what? Huh?” We? 

The rest of the group is just as lost as you are, exchanging silent looks of terror to the person next to them. Steve takes note of this and clears his throat.

“There’s been a uh, slight change in plans.”

-

“It’s weird, I mean I want to be with Dylan and everything, but part of me just wants to get it over with. Like I’m the last person that hasn’t done it yet." Brenda confides uneasily as you all stand against Kelly’s convertible, waiting as the tank fills up.

“Brenda… you are,” Kelly replies. 

“No you’re not!" You assure her,  "Look, Bren, you’re really gonna like it… I think." Ha. Like you know any more than she does. Donna nods in agreement. 

“Yeah, totally… probably. Maybe? I—“ 

Kelly cuts Donna off, “Listen, who would you rather be with? Dylan McKay or David Silver?” 

“Bren, Dylan’s a wonderful guy. You’re gonna have a great time! And you brought protection, so there’s nothing to be worried about!” You place a soothing hand on her arm. 

“Right!” Brenda smiles, “I mean, I care about him, he cares about me, it’s gonna be great, right?”

-

“My grandparents collect anything they can get their hands on,” David guides the four of you, sans Brenda plus Steve, as you wander his grandparents' house. It’s definitely nice, definitely big… kinda smells like patchouli and sunscreen in the best way. “When I was younger I used to travel with them but my dad’s mad at them about something so I don’t see ‘em much anymore.” 

“What’s he mad about?” Donna asks. 

“Well, my grandparents like my mom and think it’s, y’know, bad he wants to divorce her... Come on,” he waves you all over to him as he escapes through the back door, “I saved the best for last.” You reluctantly follow behind him, your shoes clacking down the concrete steps and into the depths of his backyard. It was gorgeous— a huge pool, palm trees, brick-lined lounging areas. You could get used to this. 

“Dude, we are definitely styling out here in this little desert oasis,” Steve grins, “David, I always knew you had potential.” No you didn’t. 

“Thanks, Steve,” David begins to venture further back, “but you ain’t seen nothin’ yet! Look, if anyone gets in the mood, you climb up this little terrace here to this hidden nook and nobody will bother you.” You step up another flight of brick-lined concrete stairs and through a small patch of greenery, to be met with a cute little private hot tub… with people in it. 

“David?” The old woman gasps, clutching her small champagne flute.

“Grandma?” 

“What the hell are you doing here?” The senior man, presumably (and hopefully) his grandfather groans.

-

“It was an amaaaazing trip!” David’s grandmother raves, pouring pretzels into a glass bowl as the group is gathered around the kitchen island. 

“It was indescribable,” his grandfather agrees excitedly, “we would dance every night under the stars.” He pulls Kelly from her stool, picking her up and spinning her around as if they were about to tango. 

“Ooh! Can somebody pull the ice cream?” His grandma asks.

“Yeah, sure,” Donna smiles.

“Triple. Chocolate. Chip. I mean, If we’re gonna do it, we should do it right.” Steve chuckles politely at the woman, though he looks like he wants to put a gun to his head. 

“Well, I’ve never seen so many old fogies on one boat in my whole life. I mean, a floating rest home is what it was!” His grandpa laughs heartily, getting ice cream bowls from the cupboard, 

“Oh, Henry, that’s not so. But hey, one day we woke up on the boat and we both said ‘Let’s go home!’” Funny. That’s exactly what you were thinking. “I mean, we missed our little house in the desert.” 

“We sure did,” Henry smiles happily, grabbing his wife’s jaw gently and planting a big smooch on her. “And lucky for us, we would have missed you if we didn’t cut our trip short!” 

“Uh, well you guys must be really tired. Huh?” David chuckles awkwardly. 

“Oh, we’re exhausted!” The woman nods, “but hey, who cares? I am so excited to see you! And to finally meet some of your friends! Hey! Why don’t we all stay up late, chow down on the snacks, and get to know each other?” Oh, joy. 

-

“This way ladies,” David’s grandma guides the three of you upstairs, her hand on your shoulder. “You’re gonna go up these stairs, down the hall, first door on your right, and you are gonna love it.” You hop up the steps with Kelly and Donna, bags in hand. 

“Did you guys hear her?” Kelly starts, opening the door to the room and throwing her bags on an empty bed. Hey, she acknowledged you. That’s a start. “She said she was gonna invite all the cute guys from the neighborhood over to the pool tomorrow!”

“Steve is not gonna like that,” Donna 

“Oh, who cares?” Kelly snickers, “I wonder how Brenda’s doing.” 

“‘Oh! Dylan, what beautiful eyes you have!’” You joke, throwing your hand to your forehead and bowing backwards. 

“‘Oh, Brenda, you are so exquisite!’” Donna joins in, giggling. 

“Barf.”

-

You splash your feet in the Silver's pool, crowds of people surrounding it. Overwhelmed by the vast amount of new people, you're off by yourself, kicking the water around, staring at your feet. 

"You know, there's room on this raft for two." You look up to Steve, lying back on a giant inflatable alligator. Ugh, if only it was a real one. 

"Why don't you ask your new girlfriends?" You point behind you to the two girls, who you could only think to describe as biker babes, lounging together. Porcelain white skin, spiked black bikinis, way more makeup than you need for a pool party. "They look pretty interested."

"Can you imagine what it would be like if you were interested? You know, me instead of Brandon?" You feign a gag, shaking your head. 

"I don't really want to, Steve," you cringe dramatically as he chuckles, "but thanks for getting that thought haunting my dreams forever. Really appreciate it."

"Remember—" He wags his pointer finger at your face, eyes narrowing lightheartedly, "I saw you first." He puts his foot flat against the concrete wall of the pool, kicking off, but as soon as he's far enough— he guffaws. Of course he laughs at his own jokes. 

-

"Dylan, hi!" You practically leap over to him in the foyer, your damp feet leaving faint footprints on the cold floor.  "So?" 

He shakes his head, brows furrowed ever so slightly, "So?" 

"How'd it go?" You raise your eyebrows excitedly. 

"How'd what go?" 

"With Brenda!" He groans at that. 

"Don't ask."

"Well, it's too late, I already did." 

"What's with you girls?" Oh, this should be good. "You see a guy with another girl and you immediately think they're sleeping with her?! What is that?! I mean, every time a female customer goes into the Pit-- do you lose it at Brandon?" 

"Can't say I do. They usually want him. But thankfully it's not the other way around… look, if this is about the other Walsh-- and McKay, it better be, or else I have questions-- just talk to her about it. Have an adult conversation." 

"Easy for you to say, you're dating the king of good family values. The kid's a Hartley House episode." 

-

You open the fridge in the kitchen, helping David’s grandparents scoop out ice cream. You fidget with the scoop in your hands before setting it down. After a devastating loss of Charades, you had to comfort your friends with ice cream. It was the only option, really. 

“How do you guys do it?” They both look up from the bowls to stare at you. “The whole long-term relationship thing,” you clarify. “It’s just so… scary.”

“You’re right,” Henry nods, “It’s very scary. Trusting someone, with your heart, your intimate feelings. I mean, before we got married, Adele broke up with me seven different times. Running for the hills was our solution to every problem. Giving yourself to that person— trusting that they’re going to cherish you, to value you and every intimate part of yourself— that is the hardest thing.”

Adele jumps in, “And you have to accept each other for who you are. For every flaw and every perfection, you have to let the other person be who they are. But when you do find the person you can really be yourself with, who you can have fun with, and fully trust… it is the greatest feeling in the world.” She takes the scoop from in front of you and begins scooping. “Who is he? It’s not David, is it?”

You giggle, “No. No, it’s not David. His name’s Brandon, he’s—“ you can’t stop a grin from slowly breaking out on your face, “He’s great. He’s kind, and considerate, and totally crazy about me... but it’s still scary, y’know? My last relationship didn’t exactly end on great terms. And if I barely even liked the other guy but I was still totally obliterated by it ending… I can’t imagine how I’d feel with Brandon. I’ve never felt this way about anyone in my life. I guess you can imagine how much of a major scare that is, huh?”

“Seven break-ups, sweetheart. I can imagine.”

-

"He even set up a meal plan for the kid! I can show you the security cameras if you want to see them," Nat indulges. You never thought you’d say this, but you were thrilled to be back in Beverly Hills. You missed your own bed, the Peach Pit… the cute waiter at the Peach Pit. And you’re thrilled to be eating something that isn’t ice cream. 

"Oh, don't you dare! I cannot handle any more of that guy being good with kids or else he's gonna get me to procreate with him-- and nobody wants a bunch of  little Walshes running around here," you snort, stirring your water mindlessly with the straw. Nat shrugs as he picks up an order.

“I could use the extra help!” As per usual, he booms out in laughter, walking away with the plate of food. 

“What’s he so happy about?” You twist your head to the kitchen and you’re faced with your overtly-paternal and charitable lover. 

 “Oh, it’s nothing. Just you fathering a sweet little homeless boy for the weekend,” you have to halt yourself from fawning over him. He’s probably the only teenage boy that would tolerate a little kid, let alone help them out like he did. 

“He told you about that?”

“You mean how you not only befriended the little boy, but fed him for free, and made sure that his whole family would stay fed until they got back on their feet? Yeah, he might’ve. I mean I laughed, I cried— it was the feel-good story of the year, B.” He smiles at his feet as he ties his apron around his waist. 

“I really missed you this weekend, Y/N/N.” 

“Well, I’m here to stay now,” you smile as he kisses the top of your head. 

“I’m a real lucky guy, you know that?”

“That’s funny. I was about to say the same thing.” 

-

-

-

-

-

Taglist: @be-patient-be-good​ @mpmarypoppins​ @bevelyhills90210​ @blueoz​ @harleylilo88​ @princess-ghost-alien​ @hueycat2004​ @l4life​ @keepcalm-and-beyou​ @palefiregiver​ @bitch-imma-head-out​

[moonxjoon]

How Can I Help You? | chapter 1

one | two

Pairing: HueningKai x barista!Reader 

Rating: PG

Word Count: 2k

Synopsis: Working at the local cafe in town is normally a tiresome day job, until you meet a particularly fascinating young guy who frequents your shop more and more often than usual. 

A/N: Requests Open~

You clutched your peacoat flush to your chest, forcing out a deep breath which brought forth a wisp of clouded air that you could see infringing on the cold air. Your tired breaths slowed when you finally halted your semi-jog, arriving at the teal-colored door of the local corner coffee house you were currently working at on your days off from university classes. 

The street adjacent to the building was already saturated with early morning commuters, public transportation bussing, and the occasional biker or runner. It was a raucous, lively Monday morning in the midst of the brisk winter months, teetering on the edge of springtime (which was promised to come sooner rather than later as a result of an inquisitive rodent spotting its shadow a few weeks prior). 

You used your boss’s key to unlock the hackneyed door, swinging it open to let in a gust of sharp, biting air throughout the settled shop. Your entire body loosened up when you shut the door behind you and made your way behind the counter to get ready for opening. 

You pulled off your scarf and coat, hanging it on the coat rack situated at the front entrance. “Morning!” You said to yourself and perhaps even the shop itself. 

Your morning opening routine involved opening blinds, cleaning the espresso machines, and prepping the pastry and snack counter. After your first hand duties were completed, you checked the clock on the wall to see that it was still 6:43, seventeen minutes before opening. You instinctively yawned to yourself, as you had gotten less than adequate sleep the night prior. You had finished up two research papers and an observational lab report for the following week, knowing you would barely have enough time to complete the assignments during your work days. Sluggishly wandering into the back room where breaks and team meetings were commonly held, you grabbed the chalkboard sign used to entice outside customers to stop in and grab a quick cup of joe before starting their day. You wiped it clean and meticulously calligraphed an eye-catching, curtailed version of the store’s menu, highlighting new seasonal drinks and different types of house-made patisseries. 

Wearing nothing but your shop uniform and apron, you braced yourself as you opened the front door, the bitter coldness immediately intruding through your clothing. You propped the A-framed sign at the very front of the shop, repositioning it more than needed to satisfy your perfectionist psyche as well as making sure it didn't take up too much space on the footpath for passers-by. Just as you finished setting up the sign, an incoming cry triggered your fight-or-flight response, making you jump. 

“S’cuse me!” You heard the voice, envoking you to spin around on your heel to see where the exclamation came from. At the very last second, as a blue blur flashed before your eyes, your legs that were stuck at the entrance of your shop finally decided to move for you. You narrowly evaded the biker, who was traveling downhill on the sidewalk and jerkily dodging people and uneven pavement bumps. You watched as he spun around on his seat, quickly waving to you and not exactly abiding by the biker rules of the road. “Sorry bout that!” 

Your racing heart slowed enough to take note of the boy on the bike. His bright aqua hair blew messily in the wind. His back was adorned in a beige jacket and dark pants, and his dark blue tie fluttered over his shoulder, flapping wildly from his breakneck riding.

“There’s a bike lane for a reason!” You called back to him, watching precariously as he narrowly avoided other pedestrians. Knowing he couldn’t hear you anyway, you rolled your eyes and made your way back into the warmth of your brewhouse dwelling. 

Laidback rhythms and soft melodies mixed with a cacophony of brewing machines filled the shop as you prepared orders for the now growing line of customers waiting for their daily dose of caffeine and sugar. The first hours of the morning were spent operating alone, as your other coworker called in about fifteen minutes prior to opening that she would be coming into work late. Typical, you thought, as you poured another medium vanilla chai latte and handed it to a young woman, too busy talking on her phone to even say ‘thank you’. 

Your brow began to sweat a tad while you prepared espresso after latte after macchiato after cappuccino. After the dozenth cup was served to the last patron in line and no one else needed to be helped, you took a deep breath and used the end of your apron to wipe away the excess perspiration that had collected at the apex of your forehead. Even though it felt like nearly below freezing outside, the whirring machines and scalding drink-making process made the small shop exceedingly sweltering. 

You propped your bottom on the edge of the cashier counter and promptly took out your phone for a quick break. You opened your instagram app and liked a few aesthetically pleasing dorm photos on your explore page. Just as you were admiring a particular picture of a minimalistic yet fashionably tasteful flat arrangement (silently wishing you had the money to make your own room look like that), you heard the telltale ring of the doorbell, signalling there was another customer that needed to be tended to. You sighed to yourself and slipped your phone into your apron pocket, turning to face the cash register, ready to take yet another overly complex order. 

“Hi, how can I help you?-” you casually glanced up to the person, but your words caught in your throat as you made eye contact. Standing before you was a towering young man who you guessed was around you age just by his youthfulness. Soft chocolate-caramel locks were splayed across his forehead, leading down towards even darker mocha-colored irises. His hair and eye color starkly contrasted to his pretty much flawless milky skin tone. Before his lips even parted to say a word, you immediately deducted that he was one of the cutest guys you’d ever laid eyes on. 

“Good morning.” He said. With a sharp intake of air, your teeth unconsciously grabbed onto the sides of your cheeks, which were now progressing into a darker and darker shade of pink. You noticed his lips as he spoke; they were a deep cherry color, almost matching his own cheeks. You suspected this was because of the chilly outdoor weather, unlike your own blood flowing to your face due to the fact you were staring up at an incredibly good-looking guy. 

The boys eyes tilted upwards to the menu hanging just above your head before returning back to your unbreaking gaze. “I’ve never been here before, mind if I ask what you recommend?” His voice was alluring in a way and you focused on every word as it came out. You blinked a few times, hearing those particular words strung in that order, but not entirely processing them. When an uncomfortable and unnecessary amount of time passed between him asking and you answering, your brain forced out words by itself, resulting in a clumsy and uncalculated response. 

“Uhm, I’m sorry, what was that?” you asked, shaking your head and breaking eye contact which was also starting to get weird. You stared at the buttons on the register, now completely and utterly flustered. You inwardly scolded yourself for making yourself look like a fool. It was one thing if it was any other customer, but you had to be caught off guard by a boy- lord knows how inept you are at holding a conversation with a guy that you find even minimally cute.

“It’s alright. I was just wondering what you think is good here. I don’t really drink coffee, but I need the caffeine to keep me up for today. Being back from break sucks.” The brunette laughed slightly to himself- god, even his giggle was cute. 

You held your grip on the sides of the register, praying you wouldn’t continue to make yourself look like a newbie at her job. Come on, just pretend he's just a normal patron, because that’s all he is. Go about your coffee schpeal and recommend the classics. 

You glanced back up at the boy, who was still staring at you with the most pleasant, friendly smile. 

Through your peripherals, you noticed his apparel. It looked strangely familiar, like the clothing was seen somewhere before in the inner recesses of your mind. You had a realization that the tan single-breasted suit with light blue trim was the exact same uniform worn by the guy that nearly ran you over this morning. 

You swallowed hard and forced yourself to act like a normal person, not letting some random captivating dude distract you from your job. “Oh, well we still have our holiday drinks in season; there's our peppermint cappuccino, gingerbread latte, mocha praline swirl...hot chocolate?” You tried, countering his smile with a homely smirk. 

His hand came up and gingerly caressed the back of his neck, his eyes once again scanning the board behind you. “Hm, what’s your favorite here?” he queried, making the settling blood in your face heat up once again. 

Your mouth opened once, then twice, both times no words coming out. On the third try, your vocal cords finally decided to work. “Oh, that’s a hard question, I’m like a coffee fiend.” The painful grasp on the register slowly eased when to your surprise, the same chuckle from before erupted from his chest. “I’d recommend everything, but one of my go-to’s is our cinnamon dolce latte with brown sugar cinnamon and caramel.” you said quickly, now hyper-aware of your awkward demeanor. 

He nodded his head, making his hair bounce up and down playfully over his face. “Alright, I’ll have a small cinnamon dolce, in that case.” You noticed that not once did his smile leave his face. Your mouth perked up, enjoying your short chat. “Got it. That’ll be $3.15.” He reached into his satchel that was slung over his shoulder and pulled out a wallet, handing you a crisp five dollar bill. While he was doing that you took the time to check out his lapel, which had an emblem patch stitched on his front pocket. The black embroidered crest was adorned with gold trimming; woven in were three tri-colored stars of yellow, green, and blue. 

Before he had a chance to notice your subtle appraisal, you accepted his currency, brushing his slender fingers in the process. The innocent and simple gesture made your own fingers tingle as they came into contact with foreign skin. His fingertips were chilled as your clammy hands met his, making goosebumps form over your wrist and up your arm. Suddenly your legs were locked in place, yet all the while felt formless and weak. 

“Wh-what’s the name for the order?”  you asked and silently berated yourself for sounding so automatic yet pathetic at the same time. 

“Huening Kai. But you can just put Kai.” Another beaming grin crossed his face as he wiped away a stray piece of hair hanging in front of his eye. It looks so smooth and soft, you thought. Your hands suddenly felt the need to find purchase in his locks, just to see how the mop of shiny brown hair would feel under your touch. You’re repulsive! What is wrong with you? Get your mind out of the gutter! Your mind shouted at you, bringing you back to reality once again. 

“Kai. Got it.” You grabbed a cup and a magic marker, writing out the name as neatly as possible. An unexpected wave of confidence came over you before you could stop your lips from speaking you spat out, “Nice name, Huening Kai. Very pretty.” You bite your tongue, immediately regretting your words. Just as you were about to explain yourself that you didn't mean for that to sound weird or come across as creepy, your head shot up to see that his expression changed to a softer simper. His head tilted a bit, like a puppy studying it’s owners face in confusion. 

“Thank you, I don't get too many compliments on my name. I appreciate it…” His gaze trailed down from your eyes to your collarbone and right above your breast. He leaned forward over the counter, examining you. A warm heat followed his eyes, making the room feel even hotter than before. “Y/N. Hm, I like yours, too. It fits you.” He said and you momentarily thought he was a mind-reader, until you realized he was studying your name tag attached to your shirt. 

You uncontrollably erupted in a giggle, exalted by his compliment. “Thanks, I used to hate it, but I guess I don’t mind it anymore.” 

You were kicked back into gear when you peered behind the boy and saw more people had made their way into the shop and were waiting for their orders to be taken. “Your drink will be right out, Kai.” You replied and spun around to your workstation so he wouldn’t notice the redness permeating across your face. 

As you made his drink, you made sure to take special care in not messing up the simple order, as you had made numerous drinks in your time at the shop; you haven't had a single customer complain about any of your beverages thus far, so this one shouldn’t be any exception.  

The brew was ready, and you took your time making sure the whipped topping was laid expertly and not overflowing. You pressed the lid shut and ensured not a single drop of coffee spilled. “Kai?” you stepped up to the counter at the other end of your station, seeing him waiting patiently and scrolling through his phone. When his name was called, he instantly perked up and smiled. “That was quick!” he exclaimed, slipping his phone into his trouser pocket in exchange for his drink. 

Your hands skimmed each other once again, the same exact warm feeling shooting up your arm like before. Ignoring it this time, you gestured to the line of people gathering at the front of the store. “I gotta be. Coffee making pays surprisingly well, can’t afford to be slow.” 

Your statement was ironic, as these past few minutes felt like an eternity, just being in the presence of this stranger. 

He took a slow sip of the latte as you spoke. You were surprised when his eyes grew wide, and panicked as the thought crossed your mind that you prepared the wrong recipe or maybe he burned his tongue. You should’ve warned him it’d be scalding hot! 

“Wow. You’re pretty good at your craft, not gonna lie!” His overly charming grin came back once again, which made you wonder how his cheeks weren’t sore yet. Before you could thank him, he started making his way to the door, waving as he made long strides to the exit. “Thanks, Y/N. I'll leave you to your work now, gotta get to class soon, too.” 

Your encounter was over too soon, and you felt a certain tug at your chest when he pressed his fingers to the glass paneling of the door. “See you around!” He shouted over the heads of the customers queued up at the register. And just like that, the pretty boy Kai was gone. “See you!” You tried to call out, but it was too late. The door shut and from the storefront windows you could see the tousled chocolate locks flying haphazardly in the outdoor wind, until he rounded the corner and disappeared from sight. 

Your heart had slowed to a regular beat, and you let out a disappointed sigh. You remembered your other patrons and you speedily went back to your post and second nature kicked in and your day continued normally.  

“Sorry for the wait, staff is short today.” You apologize to the man standing before you, the bags under his eyes and vitriolic frown indicating he was not in the mood to wait any longer than he had to.

He has to be back sometime. You thought and mindlessly typed away the order for each customer, switching back and forth from brewing and the register. He must go to the same academy as the other dude from this morning. You recollected the blue-haired boy that donned the same uniform as Kai. Damn, I kinda hope he comes back.

It wasn't typical of you to think about someone so strongly after having just met them, but for some reason, this guy lingered around your thoughts. From his tall figure to the way he said your name to his cheeky smile and laugh and even to his cold fingers. You scolded yourself for what seemed like the hundredth time for letting a simple crush affect you so. 

You forced out a frustrated huff as your thoughts got the better of your judgement and you accidentally switched up two girls’ orders, earning you a few disgruntled remarks about not doing your job right and an eye roll. When the day couldn't seem to last any longer, you checked out the clock to see if your shift was almost over. 7:36. Lovely…

[kenzieam]

Dirty Redhead - Bucky x Lev oneshot

@jewels2876​ @moonbeambucky​ @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123​ @iammarylastar​ @captstefanbrandt​ @badassbaker​ @pinknerdpanda​

I know I’m forgetting people, sorry.

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Warnings: None, just FLUFF

Length: 1581 words

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Just another little brain burp that I managed to get down on file. Enjoy.

And yes, I do drink this and I love it, give it at try :)

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As soon as Bucky stepped inside the coffee shop, he turned around and ran back out.

Heart hammering unexpectedly in his chest, he stared wide-eyed at nothing, making for quite the sight as people dodged around him, brows raised, on their own way into the shop.

Thankfully, his senses returned before someone got suspicious of the former Winter Soldier just standing there like he was awaiting orders and he ducked away to process what he’d just seen, morning coffee forgotten and wasn’t that a feat itself, for Bucky had become quite addicted to Has Beans’ special dark blend, planning his morning jogging route expressly so he passed by here on the tail end of his run and could indulge his newest vice every chance he got.

She was new.

She was an angel.

In the microsecond of time between his first glimpse of the new barista and startled flight, his enhanced mind had catalogued every visible thing about her. Heart-shaped face, a dark patterned handkerchief piling hair of unknown length on top of her head, only a thick fringe of staggeringly auburn hair allowed to escape over her forehead. Huge eyes of the most unique violet shade Bucky had ever encountered, in nature itself, let along in the eyes of a fellow human and a luscious body with curves for days, the practical apron she wore not disguising her in the slightest. But it had been her smile, the expression on her face, that had hit Bucky the hardest. He’d never, despite all his womanizing of the Forties, been a believer in love at first sight, but Jesus, her smile was the very sun, moon and stars themselves.

There was no way he’d be able to approach her with any sense of chill and order a coffee. If he managed to force himself to the counter at all, he’d just stand there babbling, or worse, gaping soundlessly, mouth opening and closing like a grouper.

Even if the suave player of the past hadn’t been irrevocably changed by his hellish life since, Bucky still wouldn’t have been able to speak to her right now with any hint of charm or poise; at best providing her with some entertainment this morning as he stuttered, at worst scaring her completely off from an obviously mentally deficient giant. Despite all his gains as an Avenger, his reputation was still precarious in the eyes of the fickle public and he did not need it splashed across the media outlets that ‘The Winter Soldier looked unstable and out of control this morning, set loose amongst the innocent public’.

One thought arrowed in his mind and Bucky turned back towards the Tower.

One long pep talk later, Steve watched quietly, throwing an encouraging thumbs up from his seat at a bench across from Has Beans, to the visibly shaking Bucky about to enter it. Bucky glanced over his shoulder at his friend, and Steve almost laughed out loud at the expression on the man’s face. He’d never looked so trepidatious, not on the front lines of the war, not when they were aboard the train, not even as memories had began to flood the Winter Soldier’s icy mind, bits and pieces of who this man was, bloodied and beaten beneath him and refusing to fight back on the deck of the Helicarrier.

He almost leapt to his feet to rescue him, but then Bucky’s wide back was disappearing into the shop and Steve knew he had to wait, this was a mission Bucky had to complete himself.

Bucky took a moment to collect himself as the door closed behind him. Patrons sat at tables, talking and laughing, people stood in line waiting, no one yet noticed him, and he took the time to breathe, eyes moving inexorably towards the woman responsible for his current state.  

She was still there, the redhaired angel, she’d not been a trick of his mind or some other hallucination and she looked just as amazing as before, just as bewitching.

His flesh palm sweated, the other creaked with tension as he fisted it, forcing himself to follow the line, moving ever closer to the counter and his heart beat a wild cadence in his chest. She wouldn’t need enhanced hearing to pick up his thundering pulse. Bucky shifted his weight nervously as the patron a few ahead of him spelled out some absurdly complicated order, obviously in love with the sound of their own voice and genius.

She remained patient and gracious, nodding to the customer as if they were indeed a rare treasure this beautiful morning, blessing her with their presence and then, all too soon, there was only one person separating him from her and Bucky wished this person had the same novel to recite, giving him more time, but no, fate was inexorable and the person was moving to the side to collect their drink from the other barista, a delightful little bastard who looked like the love child of Stark and Rhodey and flirted endlessly with every man that entered, and Bucky was next, feeling like he stood in front of a firing squad.

“What can I get for you?” Her voice was just as beautiful as the rest of her and there was the grouper gaping mouth and God help-

“What do you recommend?” His voice almost cracked, and her sweet smile grew warmer.

“What do you like?”

That was a loaded question. You, doll. I like you. “C-coffee.”

Duh.

“Then you’ve come to the right place.” There was no teasing in her voice and Bucky let the sound of it wash over his soul, balm to the unending pain there. This was his safe place, she was his safe place, he knew it with utter certainty, as indelible as his friendship, his brotherhood, with Steve. “Lattes are good,” she continued. “You can add different flavors.”

“Okay,” Bucky babbled. He’d never normally order such a thing, what was wrong with plain black coffee? But this woman could recommend a glass of sulfuric acid right now and he’d just chirp ‘bottoms up’ and drink it.

Leaning forwards slightly, gifting Bucky with more of her heavenly scent when it already addled his mind, she eyed him conspiratorially, as if imparting a secret. “I’d recommend the Dirty Redhead,” she whispered.

His heart thudded against his chest; breath knocked from his lungs. “Ex-excuse me?”

The little minx smiled, she knew what a state she was putting him in right now, and she was playing with him. Always the hunter, never the quarry, Bucky felt a thousand different kinds of vulnerable right now.

She straightened again, seemingly satisfied with Bucky’s discombobulation and continued, her honeyed voice just husky enough to remind Bucky of languid pillow talk and sighed whimpers during bed play. “It’s actually a red vanilla tea latte with soy milk, then you make it ‘dirty’ with an extra espresso shot.”

Bucky frowned, surely he was a coffee shop virgin but, “Isn’t espresso coffee?”

“Yes.”

“And you add it to red vanilla tea?” She had to be playing with him.

“Yes, and soy milk. Regular milk is fine too but I like the extra flavor soy adds.”

“You drink it?”

“I invented it.” Her smiled widened enough to show Bucky a hint of teeth, one incisor slightly crooked and only adding to her appeal.

Emboldened, feeling the faintest hints of old Bucky returning, he leaned a hair closer. “You did?”

“Well, not initially I’m sure, but I added it to the menu here, and I try to get the more adventurous customers to try it.” She glanced over at her co-worker, the Tony-Rhodey love child and smirked. “Hudson here came up with the name.”

Hearing his name, Hudson lifted his head from his work and flashed Bucky a wink and a smirk.

“Tell you what….” She continued, meeting Bucky’s eyes. Warmth suffused him at her gentle expression, the sense that she was teasing him yes, but not meanly. She was flirting with the Winter Soldier. “If you try it, I’ll tell you my name.”

He wanted so much more; he could not walk out of this shop with only her name. In the short amount of time that had passed since he’d entered Has Beans for his morning coffee, this woman had become as essential to him as his next breath.

“And?” He replied, brow quirked as his own devilish side grew bolder.

“And what?” Her eyelashes fluttered.

“If I like it, you let me take you to dinner.”

The barest hint of surprise in her amethyst eyes. She’d seen Bucky’s interest, not realized it was so strong. But she was intrigued by him too, she felt at least a little of the pull that ensnared him.

“Only if you take me dancing too. Isn’t that how the great Bucky Barnes used to charm all his dates?”

She knew who he was and, unlike so many before her, so many faceless people on the streets, it didn’t turn her off or scare her away. Had she recognized him right away, or only after speaking with him? He didn’t know or care, she wasn’t afraid of him when so many more were; she wasn’t letting his past define their future and he fell that much more in love with her for it.

“Anything you want, doll.”

“Lev.”

He let her name caress his tongue, liquid silk as he tasted it. “Lev.”

Her answering smile was the most beautiful thing Bucky had ever seen.

[dragonrajafanfiction]

Dragon Dancer II: Chapter 1: The Gentleman

The light colored facade and fanciful decor of the hundred-year-old Hotel Le Royal Monceau in Paris was truly fitting for spring. Principal Hilbert Ron Anjou tipped his hat in appreciation of the sight and at the doorman who greeted him with “Welcome back, sir.”

Master list

“It is truly a pleasure to be back!” He gestured behind him. “This is my new special student.”

The doorman, dark-skinned and appearing to be in his thirties, regarded the teenage girl standing behind him. She wore a white jacket, her shapely brown legs curving out from a pleated yellow short skirt that some men might eye, hoping for a glimpse of a little more. She was less than impressed with the gracious amenities, avoiding eye contact and fiddling with the tassels of her hood strings.

The doorman grinned anyway. “Well, a fine student she is.” He earned himself a tip for remaining cheery rather than concerned about her gloomy expression.

Anjou checked in. Though his hair and beard were white, he didn’t move like a man that old. His spine was straight, his limbs strong, his manner energetic and jovial. His eyes were focused and crisp. His voice was strong, despite his happy smoking of a Cuban cigar.

The hotel staff were clearly smitten with him, losing their stiff professional manner and laughing at his jokes, eyes glittering with mirth. Even though he wore a custom tailored suit that cost more than most people made in a year and wore rings of rare crystals -- some of alchemical make, so rare and so precious, they might as well have been alien -- they treated him as a friend. 

That was Anjou’s charisma.

It wasn’t until they stepped into the gold mirrored elevator that that charisma faltered.

His student looked lost, unhappy, vulnerable, and achingly beautiful. Her slight figure added to her fae-like appearance. Anjou watched the elevator operator’s face flicker on her, his natural empathy and need to protect a fellow human welling up in his eyes.

The man surely had worked in this hotel long enough to know he shouldn’t ask questions. Anjou watched in wonder and allowed the man’s feelings to develop, chuckling internally as the sight of her worked its magic -- just as it did on Caesar on the Day of Liberty.

Like Caesar, this bellhop forgot where he was, forgot his duty, and was drawn into a disadvantageous position, risking his precious prize -- in this case, a tip.

“Uh… are you okay?”

She lifted her head, surprised to be addressed. Her wide eyes were like windows to her soul, easily read, hiding nothing.

“Yes… are… you alright?” He asked again, committing to his error.

She smiled at him. “Just a little sick from the flight. That’s all.”

Anjou’s eyes returned to the bellhop as he suddenly realized his blunder. To his credit, he didn’t apologize.

“I hope you understand sir…”

“Oh, I understand perfectly.” Anjou’s voice was so warm and reassuring that he might as well have reached over and patted this fully grown man on the head. “And I commend you on your brave spirit and humanity.”

Anjou took out his wallet and produced a tip of three hundred euros. “Here. Spend it well.”

The man let out a wheeze, eyes wide.”Yes. Thank you sir! Thank you… is there anything more I can…”

“I’ll take it from here.” Anjou interrupted, as the doors opened.

His student blessed the bellhop with one more smile, as she left the elevator. The man only broke her gaze after the doors attempted to close on him.

As soon as she arrived in her room, his student fled to her bedroom and shut the door. This was hard on her.  Normally, high ranking students were eager to get off campus and put their education to good use as well as take advantage of the plush amenities their rank afforded them. But she grew up in modest circumstances and only longed for things money couldn’t buy. 

She’d bewitched the other S-ranked student, Lu Mingfei, into a deep friendship with her. She’d drawn the leader of Lionheart into being her lover and lured Caesar Gattuso into practically handing over Day of Liberty to her. Had he not gotten her off campus, he might have found himself without a school.

Everything she had accomplished didn’t apply here, however. She had no friends, no lover, and no influence. As far as she was concerned, Paris was a desert. 

He pressed a key on his phone. The voice on the other end had a slight French accent over the otherwise impeccable English.

“Anjou, a day is too long to go without hearing your voice.”

“And it has been far too long, Capetian. The student and I have just arrived.”

“Excellent! Were there any problems?”

“None! The passport was flawless.”

“And the flight?”

“The weather could have not been better. Let’s hope it remains that way. Paris is making me fall in love all over again!” He chuckled. “Of course, every season is a good season in Paris. Have you located the others?”

“Yes, sir… they…”

Anjou stopped him. “Now, now… brief me tonight at dinner. I would like you to meet our young genius.” 

After a few more loving goodbyes and reminders not to be late, Anjou hung up the phone and went to the bedroom.

She was Charlotte to strangers, Carli to friends, Meixiu to her lover. She was a young woman of many names. He referred to her most often however, as “my dear”. She was dear to him, having come out from the jaws of death and through sands of time to return to his school like a little turtle dove.

Her scowl reminded him, however, that she was actually a hybrid. First Generation, S-ranked, and just as much dragon as she was human. She was not pleased with him. He’d disrupted her plans to spend time in Chizuru with Chu Zihang and made no mystery of her love-sickness. He weathered her glare. “You’re free to stay here and rest while I make arrangements and prepare for the briefing meeting tonight. The mission itself won’t start for a few weeks while we prepare. Try to have a good time.”

She’d taken these arrangements personally and turned back to the window without speaking to him.

After the Day of Liberty, Caesar said that once he’d gotten close enough, she’d drawn him into darkness so forbidding that he thought he had truly died. When he returned to the land of the living, he was breathless, disoriented. She fought him like a wildcat, and then shot him like a dog.

He would savor these moments when she was still under his wing. He got the feeling they would be a memory all too soon.

Anjou adjusted his tie, donned his light trench coat and went out, leaving the “Do not Disturb” sign on the door.

He enjoyed his walk around the city, admiring the art and architecture, the comings and goings of tourists and natives. Women pushed strollers dressed in tracksuits, older men sat in the square and played chess. It was this idyll that was threatened. He needed her here, but was determined to make her first mission as pleasant as possible before the coming storm.

Just as he predicted, the rain started as the sun began to fall. He only went to the bar on a rainy night.

His student dressed up for the evening, in a modest designer black gown and a string of pearls. The afternoon nap seemed to have done wonders. She was smiling again. Her eyes were brighter. They made their way to the bar on the hotel roof. 

The city’s sea of glittering lights and those of the Eiffel Tower drew a gasp from her.  He put his umbrella to the side and sat near the window. He smiled at the bartender. “How are you doing this year, my old friend?”

Capetian emerged from behind the bar, a glass on his platter. Thin and aged, his dark eyes weary under folds of skin, he smiled. “I’m well, old friend.”

The booths were lit by low hanging directional lamps between pools of shadow that provided privacy despite the open layout. It was next to impossible to hear what was going on at any other table. Something about the design of the place kept the noise down while at the same time, keeping close conversation clear.

The smell of the mint liquor wafted from the cocktail glass. Anjou raised his to his lips and sighed with nostalgia. His student eyed him, content to sit and watch him be happy. A menu was set before her and she looked it over.

The waiter, also older, and so pale he looked like a ghost in the lamplight, softly spoke. “I will be pleased to see to your needs this evening.”

She once again seemed shocked to be talked to. “Um… I need a little more time. Thanks.”

“I’ll take this year's caviar plate for a starter.” Anjou nodded.

The waiter bowed and faded back into the shadow.

Capetian took his seat next to Anjou, who produced a Havana cigar from his jacket pocket and snipped off the tip with a pocket knife. “The Bombay expedition was successful. We’ve found a dragon palace remarkably preserved under the slums. We are currently making our way through the catacombs. However, the dragon is not making it easy to find its chambers.”

He flicked his lighter against the cigar until the tip glowed. “We’ve never seen such a repository of draconic script. And the entry to the complex is predicated on our understanding of it. EVA has done her best with cataloging the known ciphers and arranging and organizing the unknown ciphers along with their context. But this requires a … human touch.” He let out a puff of blue-tinged smoke. “Have you arranged the safe house?”

His student turned to the waiter, ordering a mushroom risotto with a salad. But she was listening. He could tell.

Capetian described a spacious townhouse on the forested outskirts of Paris. At great expense, he’d purchased it, as well as leased the adjacent properties to provide maximum privacy and security for what was bound to be a long term project. He’d stocked the kitchen, installed a private network with direct access to EVA, and a complete off the grid power, water, and sewer system.

The waiter returned with the caviar platter. Anjou offered it to the student who cringed at the sight of the raw fish eggs. “Come now… you’re here to experience new things!” 

While she hesitantly spooned a bit of the roe onto a cracker, Anjou settled on the Kobe beef tartare for his order.

“Have you contacted any of our agents yet?”

“Not yet, I wanted to make sure that nothing came up at the last minute. We’re spread thin here, almost all the agents are occupied with their own projects, but they understand that none are more urgent and pressing than this one. They are willing and available.”

He smiled and nodded. “Your cooperation is deeply appreciated.”

Capetian turned to the girl, watching her clumsily taste caviar for the first time. “And the girl… is she ready?”

“Charlotte?” This time Anjou couldn’t help but laugh, earning him a surprised look from Capetian. Everywhere she went, this uncertainty about her talents followed. He was shaking with laughter, wiping away tears. “Charlotte is the least of my concerns. My biggest concern is your agents’ capability of handling her.”

Capetian’s jaw dropped, “Pardon…?”

Anjou leaned on one elbow, tilting the ash into a silver tray. “She is the winner of the Day of Liberty, S-ranked, and is an essential asset to this mission. I’ll be assigning Agent Robertson to her care and safety. I’ll expect your agents to guard her with their lives and cater to her every request while she works.”

He drew a long puff from his cigar, relaxing to the flavor, the smoke pooling a moment in his mouth. “She has already killed. She can do so again. If they don’t believe me, then they may see for themselves if they try anything improper.”

Charlotte’s gaze lowered and she lost all interest in the caviar.

Capetian swallowed. “Understood, sir.”

[redfoxwritesstuff]

The Things You Find (In The Rain) Tom Hiddleston x ofc Chapter 1

Good Morning, everyone. Here it is, as promised, chapter one of four. As is always the case with my writing, this is OC concentric. Thank @winterisakiller because she’s an awesome cheerleader who has watched this develop from a one shot to four chapters as Maggie’s story unfolded. Tag lists are always open. 

Series warnings: Cheating, light violence, unhealthy relationships, Evan’s an ass

Chapter warnings: Evan’s an ass, unhealthy relationships, cheating, Light sexual content (nothing explicate)

Summary: Maggie and Evan had just married and were honeymooning in London. He was a difficult man but Maggie was a kind and forgiving soul. She loved him with all she was and when that is thrown away, not even 72 hours after they said their ‘I Do’s, what’s a girl to do? Except perhaps hit up ever bar her feet can take her to while the night sky opens up above her. When Tom’s out walking Bobby in the rain, he’s thankful. It’s true that beast will come into the house muddy and wet. He’ll even likely make a mess. But in the rain, even fewer were out this time of night and he was allowed the simple peace of walking around the park like any other man. In the rain no one expected him to take pictures with them. No one expected him to sign anything. In the rain, no one expected anything of him. 

Chapter 1

Maggie gathered her wavy brown hair behind her head and secured it with a band, though it was a challenge in the cramped too cold space of the airplane without elbowing the sleeping woman sitting next to her. She leaned her head onto Evan’s shoulder, stealing what comfort she could from the two pillows behind his back and closed her eyes for a moment with the goal of stealing a few moments of rest herself.

It had been a busy day, full of stress and excitement both but so worth it in the end. Early this morning, or perhaps it was technically yesterday due to the time changes, she had married the man she hoped would be her forever. The day had begun before dawn but was magical, just as he had said it would be. In the end, she felt silly for doubting him. Getting married while standing in the morning dew had been picture perfect.

Still, she was tired after spending what amounted to half a day on the plane after the short reception. Today (or yesterday?) their lives together would begin and Maggie felt hopeful as she peeked out the window before closing her eyes again.

Evan forcefully shrugged his shoulder before pushing her back into her seat while grumbling, “Get your big head off me. I’m trying to sleep.”

Maggie understood, he was tired. He probably hadn’t slept well the night before. She knew she hadn’t slept more than a few passing moments before her four in the morning wake up call in the form of her now Mother-in-law arrived. It was true, he had gotten to sleep in longer than her on the morning of their wedding but at this point anyone would have been running on fumes.

She understood and Maggie forgave. That’s what she was good at, after all. Her friends and family sung praises for how she could understand any hardship and forgive any trespass.

Landing in London was a whirlwind of activity not dissimilar to her wedding, though a whole different event. Evan was snappy with everyone they encountered but she had expected as much. He never did seem to function well on less than nine hours of sleep. Still they both had managed to catch a good amount of sleep during the nearly ten hour flight and when they managed to land Evan was adamant that they needed to quickly adjust to the new time zone.

The trip was to last three weeks and Maggie was excited. She’d never been to London. In truth, she had hardly ever left the small town she had grown up in. It was a blessing she had ever met Evan. His plane had been grounded in the small town airport due to a mechanical failure of some sort. He had been on his way to a business meeting in New York and was already dressed in a sharp suit. She fell in love the moment her eyes met his across the airport gift shop.

She tried to take in all the sights she could as Evan loaded their suitcases up into the taxi. This was a whole new country, one she had never even begun to dream of visiting. Now she was getting to honeymoon here with the man who opened the door to the world for her.

He got short with the driver just as he had been with everyone else. Still, Maggie tried to put it out of mind. He was tired. They would rest and he would feel better after. He would be better after.

“We’ll check into the hotel and head out for dinner.”

“Let’s order in instead?” Maggie offered. She was tired, she didn’t want to change and go out. What she wanted was to slip into some pajamas and curl up in front of the TV watching god knows what and eating whatever they could get delivered to the door. Sipping a glass of wine in the arms of the man she promised forever to would make it all the better.

“It’s our first day as man and wife. We need to go out and be together.” Evan stated as if that was a law written somewhere.

“Okay.”

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A shower and a change of clothes later, Maggie was rushed as she put her makeup on. Foundation worked wonders to make her appear more awake. Evan complained about how long she was taking and so she put aside her desire to do anything fancy with her eye makeup. Rather, she grabbed a few trusty colors and the same eyeliner she wore every day and did what a slightly fancier version of her everyday look.

Looking at herself in the mirror, she tried to spot what he saw in her. Her brown hair was a controlled mass of waves. Overall, she found herself to look average. She so badly wanted to look beautiful, to feel beautiful. If she had taken the time, maybe she could have but today it simply wasn’t to be.

They went to a french restaurant and Evan ordered for them right away. Maggie hadn’t even gotten a chance to look at the menu but she wasn’t surprised. He was so much more cultured than she, his choice was probably what she would have defaulted to anyway.

At one point she found this sort of behavior romantic but now she simply found it tiring. She would again come to love his thoughtful recommendations of food when they dine out, in time. It was surely because of him that she liked most of unknown things she had tried. Still, she had married the man and so she would learn to love things about him that she had found herself struggling with in the recent months.

That was what her parents advice had been to her when she confided in them her struggles. It takes compromise to make a marriage work, her father had said. Her mother spoke of not always loving her father in the same way, that their love was always shifting and changing. She chewed her lips as she watched her father look at her mother with unashamed adoration. Their lesson was that love changes over time and that she must be willing to be flexible with her heart so that she and Evan would always come back together.

Evan was more interested in his phone than he was her during their meal. With a heavy heart, she poked at her pasta, pushing it around the plate with her fork and drank first one glass of wine than another. She had wanted to spend time with him, to talk with him and be together. Wasn’t that the point of going out for dinner?

Going to London was something she had dreamed of her whole life. Still, she knew he had to work and was likely working remotely even as they sat and ate. She needed to allow him to do so. It was through his work that he was able to provide for her and support them. This trip wasn’t something he really wanted to take in the first place. It was his wedding gift to her. She should be thankful. She would be thankful.

After a dinner largely eaten in silence, Evan surprised her with the suggestion of going to the first pub they had seen across the street. It was starting to get late, she was tired- so very tired- but the atmosphere and energy of the room gave her a second wind. Still, Evan was focused on his phone mainly as they drank their first drinks, an ale and yet another glass of wine. Maggie ordered herself a second drink and once it arrived Evan rather suddenly downed the rest of his ale as if he were a man in the desert.

Sliding the empty glass toward the bartender, Evan announced, “I’m going back to the hotel.”

“I’ll come with you.” Maggie rushed to stand but he put a heavy hand on her shoulder and pushed her back into her seat. It was almost painful, but she told herself she would grow to love the way he made sure she didn’t put herself last just because he was tired.

“Stay. Don’t waste your drink. This is what you wanted anyway.” Maggie wasn’t sure what to say as she watched him walk away. If she pushed to go with him he would just get upset. And she did just get another drink. He was tired, she told herself as she settled in to finish her drink.

Once the glass was empty she was left to debate if she should go back or not. She was so tired and more than a bit tipsy from the two glasses of wine at dinner and two at the pub.

A smile graced her lips as she stepped outside and began the short walk to the hotel. This trip was a dream come true even if it didn’t always go according to how she would like it.

Maggie’s heels clicked against the sidewalk as a light, almost misting rain began to fall. It felt good. The city lights seemed to blink and dance around her and for a short moment she felt like she was living in her own fairy tale. So what if today wasn’t the magical day she had hoped for- there was tomorrow. And they day after. They had the rest of their lives to spend together making magical memories.

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Maggie didn’t think anything of the evening as she walked down the hall. It hadn’t been the best night for them as a couple but that was how it goes. At least, she told herself that. She wanted to believe it. With a deep breath, Maggie slipped her keycard into the lock of the suite door and her whole world shattered.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The door opened easily under her touch. The lights in the hall seemed suddenly too harsh. The room was cool and she could hear the room’s AC unit running. Everything was wrong in that way that’s just subtle enough that you can’t quite put your finger on it in the moment. Evan didn’t like to sleep in a cold room. The only time he liked to be in a cool room was when making love.

The sound of moans slowly penetrated her ears. It was probably the television, she told herself. Still the idea that he went back to the hotel to get himself off while watching a cheap movie when he could have her stung. They were just married, had he already grown bored with her body? Was she not pleasing to him anymore?

She stepped into the short hall and closed the door behind her softly. Taking a moment to let him finish up, she opened the clutch purse that hung from her shoulder by a delicate chain and pulled out her cards and set them on the table by the door. It would make remembering to switch purses easier in the morning.

It felt like she was moving through a fog. In the main room she could see flickering light as if he had lit candles. Had he intended for her to rush back, follow him for a romantic surprise? Had Evan resorted to pleasuring himself when she ruined his plan? That would be just like her, to not catch on to what probably had been obvious clues.

The sounds in the room slowly became clearer in her mind. Hesitant steps took her closer even as a ball of liquid iron seemed to take residence in her stomach. She could hear Evan’s moans and in her heart she knew he wasn’t giving himself pleasure. She knew.

The moans of a woman seemed to stab at her heart with each breathy cry. The headboard of the bed lightly tapped against the wall. With tears in her eyes, Maggie stepped out of the hallway bringing the bed into view. Her whole future shattered before her eyes as the first tear slipped down her cheek.

It’s weird, the things that the mind focuses on in times of great trauma and distress. Later, she would remember vividly the view of Evan’s ass moving and how she had somehow never noticed the large three moles on his left ass cheek. It occurred to her that he was always quick to dress, if he ever actually lost all his clothes in the first place after sleeping together.

Now however, he was bare as the day his mother had birthed him as he moved above a woman. She had a dark tan, one like Maggie would never be able to sport- she burned for too easily. The woman also had dark straight hair, nearly black. Maggie wondered what color her eyes were as she watched the woman’s back arc up and press her full breasts up into Evan’s chest.

A lusty moan slipped out from between the woman’s lips as Maggie watched Evan’s left hand grip the woman’s thigh, pulling her leg up higher along his waist. Vividly, she saw that his left hand was unadorned. The ring that had not even lived on his thick finger for a week was absent.

“Allie.”

The sound of Evan moaning what Maggie could only assume was the woman’s name cut her straight to her core like a red hot knife. That small part of her heart that was somehow still in one piece shattered within her chest. Floodgates opened and tears began to fall in earnest from her wide eyes as she looked on in stunned silence.

Maggie reached out blindly, bracing herself against the dresser as she watched her husband pound into another woman. He fucked her like he had never fucked Maggie and she wondered if something was wrong with her. Surely there had to be a reason why he showed such passion with this unknown women. There had to be a reason why he moaned softly in her ear, called out her name. She had to have something that Maggie lacked.

Her knees gave out and she crashed against the dresser. The palm of her hand slid across the smooth surface and her fingers smashed against the large glass jar candle. The liquid wax sloshed over the edge and burned her fingers before the jar was sent to the ground, spilling what was left of the was on the expensive hotel carpet.

She cried out and clutched her hand to her chest as she fell to the ground in a heap. Evan sat up quickly, shoving the startled woman off the bed as if Maggie was some sort of baby and simply having the naked woman out of sight would remove her existence from her mind.

“Maggie-” His mouth was moving but there was no sound. She tried to listen, really she did. He had to have a reason. There had to be an explanation. It would be a good one. It would make sense. It would be right.

She couldn’t hear what he was saying over her own blood rushing in her ears. The pain in her hand was subsiding as she rubbed the wax off and staggered to her feet. The world was spinning and yet somehow she could clearly see Evan rushing to his feet, pushing a pillow into his crotch to cover himself.

Each step he took toward her made bile rise in her throat. He was talking, saying something but she couldn’t focus on the words enough to hear them. She expected him to look sorry or remorseful. Even horrified would have been an expected reaction. Instead, he looked angry.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tom Hiddleston was a man in high demand recently. His career had taken off with his role in the Avengers films and there was nothing he looked forward too as much as time at home where he had to do nothing except be himself. He would have the freedom to do everything he wanted and nothing he didn’t wish to do.

It was a simple pleasure not too long ago he had often enough. Not long ago at all, he got to sleep in his bed most nights. He was beyond blessed to have his career on the path it is on. But right now, all he could think about is how he felt beyond lucky to sleep in his own bed for the first time in a solid three months. Right this second, all he knew is he was beyond lucky that Ben was out of town tonight and he would get to do nothing.

Today he wasn’t getting to do nothing all day however. Today he had spent his morning in meetings, promotional interviews by phone, Skype and one radio show. Tom wanted to sleep when he got home. He wanted to sleep for a year, eat his weight in pasta and cuddle with Bobby.

He could try to do two of those things at least. One for sure. But sleeping for a year would be hard to accomplish with his work schedule, light though it may be at the moment. Part of him contemplated how much of a hit his career would take if he did actually take a year off, rested and simply invested some time in his friends and family. He knew he couldn’t stand not working for that long but it was a nice daydream.

Looking up at the gray sky, he was pretty sure it would be a wet run tonight unless things cleared up. Rain was clearly on the way. The forecast had called for clearing skies but that had begun to look less and less likely as they day wore on. It was typical weather though no less unpleasant.

Yes, tonight he would take Bobby out for a run- rain or shine. Get them both nice and tired. Order in a late night snack and collapse on the couch and watch whatever was on. For a few short hours he could pretend to be normal and rest.

Still, somewhere deep in his heart there was a sense of foreboding. He couldn’t place his finger on it but a sense of dread had taken up residence within his chest and mind. It was probably the fatigue, he told himself. It was probably the increasingly poor weather. Really, it could have been any number of things.

He had a dinner meeting with some producers that he had to head off too before he could go home. From there, if he was lucky they wouldn’t invite him out for drinks after. Then he could be home. He could change out of the slightly too tight suit and into a loose pair of shorts and an old tee shirt and simply run until the tension worked from him. On his way back he could order up a snack, a tasty treat for how hard he had been working.

It was oddly relaxing, running. He looked forward to it as much as he looked forward to stretching out on the couch and watching TV or reading a good book after. He just had to make it through the day. After today, he had the rest of the week free. He just had to make it through today and the interviews would be done for a few weeks at least.

“Mr. Hiddleston, I apologize for the delay.” The driver’s voice startled him out of his thoughts.

“It’s no trouble.”

Tom offered a warm smile to the man he hadn’t noticed pulled up and in front of him. He’d been so lost in his thoughts that he hadn’t heard the car door open until the driver spoke. He needed to pull himself together. Just a few more hours and then he could have a much needed break.

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