#like if it wasn’t for tumblr I wouldn’t have stuck around for 5 years when dan was hiding

[deadandphilgames]

Okay the australia leg is so far away, and Im not sure what im going to do, so I want to ask what your plan is. Are you going to keep up to date with dnp tumblr and risk tour spoilers, or are you going to block the dnp tag and completely avoid spoilers, or a secret third option? Bc im not sure I can wait until December without dnp tumblr, but I also think I want to experience the insanity of tour when im there. Idk.

i guess it’ll be slightly different to my wad experience as i didn’t block anything then but i also don’t feel like i saw any spoilers? i didn’t even know it began with a song

im not blocking anything for this tour because i dont think show spoilers will ruin it for me, if anything it makes me enjoy more because ill be like “omg they said the thing I knew they were gonna say!” also unless you watch/listen to a bootleg copy, the experience is always gonna be unique and chaotic when watching, so knowing the general flow of the show doesn’t feel like a full spoiler to me.

all this to say id rather chew off my own leg than give up dnp tumblr for a prolonged period of time

[chloe-skywalker]

Really? - Kai Parker

Kai x Fem!reader (Eventually)

Warnings: none

Word count: 1,996

Summary: They call in Y/n to babysit Kai

Authors Note: I used the name Hope as a nickname. Also like shes hundreds of years old. Used Twitter in this because Kai had a twitter in the show. This is REALLY old my writing has improved SO much since I wrote this. I wrote for english class in highschool as a sophomore. The date on the paper that I turned it in on was 5/26/16. This was never typed and honestly I completely forgot about it. But I found the 9 page story in my closest. Hope you all enjoy it. This is probably one of the very first times I every wrote a piece of fanfiction. I never posted it on tumblr, I’m pretty sure. I did rewrite some parts cause like I said my writing has very much improved since this lol.

Masterlist

TVD Masterlist

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“Ok, I did not come back to Mystic Falls to babysit some sociopath that I don’t even know!” Y/n said standing in the doorway to the livingroom. Y/n had her left hand on her hip with it pushed out to the side, and her right hand flat out pointing towards Alaric and Jo sitting on the couch together. It had been awhile since she had been in the Salvatore boarding house. “This was your idea, wasn’t it?”

“Relax, Hope. It was mine and Stefans idea. We figured you're a Hybrid plus a witch. Also you're not easily persuaded. Your best option.” Damon said, pouring himself some bourbon.

“Ha,ha,ah, NO!” Y/n said with anger filled eyes. “I don’t want to babysit the newest town problem.”

Y/n turned on her heels towards the front door, once she got there when she started to open the door Stefan appeared right in front of her. He closed the door before slinging his arm around her shoulders, walking her back to where everyone else was.

“Please do this Hope, if not for me or Damon do it for Jo, Liv and Luke. Please.” Stefan pleaded.

Considering that Kai was trying to kill his siblings, the Salvatore brothers being allies with them and not Kai, makes it more understandable why they were keeping him in their cellar or as Y/n liked to call it a dungeon.

Even though Y/n didn’t plan on coming back to Mystic Falls from New Orleans to help in their latest crisis, she would. Her father, the original Hybrid, wouldn't like it. He couldn’t bare to lose her, not his hope. That was her nickname and it stuck. Everyone calls her Hope because of it.

“Fine.” Y/n gave in, although a bit annoyed.

Y/n didn’t have anything else to do and hey, maybe this sociopath wouldn’t be that bad. She had never been one to judge without knowing the person. Her father just because his mother was unfaithful to a werewolf was judged for her actions. Y/n found that unfair.

Damon opened his mouth to speak, bringing Y/n out of her thoughts. “Ok its settled then you watch the little weasel.”

Soon enough they all left to go do what they needed to do, so Y/n  headed down to the cellar and sat against the wall. Having been told to stay close to the cellar because Kai was tricky.

Y/n went on her phone and got on twitter, not long after her phone went off with a notification for the social media app. And apparently Kai had heard it.

“You should follow me on twitter, cobrakai1972.” He said from inside the dungeon cell.

Y/n thought about it for a moment and she didn’t see anything wrong with friending him on twitter. “Ok, that was corbakai1972. Right?”

Once she heard that Y/n heard him get up and suddenly his face was behind the bars on the door. Y/n lifted her head to look at him, he looked surprised. “Wait, are you serious?”

“Yeah, why not?” she shrugged.

Kai raised his eyebrows in shock. So he decided to explain who exactly he was. “Well, I assume they told you exactly why you're babysitting me. Right? I’m the new big bad in Mystic Falls. In the prison world I kidded BonBon, multiple times. I assume she’s your friend since you are obviously friends with Damon, Stefan, Alaric, and the rest of them. Probably friends with Jo, Live and Luke as well if you're willing to protect them. They trust you enough to watch me.”

Y/n didn’t miss the way he said his sister's name with disgust, he must really want to kill her like they said. Considering he look’s 22 and Jo looks 44, Y/n took it as in prison worlds you don’t age. Also he killed Bonnie in one so you can’t die either. Damn witches are assholes.

“Well for one thing they told me their side of the story of what happened. Second thing, me and Bonnie are not friends so whatever kill her I don’t care. And yes, they are my friends I guess you could say. Third thing, trust me now that is a kinda long story. They do trust me but that took a very long time, being the daughter of the original Hybrid Klaus Mikaelson whom they trust as far as they can throw. Trust wasn’t an easy thing to earn, Especially since I’m alot like my father. They have me babysitting you because I’m a Hybrid like him as well, and a witch.” Y/n smirked at him which made him smile widely.

“So I guess that means I can’t convince you to let me out?” He asked with a cheeky grin. Y/n shook her head ‘no’ and they both laughed.

Y/n realized she liked his laugh, she didn’t think he laughs often. After a while their laughter died down they started talking about everything and nothing all at the same time. They talked for hours and at some point they had both started leaning against the cellar door. Then the object of ‘pasts’ came up.

“Kai we don’t have to. We don’t have to talk about the past or family if you don’t want to. I get it’s a touchy subject.” Y/n told him sincerely.

Kai nodded even though she couldn’t see him. “You're right we don’t, but I want to know yours and I take it that if I don’t tell you anything then you won’t tell me anything. Am I correct?”

He was right, she wouldn’t tell him if he didn’t share his. “Yes, you're right.”

Kai nodded. “Fine. My family called me an abomination and they physically and mentally abused me with magic and, not because I’m a siphoner. I can’t and couldn’t fight back. Since I couldn’t generate my own magic. My parents didn’t want me to possibly rule the coven, so they kept having kids till another set of twins was born. When twins turn 22 in our coven they merge and the winner takes both powers and becomes the leader of the coven. The other dies. When me and Jo were supose to merge they said no, I went on a rampage. They decided to let us merge but it was all a set up to send me to the prison world. One of my very own, like hell.”

Y/n felt sad for him, his parents turned him into what he was today. They made him into the sociopath, from how they treated him. It wasn’t his fault he was born a siphoner. Called an abomination in his own home growing up by the people who should’ve loved him. It was so wrong in so many ways.

Y/n wanted to lighten the mood a bit. “Wow. That's some history. Am I supposed to top that?”

“There’s more things to me than just that but some things stay secret.” Kai winked, obviously teasing her.

Y/n bit her lip and rolled her eyes at his coolness.

“Okay! Your turn.” He said excitedly through the door.

Y/n laughed before thinking where to start. “Ok, ok lets see, before and after my birth my fathers parents have been trying to kill me. And they're dead now and still try. So my father sent me away for a while. When he brought me back to live with him and our family, his siblings in New Orleans. Its not the only time I've been sent away, my father has a lot of enemies. He sent for me back when he came here and undaggered his siblings. We even have a house here. We caught up and that's when I met everyone. Lots of saving, lots of killing. But I think everything that me and my dad have been through made our bond stronger. There's more to me but you know some things stay secrets.”

Y/n heard him laugh at her copying of his words from before.

“Well I think we are pretty much tied on the who’s worse considering my parents beat me and your dad's enemies and parents keep trying to kill you. I mean at least mine let me live.” Kai let out an amused breath.

“OK well this is getting depressing.” She sighed

“Agreed.” He said

Then suddenly Damon’s name lit up Y/n’s phone with a text.

[ Hey won’t be back for a couple more hours. Please keep watching him.]

Y/n scoffed, fully annoyed she’d already been here for 5 hours.

“What?” Kai asked, having heard her scoff and seen the annoyance on her face.

“Damon’s going to be even longer.” Y/n was officially pissed. Y/n thought for a moment and then a brilliant idea popped into her head. “You know if I have to watch you why does it have to be here?” She smirked michevously up at the breunette.

“What do you have in mind?” He questioned.

“If I have to watch you I’m not going to do it here.” Y/n stated.

“Wasn’t that the point?” Kai questioned.

“So?” She shrugged. “His text didn’t say it had to continue here.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s not what he meant but I won’t stop you.” Kai smirked at her idea, completely ready to be free from his cell.

Y/n didn’t need a key since she was hundreds of years old witch.

 “They're gonna be pissed when they find out.” He told her as he stepped out the doorway.

“They can’t and don’t know how to kill me. And my father plus Aunts and Uncles wouldn’t let them lay a finger on me.” She rolled her eyes.

So the two of them walked upstairs when Kai spoke up. “So you really want to hang out with me?”

“Of course.” she nodded but when she looked over at Kai he seemed relieved. “Did you think I would say no?”

He scratched the back of his head looking to the floor.

“Kai” Y/n looked at him and stepped in front of him reaching up to hold his face in her hands. “After everything we just talked about, and me letting you out, why would I not want to hangout with you?”

Y/n leaned up and kissed him on the cheek. Kai couldn’t believe he might’ve actually found a friend.

“You mentioned your name when we talked. How if they named you Mlachia then they must have expected you to be evil. When I look in your eyes I don’t see evil, I see a boy that doesn’t know what love is.” Y/n looked into his eyes. Kai saw no malice, no hatred. She cared about him.

“You don’t know me. Not really.” He shook his head not believing that she could care about him.

“I don’t. But I’d like to.” She smiled warmly at him. Y/n lifted her shoulders smiling looking into his eyes. “Who knows, maybe you can change. I’m not saying to stop killing, I’m just saying maybe not kill everyone. People might see you differently.”

Kai laughed at the last part, it was probably true. “No one’s gonna ever see me differently. No one will ever see me as redeemed.”

Kai looked down actually feeling sad about that. No one would ever give him a chance. He’d never be forgiven.

“Hey, you want to know why my dad and everyone calls me Hope?” Y/n asked, she was gonna tell him anyway but luckily he nodded so she continued. He didn’t just nod though he also raised an eyebrow and made a look that made Y/n laugh. “He calls me Hope, because I’m his hope. His hope to be better, his hope of redemption. Maybe I can be your hope to.”

Kai smiled nodding along. “Maybe.”

With that they officially left the Salvatore boarding house to go have some freedom and fun.

Taglist: @padawancat97

[justaprismolover]

WARNING! This rant is a very subjective and hot take about Prismo [Adventure Time] & how the modern fandom treats him. This is a personal and emotionally driven rant. if that doesn’t sound good to you, please do not read this rant.

⚠️Please read the full post before you say anything. Context is very important in this post! ⚠️

hello to anyone reading this! you probably don’t know me or you don’t know much about me, but i’m justaprismolover. i’ve been obsessed with prismo for a very long time, about three years or so. he was this major interest of mine that i would constantly think about 24/7.

he was this huuuge obsession of mine that i consistently was enamored by. the phase seemed to never wear off. i drew him, animated him, wrote fanfictions about him, i had elaborate daydreams about him, i started making an album about him (which i only discontinued because all of the songs suck lol), i posted about him and ranted and raved to my friends, said his name many times every day, made AUs for him, and i even started archiving every drawing i saw of him. you see, prismo drawings back in the day were very rare, so i was constantly starving for tha goods (fanart). i would always look him up on deviantart and google to see if anyone posted art of him. i followed and subbed to anyone who showed interest in him. i had looked him up on youtube and deviantart and pinterest countless times. i started seeing the same prismo content over and over again, which is reasonable, but i, who at the time started to archive every piece of work of prismo i could find, had this crazy goal of archiving every work i could find of prismo. so i started making social media accounts for the sole purpose of archiving content containing him and dipping.

i made a tiktok account (which was banned after one day for some reason?? i didnt comment or have a trashy username or anything idk) i made a twitter account (total waste of time i couldnt find any prismo stuff) and i made a tumblr account, the only account i kept. i originally wasn’t going to at first but tumblr sorta stuck with me. there were a wee amount of prismo fans who loved him just like me! so i stuck around and started posting art just for fun.

then something interesting happened. a new fiona and cake show was coming out, and a depressed looking prismo was right there in it! i was excited to see more prismo, but i was also kind of worried. i was scared the prismo ‘fandom’ (it was literally like 5 people at the time) wouldn’t be the same after fiona and cake came out. what if prismo became a tumblr sexyman and they started humanizing him and making him act super out of character? what if he was downplayed as a “silly blorbo”? what will happen to my archive? will there be too much art to archive?

i know that it might sound selfish to be saying stuff like this, but i’m sure everyone has felt it before. that feeling when something tiny you like became popular and you just sat there thinking “i was here first!” its petty but its valid as long as you aren’t putting anyone down for getting there later than you.

so i comforted myself by telling myself that it won’t be that big of a deal and prismo probably wouldn’t play a big part. its not like there was a huge prismo craze in 2012 when he first was introduced or anything like that. there’s going to be so much new cool artwork of prismo made by so many cool people that will all put their own lil twists on him, and in a month most of the prismo likers will move on which means it’ll be me and a bunch of dedicated prismo enjoyers, but not too many, and it’ll be like one of those teeny cool fandoms. yep, that’s what i told myself. it’s not like i was fully convinced by this or anything but it kept me afloat. i just kept on doing what i usually did until the show came out, and…

boy, was i wrong.

prismo played a huge role! he CREATED fiona and cake! he had new characters to interact with! there was new art! new fanfiction! a huge brand-spanking new prismo fandom flooded into tumblr. prismo playlists! prismo cosplays! prismo crafts! i was flabbergasted. totally enamored by this wave of content. do you know how insane it feels when this character that was forgotten by everyone but you and some others suddenly gets extremely popular?! it’s like you’re dying in the sahara desert of dehydration when suddenly you trip into lake baikal. it was insane. and, it wasn’t THAT bad! yeah, there was some headcanon stuff and “sillyposting” that i didn’t like, but hey, most of the prismo stuff kept him looking the same and drew really neat looking art of him! i was ready to embrace this new prismo epidemic with open arms if it wasn’t for one teensy weensy itty bitty minor problem…

Scarab.

ya see, scarab and prismo to this new era of prismo lovers are absolutely inseparable. you cant have one without the other. they’re treated akin to simon and betty, where if you draw one, you must draw the other. pink, yellow and blue is no longer prismo including his lil blue pupil, but now its prismo, the wall of the time room and scarab! pretty much what i’m saying is the new prismo fandom was almost ALL prismo x scarab shippers. hell, most of them joined BECAUSE they liked the pairing itself. the prismo fandom pretty much became the prohibited wish fandom, which to someone like me who doesn’t ship it… was… something. yeeep. it was totally something alright.

i know its easy to make fun of me for being sad about a ship that everyone else in the fandom ships, which i mean, fair enough, it’s pretty funny, but i hope you get my point of view as someone who doesn’t ship the ship and doesn’t really care for scarab. i’ve been so dedicated to doing my weird little prismo stuff for so long, just me and sometimes me and a few others, and suddenly, this humongous wave of people come who start drawing all sorts of ship art with this… bug dude thingy that i didn’t even care for. and its only. ship art. which made me feel so left out of all the fun. i can’t force myself to like the ship, because, well, not only is that near impossible for me but i don’t like the tropes and its a ship that’s pretty lustful and often puts the characters in sexual scenarios with one another.

you see, the ship alone isn’t the whole issue. it’s the way the ship is portrayed, and especially the way prismo is portrayed.

back in the day, prismo was characterized by most people (including me) to be this super chill yet awkward guy who was funny and cool yet lonely and kinda clingy (which was proved to be CANON cuz hes obsessed with jake in Fiona and Cake HEHEHEHH). he was a side character who was kinda mysterious which left him up in speculation. everyone had their own little prismo theories. the best part about prismo was that nobody really forced him to have a one dimensional trope (ironic).

like, there weren’t any moments in canon that made everyone think he was obsessed with something like, pickles or destroying universes or whatever. you know how so many fanon side characters are often attributed to one singular thing they like or do, and so everyone makes it as if they’re obsessed with doing it to the point where it’s more of a lifestyle than a hobby to that character? prismo didn’t get that treatment! many people who liked him UNDERSTOOD that he wasn’t some guy who sat around in his hot tub all day manically making pickles or messing around with the lich. (true ogs remember prismo x lich. RIP that ship you sucked but the art was delicious)

so many people understood that below the surface he was lonely and just needed somebody to talk to, how he could never leave the time room. we based our drawings more on the character himself, his internal struggles and external battles. and yeah, most prismo fanart… WAS JUST PRISMO! and the prisjake art was (and still is) almost ALL wholesome and cute, because, well, prismo never came off to anyone as a sexual person!

and the just prismo drawings were unique too! so many of them explored different concepts and ideas, which is something i rarely see nowadays, cuz most of the art is just him calling scarab petnames and writing fanfics.

warning: the following paragraph contains mentions of art of sexual harassment. please skip this paragraph if you are uncomfortable with this topic. please note that this is my main reason as to why i do not like the modern prismo fandom.

the biggest issue i have with the modern prismo fandom is that they portray him as a very lustful person, someone who openly talks about doin’ the deed towards scarab as soon as he sees him. so many depictions of this pairing will show prismo telling scarab he’s hot whilst scarab is trying to kill him, or saying things like, “please do” when scarab makes genuine threats to end his life, which in turn makes scarab angry and uncomfortable. other depictions include prismo GRABBING SCARAB WITHOUT HIS CONSENT! and i hate to break it to some, but that is harassment! what surprises me is how common works like these are. i constantly see them on my dashboard. people just seem to love the idea of prismo going, “now that we’re in the same dimension, i can do whatever i want to you.” i would show examples so yall can see what i mean, but that’d be really stupid of me to go showing around peoples art and giving specific examples. so, just look out for it, and you might start seeing it more. (these types of drawings have died down as the time goes on but they used to be a lot more common in the early f&c days). all i’ll say is, prismo grabbing or saying sexual stuff to scarab is not cute if scarab looks uncomfortable or is telling him to cut it out or leave him alone. this is harassment. i thought modern fandom was supposed to be more progressive than this. c’on, guys. (alsooo, prismo just. isn’t a sexual guy. like at all. when prismo and scarab meet he just seems like hes freaking the hell out the whole time and never stops to check scarab out at all. people are being gaslight by fanart or something lol okay sorry i know people can have headcanons)

if you skipped the last paragraph, you can continue here!

another lil thing grudge i have is the whole fanfiction thing. y’all, he made an action based genderbent world. he’s not writing omegaverse smut fanfiction. okay, i get if you wanna headcanon him with that, i think its funny, but like, don’t make him writing fanfiction his whole personality!!!

so yeah, all of the prohibited wish and new characterization of prismo i don’t agree with has made me feel so left out of something that i’ve partaken in for so long. all of this over time has lead me to not be able to enjoy prismo as much. yes, i still love him, and drawing him still brings me immense joy, but it just isn’t the same. i just feel so left out and it really hurts. even if it is laughable, i hope anyone reading this, if anyone at all, could at least understand that bit.

so, TL;DR:

the old prismo fandom was full of different headcanons and theories, different ships, rarepairs even, and all sorts of unique and awesome ideas and art.

the modern one is (mostly) either two things: scarab x prismo or prismo writing smut fanfiction with some other character (but its usually scarab).

and guys. please, please, please. THIS IS MY SUBJECTIVE OPINION! people can headcanon whatever they want and draw whatever they want! i have never, ever harassed anyone who drew something i don’t like. this is honestly my first time opening up about my extremely hot take. it’s not like i’m an ultra petty bully who hates every piece of prohibited wish (my likes are public and you can see that i actually have liked prohibited wish stuff, you can see i have a preference for wholesome tho) please continue to ship what you ship and do whatever you want to prismo and whatever other characters. i’m honestly so scared of getting hate and getting attacked by people. if you read all of this, first of all, thank you SO much, i’m so happy someone actually took the time to hear me out!, and second, you are likely not the problem, and i’m sure i’d love your art of prismo, even if it’s prisxscrabby. just. please, don’t attack me. (i’m aware this post probably has 2 notes or less this is just in case)

quick Q&A:

Q: are you asexual?

A: i don’t really know? im probably demisexual. i know that i’m pansexual. but i do ship characters that partake in sexual acts or are lustful towards each other. i personally don’t think that Prismo is a sexual person. i don’t think of him as ace either, i just don’t think of him as someone who often has lustful thoughts.

Q: are you neurodivergent?

A: i think i might be. i have a therapist and we’re working on getting me a diagnoses. she’s very positive that i have autism. we can’t say for sure if i do until i get my diagnoses, though. please keep in mind that my extreme obsession with prismo and my unwelcomeness for change may be the result of my potential autism. but like i said, i haven’t been officially diagnosed and i do not like the idea of self-diagnosing.

Q: will you keep posting prismo stuff?

A: hopefully. i’m a busy genderfluid, y’know? i have so much social medias to keep track of. this is just a place to dump ma prismo��s, but it gets less and less fun everyday, ya know?

if you’re reading this i love you so so much you’re literally awesome and i can’t thank you enough for it. justaprismolover is outta here bye byeee B)

[mysteroads]

Chapter 5: A Bit of Mayhem

I really enjoyed this chapter, so I'm posting it here for people to enjoy! Family fun and mayhem for everyone! (You can click the link for a more reader-friendly format than dear ol' Tumblr.)

Summary: Lydia's plan goes into action.

Friday afternoon was HOT. 

Summer had dropkicked Spring all the way into next year, and now was hovering over Winter Pines, rubbing its hands together and laughing maniacally. Heat haze shimmered constantly, the black top had turned into a tar pit, what bits of shade that could be found were pale shadows of their former selves, and the telephone poles along main street had begun to wilt. It was so hot that even the jingle of the ice cream truck sounded like a cry for mercy.

“Kid,” Beetlejuice said, drooping as he followed Lydia home. “You have got to let me teleport you. I’m a corpse. I’m going to start rotting in this heat.”

Lydia held her nose. “You sure you haven’t already?”

Rolling his eyes, he stretched his arm out so he could flick her forehead. “Oh ha-ha. Just for that, I’m going to take over the garbage truck and unload it right into your bedroom window. Then you’ll know the truth about stench."

“You could take off your coat, maybe loosen your tie?” He clutched at his coat and she sighed. “Or not. You do realize I have no intention of stealing your stinky old coat, right? I don’t think the even most desperate homeless person out there would even consider it as an option. Heck, I wouldn’t let an undead cat have undead kittens on it!”

He frowned at her. “Okay. Hurtful.”

"Truthful. Your whole outfit could use a wash even more than you.”

Grumbling, he folded his arms and went into a sulk. Lydia matched his silence until they got to the house. Her gaze moved to the window. Yes, there it was. A bright blue crystal set on the sill. That was the signal that all was prepared. 

“I’m going to go change into something cooler,” she said, quickly dumping her bag and shoes and heading for the stairs. “Why don’t you raid the freezer?”

He brightened. “Popsicles?”

“Why not? It’s the day for it.” 

Humming happily, Beetlejuice drifted into the kitchen and started poking around in the freezer. Finding his prize, he pulled the wrapper off, ate that, then stuck the popsicle in his mouth. Even though he was alone for the moment, (where were Delia and the Maitlands anyway?) he amused himself by wrapping his long tongue around the popsicle in a suggestive manner, and then giggling as he imagined everyone’s reaction. 

Someone cleared their throat behind him and he forced himself not to tense. God/Satan he needed to get over this ‘not liking people behind me’ thing. Sure, he’d never felt comfortable with anyone behind him, but after the whole ‘bad art’ incident, it gave him knots in his stomach like he was going to puke— He should get over it. 

Taking a breath, he put a grin on his face and gave the popsicle an extra innuendo-inducing lick as he turned. “Adam… hey s— my man. How ya been?” 

Adam gave him what he could only describe as a sheepish smile. “Sorry about this. Have fun, okay?”

“Wha—?” Before he could finish his question, the backdoor flew open behind him and Adam gave him a ghost-powered shove. 

Beetlejuice was unprepared, which was the only reason he went flying. And being unprepared was the only reason he hit the grass on his back, plowing up a furrow of dirt, instead of landing on his feet or doing a backflip, as he definitely would’ve done under any other circumstance. That was his story, and he would stick to it.

Groaning, Beetlejuice started to sit up when a shadow fell over him. It was Charles, wearing a dingy t-shirt, those dad sandals that were one step short of flip-flops, and… green swim shorts? The fuck? He was also wearing a huge grin. That was unusual, but it wasn’t what set alarm bells ringing through Beetlejuice’s head. What got the alarm bells going was the absolutely enormous water gun pointed right at his chest.

Still smiling, Charles pulled the slide on the gun and said, “You have to ask yourself one question: Do I feel lucky? Well do ya, punk?”

Beetlejuice had barely enough time to register that Charles was not only quoting Dirty Harry, but quoting it correctly, before he got blasted.

Swearing, he tried to get away, completely forgetting that he was a demon with powers stupid humans could only dream of. 

“BJ! Over here!” 

Delia’s voice got his attention and he looked to see her around the corner of the house. She was laughing! But she was also waving to him, urging him over, and all he wanted was to get away from the ungodly amount of water being sprayed on him, so he teleported. 

“Cheater!” Charles shouted as he reappeared next to Delia.

Still laughing, Delia used a towel to wipe his face, then pushed something into his hands. “I’m nicer than Charles. I’ll give you a ten second head start.”

“What?!” He looked down to find himself holding a super soaker (not as big as Charles’s, though). Another look showed that Delia was in a tie-dye bikini and a crochet cover-up, and was duel-wielding two water pistols. Normally, he would’ve made a comment, but he was kept from doing so by another stream of water. This one wasn’t aimed at him though, and Delia shrieked, dancing in place as Charles roared with laughter. She whirled on her fiancée, guns held sideways, gangster style.

“Oh, I’ll get you for that, Charles!”

Taking advantage of the distraction, Beetlejuice dashed off, still not knowing what in hellgates was going on. His confusion was compounded as he saw Lydia jumping out her window.  

He scrambled to catch her, only to realize that Barbara had beat him to it and was lowering the girl down. Both women saw him and started laughing. 

“I see the fight’s begun already!” Lydia shouted, and raised her own gun—which looked bigger than she was— and pointed it right at him as she floated. “Prepare for annihilation.”

“Not you too!” he wailed, back peddling and just barely avoiding the shot she took at him. The grass was already slippery, and the tread on his boots was so worn it was like running across a marble floor in socks. “What the fuck is going on?!”

“It’s hot, you doofus! We’re cooling off! Fight back!”

“What?!”

“Delia gave you your gun. Point and shoot, or surrender now.” Lydia landed, gave Barbara a thumbs up, then turned to Beetlejuice. Her smile frightened him and he found himself clutching his gun to himself like a shield and backing up. She must’ve seen his confused fear, because, more gently, she said, “This is supposed to be fun, BJ. Just a little bit of mayhem to beat the heat. A water fight.” She motioned to herself and the swimsuit she wore. “You have to have seen water fights before, right?”

Water fights?

He looked down at the gun, then back at her, and the smile she wore was suddenly less ominous. He knew what her fake smile looked like, he reminded himself. Lydia actually was a pretty terrible liar. She was smiling like she had when they were haunting the house, or singing during their revenge concert. Like she was… having fun. Not like she had when she’d come back from the Netherworld with a plan for murder.

Okay, so this was just playing? He heard Delia and Charles laughing behind him, and relaxed some more. They laughed like that while playing games, or cooking, or even cleaning the house sometimes.

This was playing.

He looked back down at his water gun again, smiled, and brought it to bear— and immediately got hit in the face. Sputtering, he swiped the water from his eyes and laughed, really laughed. “Oh you little nerk! It is on!”

“Bring it, bug boy!”

Beetlejuice had just managed to score a hit when both he and Lydia were ambushed by Charles and Delia, who had teamed up. The next few minutes were filled with chaos, which was right up his alley once he got used to the idea that he wasn’t the only cause. Didn’t mean he couldn’t be a major contributor though. 

Beetlejuice pulled off a fantastic slide through Charles’s legs, then shot him right in the butt. Charles yelped and did a most undignified dance, and Delia laughed so hard she fell down, which made her easy prey for Lydia. 

“You know what would make this even more awesome?” Beetlejuice asked, getting to his feet and holding his gun up like an action star. The three Deetz’s eyes widened in horror as Beetlejuice answered his own question: “MORE ME!”

The clones poofed into being, all of them holding some form of water gun. One next to Lydia tried to squirt her, only to find that his gun was empty. It glared at Beetlejuice and stamped its foot, gesturing toward the gun then at Lydia. Obviously, it felt cheated. She started to giggle, but kindly refrained from shooting the unarmed.

“I can’t make food or drink, remember? Go fill those up.” Beetlejuice pointed to the kiddie pool they’d been using for fast refills (and a dunking pond). There was a mass scramble in that direction. Delia tried to cut them off, only to get squirted by Beetlejuice. “Oh no you don’t! You people wanted some mayhem, so I’m going to make sure you get mayhem!”

“I’m on Beetlejuice’s side now!” Lydia shouted, defecting to the side with overwhelming numbers like the smart girl she was.

“Traitor,” Charles accused. “I buy you pizza and this is how you repay me?”

She brought her gun up. “Sorry Dad, but there is no loyalty in— Wait, you bought pizza?”

“Of course. We’re going to be hungry after this. Delivery should arrive in half an hour. Also, no betrayal take backs.” He soaked her from head to toe while she squealed and laughed. By that point, the clones had their guns ready to go and everything devolved into PVP.

Barbara watched Beetlejuice… playing, there was no other word for it, and could barely believe the difference. It was as if he’d shed some invisible, uncomfortable weight, and was now free to act like a… a person, not a demon. Soaked to the bone, hair and suit plastered to his skin, he laughed like a little kid as he scooped up a flailing Delia and dropped her in the kiddie pool, only to get pulled in after her. The splash as he hit the water was too big to be natural, because it managed to get both Charles and Lydia, who were standing a fair distance away. 

Delia and Beetlejuice both sat in the middle of the pool, leaning on each other, almost paralyzed by the cold water and their own laughter, but Beetlejuice didn’t hesitate at all when Charles offered him a hand up. He also didn’t hesitate to join Charles in hunting down Lydia after she sniped them both from behind some bushes.

Was this the Beetlejuice Lydia saw and loved so much? The one who had haunted their house with her, helped her play school-wide pranks, and practiced music and dancing with her? It must be. In that moment, Barbara understood why Lydia had chosen this particular method to bring the ‘family’ together. What better method to get a mischievous demon to let his guard down than to play a mischievous game?

She felt Adam put an arm around her waist and she leaned against him, both of them watching their family playing outside. Their job had been to keep the doors and windows shut so Beetlejuice couldn’t escape inside, but that didn’t look like it was going to be an issue anymore. He was having too much fun.

Beetlejuice summoned his clones and Adam kissed the top of her head, then chuckled. “Looks like it’s our turn.”

Lydia had wanted to make sure that the Maitlands were included in the fun and games today, and they had told her not to worry, that they’d be fine watching. What they hadn’t told her was that they had a scheme of their own. 

Giggling, Barbara took a leaf from a certain demon’s book and said, “It’s Showtime!” 

Beetlejuice, almost out of ‘ammo’ and on his way to get a refill, was the first to spot the garden hose uncoiling itself. It had been left in the kiddie pool, and none of them paid any attention to it except to make sure it was on enough to keep the pool full. 

Stunned, all he could do was stare, mouth agape, as the hose rose up like a particularly large and skinny snake. Then the tap turned and the hose hit him full blast. He tried to get away, slipped, and ate dirt.

“Holy shit! Retreat!” he shouted, or tried to shout. It came out more of a gurgle. Since he was facedown in muddy grass, he wasn’t witness to much, but he could hear the Deetz yelling and he felt his clones’ alarm as their weapons ran dry. Shaking his eyes clear of mud, he looked around and saw that they’d all been rounded up.

The sound of laughter directed his attention to the roof, and he was in for his third big shock that day, and probably the biggest of all. The freaking Maitlands were on the roof, Adam obviously directing the actions of the hose snake, but what was Barbara up to? His question was answered as she raised her arms and a veritable swarm of water balloons rose into the air.

“Blitz!” he hollered, just before the swarm descended.

As a fat, pink balloon splashed all over him, he discovered that these were no ordinary water balloons. They had bubbles in them. Was that even a thing? How was that possible? He sneezed and a bunch of bubbles flew away. It was so ridiculous he started laughing again, and used his magic to give the bubbles a boost so that when the next balloon hit Lydia, she resembled a snowman in an instant. 

This brought a whole new element to the game, and he couldn’t help but urge more bubbles into being, until the backyard was awash in them. The smallest of the clones and Lydia were actually able to army crawl under and through the mess, and they, along with Adam’s hose snake, became everyone else’s nemesis. 

Finally, actually tired for once, Beetlejuice sat down amidst the sea of bubbles, still chuckling as his clones vanished one by one with a flourish and a bow. 

Delia waded over to him, smiling broadly. “Tuckered out? Perfect timing. Pizza should be here soon, and we don’t want to give them a reason to take us off their delivery list again. Would you mind clearing this away, sweetie?”

Sweetie. Trying to ignore how being called by an actual pet name made him feel all fuzzy inside, he waved a hand at the frothy bubbles, sending the lot flying away in a strong breeze. Rule Three, after all. Clean up after yourself.

Charles had taken possession of the hose and was using it to rinse himself and Lydia free of bubbles. “Come over here, you two,” he called. Delia pulled Beetlejuice back to his feet and they obediently went over to get rinsed. 

“Did you have fun, Beej?” Lydia asked. 

Slicking his hair away from his face, he grinned at her. “Yeah actually. When did you come up with this, you little chaos gremlin?”

“Earlier this week. The news said a heatwave was going to hit today, and it had been a long time since I had a good water fight, so I figured it would be fun for everyone.” She looked up at the Maitlands, who were sitting on the edge of the roof, obviously pleased with themselves, and laughed. “They got me though. I wonder where they got all those water balloons from!”

He put a hand on his hip and followed her gaze, squinting up at the two ghosts. Then he smiled and waved for Charles to wait a minute with the hose. “You know, they should get the whole experience. Just to be fair.”

Barbara and Adam were watching the bubbles, still visible in the distance, and wondering how far they’d drift, when there was a pop! of displaced air in front of them. Beetlejuice appeared, floating and grinning ear to ear.

“Hey Adam, remember that Flashdance bit I did when we first met?” Reaching up, he pulled an invisible rope, and all the remaining water from the kiddie pool was dumped on top of them.

It had been more than a month since either Maitland had experienced the sensation of being wet, and a lot longer than that since they’d been soaked while fully dressed. It had also been a long time since they’d really experienced temperature. Having cold water dumped over them was a shock, to say the very least

Barbara managed a tiny shriek, while Adam just gasped and coughed. Once the flood had stopped, they shook water out of their eyes, looked at each other, then burst out laughing. 

“Oh my goodness!” Adam laughed, grinning broadly. He turned his smile on Beetlejuice, who seemed startled by this reaction. “How did you do that?”

“Uh, I dunno? I just do it.” Beetlejuice eyed them both warily. “You guys could do it too. It’s in the damn Handbook. Like, chapter seven. Re-uniting the state of immaterial with that of the material plane through the application of conviction and expectation."

“Thank you. And thanks for the tip,” Adam said encouragingly. 

“Yeah, sure.” Giving them a last confused look, he vanished, reappearing down with the rest of the family.

Adam turned to her, still smiling, and pushed hair away from her face. “That was refreshing. We should give those chapters another try tonight!”

“We’ll do that,” Barbara agreed. They sat, enjoying themselves, then a thought occurred to her. “Um, Adam? How are we going to dry off?”

Notes: Buy a water gun and soak someone you love today.

[yes-i-have-thoughts]

Who wants some tidbits about OCs that I never talk about because my Tumblr profile has slowly been getting murdered thanks to hiatus

[REDACTED]/KREATUR/WESEN

- Spawned from the one (1) time I drew GL!Ranboo as a creature (because why not) while listening to ‘Bloody Mary’ on a five-hour loop and the idea that came from it went so far off course from canon that it went from an AU to an original story idea

- (In my defense I drew him when I was only 20 minutes into the first episode. I barely had any idea what I was getting into at the time so of course my creative drive was going to derail)

- (My brain needs to stop dragging people up when I’m 30 seconds into their source (iykyk))

- ANYWAY.

- Wesen’s real name has been lost to time. He’s not that old, he just doesn’t remember his name due to being punished whenever he tried to correct his captor on what it was

- His captor called him Kreatur ("Creature"; "die Kreatur - creature, creation, wretch, minion") to dehumanize and objectify him. This drove him insane for obvious reasons so he somehow got his hands on a German dictionary and fought to change his name to Wesen ("das Wesen [German] being, nature, essence, creature, character, entity") instead. Because if you’re gonna call him a creature you could at least be nice about it

- His captor let it go and he’s gone by Wesen for years since.

- Wesen’s also a walking bomb! He has a kill switch built in to the base of his skull that can also be used to give him a headache ranging from “oh owie” to “my brain is pressing against my skull and I am in agony”. If his captor cranks it all the way up his head will explode. It’s supposed to stop any act of rebellion and is therefore a literal explosive leash.

- He’s not aware of its existence and his captor gives him a headache severe enough to make him pass out from the pain if any of his fellow prisoners draw attention to it, so he won’t know it exists until it’s too late.

- It likely might’ve been put on him since he killed two people when a team tried to catch him. Maybe they should’ve left him alone, then.

- Wesen isn’t human. Avery (a fellow prisoner) calls him a canine, and she’s half right. He’s a dog-like bipedal creature with white fur covered in black spots

- I’ll get around to drawing him one day. He’s on the planned roster for Art Fight.

- He wouldn’t hurt a fly, most of the time. He’s sort of a doormat. That said, he’s not totally innocent and he does have blood on his hands--not all of it unintentional, either. His captor holds this above his head as a reason why they can’t let him go.

- He’s a lot smarter than he acts. Turns out he’s playing dumb, since—as he’ll later tell Avery—it’s saved his life over and over again.

- He’s masculine-leaning agender.

BELPHALAGOR

- Goes by “Bel”. Also masculine-leaning, but more genderfluid than agender.

- Belphalagor is a bipedal goat who swears he’s average height and everyone else is just a tallass. They use Wesen as its “proof” of this, but Wesen’s barely an inch over average height (5′ 9″)

- Whereas Bel herself is 3-4 feet tall.

- Bel is made of ink, sort of. He has flesh, but their blood is black, smells strongly of something not natural and is poison to ingest (as some more feral enemies will find out). It obviously wasn’t born this way but tends to dodge the question as to how this came to be.

- She’s stuck in a suit most of the time, but prefer wearing dresses. The once time he gets a chance to they jump on it.

- Bel’s eyes are closed 90% of the time, rendering them blind. It heavily depends on Wesen to guide her around.

- Something happens later on that reveals why he prefers to keep their eyes closed as much as possible.

- (he/they/it/she pronouns. Bugger’s collecting the things.)

[REDACTED]/AVERY

- Avery is the must humanoid of the bunch. This is because unlike the other two she’s not a canine creature or Mountain Goat stolen, experimented on, then stolen again. She’s a human that got kidnapped and freed herself when they tried turning her into a bird woman. (These people really like amalgamating animals with the weirdest shit.)

- She acts like your typical action woman cliche—no-nonsense, only sane person in the group, tragic backstory, “I don’t need a man”—but she’s not immune to being silly. She slowly drops her guard the more time she spends around idiots 1 and 2 (affectionate).

- They’re both fools but they’re HER fools and she loves them. (The sentiment is returned ten-fold once she drops the “I’m too good for you” act.)

- She’s a bit of a fool too, though she won’t admit it.

- She has a plague doctor mask pretty much fused to her face. A modern-day one, based off a crow. She can take it off, but it’s very painful and what’s underneath isn’t pretty.

- Her hair is pretty short and growing...Weird. It’s all spikey and feathered. She’s kept it short as much as she could until she can find someone to reverse this bloody bird transfusion.

- She’s also got feathers growing out of her arms. It’s painfully slow, but they’re becoming more noticeable as time goes on.

- She and Bel butt heads often over who should do what in what context. Sometimes they fight for so long that by the time they’ve worked it out Wesen’s solved the problem already.

- She and Wesen didn’t exactly hit it off immediately. She was a bit patronizing towards him; treating him like a dog or very slow human. Once she learns that he’s not that fucking dim, though, they bond very quickly.

- She’s the only cisgender one of the group. Bel calls her the “token female” despite also using she/her pronouns (likely just to piss off Avery, who always takes the bait).

- Avery’s name was given to be a play on “aviary”. She can’t stand it, but she doesn’t remember her old name so she’s currently stuck with it.

[wiypt-writes]

25 Days Of CHRIS-mas

Day 5: Baby, It’s Cold Outside

Summary: Johnny and you are spending a weekend snowed in…

Pairing: Johnny Storm (Fantastic Four) x Reader

Warnings: Bad Language, Adult situations, Smut (NSFW, 18+)

W/C: 1.4k

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction, any likeness to any persons or events in real life are purely co-incidental. I do not own any characters contained herein bar the reader and/or any original characters. I do not give consent for my work to be copied and posted/translated onto any other sites. If you see this fiction anywhere other than Tumblr, it has been taken without permission. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer and ALL warnings posted here.

25 Days Of Chris-mas Masterlist / Main Masterlist

Day 4: Bryce Langley (Fierce People)

Upstate New York was filled with snow as the Christmas holiday drew near. You were nestled in a blanket, watching as a fresh coat fell outside while a fire burned beside you, a Hot Toddy in your hands, which was more hot than toddy, truth be told.

"I really can't stay...Baby it's cold outside...I gotta go away....Baby it's cold outside...This evening has been so very nice...I'll hold your hands they're just like ice."

The sounds of your boyfriend softly singing and humming the catchy Christmas classic as he moved about the kitchen shocked you.

The ever suave Johnny Storm wasn't necessarily the romantic type. Not in the way you were seeing him now. And even after a few years, it still caught you off guard.

“You know, that song is actually kinda creepy and pervy.” You watched as Johnny flipped his hand, a small ball of flames leaving his palm and landing in the fire, sending it roaring.

"Exactly," he sniggered.

And there he was.

You rolled your eyes as he flopped down beside you, taking a pull from his beer.

"So," he propped his feet up on the coffee table, "dinner, check, drinks, check, what's next, baby?"

“To be honest, I’m just enjoying the quiet,” you snuggled into him a little. “It’s been a while since we got time to ourselves like this.”

"Saving the world does take its toll," he sighed contently.

“You know, if your head got any bigger, you won’t be able to fit through the door.”

“Well, then we’d be stuck in here, alone….” he looked at you, “I see no problems with that scenario.”

“No, you’d be stuck here.” You grinned, “I’d be free to leave.”

"Nope. I'll melt the door handles. You're my hostage."

“I’d call Sue.”

“You wouldn’t!” He spoke in a mock-horrified voice.

"Try me," you smirked.

"You, Miss Y/L/N are naughty," he plucked your mug from your hands and set it on the table next to his bottle of Peroni.

“Well, you’d know all about naughty, wouldn’t you, Torch?” You teased as he shuffled closer.

Johnny smirked, "Gettin' coal in my stocking for years." He bumped his nose against yours.

“Yeah, what you expecting this year?”

"You, under the tree, naked, preferably a bow around your little, tight ass."

“Smooth,” you laughed as his lips pecked yours.

He winked. "What do you say to finishing the night naked, in the hot tub?"

"Have you looked at the blizzard outside?"

"Uh, Human Torch," he pointed to himself.

“Fair point,” you chuckled, “okay, hot stuff, you’re on!"

He grinned, "yes!" He pumped his fist in the air. He gave you a deep but swift kiss and bounced from the couch to the covered back deck where the hot tub sat. He pulled the cover off and then frowned. There was no steam rising from it. His eyes flicked to the temperature gage and he gave a groan. It wasn’t even warm, let alone hot.

 He took a moment to fiddle with the controls, the jets worked, the circulator worked but the coils weren't shifting on, a flashing flame on the screen of the panel taunted him.

 And then, he smirked to himself. “Human fucking torch.”

 In a flash he was out of his clothes and in the cold water, his body a bright orange as he rapidly heated the water, watching the temperature on the panel rise. When it was to a suitable and comfortable temp for you, he maintained the heat but lost his glow. This was around the same time you came out in your fleece robe and snow boots.

His eyes watched as you walked towards him, pausing at the side of the tub.

You kicked the snow boots off and untied that belt around your waist, the fleece slipping from your shoulders and down your arms, dropping to the decking.

Johnny’s eyes started at your feet and scanned their way up your body, goosebumps erupting over your flesh from both the freezing cold air and the intensity of his gaze.

“Baby, hop in, you’ll catch a chill.” He popped a brow as his eyes locked onto yours.

You toed the water, a bite to your flesh as your skin turned pink from the heat.

Stepping in, you slipped down into the water and slid next to him. A contented groan left your mouth as you allowed yourself to relax, snuggling into Johnny’s side.

"You're so beautiful." He whispered into your ear, his lips at that spot behind your ear.

“Charmer,” you sighed, your eyes fluttering shut.

"Baby, you know I'm a charmer, but you really are beautiful."

“And here’s me thinking you loved me for my personality.”

"Your personality," Johnny kissed over your jaw, "your beauty," he kissed down your neck, "your mind," over your collarbone, "your ability to put up with my arrogant ass."

“Hmm,” your head rolled back a little and you bit your lip, before you moved to look him straight in the eyes, “our baby best turn out like me because I’m not sure I could cope with two arrogant assholes.”

"Our baby?" He squeaked.

You nodded, reaching for his hand under the water. You gently moved it over so his fingers splayed over your belly. “I found out two days ago, I wanted to surprise you on Christmas morning…but I couldn’t wait any longer. I know we said we were gonna wait till a little longer but…”

 Johnny's jaw dropped, "Babe, I gave you a drink," he shuddered, "and, shit, get out! Too hot, too hot!"

 You chuckled, “will you relax? I tipped most of that drink away and as for being too hot, it’s half you. Probably be throwing fireballs around in my womb. Besides, if I keep it to under ten minutes, I will be fine. I googled.”

"Fuck, I'm... I'm gonna be a dad!" Johnny was surely shocked.

You let him absorb the news, sitting back in the water as he processed it. You watched as his eyes watered and his mind turned.

He pulled you into his lap with a choked sob, "thank you."

“I love you,” you smiled, pressing a kiss to his lips, “now turn the heat down just a smidge.”

“What? How did-“

“Reed told me it was broken before we came out here.” You popped a shoulder, “thought it would be funny watching you try and figure it out. I’m impressed, only took you five minutes before you realised you could do it yourself.”

He dropped the temp down a few degrees. "I'm gonna marry you, I'm gonna be a dad, you've changed my life, Y/N."

"Slow down, Storm. Let's enjoy this for a bit before you jump the gun."

Johnny looked at you for a second, before his lips met yours in a soft kiss.

Before long that mouth trailed a path down your neck, lavishing affection on the breasts which would soon enough be nursing his baby. The thought was enough to have him rock hard.

"Is it safe... To you know...."

You sighed, "yes, it’s safe."

“Good, because I’m really fuckin horny.”

"Me too," you purred, scratching at the buzz cut hair.

“Ten minutes you say?”

“More like nine now…”

“Give me five.”

Before long, he was stuffed deep inside of you as you rode him slowly, his hands on your spine pulling you close. It wasn't rough or hard, it was slow and soft, deep, passionate. His lips never left your skin, tongue laving, kiss deep.

 It was making love with more than a deeper purpose. Still, he had you worked up in a ridiculously short time.  You felt the familiar tightening in your belly as you neared your release.

"Johnny...." you rasped.

“Yeah, honey, come on…”

"Oh yeah.... Yeah..." your body tensed and squeezed as that coil snapped, "yes....." you came with a hiss.

A few thrusts later, Johnny followed you, a groan of your name leaving his lips as he sagged down into the water a little more.

"Fuck, I love you, my baby mama."

You chuckled a little as you peppered his face with soft kisses. “Love you too, but I really should get out now. Meet me in the bedroom?”

"Oh definitely," he nipped at your bottom jaw.

He stood, making sure you got out okay before he sat back down, his hands running over his face, a dopey grin on his features. He turned to see you give him a coy smile as you walked back inside.

Little did you know he had a surprise of his own. A delicate but showy diamond nestled inside a velvet box hidden within a sock.

He too had been waiting for Christmas morning but… 

No time like the present.

🎄🎄🎄🎄

Day 6: Syd (London)

[shemarmooresfedora]

Sugary Sweet Apologies

Summary: You and Reid never really got along but when he saves your life, you decide to be the bigger person and thank him and hopefully start over. Unfortunately, it isn’t that easy.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Content/Warnings: light to mild angst with fluffy ending, swearing, spencer reid being an annoying bitch, brief mentions of case stuff (if you watch cm, you should be fine)

A/N: this is for @willowrose99 ‘s 1 year anniversary on tumblr writing challenge!! congrats! i literally wrote and edited this whole thing in less than one day because i got so excited, anyways i hope you enjoy!

Word Count: 1.8k

“Reid and Y/L/N, go to David Whitney’s house. He was the therapist of two of the three victims. He could have some insight into the victimology and know of any overlap between them. He has no criminal record of past aggressive behavior but we can’t rule him out as a suspect entirely,” Hotch stated.

“Hotch, you stuck me with her yesterday for the geographical profiling. Send Prentiss with her instead,” Spencer whined.

“I don’t mind going with Y/L/N. She is a great partner in the field,” Emily glared at Spencer.

“No. Reid, go with Y/L/N or be taken off this case. I’m a unit chief, not an elementary school teacher. I don’t have time for temper tantrums,” Hotch chided.

“Fine,” Spencer grumbled as you grabbed the keys to an SUV.

You don’t know what it was but ever since you started at the BAU four months ago, Spencer had never liked you which resulted in you disliking him as well. Everyone else on the team was super friendly and welcoming but Reid always was jabbing snarky remarks your way like “I don’t have time to explain it to you” or “This was in the FBI handbook. God, you need more training.”

Luckily, the others were quick to defend you. Once Garcia even heard him snip at you over the phone and as soon as you all got off the elevator after the case, Reid was being dragged by his ear into Garcia’s lair with him going “ow ow ow” behind her. So, you didn’t really pay much mind to him because you could deal with one annoying know-it-all to have such an amazing job with great coworkers minus the one.

“Look, I’m not happy about this either,” you said as you climbed into the driver’s side of the SUV, “But at least I’m not being a whiny bitch about it and being rude to the other person’s face.”

“Oh wow, I’m so sorry that I hurt your feelings,” Spencer mocked.

“Fuck you, Reid,” you shook your head.

-

David Whitney was on edge the second you arrived and showed him your badges. He was bouncing his leg up and down, he couldn’t sit still, and he kept avoiding eye contact.

He knew way too much about the other victim that wasn’t even one of his clients but you didn’t have anything solid on him. His house seemed very neat so you doubted he kept anything incriminating here. Organized offenders usually have a secondary location. So, you decided to push his buttons a little.

“I mean blitz attacks, leaving the bodies on the side of dirt roads,” you combed through the crime scene photos, “This guy was a real coward.”

Spencer picked up on what you were trying to do and his eyes widened, he was subtly shaking his head and mouthing “no”.

“Excuse me?” David asked.

“Well, I’m just saying a real man wouldn’t cower in the bushes and blindside a woman. He must not be very strong,” you stated, “He probably can’t even get it up.”

Before you even had time to react, David pulled out a switchblade knife from inside the couch cushions and put you in a chokehold, pressing the cool metal up to your throat. You closed your eyes tightly.

“David, you don’t have to do this,” Spencer stood with his gun pointed at you both.

“This bitch insulted me,” he snarled.

“She insults me too. That doesn’t make you any less of a man,” Spencer spoke carefully, “Just put the knife down and I’ll escort you out.”

David sighed, dropping the knife to the floor and releasing you.

Spencer put David in handcuffs and walked him outside as reinforcements came running in.

“Are you okay, Y/L/N?” Hotch asked.

“Yep, a little shaken up but fine. Thank you,” you stood.

“Let’s get you to the medics,” Morgan grabbed your arm to support you as you walked over to the ambulance.

Spencer never checked on you.

-

You knew your decision in the field was a little rash and you wanted to thank Spencer for essentially saving your life.

However, there was no way in hell you could verbally get out an apology while staring at his smug face, but you could bake. You settled on a note tucked inside a tupperware container of your Grandma’s special recipe of chocolate chip cookies. It was a good peace offering, maybe even a chance to start fresh.

During your lunch break, you took the tupperware from your desk drawer and approached the break room where Reid had entered about 5 minutes ago.

“I’m just saying I could not have been more clear in my message to her that it was too dangerous but of course, Y/L/N didn’t listen cause Y/L/N is going to do whatever she feels like,” Spencer stirred his coffee.

No one had noticed you standing in the doorway yet.

“Reid, you’ve got to be nicer to her. She earned her spot here just like the rest of us,” Emily defended you.

“Did she though? How much do we really know about her? She couldn’t even tell me how many pages the FBI protocol manual was,” Spencer said.

“That’s not a normal thing people know,” Morgan retorted.

“Well, I’m just saying the team was perfectly fine before her and it would probably be better off if she left,” Reid finished.

Garcia looked up from her yogurt to see you standing there, “Oh, Y/N”.

Spencer turned around in his chair as you angrily stormed up to him.

“Here’s your cookies, asshole,” you seethed, grabbing the note from inside and crumpling it up into a little ball and tossing it into the trash.

“Y/N!” Emily called after you but you were already gone.

The whole team glared at Spencer and picked up their lunches, leaving him alone at the table.

Spencer retrieved the balled up paper from the trash, having to fish through Rossi’s week old pasta and Anderson’s half eaten tuna fish sandwich.

Dear Reid,

Thank you for saving my life, I guess. These are my Grandma’s secret recipe for chocolate chip cookies so I hope you enjoy. I think we got off on the wrong foot and I would like to start over. I think cases would be a lot less miserable for everyone if we got along.

Thanks again,

Y/L/N

Spencer, you’re such an idiot, he thought to himself.

You never came back after your lunch break ended and Derek made Spencer go tell Hotch why it’s his fault you were missing the rest of the day.

He tried to call you multiple times but they always rang out before going to voicemail.

Spencer hesitantly knocked on Penelope’s door at the end of the day.

“Is she okay?” he asked softly.

“You don’t get to ask that as the person who hurt her in the first place. Also, she told me to tell you that don’t you dare go to her apartment to ‘check on her’. I’m headed over there myself actually,” Penelope collected her things and shut off her monitors.

“Will you at least tell her I’m really sorry?” Spencer followed her to the elevator.

“Absolutely not. I’m not doing any apologizing on your behalf,” Penelope huffed as the elevators shut.

-

You came in the next morning, keeping your head down. You grabbed a pen from your cup holder and the first folder on your stack before getting to work.

You were on the second page of the file when your clean, empty tupperware was placed in front of you plus another baking dish with aluminum foil over the top.

You glanced up to see Spencer guiltily looking down at you and you returned your eyes back to the file.

“I-I made you cinnamon rolls,” Spencer broke the silence.

“Are they poisoned?” you asked, not sparing him another glance.

“No, they’re not poisoned,” he assured you.

“I’m just saying how can I trust you as you have made it very apparent you would like me off this team.”

“I didn’t mean that,” Spencer was quick to reply.

“Then why the hell did you say it, Reid?” you slammed your pen down.

You grabbed your empty coffee mug and briskly walked to the break room but unfortunately, Spencer was right behind you.

“I didn’t eat any of your cookies by the way. Not that I didn’t want to but I felt like I didn’t deserve them so I handed them out to everyone else.”

“Oh how kind, taking credit for my work,” you tried to close the door in his face.

“I told them that they were from you,” Spencer insisted.

You rolled your eyes as Spencer grabbed the coffee pot before you could get to it, pouring your mug of coffee for you.

“What do you want from me, Reid?” you asked defeatedly.

“I want you to try a cinnamon roll and let me explain.”

“Fine but only because I didn’t have breakfast yet and I want to critique your baking skills,” you huffed, walking back to your desk.

Spencer gingerly placed one of the sticky frosting-coated rolls on a napkin and pushed it towards you. You tentatively bit into it. Damn it, it was actually delicious.

“It’s okay,” you understated.

You knew Spencer hardly ever used his kitchen let alone be up baking all night. He even chose a recipe that required more time and effort because the yeast dough would have to rise for a few hours.

“That’s good. The first batch didn’t come out as great...or the second,” he smiled softly.

“Well, the floor is all yours, Reid. Please explain to me why you talk shit about me to my co-workers when I’m in the other room,” you leaned back in your chair and crossed your arms.

Spencer muttered something incoherent.

“I have to hear the apology, you know,” you said, enjoying watching him uncomfortable.

“You’re intimidating to me because you’re intelligent, beautiful, and courageous. I think I was a little jealous that my spotlight as the ‘kid’ of the BAU was coming to an end so I said some harsh, completely untrue things and I’m sincerely sorry.”

“Oh my god,” you smirked, “Hotch was right, you are an elementary school kid.”

“In what way?” he curiously asked.

“You like me like like like me. You don’t know how to talk to the girl so you pull her pigtails on the playground,” you giggled.

“I take it back. You’re a horrible profiler,” Spencer was getting up from his seat, completely flustered.

“Awww,” you were laughing at Spencer’s bright red face as he went to go to the break room to fill his coffee mug.

When he got back to his desk, a sticky note was placed front and center.

In typical elementary school fashion…

Will you go get coffee with me?

Check:

Yes

or

No

Spencer smiled before picking up his pen and checking one of the boxes, crumpling the sticky note up into a ball and throwing it over to your desk.

“Good choice. See you Saturday at 9 at the cafe down the street,” you grinned.

“It’s a date,” he smiled.

[realcube]

The Maid Café || Saiki K x Reader

summary: nendou and kaidou keep pestering saiki to visit their favourite maid café but he shuts them down every time. however, after a bit of prying they manage to convince him to give the place a try and while they are there, you just so happen to be on shift. 

tw// cussing, maid café, (she/her) reader

key:

“non italicised text” = somebody besides Saiki speaking

“italicised text” = Saiki telepathically communicating

‘italised text’ = Saiki’s thought

‘Of course Nendou and Kaidou would be into maid cafés of all things — not cat cafés, not internet cafés — it just had to be maid cafés.’  

Saiki’s internal monologue began as Kaidou continued gushing on about the cute lady he met at the café a few days ago as an argument to why Saiki should join them next time they go. Not to say Saiki wasn’t listening as he felt extremely sorry for whatever lady had to tolerate Kaidou’s advances and his prayer went out to her but besides that, he really couldn’t care less about the maids or the café. 

Until, his attention was involuntarily aroused at the vocalisation of his name from Nendou, “Saiki’s definitely in for Friday, I’m pretty sure I sold him when I told him that the sandwiches there are almost as good as the ramen we usually get.”

‘No, you didn’t. I won’t be coming to join you on Friday. I’d much rather stay--’ 

Somehow Kaidou managed to cut off Saiki’s internal monologue with his annoying voice, “Don’t be silly, Nendou. You’re not going to win Saiki over with such a ridiculous comparison, one that he clearly doesn’t care about.” 

‘Am I delusional? Is this a hallucination? Or did Kaidou just say something logical and based in reality?’

Kaidou’s aura immediately changed to dark and sinister as a mischievous smirk crossed his face, the background squawks of the crows suddenly became much louder for some unknown reason. “Instead, you must locate your opponent's weak point before you can recognise the crucially important moment to exploit it. The process takes patience but it is one I have learned from my many years rebelling against Dark Reunion. Now, young Nendou, watch and learn.” He finished with a dramatic flip of his school jacket which was slung over his shoulders as a cape.

‘What was all that about?’

Saiki wondered before Kaidou turned to him, much less brooding than he was a few seconds ago, and said casually, “Your loss if you don’t come, Saiki — you’ll be the one missing out on some of the best desserts in our whole town — not to mention the coffee jelly.”

✿✿✿✿✿

‘How do I always end up losing to these people? I am a psychic for god’s sake!’

Saiki mentally cursed himself out as he stood shamefully in front of the maid café, wearing a carefully curated outfit — including his germanium ring  — created especially to hide his identity from anyone from his school that might pass by the café and spot him in there through the window or something. Honestly, he wouldn’t be caught dead in a maid café, or so he thought.

However, all the reviews he read along with both Nendou and Kaidou’s thoughts helped him conclude that this place’s coffee jelly and general dessert selection is nothing to sneeze at. In fact, his favourite Tumblr blog - DeadlyDesserts11037 - visited the place and gave it a 5 star review, recommending everybody who happens to pass by the town to definitely check the place out. After that, he was sold.

Saiki looked over at his friends and couldn’t help but facepalm in response to their bright red, thrilled expressions. “Good grief, please don’t tell me you are both that excited over ladies in maid outfits.” As you might’ve guessed, Saiki didn’t really understand the concept of a ‘maid café’, so he simply assumed the male obsession with maids had something to do with the objectification of women hence he obviously did not want to take part.

“Saiki, you’re seriously just built different if this doesn’t touch your soul.” They both brushed the pink-haired boy’s comment off, completely mesmerised by the sight of a particularly pretty maid-lady walking by the window — probably on her way to serve a table — carrying a notepad in one hand and a plate with a scrumptious-looking coffee jelly on top. 

Saiki followed their gaze, his breath hitching at the sight. He was speechless; no sarcastic comment, no running commentary, nothing. Just..woah! If he had known that the girls that work at this place were so gorgeous and the food looked so delicious, he would’ve came a long time ago.

He wasn’t even sure which one he wanted more; the girl or the jelly. In a way, one wasn’t complete without the other because the coffee jelly which she held high next to her head brought out her (E/C) eyes while her shapely figure highlighted the defined curves of the jelly. Drool was quick to start forming at the corners of his lips but he was even quicker to wipe it away; he was starving.

“We’re going in.”

✿✿✿✿✿

To Saiki’s dismay, it was not the stunning (H/C)-haired girl who he had caught a glimpse of through the glass that ushered them to their table. Rather, it was a slightly less gorgeous maid-lady who had long, bright purple hair which was clearly a wig. 

Fortunately for him, after she left Kadiou, Nendou and himself to take their seats, she rushed off saying that someone will come take their orders whenever they are ready.

Even with his psychic abilities, there wasn’t much he could think of to alter fate so the pretty coffee-jelly lady would end up serving their table, and besides that, he was way too caught up in gawking at all the mouth-watering desserts they had pictured on the menu. 

Simply glancing over the menu brought a stupid grin to his face, he wanted to try every delectable treat presented in front of him. However, he knew he must exhibit restraint, which was fairly simple as he knew deep down there was only one thing on the menu that he was truly after. You guessed it  — coffee jelly.

Usually, he couldn’t care less about what his friends comrades were going to order but in this case, he was tempted to try convince both Kaidou and Nendou to order something he liked so he could take a bite of whatever they were having, “What are you two going to order?”

Yet again though, he was ignored as Nendou and Kaidou were both too busy checking out other types of snacks to care about the ones on the menu. 

Then, a movement out of the corner of his eyes caught his attention so his head jolted from the menu to his new target, the beautiful girl he had saw through the window earlier. Previously, she was holding a coffee jelly but now she was basically empty handed, until she approached the table and pulled out a notepad and pen, “May I take your orders?” She asked in the most calming, melodious voice Saiki had ever heard, the sounds that left her mouth were nothing short of angelic. Which made sense since her serving their table must’ve been god’s gift to Saiki for all his hard work.

Chills, Saiki got literal chills before he mused, “A coffee jelly, and two brownies for the pair of clowns.” His blood ran cold; curse his smooth sarcastic comments! Most of the time, he was able to filter himself but due to the nerves that arose while talking to you, he probably shouldn’t be surprised that he had a little slip of the tongue. But now, you probably think he is a bitch that insults people on the regular; which he is, but not usually aloud! Plus, he couldn’t even tell what you were thinking due to his germanium ring and your distant expression, awful combo!

While he was in the middle of feeling bad for himself and considering teleporting away home, a miracle happened, you burst out laughing. And somehow, your laughter was even more silvery than your voice. 

Saiki had zoned-out from pure shock for a moment before coming back to reality, noticing that you had started jotting down something in your notepad, a sweet smile still lingering on your face despite the fact you had stopped laughing. “Alright, so one coffee jelly and two brownies. Anything else?” You asked, glancing back and forth between the three equally unique and strange men sitting at the table. 

“That’ll be all, thank you.” Saiki telepathically communicated as he usually did, considering actually using his mouth to speak for a change so he didn’t seem weird but in all honesty, he couldn’t be bothered. In any other situation, he would’ve gotten a drink of water or perhaps hot cocoa but right now he was way too afraid of making another error in his speech to request something else. 

Silently, he extended his arm to hand you the menu he was given when he entered the café, along with the ones Kaidou and Nendou were given too. His actions single-handedly shooting down your plan of leaning across the table to ‘take the menus’ but in reality it is just a subtle way of showing-off how nice your torso looked in this maid outfit, a trick you learned from your supervisor. 

You nodded, closing over your notepad and making your way over to the kitchen, being sure to swing your hips just a little bit extra to impress the pink-haired megane at the table you just took an order from. You mentally cursed your stupid brain though for always crushing on guys/gals who don’t seem the least bit interested in you. In this case, the guy’s attention was divided between his star-struck friends and the desserts on the menu, rather than you which was an unusual sight in a maid café considering that most people would only come to ogle at the waitresses. 

✿✿✿✿✿

“So, Saiki.” Kaidou finally landed back into reality after a large chunk of the waitresses roaming around were now in the kitchen which he didn’t have viewing access to, “What did you order us?”

‘So, he was fully aware that the waitress came to take his order, he just chose to ignore her and left me to order his food. What a child, it must be a side-effect of his eighth grade syndrome.’

Saiki couldn’t help but sigh, “I ordered you both brownies.”

Kaidou stuck out his bottom lip to form a pout as he crossed his arm over his chest like a toddler, “I hate brownies.” He muttered to himself, realising that if he wanted something done right, he’d have to do it himself.

An amused smirk tugged at Saiki’s lips but he resisted the urge to laugh, ‘I know.’ He thought, his masterplan to eat more food without looking greedy falling into place. “Oh well, more for me then.”

Suddenly, Nendou spun his head around to abruptly join the conversation, “Hey guys, did you see the hottie that was serving our table?” He inquired with starry eyes, as if he was a kid in a candy store.

Saiki nodded, ‘Obviously I did, you moron. I was the one who ordered the food for goodness’ sake!’

Kaidou shook his head, his eyes lighting up as he leaned in close to Nendou, “Nope! I was busy looking at the other girls, but tell us!” 

Nendou chuckled at Kaidou’s enthusiastic reaction before glancing to the side, outstretching his arm and pointing at the waitress that was now approaching the table with the food in her hands. “There she is!”

‘Don’t point at her, you idiot!’ Saiki mentally insulted his friend but instinctively followed the guidance of the tip of his finger until his eyes landed on your shapely figure — accentuated by the nature of the maid outfit  — slowly heading toward his table, holding the coffee jelly and the plate of brownies in the same graceful way you did when he saw you through the window. 

The gleam of your gorgeous hair, the movement of your luscious lashes, the gentle bounce of your upper body, how your perfectly manicured nails clutched the base of the jelly glass; everything about what he was seeing made him believe that if/when he were to die, this would be his ideal first sight as he passed through the gates of heaven. 

Before he knew it, you had reached the table and placed his jelly down on the table, gently nudging it towards him, “One coffee jelly for the cute boy with antennas.” You mused, making Saiki’s heart flutter in a way he was unfamiliar with. Then, you placed the brownies in front of Kaidou and Nednou who sat opposite from Saiki, “And two brownies for the clowns.” 

If it wasn’t for the fact the pair of clowns were too busy leching over you in your maid outfit, they’d probably be curious as to your choice of words but luckily for both you and Saiki, they were way to entranced by your visible bra strap to care about the little nickname.

Saiki felt a light blush creep onto his face, which only got worse as you discretely sent him a playful wink before turning on your heels to stroll back to the kitchen, “If you need anything else, just give me a wave.” 

All of them hummed agreement in unison until the waitress was out of sight, giving Saiki a moment to process the events that had just went down. Not only did you refer to him as ‘the cute boy with antennas’ but you also winked at him, if that wasn’t a clear sign you were interested, what was? However, Saiki still had his doubts since this was a maid café after all, perhaps you were just trained to do that with all your customers.

Luckily, the had the foresight to slip off his germanium ring to read your mind and that helped him come to the conclusion that you were either interested in him or you were just very competitive as the whole time you were serving the table your thoughts were along the lines of;

‘I’ll adjust my skirt- Ha! You looked! Try resist falling for me now, you hot lil’ megane! Your heart is mine and I know it! See, I’ll fidget with my corset too-- just make a move already, pinkie!’

Although he didn’t appreciate being called ‘pinkie’, he had no right to judge what was going on in your brain. All he could do is be thankful that you didn’t say that aloud.

✿✿✿✿✿

You sighed as you noticed the pink-haired boy and his little posy exit the establishment without so much as a goodbye, or even a wave! 

It was disappointing as you had already mentally planned your future with this guy and he had the audacity to do the real life equivalent of leaving you on read. But oh well, it would be approximately a week until you developed a crush on a random customer that lasts for around 30 minutes and for the time being, you can focus on doing your job.

You glumly shuffled over to their table to gather their plates to be washed, then a piece of colourful paper attached to the empty jelly glass caught your eye. As you held up the glass to inspect it further, you realised that it was a sticky note with a message written on it in black ink and neat, cursive handwriting. It read:

‘Dearest waitress,

Thank you for the excellent service, we (myself) tipped accordingly.’

You hadn’t finished reading yet but you were curious as to what he meant by that, and apparently you service must’ve been exceptional as the writer had left a whole ¥2000 tip. That’s a huge addition to the demonia fund.  

Followed by this charming little message was an extra tip for you; the writer’s phone number! Meaning that this little sticky note was something you had to protect with your life..so you shoved it in your bra for safe-keeping. 

But not before taking a moment to giggle with delight at who the note was signed by, 

‘Sincerely, the hot lil’ megane (aka Kusuo Saiki)’ 

[superchocovian]

Me on Tumblr...Tag game

I saw this done by @clarkgriffon and I like to avoid things that I should actually be doing. I also found a tag from a while back from @jlsadphoenix that completely got lost (so sorry about that!!) so here I go!

1. Why did you choose your url?

So when I first made my account on Fanfiction.net, I was just getting into Doctor Who and I thought it’d be cute to include my favorite sweet, so I became Chocovian (still there as that on Fanfiction and AO3, but it’s a long story). Anyways, when I joined Tumblr, I wanted to keep things consistent so I kept that but I was also on a bit of a Marvel binge when I was joining, so I thought, ooh superheroes! which combined with what I had initially became superchocovian.

2. Any side blogs?

Nah. I’ve thought about it, but everything is just dumped into this one blog and I do my best to tag everything so at least it’s semi-organized.

3. How long have you been on tumblr?

I first made the account the summer before I started college, I think, so back in 2015? I wasn’t very consistent with it until a few years later when I downloaded the app on my phone and figured out how to work things.

4. Do you have a queue tag?

No tag for the queue, though I do use it for mostly everything that is posted on my blog for the past few years. Anything else that I see on my dash ends up in my queue until I can organize it with my tags and all. It’s why I have wayyy too many posts in my drafts but now that school is over and once I get a job, I’ll have a better time at actually reblogging things when I see them instead of saving for later.

5. Why did you start your blog in the first place?

A lot of the fanfic authors that I was reading for The Hunger Games kept mentioning Tumblr for sneak peeks and updates about their posts and I’m like “yes please” and I caved and made my Tumblr.

6. Why did you choose your icon/pfp?

I was really happy that Emma and Killian from Once Upon a Time got their happy ending/beginning with their baby and I wanted to memorialize it. I should get around to updating it cause I’ve had it since the finale of the show.

7. Why did you choose your header?

All of the backgrounds that I have on my phone and laptop are of something nature/space wise so this fit right in.

8. What’s your post with the most notes?

I reblog mostly everything, so I have no idea. I did make a few gifsets last summer for one of the Once events so they got a handful of notes. Probably one of those.

9. How many mutuals do you have?

Not many? I don’t know how to check that or all, but I wouldn’t assume too many. I’m kinda stuck in a little bubble here and don’t interact with as many people as I would like to.

10. How many followers do you have?

Like 200 something? I had more before they did something to all the pornbots, so I’m pretty sure all of these are like actual followers, lol.

11. How many people do you follow?

I think like 100 ish?

12. Have you ever made a shit post?

Nah, I try to keep my thoughts off here. Just want to keep this a happy place for me.

13. How often do you use tumblr a day?

Way too much. More than I should.

14. Did you ever have a fight/argument with another blog?

No. Thankfully. Again, I’m not as “active” with other people so I don’t really get involved with fights and stuff.

15. How do you feel about the ‘you need to reblog’ posts?

I think that people shouldn’t try to force me to do things I don’t want to. I definitely think that people should reblog content that has been created (not steal by reposting) but the opinion stuff that needs to be reblogged or something will happen? Yeah, no thanks.

16. Do you like tag games?

Yes! I’ve been very bad at responding to them on time because of my timings with school, but they are great!

17. Do you like ask games?

Yes! I don’t get many asks when I do reblog the ask games, but I think that they are fun, for sure!

18. Which of your mutuals do you think is tumblr famous?

Though I’m not too sure what a mutual is defined as, the ones that I follow are pretty famous in the fandom, so probably fairly famous for the fandom side of Tumblr?

19. Do you have a crush on a mutual?

Not sure if they qualify as crushes, but I do love all the Tumblr friends that I’ve made!

20. No-pressure tags: Anyone who sees this is welcome to participate! I’m going to tag the first few people off my dash- @kmomof4, @djlbg, @sherlollyandspoilers, @scientificapricot, @onceratheart18, @elizabeethan, @antoniosbanderas, @swansandslayers, @ravenclawpride16 @lostintheskyfaraway, and @book-and-music-lover.

[ohmygoodnessgraciouss]

Reality Check - Chapter 6

Summary: Y/N and Wanda were very close after returning in 2023.  The two bonded over the loss of their partners.  It wasn’t enough to keep Wanda grounded after she found Vision’s body though, and Wanda wants the best for her friend.  Unfortunately for Y/N, this means she’s going to be thrown into a reality she wasn’t expecting.

Notes: Thank you all for your love and support!!  I love you guys so much and your feedback makes me smile.  It’s hard to reply to everyone but I’m keeping tabs on the taglist as much as possible.  I’ve noticed a few usernames are not being tagged on this post, so I’ll be sure to contact them.  Tumblr decided not to tag them I guess lol!  

Anyway, enjoy this new chapter.  I changed things a little bit.  We’re going a little off course of what I had before, hence the reason why this is late.  The chapter I had written at first is only being stocked away for the next chapter, which means it’ll be out sooner than this one did.  I promise! 

Happy Falcon and the Winter Soldier day, everyone! 

“Well Wanda, I gotta skitty before Loki starts wondering where I’m at,” You chuckled nervously.  Watching her fix the wall was incredible.  It was unlike anything you’ve seen before.  So unusual yet so familiar. 

Wanda smiled lightly at you.  “Alright, I understand.  But please feel free to come by anytime.  Whatever you need,” She said.  You smiled back at the woman. 

“Of course!  Maybe I’ll swing by in a couple of days to see the boys!” You waved goodbye to her and opened the door. 

You took your leave, closing the front door behind you.  Vision turned to see you come outside moments later, a confused look on his face.  “Vision?  What’s wrong, buddy?  You look paler than a ghost.” 

Vision turned to look back at the fence, where Herb and Agnes once stood.  The two had left a while ago, but he seemed frozen in place.  “It’s nothing,” He smiled.  

“Are you sure?” You asked, looking back at the fence that he seemed to stare at before he looked at you.  It was cut nearly in half.  From what, you couldn’t tell. 

“Absolutely.  I suppose I’m just rather nervous about becoming a father.  It feels like it happened so quickly.” 

“Well, I’m sure it did, Vision.  You’ll be fine though.  You’re a good man and remember, Wanda’s going to be there too.  Like I said before, it’s not like you’re doing it alone.  You’ve got this whole town.”  

“That’s true.  This town seems to be quite... Supportive.” 

“Sometimes too supportive.  It feels like everyone’s connected sometimes!” You two shared a nervous laugh. 

“Oh yes, everyone here is quite connected.  Sometimes it is almost concerning.  This town is nothing like I have ever seen before.  I feel as though you can’t keep any secrets around here.” 

“Yeah, I know how you feel.” 

~

“What do you mean?” Loki asked, trying to figure out what’s going on.  The blade was pressing against his skin, close to piercing it.  His eyes scanned the man’s face, unable to determine who he was. 

“I won’t ask again.” 

“I don’t even know who you are,” Loki replied, now glaring at the man.  

Scott revealed himself to Loki, green magic engulfing his form.  He wore the same suit as he did before, but his hair was longer now, reaching down to brush his shoulders slightly.  His green eyes were sharper now, and his face was far more defined.  Loki watched as the man morphed into a mirror image of himself.  “Do I look familiar now?” He spat out, annoyed by the impostor.  

“Quite,” He said stiffly.  Loki pushed him back while “Scott” wasn’t paying that much attention.  He walked to the other side of the room, giving the two of them space between one another.  “I am Loki.  But who are you?” 

“That’s impossible,” Scott said.  “This reality’s version of me was supposed to die in 2018.” 

“2018?” Loki questioned.  “The year 2018?” 

“Yes, the year 2018,” Scott rolled his eyes.  “What other year would I mean?” 

“What year is it now then?” 

“2023.  You’ve been dead for 5 years and yet you’re here.  The T.V.A didn’t tell me about this.  Of course they wouldn’t.”

“The T.V.A?” 

Scott ignored his question.  “Now I’m stuck in the Scarlet Witch’s fake reality with another version of me.  But they told me he died.  Is it possible?” He was thinking aloud, causing Loki to grow even more confused. 

“What are you talking about?” 

Scott shook his head.  “It doesn’t matter.  I have a mission to carry out if I want to get out of there.  Plans have changed.” 

~

Ten minutes later you found yourself walking to Ellis Avenue.  It was close to the edge of town, and very few people lived there anymore.  The sun may have been shining and birds may have been chirping, but you felt like the air was icy as you got closer to the border.  The sign “Leaving Westview: We hope to see you again soon!” looked old and rundown, as if no one had touched it in decades.  An image of a family playing in the park was shown next to the lettering.  Perhaps once upon a time it was a cute sign.  Now it seemed ominous. 

A sense of dread and misery started to seep in as you continued walking closer to the end of the road.  It was like you couldn’t control your own thoughts anymore.  Or perhaps, it was the other way around.  For the first time this week you felt like you were gaining control again.  

Making your way to the border, you noticed that there was not a single person in sight.  The road continued on, making its way through the forest that was only a mile away.  The trees swayed with the wind soundlessly.  A part of you almost seemed to beg to leave the town.  

So you kept on walking. 

It felt like some sort of energy was trying desperately to pull you away from it.  You couldn’t understand what pulled you to this town, what kept trying to pull you back into it.  You hardly remember anything before Westview.  What was on the outside? 

You were abruptly stopped by a barrier.  It was glowing red, much like the other objects you saw a few days ago.  The vibrant color seemed to pulse and move as you walked closer.  It was an electrifying feeling, being this close to the magic that kept everyone trapped inside.  Some part of you begged, screamed for you to stay back.  The other part of you asked for the exact opposite.  

You touched the barrier, a shock running up your arm when you did.  You almost pulled back instantly, but something protected you from it.  You stared in amazement as blue shockwaves seemed to surround your hand.  They disappeared, fading off into the red barrier.  

You turned around, looking to see if anyone was nearby.  No one seemed to be in sight, but you felt like you were being watched.  You turned back to the barrier, pushing your hand further in.  It hurt, but something egged you on, daring you to cross it.  

You took a step in, watching the red engulf your entire body.  You couldn’t think, couldn’t hear, couldn’t even see anything that was going on.  You had two options: Go back into the town that you’re trapped in or see what’s on the outside.  

It seemed to last forever, but it was probably because you could hardly move while you were in it.  It felt as if you were frozen solid.  Whatever it was didn’t want you to get out.  Memories were starting to seep in though.  Memories of the distant past, and memories of what had happened only two weeks ago.  

You gained feeling back in your hand again.  You had to be close to the end if you could feel it.  In just a split second you were thrown out of the barrier.  You collapsed onto the grass, taking a deep breath.  It felt like someone splashed cold water on you.  

Lights began to blind you as you heard voices all around you.  “Put her in custody, and someone get a doctor!” You heard one say.  It was distinct, clear, loud.  Whoever it was sounded like the leader. 

You felt several people pull you up from the ground, placing you on a softer surface.  A gurney, probably.  You blinked several times, squinting to see where you were.  Someone familiar stood next to you.  It was Geraldine.  Was that her name?  

At that point it didn’t matter.  Your head was in too much pain from everything else that was going on to care.  

“You’ll be okay, Y/N.  We’re going to get you checked out,” The woman reassured you.  She smiled slightly and you tried to smile back at her. 

You started to doze off, choosing to sleep and recover from the traumatic experience you just had.  For the first time in a long time you were able to dream.  These dreams weren’t normal though.  

They were memories. 

Memories of everything before Westview. 

Scott watched Loki’s body slowly disappear.  Clearly, he was just an illusion.  Something set up by the Scarlet Witch to keep Y/N in control.  He contacted the TVA on his communicator, sending them a message as he watched the body dissolve.  

He was told that this reality was created by the Scarlet Witch and that he had to get the timeline back on track.  They never told him about Y/N being involved.  They didn’t even tell him that an illusion of himself would be in it too.  

The plan would have to change if he wanted to make sure this worked.  They didn’t even give him an idea of how to set the timeline right.  Now that he knows what’s going on, he has an idea. 

And now, he’ll make sure he gets out of here in time. 

And he’ll be sure to give the Time Variance Authority hell.  

~

Wanda smiled down at Billy, sitting next to Vision who held Tommy.  She felt something turn in her chest.  Something was wrong.  Her eyes widened, and she looked out across the room, zoning out.  

Vision noticed that she seemed distracted, trapped in her thoughts.  He reached over slightly to touch her hand, bringing her back.  She turned to him and smiled.  

“Is something wrong, my love?” He asked. 

“No, nothing at all.  Everything is just fine.” She said, looking down at Billy once more.  

She wasn’t going to concern him with the fact that she knew something was wrong. 

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

@emberfulclass @momoneymolife @high-priestesss @hailey-the-heathen @mochminnie @dpaccione @intricate-melody @lindseyrae20 @storminateacup15 @ilovemollyweasley @bookgirlunicorn @chims-kookies @austynparksandpizza @yikesdameron @littleladdty @three-eyed-snail @kymera-casterwill @justsomerandompersonintheworld @followthepastelcloud @11mb0 @carolinesbookworld @from-hel-i-with-love @grimalkynslee @boywivlove @prettysbliss @youreobsessedwithmarvel @th3gl1tt3gram3roff1c1al @luthien-t @lokilove3000 @treblebeth @weclassygirl @justfangirlingaround @drpepperobsessed @how-does-this-work @prideofnewberk @matterdontminduntildone

[hufflautia]

Oblivious

Summary: Hufflepuff is smacked with the realization that he’s oblivious—literally.

~~

Hufflepuff walked through the halls with Slytherin while telling her what happened today.

“She said she’s liked me for months!” he gestured around with his hands. Slytherin took in his words with an odd feeling settling in her chest. It wasn’t exactly comforting to hear another girl pining over her best friend who she’s had a crush on since third year.

“I can’t believe I never got the hint,” Hufflepuff continued as they came to a stop in front of the Slytherin common room. “I’m so oblivious sometimes. A girl could smack me on the head and I wouldn’t realize she was into me.”

Slytherin, who had been leaning against the wall across from him, walked over and smacked his head.

“Ow!” Hufflepuff stared at her, his brows knitted. “What the hell was that for?!”

Looking slightly amused, she stared back at him expectantly. But when he said “What?”, her smile faded.

“Are you serious?”

He frowned. “What do you mean?”

Her expression hardening, she shook her head. “You really are oblivious,” she grumbled, turning away from him.

Hufflepuff watched as she put in the password to her common room. He stared at her back, desperately trying to figure out what went wrong. Why did she get so angry all of a sudden?

Slytherin stepped through and was about to shut the door in his face when it suddenly clicked. Hufflepuff quickly stuck his foot through the small opening before she could close the door.

“Wait!”

There was a pause, and he heard a sigh. The door inched open enough for him to see her cold expression. Guilt washed over him.

“I’m sorry,” he began, his hand still pressed against the wood of the door. “I just realized what you meant and fuck, I’m sorry I didn’t realize sooner, it completely flew over my head. I don’t know if you still—...well, if you’d like to—.... I mean, if you don’t want to, that’s completely fine, but I…” He stopped when he saw how confused she looked. He had a tendency to ramble on and on when he was nervous.

Hufflepuff took a deep breath and exhaled. “Would you like to go on a date with me?”

He held his breath, waiting for her response. Her expression was unreadable, and he felt a cold drip of panic. Shit, what if she was just joking before? Maybe I read it all wrong, she—

Before Hufflepuff could react, Slytherin flung the door open and kissed him. Their teeth clashed at first, and he had to grab the side of the doorway to steady himself from the sudden force of impact.

But he didn’t care. Not one bit.

Hufflepuff leaned forward when she pulled away, his lips trying to follow hers. He slowly opened his eyes to see Slytherin staring back at him, her eyes soft.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” she whispered.

He blinked, a smile pulling at his lips.

“Damn,” he breathed. “I really am oblivious.”

A/N: Hey lovelies! First of all, thank you for 900!! I made a separate post to give my thanks, but I thought I should do it again <3

Secondly, happy one-year anniversary to Chapter 2 of the slytherpuff series (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*✲ﾟ*｡⋆ I just realized this today when I checked the date that I posted Chapter 2 (it was truly out of the blue lmao I was curious) - it was actually on July 3rd but that's ok! Speaking of the series, I'm currently working on chapter 5 - stay tuned for that (maybe in the coming weeks?? I don't know, I have work and it's truly a drag).

Anyways, I came up with this fic idea in MARCH but I didn’t have the time to write it until now. It’s inspired by a reddit post that someone had screenshotted and pasted on Tumblr with some commentary and was then posted on Insta, which is where I found it. I wish I could link the reddit post but I’m unable to access it via reddit. I’ll add the screenshot I took below!

Check out my masterlist and lemme know what you thought of this one-shot! Feedback makes me happy <3 If you prefer to stay anonymous, the anon option for asks is available. Thanks for reading!

Tag lists are open✨ Let me know via ask/messages/comments if you want to be added or removed.

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[twerkinwithhazza]

Pumpkin Seeds

Author’s Note: UH OHHH BACK AGAIN. I’m back yall finally off hiatus all because my phone is broken LOL. Anywho tumblr is a totally different place and most of my mutuals are adulting now. I would love new tumblr friends and I’m gonna try to continue this writing stuff but I’m busy with adult things now lol and it really depends on if you guys like what you see. Please excuse my rustiness this my first imagine in years... literally. I’ll get better with time. This was also slightly edited but I know there bound to be some mistakes. Anyways watch the Golden music video for clear skin and I hope you guys enjoy!  I think it's so adorable that whoever requested this thought this request wouldn't speak to me lol ! It definitely did because this went from a blurb to a full blown imagine.

psst you can read my other work here!

Warnings: smut smut smut and more smut and possible shitty writing, dirty talk, light choking, and some cursing.

Glossary: (y/c/n)= your cousins name + (y/m/n)= your mothers name

Request: hi!!!! if you are wrtiting for Harry please can you do one where missus and Harry are at a family party and have a quickie in the bathroom? don’t worry if it’s not speaking to you lol xxx

Normally you and your husband loved spending time with your families. Harry was always playing a balancing act between filming music videos, doing interviews, writing sessions, and an occasional date night in the house that always involved a Postmates order from your favorite restaurants and the two of you binge-watching Netflix on shuffle. As much as the both of you enjoyed stuffing your face with poke bowls from Poke Papa and watching True Crime stories, it wasn’t exactly romantic or fulfilling for the both of you, just enough to hold you over until his schedule clears up. So when Harry finally got a weekend off, you guys were ecstatic! You spent the week cleaning the house and meal prepping so no Postmates would be needed and Harry used his free time in between interviews for shopping for special toys and pretty lingerie he wanted to see you model for him. Flirty text messages were sent back and forth during small work breaks about your plans for the weekend and now all the two of you had to do was make it Saturday.

You’re not gonna like this...

The 5 words that destroyed you and Harry’s weekend plans. Anne called while you were organizing your closet and announced that her and Gemma, along with your parents and favorite cousins were coming to town to spend time with the two of you. You tried to convince her that maybe a small dinner party at that new fancy restaurant downtown would be a perfect spot for a get together but she was adamant about coming over to cook the two of you a homecooked meal. Breaking the news to Harry was the worst part, he was clearly devastated (you swore you saw the man shed a few tears). Now here you were stuffing your mouth with Anne’s famous juicy cooked duck instead of your husband's juicy di...

“(Y/N) can you pass me the mashed potatoes”

Your dad’s strong yet muffled voice interrupted your train of thought and broke you out of your horny trance as he chowed down on his meal. Pushing the dish over in your dad's direction allowed you the chance to look around and take a glance at Harry who was making small talk with one of your favorite cousins. He was wearing a black button-down shirt, of course with a few buttons loose, and his cross necklace bounced on his chest as he laughed at your cousin's crazy work stories. You focused on his fingers, his infamous rings adorned his hands, you noted that they were slightly damp from eating and the condensation on his glass cup. As you were drinking in his appearance a small damp spot was forming in your panties but given that there were too many eyewitnesses including, yours and his parents so you chose to just clamp your thighs shut and stuff your mouth with more mashed potatoes. 

Harry deserved his credit as a husband. Despite his calm demeanor, he was very well aware of your little ordeal yet still managed to give interview advice to (y/c/n) and compliment your mom’s cocktail mix. He was quite amused by how increasingly frustrated you were becoming. He noted your concentrated face as you munched harshly on a string bean, hands clenching onto the fork for dear life. He decided to do a little temperature check to truly see how far gone you were.

“So what are we thinking for dessert pecan pie or crumble cake ?”, Harry questioned as he stuck his fork in his mouth, pulling it out again once all the gravy was licked clean. Your eyes finally met and you can tell that he was tossing the ball in your court, it was your job to show him how you wanted the game to be played.

“Mmm I don’t know I guess I’ll have some pecan pie but I really wish I had some pumpkin seeds”, you flatly said as you finished sipping your wine, maintaining full eye contact with him.

Pumpkin seeds. You and Harry were “outside of the box” thinkers, you had to be with his life as a celebrity not exactly pairing well with your shared sexual fantasies. You had code words to indicate to each other when you were craving the other one's touch, but you knew that using the same words around friends, family, and other public figures for too long would possibly cause some suspicion. So your code words changed with the seasons, literally. When the leaves started turning that classic golden yellow and auburn, your code words changed thus came the use of the word Pumpkin Seeds.

Gemma and your mom shared a glance, raising their eyebrows in collective confusion.

“Pumpkin seeds.. For dessert ?” Gemma finally burst out., both of your mothers soft laughter followed in the background.

“Heyyy” ,Harry pouted as he bopped Gemma on the nose with some gravy ,“ I have you know Pumpkin Seeds are one of our favorite midnight snacks”. 

“Gross“, Gemma stuck out her tongue and wiped her nose. You couldn't tell whether she was referring to the gravy on her nose, your choice of midnight snacks, Harry’s smug statement followed by a wink at you, or a combination of all three.

“Well we can be concerned with dessert once we break out the baby pictures, I’ve been dying to see the infamous skinny dipping picture (y/m/n) has been telling me about”. Anne clapped her hands together and hopped out of her seat heading to the kitchen. Your mother followed behind but not before instructing you to head up to the attic to retrieve the pictures. You glanced at Harry but he seemed occupied cleaning up the dinner plates with your dad. You let out a frustrated huff and made your way up to the attic to grab the photo albums. 

As you shuffled through old boxes holding Harry’s old tour outfits and your little knickknacks from your travels, you heard the attic door open.

“Pumpkin seeds huh?”, Harry lightly chuckled letting the attic door close and leaning against the door frame. 

You refused to make eye contact with him, continuing to shuffle through the bins locating a few photo albums as you went , “It was only a matter of time Harry and you know it. Our weekend got stolen and we haven’t... ya know in like two weeks. So, yes Harry I want some damn pumpkin seeds.”

You let out a huff. You didn’t mean to come off so sassy and aggressive but you were frustrated… sexually. Your cousin was getting more Harry time in the 3 hour family dinner than you had gotten in the past two weeks. You stacked the photo albums gently on top of each other and cradled them in your arms, finally turning to face your husband but you didn't have to look very far. Harry had closed that gap between the two of you, gripping your face and making you look up at him causing you to drop the albums in shock. 

“Well let’s get you your pumpkin seeds then”

That’s all it took and sparks turned into a flame, you and Harry’s bodies connected and a feverish makeout session broke out. You both were so hungry for each other after weeks of neglects and it just felt so damn good to finally connect. Harry’s wet kisses were making their way down your neck, nipping and sucking as he goes. You knew he was getting into it and normally you would be completely here for it if your kitchen wasn’t flooded with family members waiting to laugh at your baby pictures.

“Baby.. we… fuckkkkk”, You moaned out as Harry popped one of your nipples out of his mouth before moving to nip on the next one. “Baby we can’t your mom is downstairs… we have to go”, you finally let out and glanced down at your husband as pinched your nipples between his finger tips. “When has that ever stopped us”, he slyly laughs. In one swift motion, he turned you around pulling your back into his chest pulling down your skirt. You couldn’t even get words of protest out, Harry had his hands wrapped around your neck and was already freeing himself from his pants and boxers. He pulled your panties to the side and let out a hiss as he watched a string of your arousal stretch from your dripping flower to his fingers.

“Baby please just do something”, you huffed out a soft moan as you waited in anticipation. The grip around your throat tightened as he entered you, both of you letting out a sigh of relief. Harry completely bottomed out inside of you, touching that special spot that only he could. Your walls clenched around him, holding him in snug almost as if your pussy was begging him not to leave. Normally the two you were very vocal during sex from dirty talk to his loud moans and your even louder cries of pleasure. However you both knew that wasn’t possible right now and kept your moans down as much as you could. Harry was not making it easy though and the noise coming from the two of your bodies colliding were basty in the best ways possible. With every thrust of Harry’s hip you could hear your wetness coating Harry dick and as Harry picked up the speed his balls roughly tapped on your clit, only adding to your pleasure. You could barely form thoughts let alone sentence, Harry was literally fucking you silly and using your G-Spot as punching bag for his dick, The sounds and the pleasure were clearly getting to Harry as well, the grip he had on your hips grew tighter and his eyes were squeezed shut. 

“Bloody fucking hell you’re so tight around me, can’t even take it”, he groans and throws his head back as he roughly draws your hips into his. It didn’t even feel like it was possible but Harry picked up the speed of his thrust continuing the assault on your poor needy pussy even further. The pleasure was all too much and that oh so familiar feeling hit the pit of your stomach and you were starting to lose your composure. Your moans were getting increasingly louder and your grip on Harry was growing tighter. Harry knew his wife and he knew your dam was getting closer and closer to breaking and he was determined to get you there. He placed a hand over your mouth and moved his other hands down to your clit rubbing it in slow circles. “ Look at you” he cooed cockily, “Taking me so fucking well like a good girl should. Barely let out a scream ‘cus you don’t want your parents to hear how much of a cock whore you are”. He knew you wouldn’t last long with the way he was talking to you and he was absolutely correct because his words were driving you insane. As the pressure was continued building up in your stomach, you felt the telling twitch in Harry’s dick that let you know he was approaching his end too.

“Gonna give me what I want uh? Gonna cum all over my cock and let me cum in that tight little pussy of yours. You gotta hold it in.. don’t want to leave any drops for our guest to find huh? Gonna be a good girl and hold all my cum in you?”, Harry grunted into your ear as you whimpered against his hands. You were seeing stars and feeling butterflies in the pit of your stomach and you knew it was only a matter of time before you both came undone.” Oh baby”, you whined and your head fell down as the pressure from your stomach finally was released as your orgasm spilled out all over Harry’s dick and thighs. The gushing feeling from your orgasm and your weak whimpers and cries drove Harry overboard, burying his face in your neck and his roughly groaning as he released inside of you. The two of you stayed connected for a bit, thighs stuck together thanks to your shared orgasm with Harry’s arm wrapped around your waist supporting both of your weights up as you composed yourselves. When he finally pulled out of you, you kept every drop he gave you tucked inside your tight walls just as promised. 

“So those Pumpkin Seeds huh”

[donteattheappleshook]

She Came From the Water 14/?

Summary:

Between his dissatisfying job, a constant battle to keep seeing his daughter, and a history of mistakes, losses, and broken dreams, Killian Jones has no place for magic in his life. But when he pulls in his fishing nets one evening only to find a woman caught in them, his life becomes infinitely more complicated. Is she a siren, a selkie, like his daughter believes, or just another lost soul like himself? Suddenly, his life is a thing of fairytales; beautiful women hidden away in cottages, selkie husbands coming back to claim them, and, just maybe, a chance at happily ever after.

A Captain Swan AU based on the film Ondine (2009) for the @captainswanmoviemarathon

Rated M.

Read it on Ao3  or Tumblr 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13

Huge thank you to @ultraluckycatnd for being a fantastic and patient beta. This fic is now twice as long as it was supposed to be and you’ve been stuck with me a whole year! Love and appreciate all the help taming this beast <3

Another huge thank you to @elizabeethan​ @the-darkdragonfly and @xhookswenchx​ for putting up with my unending neediness with this fic. 

Sorry this update is so late! I moved last weekend so it was one week of packing and one week of unpacking. Hopefully it's worth the wait even if you wanna murder me after 😊

***

Part 14

The relief that washes over Killian when the doctor declares that Alice is fine, apart from a sore throat and a slight chill, is overwhelming. It takes everything he has not to collapse on the spot and break down into a mess of tears as the anxiety and the fear that had taken hold of him rush from his bones, leaving him weak and weary. But he can’t let Alice see him like that, not after what she just went through, not after how terrified she must be. He’s her father and he needs to be strong for her, even if that means faking it.  

A nurse brings in a wheelchair and Alice grumbles in protest when she’s told she has to take it out of the hospital. ‘It’s hospital policy, sweetie, and just a few feet to the door.’ She leaves them so that Alice can change into the dry clothes they found for her that were brought in with the chair. She grumbles at them too, complaining they’re too scratchy as Killian helps her pull the wool sweater over her head. He doesn’t care, she can grumble all she wants. She’s safe and she’s dry and she’s alive. Nothing else matters to him right now. 

“This is stupid,” she says when she sits in the wheelchair and Killian folds the hospital gown and sets it on the exam table. “I’m fine. I wasn’t really in danger,” she insists and he sucks in a breath, unsure as to whether to tackle the conversation about Swan not being a selkie despite the fact that she saved her life just now. He decides that tomorrow is better, after they’ve both had a good night’s sleep and his hands have hopefully stopped shaking. 

“It’s not that bad, love,” he tells her, trying to pull her from her grumpy mood. He grabs hold of the handlebars and wheels her around in a circle before tipping the chair back, grinning down at her as she lets out an excited laugh. “See? It does tricks!” 

David is in the waiting room when they arrive. He stands quickly, rushing to their side and Killian doesn’t even let him voice the question before he assures him that Alice is alright. David’s relief rivals his own and he’s reminded again of how lucky his daughter is to have him and Mary Margaret in her life - how lucky he is to have them in his life. 

“Where’s Swan?” Alice asks and David says he doesn’t know, she wasn’t here when he arrived. Killian frowns; he doesn’t see her either and, as it always does, that threat of anxiety, of loss, begins to float into his chest and fill his lungs. 

He takes a deep breath, trying to keep his fears at bay. She’d promised to stay. She wants to stay. How many times has she asked him to stop doubting that? But after today… What if it was too much? Between all the people and the argument with Alice and almost losing her - No. She wouldn’t just leave. She wouldn’t do that to him, to them. 

Just as he’s finished reminding himself, Swan rounds the corner from a hallway that leads deeper into the hospital and he breathes a sigh of relief as a smile pulls his lips at the sight of her. But then he notices the man she walks with. He can only see the back of his head as he turns to speak to Swan but there’s something familiar about him. 

He can’t make out the expression on her face as she answers, every inch of her guarded, arms crossed tightly around her chest, the line of her shoulders straight and hard. She stops, says something else to the man and he hesitates, but then nods before heading out to the parking lot. She watches him leave, gaze fixed on the door long after he’s gone. 

Something wary and cold trickles over his neck as she finally turns to face him, apprehension settling into his skin, sinking deep and leaving him on edge as he reads the steely hardness in her eyes even from across the room. In the brief moment of hesitation before she sighs out a breath and comes to join them, his heart stops completely. 

“Who was that?” he asks when she’s close enough.

“Nobody. He was lost.” She hardly looks at him, glancing up through her lashes before she crouches down in front of Alice. Tears brim her eyes as she traces a hand over her cheek, tucks her hair back behind her ear, brushes over her shoulder before squeezing her arm. “You’re okay?” she asks, voice cracking as one tear breaks down her cheek.

Alice looks taken aback by the sight of her friend so clearly shaken. She reaches out a hand to wipe away her tear with her thumb as he’s done for her so many times and nods. Swan pulls the girl into her arms, squeezing tight and whispering in her ear, ‘Never do that again.’ Alice nods once more, her face solemn. Never do what again? 

She stands then, wiping away her own tears and shaking her head. She looks at him finally but before he can ask what she was talking about, he’s interrupted by Eloise shouting as she bursts through the doors. 

“Where is she? What did you do?” she demands, her words slurred and her steps unsteady despite the fierceness as she strides towards him. “Idiot!” she shouts, brushing past Swan and Alice and slamming both her hands into his chest, knocking him back a step. “Can’t even keep her for one bloody day without her ending up in the hospital? I can’t get one night off without getting a call because you fucked up? Useless!” 

Her words hit harder than her blows as she pushes him again and again until he has nowhere else to go, his back colliding with the wall. He can hear Alice yelling at her to stop, sees David rush over to get between them and make her back off, but it all falls on deaf ears, her accusations echoing through him, resonating and taking hold. She’s right. One day. He had her for one day and she nearly died. Because he wasn’t paying attention. 

“Come on,” she snaps, finally pushed back enough by David that she can’t land another blow, and reaches for Alice. Alice squirms away, trying to hang onto Swan who had kneeled down beside her and taken hold of her hand, but Eloise manages to grab hold of her wrist, wrenching her out of the chair despite the girl’s protests. “Get in the car. You’re coming home with me,” she says as she makes her way unsteadily towards the door. 

Something inside Killian registers her words, the danger that she’s about to put his daughter in, and he dashes across the room, putting himself between her and the exit. “Eloise, stop. You’re not taking her anywhere like this.” 

“And who’s gonna stop me? You?” she threatens. “I’m her mother. I’m her guardian. I’m her emergency contact. You’re just the mistake I made who won’t go away.” 

“Eloise,” David steps in then. “Let’s not make this more difficult than it has to be,” he says. Killian doesn’t miss the way he casually brushes his jacket back, his badge displayed clearly on his hip. “This isn’t your weekend. Killian has custody tonight and you’re in no fit state to drive anyone anywhere. Don’t make me arrest you for endangerment.” 

Eloise glares at him and then at Killian. “Look at you with powerful people in your pocket,” she mocks before dropping Alice’s wrist. Alice runs to Killian’s side, clinging to his shirt as she presses herself against his leg. He places a protective hand on her shoulder, holding her close. “Well, you’re not the only one,” she threatens. “Remember that.” 

“I still can’t let you drive home,” David reminds her, halting her with a hand on her shoulder which she roughly brushes off. 

“I’ll see her home,” a voice says calmly across the room and Killian’s blood goes cold at the sight of Gold standing casually by the entrance. He hadn’t even seen him come in, though he supposes he shouldn’t be surprised that the two of them came together. David considers him a moment before nodding. 

“Get in the car, Eloise,” Gold tells her and while his voice maintains that eerie calm it always does, Killian knows there’s no room for argument, and so does she. She casts one last glare at Killian and then makes her way out toward the parking lot. 

As he’s leaving, Gold pauses, turns back. “Killian,” he says and Killian straightens, his hand tightening on Alice’s shoulder. The Crocodile glances down pointedly at his daughter and then back up at him. “My offer still stands, should you ever feel like coming back.” 

Killian’s breath is unsteady. From what Eloise tells me, you hardly ever see the girl. We could do something about that. He hates himself for considering it, for the temptation of some way of guaranteeing he could get his daughter back, that he could get her out of Eloise’s house. He wonders if he could pay the price, if it would be worth it to give Alice a better life. 

But he knows he can’t. No matter how desperate he is, he could never become the man he used to be and still let himself be in his daughter’s life. He doesn't want any part of who he was, any part of that life to touch her. And knowing that Gold may be around now, that he could be in Eloise’s home while his daughter is there… It makes him sick. 

But if David hadn’t been there today, if he hadn’t stopped her, he knows he would have been powerless to stop Eloise from taking Alice from him - from driving intoxicated with his daughter in the car. He’s known her to do a great many selfish and awful things in her life, but never that. And now that she has, he can’t do nothing anymore, can’t let his own self loathing get in the way of keeping Alice as safe as he can. 

He turns to David who’s watching him with concern, like he’s just as afraid of him taking Gold’s deal as he was. Killian looks down at Alice still clutching his side, settles a hand on her head and lets his fingers comb over the soft strands of her hair. 

“Call Nemo,” he says, meeting David’s shocked expression. “See if he’s still willing to help.” 

***

David drives them back to the cottage, the ride feeling long and quiet with only the dull hum of the radio that becomes more static than music the closer they get to home.. Alice is curled up in the backseat with her head resting in Swan’s lap as she dozes off, rocked by the rumble of the truck and exhausted by the events of the day. 

Killian watches them in the rear-view mirror, unable to keep his eyes from drifting to the woman who sits behind him. He can’t shake the feeling that something is wrong. Her fingers comb gently and steadily through Alice’s hair but her gaze is fixed out the window, far away and aloof in a way he’s never seen her before. 

When Alice shifts she looks down, freezing for a moment like she’s afraid to wake her, but when the girl settles she resumes her soothing strokes, watching her for a long, long while. When Swan’s gaze turns back to the window, Killian can see the shine of tears, wet in her eyes, reflected in the moonlight that pours in. 

His heart clenches in his chest, trying to convince himself that it’s fear or maybe even guilt over what happened with Alice today - his own hands haven’t stopped shaking. But he’s never been very good at lying to himself, and he can’t stop seeing that man in the hospital, can’t stop the thought that it could have been the same man from the diner - if only he’d managed to see his face… 

The truck slows to a stop, tires crunching on the gravel and dirt at the end of the walkway. Killian steps out and makes his way around to the back, opening the door on Alice’s side. He catches Swan’s eye as he climbs up into the back seat. She looks almost surprised to see him there. Her eyes are dry now and he tries to read her gaze, searching and imploring her to tell him what’s wrong. But it remains distant and closed off. She’s miles away, even when she’s close enough to touch. 

“Are you alright?” he asks finally, hoping she’ll tell him the truth even though he knows she won’t. After a moment she offers him a small smile, forced and stiff, and nods. And he aches. He longs to reach out to her, to hold her and comfort her and rid her of whatever it is that’s come between them, to find her wherever she’s buried herself so deep inside that he can’t see her anymore. But Alice stirs again and draws her gaze from his. 

Killian gathers his daughter in his arms, appreciating the weight and the warmth of her pressed to his side as he lifts her from the truck. Every breath against the crook of his neck, her head loling sleepily against his shoulder, is a reminder that she’s alive, that she’s safe. He came so close to losing her - twice in one day. And now… he watches Swan hop down from the truck, Alice’s backpack slung over her shoulder, and he wonders if he’s losing her now instead. 

He yearns for that feeling that had consumed him today on the water, the hope and the belief that they could really have this, the three of them together and happy - a family. He remembers how reassured he’d felt after last night, after she’d forgiven him and said she loved him. How many times has she begged him to stop waiting for her to leave? And now that he finally has, he wishes he hadn’t. Then maybe some part of him would still be ready, be prepared for this. Maybe it wouldn’t destroy him quite so completely.

“Mary Margaret brought your boat back,” David informs him as he turns to say his goodbyes. “She says she left the keys on the table and locked up.” 

Killian nods, feeling numb, exhausted. “Tell her thank you for me,” he says. “And thank you, for everything today - for Eloise…” 

David shakes his head. “Don’t mention it. I’ll call Nemo in the morning,” he promises and Killian feels his back straighten even now at the mention of the man’s name. But he’d agreed. He has to do this; if he wants any chance of keeping Alice from her mother he needs to swallow his pride and his loathing for the man he was and let Nemo help him. David frowns at him then. “Are you sure you’re okay? You know you’re all welcome to stay with us tonight. Mary Margaret cooked and we have plenty of room.” 

Killian shakes his head. “I think we all just need to get some sleep,” he tells him, despite the fact that it’s barely eight o’clock. As if to make his point, Alice lets out a pathetic little sleepy sound and wraps her arms around his neck. He rubs a hand soothingly over her back and casts a glance at where Swan hovers a little ways up the walk. Her gaze is fixed on the sea, the dark surface glittering where the waves catch the moonlight, reminding him of her tears in the car and his anxiety seizes him again.  

Once David has driven off, Killian carries Alice into the house, his heart swelling a little with hope when Swan waits for them, her hand reaching up to brush the little girl’s hair out of her face. They make their way inside and she finds a blanket and a pillow for the cot their friend brought over yesterday. He nods his thanks and sets Alice carefully down on the mattress, pulling her shoes and jacket off before tucking her in. The poor thing is exhausted and he presses a kiss to her forehead but can’t bring himself to leave her just yet. 

Swan must have the same idea, crouching down by her head, arms folded on the blanket, watching her sleep. “Is she really alright?” she asks, voice hushed, turning wide, uncertain eyes on him and he lets out a heavy breath, tempted to find relief in the thought that she really may just have been worried about Alice all along. 

“Aye,” he promises, kneeling down beside her and brushing her hair behind her ear as she’d done for Alice. His fingers sink into the curls at the back of her neck, thumb brushing along her cheek and she leans into his touch. “Because of you, Swan. You saved her,” he whispers. His voice catches in his throat, remembering the moment when they’d both been under, when he’d been unable to do anything but stare at the unending blackness and pray to whoever might be listening that he get them both back. “Thank you.” He barely manages to get the words out. 

Swan shakes her head. “No.” She looks at Alice for a long while, the crease in her brow deepening with each passing second. “It’s my fault.” Her voice is so quiet in the still of the room that he can barely hear it over the sleeping girl’s steady breathing. “She wouldn’t have been in any danger if it wasn’t for me. It’s my fault. Me and my stupid stories. I’m the reason she almost died, that we - that you almost lost her.” 

“What are you talking about, Swan?” A moment passes and then it dawns on him. The way they’d argued right before she fell. The way Swan had held Alice so tightly. Never do that again. Killian looks at his daughter. “She didn’t fall in, did she?” Swan shakes her head, confirming his suspicions as tears roll freely down her face. He tries to soothe her but she won’t let him, turning away from his touch and crossing the room. He follows her, refusing to let her run from him, to let her hide. “They weren’t your stories, love. They were hers,” he reminds her. 

“I should never have let her believe them.” 

“She’s a child. And she’s Alice. She’d have believed them no matter what.” Swan shakes her head. “We’ll explain it to her,” he promises, coming closer and reaching out carefully, relieved when she doesn’t pull away, when she lets him envelop her in his arms, holding her close. Her fingers clench in the fabric of his shirt, wet cheek pressed to his neck. 

“I need to keep her safe,” she says so quietly he’s not sure it was meant for him, but he caresses the back of her hair regardless, presses his lips to her temple.

“You will,” he promises. “We both will.” And while she nods against his shoulder, Killian can’t shake the feeling that she doesn’t believe him. 

***

They make dinner quietly, setting plates and cups down carefully on the table so as not to wake Alice, speaking in hushed tones, heads bent close and for a moment, Killian feels like things are going back to normal - or whatever semblance of normal they had fallen into. But every time a smile pulls at her lips, every time she leans in closer to him, she catches herself, stops herself, pulls back, bites her lip, that wall slamming back up. 

“Swan,” he starts finally, unable to take the distance anymore and placing a hand over hers on the table. “What’s going on?” She’s sitting right next to him, the corner of the table the only thing between them and still he can’t reach her, can’t cross the distance to her. She doesn’t answer for a while, only stares at their hands before looking up at him with another one of those smiles he doesn’t believe. 

“Nothing.” 

“Who was that man in the hospital?”

“No one.”

“Swan…” 

“Please stop asking,” she says then, taking him by surprise. 

“Why?”

“Because I can’t -” She doesn’t finish the sentence, doesn’t tell him what she can’t do. Can’t talk about it? Can’t tell him? Or worse, can’t trust him? He nearly gives in, nearly lets her push him away, but then he remembers the way she’d confronted him last night, the way she hadn’t let him hide from her. 

“Swan,” he says, squeezing her hand and nearly sighing in relief when she doesn’t pull away. “I love you. You can tell me.” She meets his eyes then and he’s nearly knocked back by the emotion that weighs heavy in hers. 

She shakes her head and in that small gesture he sees so much of the doubt and the hopelessness he’s carried for years reflected in her eyes. And it kills him. “Killian…” she starts, but he doesn’t let her finish. 

“I love you,” he says again and even as she casts her gaze to the floor he can see the tears threatening to fall before she squeezes her eyes shut. “Nothing’s going to change that.” He tugs on her hand, pulls it from the table and presses it to his chest, imploring her when she finally looks at him. “Talk to me,” he begs, adding a desperate ‘please’ when she doesn’t. 

Not giving him a chance to say anything more, she leans across the space between them and presses her lips to his, the hand on his chest fisting in his shirt. There’s a desperation in the way she kisses him, in the way her fingers twist against his heart. He pulls back a breath, searching her face for whatever’s brought this on, but she follows him, kissing him again and cutting off his question. 

“Please,” she says, when he breaks away once more, his name on her lips. Her fingers slip into his hair, her forehead leaning against his as she breathes in the air between them. “I don’t want to talk.” He tilts his head to look at her, to read the pleading and the need for comfort so plainly written across her features and his whole body nearly lurches with the instinct to give her whatever she needs, whatever he can to make this better. They can talk later. 

He kisses her, slow and careful and he feels the sigh of relief she breathes into his mouth, the way she melts against him even as she tries to pull him closer. He lets her, for a moment, before he stops and casts a pointed look at where Alice sleeps across the room. She follows his gaze and relaxes her grip on him slightly. 

Killian stands, taking her hand and leading her to the bedroom, shutting and locking the door after one last check that Alice is sound asleep. When he turns back to Swan she’s waiting for him, hesitant and nervous and she looks so small and helpless in this moment, unlike the strong, steadfast woman he’d come to love. Whatever happened to make her feel this way, to make her doubt herself, doubt them, whatever monsters have come their way, he’d face them all to bring her back. 

But he can’t right now, not if she won’t tell him what they are. Right now, all he can do is give her what she needs, whatever it is she asks of him to chase her fears away, to make her feel safe. He cards his fingers through the hair at her temples, her eyes shutting at the caress, and cups her face in his hands, stroking her cheek in that same gentle way she’s stroked the lines of his face so many times.

When her eyes open again he leans in and captures her lips in a deep kiss, pouring everything she won’t let him say, all the reassurance he can into the press of his mouth against hers. Her hands circle his wrists, keeping him there, hanging on even as he feels her lip tremble against his own, tastes the salt of her tears on his tongue. 

“I love you,” he says again when they break apart, breath heavy against his lips. 

“I know,” she says, fingers tightening around his wrists. 

“Nothing could ever change that,” he promises, hoping that despite not being ready to talk about it yet, she knows that at least. 

He feels her nod, feels the wetness under his thumbs on her cheeks. “I know.” 

She leans up on her toes until she can close the space between them, lips finding his own, tongue seeking his with a slow, restrained sort of desperation. He feels like she wants to consume him, let them catch fire as they always do together, but not in an inferno, in a slow burn that will last, that will keep them warm all night, even when the last embers have faded. 

Killian recognizes the need, remembers being the one who kissed her like this, who touched her like this, savoring every moment like it could be the last. He fights against the voice in his head that tells him that, just like he’d been, she’s looking for something she can hold onto, that she can keep with her even after she’s gone. 

He backs her toward the bed, letting her pull his sweater up over his head and drop it to the floor, his own hands reaching for the hem of the scrubs they’d given her at the hospital. They rid each other of the rest of their clothes quickly and unceremoniously, each in a hurry to feel the heat of the other’s skin pressed against their own. 

His hands wander the length of her back as her own trail over his chest, exploring dips and curves and sensitive spots he’s already memorized, and finding new ones along the way. When the back of her legs reach the bed she falls back onto it, pulling him along by the chain at his neck. She pauses when he lands above her, attention drawn by the little swan pendant, a strange frown pinching her brow as she presses it to his chest, traces the lines of it carefully. 

“What is it?” he asks, concerned by how bothered she suddenly seems by the necklace. He wonders briefly if she’s changed her mind about giving it to him, if she wants it back, if she’s remembered something about it, and considers yanking the damn thing off his neck if only to sooth the line that’s drawn between her brows. 

“Nothing,” she says again, the only answer he seems to be able to pull from her tonight. Shaking her head and drawing him down over her once more, she kisses him until he’s too consumed by her to push any further. Their movements grow frantic, their touches desperate and he can sense the change in her mood, the need that burns through her and he throws himself on the pire, ready to burn with her. 

His mouth finds her throat, hand trailing over her breast to her hip, sliding between them and finding her drenched against his fingers. He curses into her skin, the desire to just take, to slide inside her and make her cry out his name until she never wants to leave his side again, to claim her as his own, is overwhelming. But he restrains himself. She’d clung to him for comfort, to help sooth whatever war is raging within her, and so he waits for her to tell him what she needs. 

Her back arches, mouth falling open in a choked gasp before she catches her lip between her teeth, muffling her cries as he slides two fingers into her, working her sensitive peak with his thumb. She clings to him, urging his mouth back to her own as she rides his hand, hips rolling with every thrust of his fingers. 

He can feel her trembling already, knows she’s close despite having barely touched her. He knew from the way she’d kissed him, the way she’d pawed at him that she wouldn’t last long. But her hand catches his wrist, stalling his movements and pushing it away. He’s confused only for a moment before she reaches for him again, pulling him into the cradle of her thighs and wrapping her fingers around his length, drawing him to her. 

He doesn’t make her wait, pushing into her in one firm, solid stroke, pulling a filthy, wanton sound from her that sends his blood racing. She catches hold of his cheek, leading his gaze to meet her own, her eyes clouded with lust and pleasure but still there’s that intensity that’s always been there, the softness that he knows now for what it is. 

“I love you,” she tells him, and he knows it’s the truth. Regardless of whatever’s passed between them today, whatever will pass between them, he doesn’t doubt that anymore. 

He leans down, pressing his forehead to hers as he begins to move in her, and her fingers slide around to the back of his neck, her other hand dragging up his back to clutch at his shoulder. With every thrust of his hips her grip on him tightens, her own hips rising to meet him, like she’s afraid to let him go, to lose the press of his skin on hers for even a second.

Her nails dig into his skin until it becomes near painful, her eyes squeezed shut, brow pinched tight and even through his pleasure, his concern for her, his love for her wins out. Killian reaches for the hand at the nape of his neck, bringing it to his lips and pressing a kiss to her wrist, entwining his fingers with hers when she finally opens her eyes. Giving her a soft smile, he presses another to her knuckles before settling their hands on the mattress above her head. 

Her fingers curl around his as he leans down to kiss her slowly, setting a pace with the rocking of his hips. Gradually, her nails release their biting grip on his shoulder, her fingers sliding down the length of his back to settle at his hip. She still clings to him, still makes sure he’s there, but relents enough to let him make love to her rather than just fuck her fears away as they’d been doing a moment ago. 

Killian’s hand slides over her breast, the weight of it perfect as she arches into his palm, her whimpers swallowed by his greedy mouth. He trails his fingers lower, hooking under her thigh and spreading her wider for him, her nails biting again when he reaches deeper, hips grinding into her own with every thrust. 

He can feel her trembling around him, writhing as she races toward her climax, and while he can’t hear her sing this time, he can make certain she sees stars. She comes with a shudder, mouth open and silent against his as she swallows a desperate lungful of air, breaking the surface after drowning in him. He follows after her, driven to his own release by the pure rapture that plays across her face, by the barely whispered echo of his name on her lips. 

When he’s returned to himself enough to realise he’s likely crushing her, having wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her tightly to him, burying his face in her neck as he climaxed, he loosens his grip, shifting off her and onto his back. 

She doesn’t let him go far, curling into his chest, arm vice like around his waist as her leg hooks over his and he wonders where she could possibly think he might be going, what could ever possess him to leave her. 

But he simply cradles her against him and presses his lips to the crown of her head. He can feel the tears hot and wet against his chest but he doesn’t ask, not this time. She doesn’t want to talk. So he holds her closer, kisses her again, trails his fingers soothingly over her slowly cooling skin. 

After a long while, he releases her regretfully. She looks up in confusion and Killian’s ears burn. He reaches up to try and rub away the red he’s sure is there. “I just need to put pants on,” he explains. “Alice might have nightmares after today...” 

Her face softens. “Of course,” she agrees, standing to grab the undershirt he’d been wearing earlier and pulling it over her head. “You can leave the door open if you want,” Swan tells him and he offers her a thankful smile. He’s never shut his door to Alice before. 

Killian puts on his pyjama pants before picking their clothes up off the floor, not wanting to get a lecture from Alice about how she’s expected to pick up after herself and he’s not. Unlocking and opening the door a crack, he fishes his phone out of his jeans pocket when he hears it vibrate. The message on the screen makes his heart stop for a moment and then pound painfully against his ribs. 

“What is it?” Swan asks and he sits on the bed next to her, unable to draw his eyes from the text. 

“It’s David…” he says, unsure how to even begin to explain what this means. “Nemo’s going to testify - he’s going to say he made a mistake.”

“Nemo? The Coast Guard?” 

He nods, the air leaves his lungs in a whoosh. The reality of how huge this is finally dawning on him as he realises how much this could change. “Aye. He was the one… he was the one who turned me in, the reason I went to jail.” 

“I thought you didn’t hurt him,” she says, frowning in confusion and he shakes his head. 

“I didn’t land any blows that night but I may as well have.” He swallows against the bile in his throat at the memory of Starkey and Mullins beating the older man bloody. It’s so vivid in his mind even nearly a decade later. “I watched it all happen. I didn’t stop them. They tossed him on the docks after that, left him to die hoping maybe he’d even fall in and drown.” 

“But he named you? Because he knew you?” she asks, clearly remembering he’d worked with Liam. 

Killian shakes his head. “After they left him there… I didn’t… I couldn’t just -” he cuts himself off, letting his face fall into his hands for a moment, rubbing at his eyes. “I couldn’t just leave him like that.” She places a hand on his arm but doesn’t say anything, letting him finish. He'd heard Liam’s voice that night. Maybe it had been the guilt or maybe even his own darkness had a limit, but he'd looked at the man broken and dying and he'd heard what Liam would think of him if he did nothing - what he would think of himself. And for the first time since his brother's death, it mattered.

“I put him in my car and drove him to the hospital,” he says, remembering the weight of the half conscious man barely able to hold himself up, the strain on his shoulders as they crossed the docks. “I shouldn’t have been bloody driving anywhere,” he admits, hating how reckless he’d been, how much rum he’d had before heading out that night. “I was just going to drop him at the doors and leave him but…”

“You stayed, didn’t you?”

He nods. He’d sat in that damn emergency room for hours until finally a nurse had told him that Nemo would live, that he’d asked to see him. He’d nearly run then, but something about him - maybe it was how much he reminded Killian of Liam - had made him go to that hospital room and face him, even if he couldn’t look him in the eye. 

“An injury like that, they have to call the police. He named me and my history in town was bad enough that there was barely a trial.” 

“What?” she demands and he’s unsure which part she’s outraged at. 

“He remembered me,” he tells her. “Remembered Liam too. Right before the police arrived he told me this wasn’t who I was. He could see how lost to the drink I was by that point. He said I just needed a chance to start over, to get clean and find the man I wanted to be again. I didn’t understand what he meant then, I hated him for it too. But I came out of there eight months later, sober for the first time in years, and I had Alice.” 

“He sent you to jail to teach you a lesson?” she demands. He nods. “But you weren’t guilty,” she insists. 

“I was plenty guilty, Swan,” he says. “There had been so many others before him. I deserved what I got.” She wraps her arms around him, resting her chin on his shoulder and he leans into her touch. “I didn’t want to be acquitted, for him to take back his witness testimony. I didn’t want every awful thing I’ve done to be dismissed for one half decent deed.” If he could even call it that. It had been guilt more than anything that had driven him to do something that night. 

“But now?”

“Now that sentence is the only thing keeping me from Alice. Whatever Eloise does, it’s not as bad as being a convict. Even if they take her away from her mother, they wouldn’t give her to me. Eloise has no family and my father's been in and out of prison more times than I can count. I'd rather Alice never meet him." He sighs, the reality weighing heavy on his shoulders. "She’d go into foster care.” 

Swan sucks in a sharp breath, her arms tightening around him fractionally. She reaches for his jaw, turns his face to hers. “You’re doing the right thing,” she promises and a lump forms in his throat. “If you do this, you’ll have Alice. She’ll be safe and you’ll have each other.” 

“Aye,” he says, the word thick and burning. 

“Then that’s all that matters,” she says, pressing her lips to his shoulder. He nods. She’s right, he knows she’s right. But he can’t shake the feeling that doing this means he’s somehow absolving himself of all wrongdoings, forgiving himself for wrongs he’s done with no consequence. 

“Dad?” comes a small voice from the other side of the door. Both of them turn to see the little girl peeking in, hovering at the entrance. 

“Aye, starfish, what is it? Come in.” 

“I had a bad dream,” she tells him, coming to stand at the edge of the bed. He’d expected as much after the day they’ve had. He hoists her up onto his lap, giving her a hug and rubbing her back softly. 

“Do you want to tell me about it?” 

She shakes her head. “Can I sleep here?”

“Of course,” he says, catching Swan’s eye over her head. She nods and Alice climbs into the middle of the bed, leaving them to settle in on either side of her. 

“Will you tell me a story?” she asks and Killian hums, stroking her back in the way he knows will send her to sleep before he’s halfway through any tale. 

“What do you want to hear?”

“The one about the fisherman and the selkie,” she says and he pauses, looking up at Swan and seeing the shadow that falls over her face.

“Alright,” he agrees. “But you know it’s only a story, right, love? It’s make-believe.” 

“Sure, Dad,” she mumbles, already half asleep and he feels a pang in his chest, knowing she doesn’t believe him. 

Swan’s gaze is distant as he begins. “Once upon a time…”

***

At some point in the telling of his story, Killian falls asleep, lulled by Alice’s steady, even breathing and the exhaustion of the day. Swan had listened as he’d woven the tale, head resting on her pillow, watching the two of them carefully, a soft sadness in her eyes. As his eyes grew heavy he’d done his best to hold her gaze, reaching for her hand across the sleeping child between them. 

“I love you,” he’d mouthed in the quiet of the room. She’d pulled his hand to her lips, kissed the heart line that creased his palm and settled into the pillow, tracing her fingers along the groove. She’d still been stroking his hand, still been watching him with that soft, pained expression when he’d yielded to sleep. 

He wakes suddenly, breath catching in his throat, having dreamt of drowning and selkies and monsters. He looks down at Alice, snoring softly beside him, and then towards his outstretched hand, looking for Swan. But the bed is empty. He sits up. On the pillow where her head had lain, is Liam’s ring. 

***

@kmomof4 @elizabeethan @the-darkdragonfly @xhookswenchx @undercaffinatednightmare @jennjenn615 @dramioneswan @gingerchangeling @gingerpolyglot @batana54 @lfh1226-linda @csalltheway @xsajx @xarandomdream @onceratheart18 @ownedbycaptainswan @teamhook @pirateprincessofpizza @lostintheskyfaraway @zaharadessert @thejollyroger-writer @ultraluckycatnd @justanother-unluckysoul @jonesfandomfanatic @bdeveraux @jrob64 @klynn-stormz @wefoundloveunderthelight @sailtoafarawayland @tiganasummertree @winterbaby89 @hollyethecurious @stahlop @superchocovian @itsfabianadocarmo @snowbellewells @xellewoods @sals86 @karlyfr13s ​

[whatiwillsay]

submission: we need to talk about ttb (spade-riddles)

Hey Cam. Seeing that ask defending TTB’s doxxing has sort of pushed me to finally share some of my story on Tumblr, I guess. I haven’t had the opportunity to talk about this to anyone fully, so this will probably be long, but I hope you don’t mind me venting.

I’m one of the people that got emailed by TTB. I don’t feel comfortable posting this off anon, but I was in a Discord server with you and @bisluthq and some other people back in Dec/Jan. I don’t know if you remember me, but my name on there was one word and began with an L and ended with an S.

I want to share the full story, but I also don’t feel comfortable with sharing certain details publicly because I’m still very wary of getting outed further by her if she sees this, so I’m gonna be vague about some things

Request to her followers — If you see this, please don’t send this to her. Like I’m genuinely asking you not to because I don’t trust her not to cross any more lines. My dad is a major homophobe with serious anger issues who has literally been arrested for violence before, and she doesn’t really think carefully or maybe even care about how any actions she takes could lead to people being harmed, so I’m not eager to see how she might react.

Anyway, I first got an email back in December, and I was really freaked out by it at first. I spoke to one of my mutuals about it, and although we both agreed it was super weird and invasive and creepy, we ended up trying to see the funny side of it. So, I kinda just brushed it off and moved on. I was mainly just really confused about why I had been targeted because at the time, I thought it was only me who’d gotten an email like that. I didn’t understand why she’d specifically targeted me instead of other people who she clearly disliked a lot more.

About a week later, I saw someone on Tumblr mentioning a strange email, and I realised other people must have gotten them too. I spoke to Nat about what happened to me and ended up in the Discord

At the time, I felt like I’d gotten off really easy comparatively to others because I initially didn’t realise that she’d contacted anyone else. And so I tried to act chill about it because I didn’t want to make things about me, but honestly, I was extremely anxious. I felt on edge for over a week. I would keep checking her blog again and again because I was super worried that she would post our personal details publicly. I scrolled through my entire blog from start to finish and deleted a lot of posts that were either personal or that I just didn’t want anyone I knew in real life to read.

This part I have to be vague about because it would basically give away who I am, but it was only a while later when I thought I was in the clear that someone I knew in real life texted me and mentioned seeing a weird email about me. The email had been sent a while back, and they’d been shown it by the original recipient/s. Multiple people had been shown it, but luckily (kinda), only two of those people were actually people I saw on a regular basis

I’m mostly closeted, but I’m kind of technically out to a few of my immediate family members. But it’s very much a DADT situation because they’re not accepting, and they like to just pretend I’m straight. And so I basically have to act closeted even when I’m around them, and I can’t even ALLUDE to being gay.

But with my dad, it’s different. He’s very homophobic. I’m only gonna mention this next part so that people understand what kind of dangerous situation that TTB could have put me in. (And the other people that she doxxed too because she didn’t know how safe their individual situations were). It’s all really personal, and I wouldn’t ordinarily feel comfortable sharing any of this at all, even anonymously, but I think it needs to be said because her actions were extremely fucking irresponsible.

Right, so when I first “came out” to my dad, it was actually an accident, and he reacted… extremely badly. This was back in like… 2018 or 2019, I can’t remember the exact year

(TW // physical abuse, homophobia)

He was extremely angry, literally shaking. He yelled at me, he described in graphic detail how he was going to “break every bone in my body”, “strangle the life out of me”, “drown me”, etc. He kept telling me that I’m disgusting and going to Hell, you get the idea. He was having a lot of fun with making strangling motions and stabbing motions with his hands, and he kept slamming his hand onto the table. That went on for about 15 minutes, and then he stood up and threw a chair from the dining table at me. That was fun lol. And he punched me in the head pretty hard which kinda knocked me back. I felt dizzy, I had to sit down on the floor. At that point, my mum who had been crying and asking him to stop physically intervened, and he ended up storming out of the house instead. My mum’s a genuinely good person btw. She’s a little homophobic, but she cares about me a lot, and I’m very grateful for her. She hates him too, but she’s kinda stuck with him… It wasn’t her fault

He literally hates gay people. He complains about us on the regular. One time, he threw the remote at the TV and cracked the screen just because there was a gay male couple kissing onscreen. Another time, he threw a rock at a gay man on the street. There was also a time where he forced a few of my siblings (who didn’t want to do it) to throw peeled oranges out of the window at people celebrating pride while he drove past them and yelled insults at them. He found that really funny. Anyway, I’m sure you guys get the idea of what kind of person he is

He hasn’t laid a hand on anybody in several months though, so I do think he’s trying to be better at least. Like he’s still verbally abusive and controlling and awful, but I appreciate that he’s at least making an effort to calm down with the hitting and kicking and stuff

Anyway, with my dad, it’s less DADT and more that I think he’s got it in his head that he managed to scare me into “seeing the error of my ways” and that I’ve “stopped choosing to be gay” and that I’m now straight. So, if it had been HIM who had gotten that email, it would’ve been like… extremely bad. Like I’m getting anxious just thinking about it. And this is why I’m so angry at TTB. It was extremely, extremely irresponsible of her to not consider these kinds of possibilities before she sent out her stupid emails. She’s supposed to be an ally, but it didn’t even cross her mind that these emails would lead to people being outed and possibly even harmed?? It’s not okay at all. I’m just very grateful that she didn’t send one to him because I don’t even know what kind of situation I would be in right now.

Anyway, enough about my fucking awful dad… I feel uncomfortable that I even typed all of that out, but I wanted people to understand how dangerous her actions could have been. Like I mean, my dad’s got PTSD and extreme anger issues from his teenage years, so I do try not to judge him TOO harshly, but there’s no excuse for being a huge bigot or occasionally violent. The idea of him being the one who got that email is still so scary to me. Like my heart is racing just thinking about it

One of the people that DID read the email was the male friend I mentioned earlier though. He was shown it by someone else for a particular reason, and he was a very important person to me. Like he was a good guy, we were close, he helped me out with certain personal issues I have and is one of only two people that I know in real life that I felt comfortable confiding in about them. We’d always meet up once a week, sometimes twice, and we’d just talk about stuff and make an effort to help each other out with things. Like he was very important to me.

It turns out that he’d looked through my blog before I’d got around to scrubbing it, and he asked me if I was gay in person the next time we met up. I couldn’t lie because like… he’d have known I was lying right to his face. So, I told him I was, and you should have seen his face. It made me feel so awful about myself. He looked really stunned and shocked and kinda uncomfortable. Like it got so awkward, and I started rambling and making things worse. He was avoiding eye contact, and my voice was shaking.

I ended up making up an excuse to leave about 5 mins later and had an actual anxiety attack. Again, this is embarrassing and something I’d never usually talk about online, but I just want to get it all off my chest so that I can move past it all.

So, I was like on the verge of tears (I don’t cry easily), I couldn’t breathe properly, I was pacing around the building, and I just wanted to escape, so I headed straight for the doors. There was a queue of about 100 people lined up and waiting to leave, and I couldn’t think straight or breathe and just needed to be outside, so I tried to go out through the other exit which is for staff only. The security guard stopped me and basically publicly humiliated me in front of all of those people. He loudly shamed me and said I “didn’t have any decency” for attempted to jump the queue, lectured me in this really condescending tone, and then sent me right to the back of that huge line. Meanwhile, I was literally in the midst of a bad anxiety attack.

And then I eventually got outside and had to call my mum to come and pick me up instead of just making my own way home like I usually do. She’s amazing though tbh because she actually came to get me and didn’t even question why. I had to skip all of my plans for the rest of the day and instead just hid upstairs in my bedroom with the lights off until the next day. I refused to tell any of my family members what had happened even though they kept asking. I just felt so, so awful, and my anxiety was through the roof

To be honest, before that happened, my mindset was like: “I mean, if I get outed, it obviously wouldn’t be good, but I think I’d be able to deal with it fine”. But then, when it actually happened, and I saw the way my close friend reacted, I had like a whole emotional breakdown lol. It’s like, you think you’d be fairly chill in a situation, but when it actually happens, your reaction can be really unpredictable. I was so embarrassed by everything about that entire incident. I didn’t even want to show my face the next day.

It’s been almost two months since that happened, and in that entire time, my friend has contacted me once. We literally used to meet up once or twice a week (and during lockdown, we’d do video calls or phone calls instead), but since then, we’ve barely even spoken. Things are just so awkward now. I know this sounds stupid, but I feel like TTB’s taken one of my best friends away from me. I don’t think he’s a homophobe or anything, he has openly gay friends and is fairly accepting, but I think it’s just the way that he found out that has just made things so weird between us now. I feel like if I’d had the chance to come out to him myself in my own way, he wouldn’t have reacted like that. But I’m gonna text him next week and see if we can maybe try to fix our friendship, but I doubt it at this point

The other people who were shown the email, I mostly just avoid. I don’t really care about them knowing that much because I wasn’t close to them, but it’s just really embarrassing knowing that they probably scrolled through my Tumblr blog before I scrubbed it

And about Tumblr… This used to be the only place that I could fully be myself. It was like a “safe space” for me which feels ironic now. But I haven’t been active on my blog since December. I still lurk occasionally, but I just don’t feel comfortable here anymore. I did consider deleting my current blog and starting afresh with a new one, but I don’t think it’d make much of a difference… Like she’s kind of ruined Tumblr for me. I do still enjoy reading people’s blogs every now and then, but I don’t feel relaxed here anymore, I just feel on edge.

It’s mainly the fact that SHE’S still here. She still has a platform, she still has a bunch of followers. It’s been so hard seeing her face next to no consequences whatsoever for the horrible things that she’s done to so many different people. And it upsets me that she hasn’t even acknowledged that what she did was wrong. Plus, it makes me feel even worse that the Hard Kay blogs and some other people are still supporting her and pretending that this whole thing just didn’t happen. Like do they just not care? Or is it that she’s twisted things and made them believe that the situation was different to what it actually was?

And tbh, this whole situation has even set me back in my own sort of personal self-acceptance journey. I had such bad internalised homophobia when I was younger, and it took me so many years to get to a place where I had mostly accepted myself. But now I just feel ashamed again, and I’ve gone back to my old habit of trying to force myself to be attracted to men. Like I downloaded Tinder the other day and set my preference to men and was swiping through profiles. It’s kinda silly actually. I did snap out of it and delete the app the next day though. But I don’t know, I feel like this whole thing has just kinda fucked with me a bit. I am trying to work this stuff out and get back to normal though. I think I’ll be good again in maybe a month or so, hopefully.

And… yeah. I just really resent her, and this situation upsets me. Because the reason she did this was so petty and ridiculous, and I guess she didn’t even realise how much it would impact people? Like I do know that my situation wasn’t as bad as some of the other people’s situations, and I feel really bad for them, and I hope they’re all doing okay. I can’t imagine what it must have been like for them. But it still has impacted me a lot more than I actually thought it would. I thought I’d get over it within a couple of weeks. But it’s been like two months, and I’m still not completely over it

I know it might not sound like a huge thing, but being outed really does affect you, even if it’s only to a few people. Because to me, I feel like I’ve had my sense of like, security and comfort taken away, and it’s kinda distressing. Sorry if I sound dramatic with any of this, I just really needed to say all of this stuff to other people besides myself lol

Like her actions have literally led to me being outed to a few people. A close friendship that I had has basically been ruined. I don’t feel comfortable or secure on Tumblr anymore, even though it used to be an important outlet for me. I’ve had a resurgence of anxiety about my sexuality. Etc.

And again, my dad is extremely homophobic and literally made death threats to me and physically attacked me back when I accidentally came out to him in 2018 or 2019. And if he had gotten that email, I don’t even know what would have happened. I don’t think he would have like… SERIOUSLY physically harmed me, but there would definitely have been a repeat of the first incident. More throwing chairs at me and hitting and screaming and death threats. I don’t really want to think about it.

It just bothers me that she didn’t even consider that? Like did it not even cross her mind? And my dad is bad, but I’m sure there are people in the fandom who have even worse parents, and she could have got one of those people instead. It’s just so… I don’t know, it’s just so frustrating to me.

Anyway, I just hate her for what she did… Like maybe I shouldn’t, but I really do resent her so much, and I don’t think I could forgive her even if she apologised to us all (which I don’t think she even would because she doesn’t seem to have any decency whatsoever). The least she could do is at least express some kind of remorse, but she just genuinely doesn’t care, and that’s super messed up. All over some stupid Tumblr blog that is much less important than she thinks it is.

But anyway… I apologise for the whole rant, and if anybody read all the way down to here, I appreciate it. I do actually feel a bit better now that I’ve got this all typed out. And I’m sorry for the oversharing lol, I usually don’t do this, but I just felt like I really needed to tell people and get it off my chest so that I can try to get over it — L

submisssion⬆️⬆️⬆️

ok L i am trying to remain calm here because this isn’t about me.  but i am very emotional right now.  i am so so so infinitely sorry that you had to go through this harrowing and terrifying experience.  ttb (now blogging under spade-riddles) is absolutely disgusting, lower than dirt, that she would put your life, safety, and well-being at risk over a fucking kaylor blog.

please please please im me or get in touch somehow because i want to offer you support.  have you been financially impacted by this?  we can raise money.  do you need therapy?  we can help you find the support you need.  this community is unequivocally here for you.  whatever you need, if it’s in my power to help you get it, i will.  you have my solemn promise on that.

i am so deeply and desperately sorry that you have gone through this.  i was shaking while reading your story.

i am in touch with other people and we are in discussion about the best way to let tumblr know what happened.  this will be a safe space for you (and all of us) again if it’s the last thing i do.  this community is 100% here for you in any way we can help, sending you all the support and love we have.

[kjack89]

An Agreement Between Gentlemen (Chapter 6/?)

Continuation of the E/R Bridgerton AU, regency-era fake-marriage with all the shenanigans, and what comes after the wedding? Why, the honeymoon, of course. This got long, so I had to cut it, and, uh...sorry not sorry in advance for where it ends ;) (Chapter 1 tumblr | AO3, chapter 2 tumblr | AO3, chapter 3 tumblr | AO3, chapter 4 tumblr | AO3, chapter 5 tumblr | AO3)

Weddings, though usually happy affairs for the couple and families involved, always bring with them a certain amount of disappointment. Disappointment for suitors who find themselves spurned; disappointment for distant relatives hoping to inherit; and disappointment, perhaps most of all, for you, dear readers, as they usually signal the end of a scandal. 

It is thus with a somewhat heavy heart that this Author reports that the wedding between the Marquess of Enjolras and Adélaïde Grantaire has occurred without complication and with seemingly little fanfare. They were wed in a small, private ceremony with two of Mr. Grantaire’s household attendants as witnesses. And, assumedly, Mr. Grantaire himself, though interestingly, this Author has it on good authority that his is not one of the signatures on the marriage certificate as an official witness. An unusual move, to be sure, but nothing about this particular wedding can be otherwise described as usual.

In any case, friends and family alike await the Marquess’ return to the city, though no one seems to have any idea when that event may occur. The Earl of Courfeyrac was overheard lamenting to Viscount Prouvaire that none of their friends were invited or even informed of the wedding before reading it in this very column. Even more unusual than not standing as witness to one’s sister’s wedding may indeed be not informing one’s closest friends of one’s pending nuptials, especially when said nuptials are surrounded by scandal.

Perhaps this illustrates why the Marquess has not yet returned – between his mother and his friends, he is certain to have quite a bit of explaining to do. LADY WHISTLEDOWN’S SOCIETY PAPERS, 7 MAY 1831 

Dinner following the wedding was an understated affair, nothing like the grand feast that Enjolras was certain his mother would have planned had this been a real wedding. And while he and Grantaire carried on their conversation as if nothing much had happened that day, he couldn’t help but feel that something between them had shifted, something he could not quite find the name to but which left him feeling unmoored.

As the evening drew to a close and both men finished their after-dinner drinks (a rather hefty glass of whiskey for Grantaire, a roughly thimbleful amount of cognac for Enjolras, and only grudgingly because they were ‘celebrating’), Enjolras felt like he needed to say something, though he wasn’t entirely sure how to broach the topic.

As usual, he picked the worst possible way.

“What you said earlier,” he started as they headed upstairs from the library, and Grantaire paused, tilting his head slightly as he glanced at Enjolras, clearly waiting for an explanation of what Enjolras could possibly be referring to, and Enjolras flushed slightly before elaborating, “about the wedding night.”

Grantaire straightened, his expression evening out. “A joke, of course,” he assured Enjolras, before adding, with just a hint of a smirk, “After all, I’m not a lord, so I’m not entitled to Primae Noctis.”

Enjolras rolled his eyes. “That so-called right is apocryphal at best,” he huffed, irritation spiking at the thought of any member of the nobility claiming some kind of right to rape a subject. “Besides which, wouldn’t it only entitle you to sleep with your sister?”

Again, possibly the worst way to continue the conversation, but Grantaire just winked at him. “That’s what you think.”

Despite himself, Enjolras blushed and looked away before clearing his throat. “Rights to the wedding night notwithstanding, I don’t believe I said it earlier today, so thank you. For...everything.”

He hoped he wouldn’t need to elaborate, not because he was incapable of enumerating the great many ways Grantaire had been of service to him in recent days but because he suspected Grantaire was in a mood to turn anything he said into a joke.

To his surprise, Grantaire did not joke in response, instead frowning slightly as he paused at the top of the stairs where they were set to part to attend to their individual bedchambers. “There is no need to thank me,” he told Enjolras. “I would do the same for any of our friends.”

“Would you?” Enjolras asked, more rhetorically than anything, because he suspected they both knew that the answer was contrary to Grantaire’s words. “I asked you once, before, why you were doing this. You did not answer me then, but I thought, given everything that has happened today, you might answer me now.”

Grantaire sighed. “Enjolras—” he started, but Enjolras just shook his head.

“Why did you do all this?”

“Because…” Grantaire trailed off, something unreadable crossing his face, and before Enjolras could so much as blink, he had closed the space between them, reaching up to cup Enjolras’s cheek with one hand, the other closing around Enjolras’s cravat.

And then he kissed him.

This was not the simple pressing of lips together of before, the fumbling move Enjolras had made at the wedding. This was like a fire that seemed to sear through Enjolras from the moment their lips touched, an electricity that sparked an absolute awareness of how Grantaire’s body pressed against his, and above all else, an overwhelming and inexplicable desire to pull Grantaire even closer, to rid themselves of the fabric that were the final barriers between them, or to—

But before Enjolras could react or respond in kind, Grantaire pulled away, looking horrified. “I am sorry, my lord,” he gasped, and there was no trace of his usual joking in his use of the title. “I should not have – forgive me.”

And without another word, he disappeared into his bedchamber, leaving Enjolras standing alone in the hallway, more confused than ever.

----------

Enjolras did not generally consider himself a vain man, but there were a number of things about himself that he took pride in, one of which was his intellect. There was not usually a puzzle that he encountered which he could not decipher, or, at the very least, develop a treatise on the tools needed so that the masses could decipher the puzzle.

But Grantaire was an enigma. Had always been, from the moment they had met, Enjolras a serious boy barely on the verge of manhood, Grantaire a seldom-serious man who, as Enjolras had recently learned, had left boyhood behind long before their meeting. Where Enjolras could understand each of his friends’ motivations, the driving forces that had led them to their group, he had never understood why Grantaire joined them and a cause in which he harbored no belief, and even less why he had stayed over the years.

And yet despite their numerous arguments, the shouting matches that caused the walls to shake or even just the bickering that peppered most of their conversations, he had never once made Grantaire leave.

He understood his reasons for that least of all.

Of course, his kiss with Grantaire, and Grantaire’s reaction to it, might beat it out for things he didn’t understand. Either of his kisses with Grantaire, he realized, since he had also kissed him during the wedding ceremony, and he wasn’t sure he’d ever understand his reasoning for doing that either.

Enjolras stared up at his ceiling, having woken far too early after a fitful sleep the night before. He did not like having a puzzle he could not solve on his hands, especially when he was stuck in said puzzle’s house, far from anything that might put them on some semblance of equal footing.

The longer he stared at the ceiling, the more it became clear to him that if he was going to figure this out, it required a change of scenery for both him and Grantaire, a chance to start anew, so to speak, and see what new developments would emerge. 

And there was only one way he could think of to do so.

“I was thinking of leaving,” Enjolras announced at the breakfast table when he had finally deemed the hour late enough for him to arise. He had been strangely gladdened to see that Grantaire also looked tired, as if he too had not slept well the previous night.

Not that the thought of Grantaire not sleeping well should gladden him, but it was at least a small sign that he was not alone in being affected by the events of the previous day.

Grantaire went very still at Enjolras’s words. “Oh?” he asked, in what to Enjolras seemed a deliberately casual sort of way.

Enjolras nodded. “Yes. Madame Hucheloup reminded me that it's customary for newly married couple to take a honeymoon trip, even if just for a few days, and as I am not ready to return yet to the city, this seems an easy excuse to explain my absence in a way that does not draw suspicion like my staying here would.’

Grantaire nodded as well, avoiding Enjolras’s eyes. “Where will you go?” he asked.

“I own a cottage in the north,” Enjolras told him. “I thought I might stay there for a bit.”

Grantaire frowned slightly. “Would not your servants wonder why you are there without your wife?”

Enjolras shook his head. “It's not family property, it's a cottage I bought in my own right. As such, there are no servants, and it's remote enough that I'm not sure anyone with twenty miles has any idea who I am or would care enough to report it to someone who does.” He wasn’t sure why, but he felt the need to add, for Grantaire’s benefit, “I go up there when I need to work, mostly, or just need to get away from the bowing and scraping and whatever else.”

“Well. That sounds lovely, and I'm certain you will have a good time.”

Enjolras waited a beat before adding, his turn to be deliberately casual, “I thought you might accompany me.”

Grantaire’s eyes widened before he busied himself with a scone. “Would that not be as obvious as you staying here?”

Enjolras shrugged. “I think Madame Hucheloup can manage some convincing tales in the village of you staying here while I journey north with your sister,” he said, a smile twitching at the corners of his mouth.

“But why?”

Grantaire sounded torn between confusion and curiosity, and Enjolras shrugged again. “You don’t like being here,” he said simply.

“How—”

Enjolras should have realized that Grantaire would be surprised by that observation. He had a reputation, deserved or otherwise, of not paying attention to personal details of his friends, and he flushed slightly. “The way you spoke of your sister, and your father. This place holds no good memories.”

Grantaire’s eyes met his. “It holds a few. And more as of recent.”

“A few, then. But a great many bad ones, I’d wager.” Grantaire did not deny it and Enjolras hesitated before adding, “And I would not leave you alone with that.”

Grantaire nodded slowly, and for one heart-pounding moment, Enjolras thought he might refuse. But then he managed a small, wan smile. “In that case, I shall be glad to join you.”

Enjolras smiled as well, certain that he was one step closer to finding the answers he sought.

----------

It was a long ride up north to Enjolras’s cottage, but where the ride from the city to Grantaire’s estate had been punctuated by their usual conversation, there was none of that today. Silence hung between them instead, as Enjolras thought of a thousand conversation topics and cast them all aside, not wanting to say the wrong thing.

But eventually, the silence grew too much for him to bear, and he blurted, with a forced cheerfulness, “Lovely weather we’ve been having.”

Grantaire stared at him. “The weather,” he said, incredulity lacing both words. “You’re talking to me about the weather.”

“Well, it was that or comment on the jostling of the carriage, I suppose,” Enjolras muttered, feeling himself flush.

“And here I would assume that the jostling of the carriage is nothing compared to the struggle of the people that you champion so regularly,” Grantaire said archly, and Enjolras frowned.

“Are you trying to start this sojourn with a fight?” he asked

Grantaire just raised an eyebrow. “Trying? I do not recall ever needing to exert much energy to get you in an argumentative mood.”

Enjolras’s frown deepened. “Perhaps not, but…”

“But what?”

“But nothing,” Enjolras muttered, not wanting to tell him that he thought things might be different between them now. Different how was the real question, and that was the answer he was endeavoring to find. Of course, maybe nothing was different – maybe Enjolras was reading far too much into one stupid moment and they would return to the city and everything would fall back into place as it always had been.

He hated that he felt almost disappointed at that prospect.

“Tell me about this cottage we’re going to,” Grantaire said abruptly, and Enjolras blinked at him. “It’s only fair, you interrogated me about my home when we were en route there.”

“I’d hardly call it an interrogation,” Enjolras scoffed.

Grantaire’s expression didn’t change. “Maybe not, but the point still stands.”

Enjolras supposed it did. “It belonged to a distant relative of my mother’s,” he said. “A great-aunt, I think, though I only ever knew her as Auntie. It’s a couple of hours by horseback from the northernmost Enjolras family holdings. I was sent there as a child one summer for some fresh air.”

“Fresh air being assumedly in short supply at the Enjolras manor,” Grantaire remarked dryly.

Enjolras barked a laugh. “Truth be told, my parents just wanted me out of the way.” He sighed and shook his head. “My mother had discovered she was carrying another child, and I suppose my father didn’t want me underfoot.”

Grantaire blinked. “I did not realize you had a sibling.”

“I didn’t. My mother miscarried.”

Something tightened in Grantaire’s expression. “I am sorry.”

Enjolras jerked a nod. “Thank you,” he said quietly. “It’s not the same as losing a sibling, of course, but it was still a loss. A loss of possibility, really, of what could have been…” He trailed off and shook his head, his tone turning wistful. “But for one glorious summer, it was just me, in a cottage with no servants, no lessons, no expectations about how I should behave or speak as a future marquess. It was the best summer of my life.”

He shook his head once more to clear it of the memories that rose to the forefront of his mind. “When my mother’s great-aunt died, there were no close relatives to inherit, so the estate was going to pass to some even more distant relation, but I offered to purchase it instead. I used a small inheritance I received when my maternal grandfather died so that it couldn’t be lumped in with the Enjolras holdings. And it’s been mine ever since.”

“It’s not much of course,” he added, and he wasn’t sure why he felt the need to assure Grantaire of that, or to warn him. “Four bedrooms, I think, though one I don’t think I’ve been into in ten years, and another is used for storage. There’s a woman in the village nearby whom I retain to clean it every few weeks.” He paused before adding, suddenly feeling almost tongue-tied, “You’re the first person I’ve ever brought to stay.”

Grantaire looked surprised by that. “Truly? Not even Combeferre or Courfeyrac?”

Enjolras shook his head. “No.”

“I am...touched, I suppose.” Grantaire made a dry noise that might have been an attempt at a chuckle. “Hopefully I’ll not taint your memories of the place.”

“I’m certain you won’t.”

“You say that now, and yet…” Grantaire trailed off, looking almost troubled. “Dare I ask why you’re allowing me to intrude on what until now has been something of a sanctuary for you?”

Enjolras frowned. “I told you, I did not wish to leave you alone—”

“Yes, and it’s a noble gesture, but you know as well as I that I could have returned to the city, or gone any number of places.”

Enjolras made a face. “I do know that you are far more popular than I, yes.” Grantaire laughed and Enjolras managed a small smile before continuing, “I suppose I was looking for us both to get a small dose of reality before we returned to the city.”

Grantaire’s smile disappeared. “Reality,” he murmured, something almost dull in his voice. “Of course.”

“As much as I would love to continue living in this little fiction we’ve spun—” Grantaire did not laugh and Enjolras frowned, wondering if he had somehow said the wrong thing. “Anyway,” he muttered, “that’s why.”

They continued the journey in relative silence after that, and when Enjolras finally spotted the familiar grey stonework out the carriage window, he had never been so relieved. “We’re here,” he announced, rather unnecessarily, as the carriage drew to a halt.

Grantaire stepped out of the carriage and turned automatically to offer Enjolras his hand to help him down. “I can see why you come up here to think,” he said, surveying the rambling moors that extended in any given direction. “No distractions.” He gave Enjolras a mischievous smile. “Are you certain you want me here to ruin all that?”

Enjolras arched an eyebrow and looked pointedly after the carriage, which had already left. “Bit late to change my mind, don’t you think?”

Grantaire’s smile faded. “I suppose so,” he murmured, bending to pick up what luggage they had brought and ignoring Enjolras’s protestations that he was perfectly capable of carrying the luggage himself.

Once inside, both men stood a little awkwardly just past the entryway. Enjolras cleared his throat, casting about for a neutral topic. “Shall I make us some tea?” he asked, falling back on manners when all else had failed him.

Grantaire just shrugged. “Don’t feel obligated.”

“I do believe it’s considered good manners when hosting one’s brother-in-law, no matter how fictional the bond,” Enjolras said, aiming for a joke. “Or one’s bride, I suppose, depending on how one wished to look at it.”

But Grantaire didn’t look amused. “None for me, thanks.”

“Right,” Enjolras said, his heart sinking. “How about a tour, then?”

Grantaire shrugged again, but this time seemed inclined to actually go along with it, which was good, as it gave Enjolras at least a little more to drone on about as they made their way through the cottage. Of course, the cottage was only so big, so the tour itself was a brief affair, though Enjolras was somewhat relieved that Grantaire seemed to regain at least some of his good humor as they went. 

“So what do you think?” Enjolras asked as they finished the tour in the library.

“It’s not what I was expecting,” Grantaire admitted.

Enjolras glanced sideways at him. “Dare I ask what you were expecting?” he asked, equal parts wary and curious.

“Oh, the usual,” Grantaire said loftily, waving a hand as he plopped down on a sofa. “Threadbare curtains, a straw mattress to sleep on, no decorations…”

“You expected me to live like a monk?”

“Well, the vow of poverty seemed apt,” Grantaire mused before smirking at Enjolras. “Though I suppose were that the case, you would have abdicated your title and its associated lands, properties and incomes long ago.”

Enjolras knew Grantaire well enough to know when he was picking a fight, and he knew this was one of those times, even if he had no inkling of why Grantaire was choosing now to quarrel. Either way, he really did not wish to spend their first night in the north fighting, so he forced himself not to rise to the occasion. “Yes, well, as I am neither monk nor saint, I suppose I can indulge in a few comforts now and then,” he said instead before changing the subject. “I’m going to go down to the village before it gets too late to stock up on some food for our stay. Do you wish to accompany me?”

“No, I think I’ll stay here, see about perhaps getting some painting set up,” Grantaire said, but without much enthusiasm, and Enjolras frowned, unsure why Grantaire’s mood seemed so all over the place.

“Right,” he said. “Well. I’ll be back soon.”

“Pick up some whiskey while you’re down there, would you?” Grantaire asked, in a way that Enjolras couldn’t tell if it was a joke or not.

“And raise suspicions that I’ve suddenly returned as a drunk?” he said, aiming for a joke of his own. “We must keep up appearances, after all.”

But Grantaire just seemed to further deflate at that. “Right,” he said dully. “Appearances, and fiction, and all that.”

Enjolras had no idea what to even say to that, so he took his leave instead, hoping that by the time he returned, Grantaire might find himself in a better mood.

His trip to the village was a brief one, and he brought back enough food supplies for their supper and to break their fast in the morning, with more to be delivered the following day. When he returned, he was pleased to see that Grantaire had lit the fireplace in the kitchen, the library and both bedrooms, though he appeared to have abandoned his quest to paint, as he was instead absorbed in some ancient tome he had found in the library. Their evening was spent in relative but comfortable quiet as Enjolras read through some parliamentary briefings and Grantaire continued perusing the book, as similar an evening as many they had spent together over the years when their meetings had finished and it was just the two of them left in the backroom of the Musain.

But all too soon, Grantaire put the book down and stood. “I am going to call it an early night,” he told Enjolras. “I will see you on the morrow.”

“Of course,” Enjolras said, a little surprised as he looked over at the mantel clock. “Well, I was thinking perhaps we might take a walk tomorrow? Explore nearby and such?”

Grantaire glanced at the window. “It looks like it’s going to rain,” he said flatly, and before Enjolras could respond, he added, “Have a good night.”

All in all, Enjolras reflected when he too went to bed a few hours later, it was not at all what he had expected, and he was beginning to think this was a bad idea.

Still, he rose the next morning determined to make the best of it, only to quickly discover that Grantaire had risen with the opposite attitude, picking at his food over breakfast and staring out at the rain lashing against the window.

His mood only seemed to worsen as the day went on, and as Enjolras busied himself with some accounting work for one of his estates that was well overdue, Grantaire took to pacing impatiently. This would not ordinarily bother Enjolras, who had a tendency to get absorbed in his work, but the cottage was only so big and Grantaire’s pacing could perhaps be better categorized as stomping about.

On his fifth lap past Enjolras’s desk, Enjolras gritted his teeth and tried very hard not to stab his paper with his pen. “I would offer you some entertainment, if I had any to offer,” he said as politely as one could through clenched teeth.

Grantaire snorted derisively. “I am not a child,” he snapped. “I do not need to be entertained.”

Ordinarily, Enjolras would have shot back that Grantaire could have fooled him, as he was certainly acting childish, but he held his tongue, not wanting to cause an argument on only their second day. “Very well,” he said instead, continuing his tone of politeness. “I’ll leave you to your own amusement, then.”

“God, how can there be no alcohol in this entire building?” Grantaire burst. “Not even a single bottle of cooking sherry.”

Enjolras frowned. “Well, seeing as how I very rarely partake…”

“Yes, but surely one as well-bred as you knows to keep refreshments on hand for guests,” Grantaire said sourly.

Comments on Enjolras’s breeding were the fastest way to get under Enjolras’s skin, and he took a moment to stop from snapping. “Certainly, and I’m sure you would enjoy the wine cellar at any of my family’s estates,” he said finally, almost murderously polite. “But since I never imagined entertaining guests here—”

“Torture seems more accurate,” Grantaire muttered, flopping down on the sofa. “And your imagination needs some work.”

“Yes, well, I never dreamed that I would find myself entangled in such an elaborate fiction that would have me bringing you of all people here,” Enjolras snapped, dropping the façade of civility. “Or perhaps the real fiction was imagining that you and I might have an enjoyable time without the aid of alcohol!”

Grantaire cursed and stood. “Well forgive me, my lord,” he snapped, crossing to the door and yanking it open, that neither the real nor the fictional version of myself is not up to your standards.”

“Where in the bloody hell are you going?” Enjolras asked incredulously, half-shouting to be heard over the roar of the storm from the open door.

“Anywhere but here!” Grantaire shouted back, slamming the door after him.

Enjolras cursed as well and rushed to the door, opening it to shout after him. “Grantaire!” he shouted, but the man ignored him, stomping away through the mud. “Grantaire!” Again, there was no answer, and Enjolras lost what remained of his temper. “Fine!” he shouted. “Then I hope you drown out there!:

He slammed the door closed and stormed back to his desk. But he was too incensed to continue working and he didn’t bother sitting down, just crushing the piece of paper he’d been writing on into a ball.

What had he honestly expected? When had Grantaire ever risen to Enjolras’s expectations, and why had he assumed he would start now?

Because the man had kissed him, once? And then immediately fled?

Enjolras had clearly been deluding himself into thinking there was anything more between them when Grantaire could not go an hour without trying to stir up animosity. 

Not that he cared. Not that he did not spend the next twenty minutes pretending he did not glance at the door every time the house creaked, expecting or hoping Grantaire had returned. Not that he began to worry, when the clock chimed the hour. Not that he regretted whatever it was he had said or done that had made Grantaire leave.

What had he expected?

Something, anything, to show him that he was not imagining it, that what there was between them was real. Something, anything, to show that Grantaire might feel even just a little bit of what he did.

Something, anything, to prove that Grantaire cared.

And when had Grantaire ever cared about anything?

His fuming might well have sustained him for the entire night, but as one hour crept toward two and Grantaire had still not returned, Enjolras’s anger was rapidly replaced with worry. He had not been joking when he had told Grantaire that there was no one within twenty miles besides the village, and Grantaire could easily have gotten lost, or hurt, or, as Enjolras had shouted at him, drowned in the deluge still downpouring outside.

Enjolras was not entirely sure how he could live with himself were any of the latter options the case.

Resolved, he grabbed a coat from the front closet and went outside, squinting against the rain as he surveyed the horizon for any sign of Grantaire. There was none, but there were footprints, at least, half-filled with puddles of water from where Grantaire had assumedly sloshed through the mud as he had stormed away.

His trail was easy enough to follow, but every step away from the cottage filled Enjolras with trepidation. If anything had happened to Grantaire— If any harm had come to him—

The trail came to an abrupt stop at a large puddle of water that was growing rapidly, and Enjolras heart sank. Any sign of Grantaire would be washed away, surely, or else—

“What in the devil are you doing out here?”

Grantaire had to shout to be heard, especially as a crack of thunder boomed across the moor, but Enjolras had never been so glad to hear his voice, hoarse and tired as it was. He turned to find Grantaire huddled in the lee of a large tree nearby, clearly trying to wait out the worst of the storm and, judging by the mud that stained his trousers and the fact that every inch of him was soaked through, failing miserably.

He looked awful, but to Enjolras, he had never looked more perfect.

“Oh thank God,” Enjolras breathed, crossing to him in three long strides and pulling him into an embrace. “I thought you had gotten hurt, or lost, or—”

Grantaire pushed him away. “Yes, well, now you can see that I’m alright, so you can go—”

“Alright?” Enjolras interrupted, incredulous. “You’re soaked through to the bone! If you stay out here much longer, you’re liable to catch your death.”

“It honestly might be preferable at this rate,” Grantaire muttered.

Enjolras scowled. “If this is how you’re going to be, I’ve half a mind to leave you here and let you drown.”

“Good,” Grantaire shot back. “At least you’d be showing some hint of your old self!”

Enjolras stared at him. “What in the hell are you talking about?” he demanded. “I’ve been nothing but courteous to you this entire trip, while you’ve tried to start a fight at every turn!”

“Of course I have,” Grantaire snapped. “Because fighting is what we do! It’s who we are! And I’ve been trying to prove to myself that nothing has changed, that you’re still you and I’m still me.” Enjolras just stared blankly at him, squinting against the rain, and Grantaire sighed, running a hand across his face which Enjolras was certain accomplished absolutely nothing to clear it of the rain. “But things have changed, and it’s what I never wanted to happen but what I always feared would, if I were ever to be stupid enough to…” He trailed off. “And I can’t stand you being polite to me, it’s driving me absolutely mad, and if it continues for much longer, it may very well kill me before this rain gets a chance to.”

If anything, Enjolras was even more lost than before. “What are you talking about?” he repeated, more a plea than anything, begging for some kind of rational explanation.

Grantaire just shook his head and returned his question with one of his own. “How?” he demanded. “How do you not know?”

If this was a puzzle, Enjolras had grown incredibly tired of trying to figure it out. “Because I’m extraordinarily stupid, apparently?”

Grantaire glared at him, though when he spoke again, the bitterness in her voice seemed directed more at himself than anything. “You really must be, because I’ve been the most obvious idiot of all time.”

Enjolras didn’t know why he bothered asking for a third time, but he couldn’t stop himself. “What do you mean?”

“I mean—” Grantaire threw his hands up in the air in frustration. “I mean, I’m in love with you, you fool!”

Enjolras gaped at him. “You – what?”

[theinternetisfulloftrash]

Far Away From L.A.

Story Summary: Dylan arrives ahead of production to a new filming location to get a break from L.A. It’s a small town in eastern Canada that’s remote and serene. While he’s enjoying the touch of anonymity that comes with filming in a rural town where most people couldn’t care less who he was, he meets Amelia.

Pairing: Dylan x OFC

Warnings: eventual smut, RPF, slight angst, general naughtiness

Authors Note: My best-laid plans are always left scattered in ruin. If you’ve lived up to this point thinking raking leaves isn’t a sexy activity, think again ;) Special thanks again to the lovely @dylanmischief !

Index: Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 / Chapter 7 / Chapter 8 / Chapter 9 / Chapter 10 / Chapter 11 / Chapter 12 /  Chapter 13 / Chapter 14 / Chapter 15 / Chapter 16 / Chapter 17 / Chapter 18 / Chapter 19

Chapter 8: Exposed (Amelia POV)

The sun was bright in the sky overhead as Amelia stood in her driveway looking up through the scattered canopy of leaves that remained on the old maple that sat in her front yard. They practically shimmered in the slight autumn breeze. Despite the time of year, it was already hot. She was glad she checked the weather, because she wouldn’t normally have put on shorts in October. She rocked on her heels, anxious fingers tucked behind the strap of her shoulder bag. She twisted around and looked at her house, watching her father through the window, standing at the kitchen sink sipping his coffee. 

She took her phone out of her pocket, looking at the time: 10:50 am. She cleared a few annoying and pointless push notifications and then opened her text message history with Dylan. She smiled as she read over the short conversation they’d had the night before. She’d agonized over what to say, or even whether to send the initial message in the first place. She blushed reading one message in particular: 

Dylan: “Oh. I’m counting on it 😏”

She’d practically thrown her phone across the couch when she’d read it. Cupping her hand over her mouth. She was trying to tease him a little, but wasn’t necessarily expecting him to throw it right back at her so quick. She read it about 15 times before she could even bring herself to try to respond. She’d tapped out a few options, all of them quickly deleted, like: 😅, I’ll be counting these 🐑, kjansdkfjnDF, and others before settling on a callback to their earlier conversation. She’d set her phone between her feet with her knees bent up to her chest as she waited for his reply, nervously chewing on the collar of her oversized sleep shirt. And she was relieved when it seemed he found it funny.

When she’d finally plugged her phone in next to the pull-out couch and shut out the lights, she was buzzing, not sure how she’d ever get to sleep. She ran through the entire day over and over in her mind, getting stuck for too long on how his lips had felt on her skin. What was she even doing? This was Dylan O’Brien. I guess the better question was: what was he doing? 

Continue Reading on AO3

I’ve migrated the fic over there. If for some reason you’ve been reading along on tumblr and don’t have access to AO3, please let me know. With the content that will be coming in future chapters, I think it is better that it exist there.

Thanks everyone!

Trashy the Trash Panda