#please let him into Red Ball Diner for his birthday

[l1m3g0r3]

EVERYONE TELL THE DIVORCED WOOD MAN HAPPY BIRTHDAY

[wroteclassicaly]

A/N: Feeling a little (a lot) soft, have this visual. So here y’all go 💚💛

Warnings: Tooth rotting fluff, pregnancy, mentions Steve with a breast milk kink, and mild smut.

It’s nearing sundown now, Indiana weather deciding to slack off on humidity for most of the day. You’ve been outside with your family for hours. Chlorine, pb&j for lunch, sun lotion, scattered towels and hats, naps, making bets that one could do a cannon ball better than the other. You’d had your shower first when the evening fell, your oldest helping you bathe your toddler afterwards, Steve having his time to clean up following suit, finishing off the Harrington brood by bathing the twins. Everyone was tired, muscles aching, sleep wearing you all down.

Still, you all loaded into the brand new minivan Steve was excited to buy, parked right next to the BMW in your garage — and ventured to the new diner in town. Burgers, hot dogs, fries, and milkshakes galore. It all ended in time for the kids to catch their nightly cartoons and flood the backyard with various toys. Your firstborn child - recently having turned seven, she wanted to do pedicures tonight, as promised. But what you didn’t expect was for her to ask if she could please paint your toes first.

And here you are, reclining back on an old quilt Steve owned as a teenager, yellow sundress swaying with the evening summer breeze, your left hand resting atop your swollen belly, enjoying each little kick baby Harrington number five gives to your palm, with your daughter focussed intently on painting your toenails a nice cherry red. What you could make out of her over your stomach, she’s got her tongue poked in concentration, just like her dad. Speaking of which, you catch his golden wedding band hitting the light, his bare feet moving through freshly cut grass, and he’s standing at your side, the twins walking beside him, your toddler holding hands in the middle. Three girls and one boy — every single child having Steve’s eye color. Everyone is currently taking bets on what this next baby will be, but Steve doesn’t care either way, neither do you.

He’s wear tight denim Levi’s and a white tank top, his silver chain nestled in his chest hair. He’s got a little bit of a beard growing out, glasses resting on his face, highlighted hair overgrown and curling at the ends. His never fading beauty. Not to mention the life he’s provided you with, the growing family. Protector was in Steve’s blood, so it’s made more and more sense to you as the years went, how much of a hands on dad he is, even with the girls interests.

He never pressured you to have a child, let alone this many. But it’s what you found yourself wanting the first several months into your marriage. You could pursue life goals and have a family if you battled dangerous underworlds. Having careers as a balance, it wasn’t easy. Arguments, tears, fears, only to come out stronger.

The twins - dressed in bibbed overalls, they let your toddler go as she toddles over to Steve and clings to his leg. He scoops her up and takes his place near your ankles, watching your daughter work. Your twin girl (her’s and her brother’s fifth birthday party looming), asks if she can paint too. Not long after, your son also questions. It’s going to be a canvas kinda mess on your feet, and you honestly can’t wait.

“Everybody grab a color. Let’s make mommy feel super special, alright?” Steve’s deep voice sounds, making you smile softly, eyes raising to look at the peach sky, pink streaking across, mixing in with blue hues - sundown.

~*~

You’ve just finished putting the last kid down for bed, most of them already out. By the time you shut the door your oldest is snoring… just like Steve. He surprises you in the hallway outside of your bedroom door, admiring the pictures Jonathan has taken throughout the past seven years; the first one, Steve’s massive hand print on your swollen belly, photo two, Steve’s hand print and a new, tinier little set of fingers, photograph three, Steve’s print and the print of two growing little hands, plus another small hand, and the last/current photo, your tummy is covered in four different sizes of tiny handprints, Steve’s huge print beside. He slides in beside you and wraps his arms around your swollen torso, his chin on your shoulder. You relax into his scent immediately, your hands clasping through his own.

“You ready for bed, honey? We were pretty busy today.”

You’re ready for a lot more than bed. Your evaporating energy being charged into a live wire, open and sparking. You turn in Steve’s arms and reach for his hand, leading him into your double door master, securing it behind you. He’d checked on all the kids, baby monitors up. Now he wants to take care of you, his wife.

The sight of you in your sundress, how it flares out from your being pregnant, to your full breasts sitting inside. Steve’s hand finds its way up your thigh, fabric following, his nose dipping into the crease of your breasts, his mouth sucking at whatever cleavage he can find. It’s always been a secret kink of his, your breast milk. And he’s the best at getting a duct unclogged for you, helping you when you’re too sore. You tilt your head back, letting him work the zipper, dress gliding off your body and pooling at your feet.

One spare hand of his finds your growing stomach, thumb at your navel. You’re practically mush, body heavy, head light. He kisses each swell, nosing up your collar bone until he’s meeting your shoulder, to your neck, and finally, your lips. On the wet break away, he’s speaking lowly, reserved.

“Go get on the bed, honey. Let me clean up your feet a little first. I’m afraid our merry band of artists can’t quite stay in the lines yet.”

“You, or the kids, Steve?”

He briefly pauses on his way to the bathroom, hands on his hips. Some things never change. You roll your eyes and discard your undergarments, climbing into the comfort of the covers. He’s back in seconds with polish remover and a Q tip, but stops short at your naked form, propped and running your fingers over the stretch of skin. He forgets how to breathe, what to say.

Thoughts of worshipping every mark, how you’re changing, the way he could never thank you for being you, for giving this family, and just the sheer thought that he misses your body, what you two have, alone — kids aside, it has him swallowing harshly. You can sense him watching you and you turn to your husband. He clambers into bed, still fully clothed, breathing choppy. You coo him into calming down, and he begins his work on your feet, massaging them once he’s done, shedding his own clothing after washing his hands. You’re waiting for him on your back, upper half propped by pillows.

Steve slowly descends beside you, already half hard, knuckles gently dragging up your arm and over your breasts, before they path down your stomach and ultimately find you between your legs. “All these years and you never stop getting this wet for me, honey.”

You cup him by the back of his neck, fingers tangling into the curls there, his necklace swaying as he uses muscular arms to keep himself from resting his weight on you. You grab it, trying to keep a hold of it as he helps you onto your side. At eight months, this is the most comfortable position for you right now. By the time Steve is sliding into you, you’re both giving into whining sighs, to the point of near tears. You’ve missed him, even if it’s only been a few nights.

You’ve been like this every single pregnancy, that never changing in spite of their differences. Once approved by the doctor, you rarely want to leave his side during these overly intense feelings. Steve rolls with whatever is happening, there when you want him to be, giving you space when you don’t. Nothing is the same, life is always interesting for the Harrington’s.

[uwuwriting]

Tamaki, Todoroki and Shinsou  in a secret relationship....and how they got caught.

Request: Hello I love your blog and since your requests are open I would like to request Tamaki Todoroki and Shinsou being in a secret relationship for a long time and how they got outed. If you could write something similar for Semi, Akaashi, Kenma and Sakusa from Haikyuu you would be a blessing. I love you!!!! - anonymous

Awww of course I’ll write for the Haikyuu boys as well. I’ll write later this week or the next and since its almost midnight here HAPPY BIRTHDAY SHINSOU!!!! I have a special soulmate au as I usually do for my husband!!!! I’m sorry I’m not getting to those soulmate aus quicker 😣😣😣😣. Love yaa.💖💖💖💖

rules 

warnings: fluff

Amajiki Tamaki 

-He’s so shy omggg.

-How did you manage to get him into a relationship???

-He loves you to the moon and back. 

-Would do anything for you. 

-You two were in the same class all through out high school and during your second year he asked you out. 

-Okay not exactly. 

-You were studying in the library together during a really bad storm when the lights went out. 

-Loud lightning followed and you jumped out of your skin. 

-You were terrified of lightning and being paired with complete darkness you were petrified. 

-Now Tamaki had had a crush on you since early last year and seeing you so terrified and vulnerable he pushed through his anxiety for a split moment and wrapped you in a hug, stroking your hair soothingly as he tried to calm you down. 

- “I-I’ll p-protect you. I-I w-won’t let a-anything h-hurt you..... ever.”

-That’s how your relationship began basically. 

-He comforted you and kept you safe, shielding you from your fears. 

-Everything else is history. 

-Now you are both third years in your respective hero studies with a bright future in front of you. 

-Your relationship has been kept a secret mainly because both of you don’t like making your private lives public. 

-Only Nejire and Mirio know. 

-Surprisingly they have kept it a secret. 

-Fatgum has a suspicion that Tamaki has someone in his life, someone really important. 

-So important he had called in one time claiming that he had an emergency and wouldn’t make it to the agency. 

-When Fatgum asked, Tamaki began stuttering and mumbling about someone really close to him being sick and needing help. 

-In reality you were on your period and had awful cramps.

-You were feeling like death, curled up in a ball on Tamaki’s bed and refusing to move. 

-You had begged him to go to his hero study but he claimed that you were more important, not going to the agency for an evening wouldn’t mark the end of the world. 

-Then Chisaki happened and Tamaki was badly injured. 

-Your agency was stationed outside so you couldn’t help him or know what had happened. 

-You had a broken arm after the fight and was being escorted to the ambulances when you saw Tamaki being carried on a stretcher blood running down his cheek as his arms and whole body was covered in bruises, cuts and so much blood. 

-Your feet moved on their own accord, sprinted through the crowd ignoring the calls of the medic until you reached your boyfriend. 

- “Tama? T-Tamaki baby wake up.”

-Fatgum saw you touch Tamaki’s cheek with your good hand and how, when the boy weakly opened his eyes, he placed his own hand over yours. 

-Tears were running down your cheeks as you looked at him, following the medics as they placed the stretcher in the ambulance. 

-They told you that he would be fine and that you should find another medical team that could take care of your arm. 

-Everything fell apart though when you saw Mirio and Sir Nighteye. 

-Everything was a mess but Fatgum noticed how you would always look back to Tamaki’s ambulance as it drove off. 

-In the hospital you didn’t leave Tamaki’s room, insisting on getting your bandages changed in his room refusing to get your own and leave his side. 

-Fatgum was happy for him. 

-Especially when he went to visit and found Tamaki holding you close to him. 

-Your head was over his heart as he gently massaged your back, tears falling down your cheeks once again. 

-Then he kissed your forehead and Fatgum knew that this wasn’t a moment he wanted to interrupt. 

-When he did visit along side Kirishima he didn’t lose a bit before he asked about you. 

-You were surprisingly not beside him deciding to visit Mirio again to see how he was coping. 

- “So... what’s her name hm?”

- “W-Who?”

- “Your girlfriend!!”

-Tamaki burst into a deep blush as he tried hiding his face in his hands. 

- “Come one I’ve seen how she looks at you and how you kissed her OH so lovingly on the forehead the other day was the cut-”

- “Y/N! H-her n-name is Y-Y/N.”

-Kirishima is standing there, jaw almost touching the floor when you open the door and peek inside. 

- “Oh! I’m sorry.... I-I’ll come back later....”

-Okay now Kirishima is already kind losing it because he didn’t expect his shy senpai to have a girlfriend. 

-So when Tamaki lets out a very low, slightly above a whisper, “But bunny....” he freaking snaps. 

- “WHAT!!!!”

- “Kirishima we’re in a hospital!”

-Get ready to be bombarded with questions....poor you.

-At least you get to sit next to Tamaki while you are being interrogated. 

-They insisted on that saying that they wouldn’t keep Tamaki away from his girl...Tamaki is burying his face in your hair....shy baby.

Todoroki Shouto

-Okay so your relationship is a secret because of his dad. 

-He wanted to shield you from his toxicity. 

-Plus Shouto knew that his dad would force you two apart and he couldn’t let that happen. 

-So you are his little secret. 

-Only his mom knows about you.

-Shouto took you to meet her after your one year anniversary.

-He loves you so damn much he could die. 

-So seeing the two most important women in his life interact and get along he melts. 

-As you say your goodbye to Rei she hugs you, thanking you for taking care of her baby and that your secret will be safe with her. 

-Then she moves on to Shouto as you wait in the hallway. 

- “I like her Shouto. She really loves you. Please take good care of her.”

-Boy falls in love with you all over again I swear to god. 

-Now you spend a lot of time in his dorm. 

-When I say a lot I mean it. 

-You remember how Shouto managed to remodel his room in an afternoon during their first day in the dorms. 

-Yeah that’s what he does for your dates. 

-Since you can’t risk going to outdoor dates very often since it’s very easy for a paparazzi to spot the son of Endeavor.

-Especially if he is holding hands with someone else. 

-Natsuo actually warned you about that and he was the one to suggest dorm dates. 

-He had taken his girlfriend out on a diner date and the next day they were all over multiple tabloids accompanied by multiple calls from Endeavor. 

-All Todoroki children hide their s/o’s......even Fuyumi. 

-Anyways back to Shouto. 

-You spend so much time in his room that you tend to leave some of your clothes there. 

-You change into his hoodies in his room so forgetting your shirt there is a usual phenomenon.

-Plus you do the dirty so.... scattered clothes.

-Now Todoroki is friends with Momo.

-And Momo is friends with you. 

-And she has seen your closet on multiple occasions. 

-She knows your clothes.....you see where I’m going with this?

-Todoroki was struggling with some chemistry problems and you were out doing your hero studies. 

-You had apologized to him multiple times and had suggested Momo as the perfect tutor. 

-That’s why Momo is now alone in his room as he is making tea in the kitchen, looking at what seems to be like one of your favorite sweaters. 

-You had gotten it during Christmas and wouldn’t take it off for a week straight. 

-You had basically brainwashed them by how often you wear it. 

-Why was it in Todoroki’s room though?

- “Todoroki-kun why do you have L/N-san’s sweater?”

-He froze.

-You had stayed the night last Monday and you had been wearing that sweater. 

-He remembers it vividly since he was the one who took it off.....along with your bra.......that he threw somewhere in the room.....AND MOMO COULD FIND AT ANY MOMENT.

-Momo was starting to get worried because well....he had been standing at the same spot for a solid minute staring at absolutely nothing. 

-Standing up she went to shake his shoulder when her eyes caught a bright red fabric peeking out from under the desk.

-Brushing past him she crouched down and grabbed the fabric revealing the red bra. 

-Todoroki snapped out of his shock state the moment Momo reached for the bra strap. 

-He couldn’t stop her though....

- “T-Todoroki-kun.....” 

-And as if things couldn’t get any worse, his phone started to ring as your photo appeared on the screen your name replaced by a heart surrounded ‘babygirl’.

-Todoroki groaned at well everything. 

-Momo was blushing like crazy STILL holding your bra. 

-You two had a lot of things to explain. 

Shinsou Hitoshi

-I’ve said this before. 

-You never meant your relationship to be a secret. 

-At least not in the beginning. 

-You two just never acted like a couple and people assumed that you were just good friends.

-Then you heard Aizawa scaring a boy who had made Mina cry so.........dating his special trainee while you were one of his FEMALE students?

-Nope.

-A secret it is.

-Aizawa is a protective dad and you can’t change my mind. 

-You have a collection of hoodies you have ‘borrowed’ that you wear only inside your or his dorm. 

-And while you sleep. 

-Falling asleep surrounded by his scent is heaven. 

-Aizawa has caught you twice wearing his hoodies.

-Once when Shinsou got turned into a baby and once when you went to get water and he scared you shitless. 

-Aizawa knows about yalls relationship. 

-You can run but you cannot hide child. 

-Anyways. 

-You had a box full of Polaroids from your dates. 

-He knew how happy you were when you two took photos that’s why he bought you a Polaroid. 

-Now you can print your photos and decorate your room. 

-Shinsou is an insomniac.

-We’ve been knew. 

-So on the rare days when he feels kinda sleepy but he misses you so badly he can’t really fall asleep he’ll sneak in your dorm and have an impromptu sleepover. 

-You don’t complain of course. 

-You love to snuggle up to him.

-Also this boy loves wrapping you up in his arms.

-Snuggles snuggles snuggles. 

-Irrelevant information: he has you saved on his phone as kitten and your contact photo is you hanging upside down from the ceiling wrapped up in his capture tool. 

-He had tried teaching you to use it and you somehow managed to climb on the bookcase trying to remake that scene from Tarzan but the cloth got caught on the ceiling fan resulting in this hilarious photo. 

-Back to your sleepover.

-He falls asleep like in the blink of an eye.

-Your sleep that night is the best both of you have had in a fat while. 

-Plus the fact that its the weekend lets you enjoy each others warmth for as long as you like. 

-YES YOU SLEPT IN!!!!

-Being friends with Mina and Kaminari is a ride. 

-Sero and Bakubro and maybe Kiri in some occasions are damage control but they get tired and let you take care of the children. 

-You had promised to go out shopping that morning, a plan you totally forgot when Shinsou tapped your window last night. 

-Giving Mina a spare key to your room was the worst decision you could have made considering you were in a secret relationship. 

-When you didn’t show up on time the two idiots waited for an hour before they made their way to your room.

-Using the spare key she pushed the door open letting out a long “Y/N-CHAAAAN!!!” which scared the soul out of your bodies. 

-You let out a startled scream that woke Hitoshi up who without missing a bit pulled you under him shielding you from whatever made you scream. 

-It was purely on instinct to save and protect you hfqpirhfhsod so cute!!!!

-Mina was left staring at the scene in front of her while Kaminari was calling Sero begging him to come to your room. 

-I don’t know how they didn’t attract dadzawa.

-You would get your ass whooped. 

-Shopping was long forgotten as the whole Bakusquad came one by one in your room waiting for the tea to be spilled. 

-Mina and Sero were angry since they have tried time and time again to hook you up with multiple of their friends, Bakugou didn’t care but he approved, Kaminari and Kirishima were threatening Shisnou if he ever were to break your heart. 

- “I love her you dumbasses I’m not going to hurt her!!!”

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[the-soliloquies-of-sadists]

#246

“Here boy. I know who and what you are. Do you know who I am?… Liar. You’re a faggot liar. Yes you do. You have been drooling over me for weeks now. Follow me. I got us a room at the motel next door….

“The regulars here at the diner don’t care that I prefer fucking faggots like you over broads. I just don’t broadcast it like you do. I’ve seen you talking to some of the boys I have fucked. You know I have a big dick and that I pile drive boy cunt.

“I’ve seen you in the parking lot. You watch the guys like me going into the bookstore across the lot. You want to follow them in, but the bookstore won’t let you. They know you’re underage. Until today. Now you are legal to fuck. Yeah, I know your 18th birthday is today. I know a lot of things about you. I know you cruise the bookstore, and the bathroom the bar shares with the diner. I know you are finishing up at high school.

“Here’s our room. I fuck the owner and he let’s me use a secluded empty room whenever I need. So, you can scream when I tear up your cunt. Having a big dick has many many many advantages. I need to let off some steam from a long day on the farm. Get naked, I’m gonna get the ropes out. My reputation is well known that I am a twisted fucker. Hell my conquests told you the such, and yet you came with me here.

“Always remember this, I am always in control of everything. Right now, that includes you. Naked. And then get on your knees and face me. See, it’s natural for you to follow orders. And where’s your phone?… Hand it to me…. Continue stripping. Well,… You’re kinda scrawny. You’ve never worked a hard day at anything, and it shows. Damn your pecker is tiny. That’s the way I like it. My cock is fucking huge, and you need to realize your place is on your knees in front of real men. You will never be a real man. You do know that, right?…

“You know what I want you to do. I want you to beg me to fuck you. I want you to beg me to brutalize your cunt. And while you are begging me and degrading and humiliating yourself, I will be jacking off to you. Having a big dick requires a little extra tugging to get hard. I know you wouldn’t know anything about that. You are too focused on your cunt. And call it a cunt a number of times, especially when you are fingering it. I want you to tell me that you need for me to rape you. Your goal is to degrade yourself. Tell me how much of a faggot you are. And focus on your tiny clit there. Tell me how you envy any real man with a real sized dick. And the thing I need for you to beg me to rape you—not have sex, not make love—rape. Use that word often.

“Here look up at me, at your phone. Thanks for letting me use your face to unlock it. I will be recording this on your phone. I want you to have a record of how low you are. I want you to watch this every morning as you are about to jack off at home. Speaking of jacking off, I should take my cock out for you. Damn, even totally limp, it’s way bigger than yours hard.

“You have three minutes to fully degrade yourself. Go!…

“��That’s time. Ok. See how big you got me? The full nine and a half inch dick, ready to rape the hell out of you. Crawl over here and blow me, but first put on this blindfold. I don’t want you to see anything. Good, now show me how good you are as a faggot cocksucker. Throat me to the nut. Put as much spit on it as you can. That’s pretty much the lube I will be using to tear your cunt up. Maybe if you are good, I will use some spit on the cunt. Take your time, but throat me. Get into it faggot. I’m gonna chill here… Open that fucking throat… Gag on that monster….

“You really are pathetic. Get your ass on the bed, face down. Need to tie you down. What? Now you want out? Aww hell the fuck no. I said on the fucking bed. Ok. You really want this to be a rape don’t you? Look I know my way around ropes and tying up livestock. I do work in a farm, and I am a part of the local rodeo. Calling out for help ain’t going to help.

“And, I sent myself a copy of that video where you are begging me to rape you and to show you no mercy. Nobody will believe you. Just a few more seconds, and there! You ain’t going nowhere now. You are going to be in that position for some time. Your cunt is on display, ready to be mounted.

“But first, I’m going to fuckin’ welt you up. I got my son’s belt here; mine doesn’t move through the air as nicely as his, and besides I’m still wearing mine. You don’t even deserve me stripping for you. When it comes to whipping, I don’t stop to let you recover.

“Being your birthday, It’s eighteen strokes in a row. Start your fucking screaming now. One, two, three,… louder fucker, you deserve every one of these strokes… Eight, nine, ten,… I can already see the welts forming. Oh yeah, bright red cheeks get me leaking. When I hit number twenty-five, I’m going right to the root whether or not you are ready. And it’s not going to take me very long to nut in you. Fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, and… eighteen.

“Quit your crying faggot. Here, bite down on my son’s belt. You really have me leaking here. And… all the way in. Fuck yes! This cunt hasn’t been fucked much, has it? Stop your screaming, I asked you a fucking question. You get fucked much?… No?… Wait, that was a cherry pop? Oh fuck yeah. I’m close to giving you some cream to go on your cherry pie. Oh yeah. Fuck. Take it bitch. Feel my load fill you up. Faggot.

“That’s what you have to look forward to for the next few days. Oh man, fuck. I’m gonna lay here for a while. Watch your head, my cigar is only an inch or two from your cheek. I don’t want to brand you,… well at least not yet. Let go of the belt. Holy shit. You really did bite down hard. I can’t wait to give this back to him and tell him how the teethmarks came about.

“Oh yeah, he knows I’m gay. He doesn’t care. He’s totally straight, and I mean totally straight. Now just lay there; you ain’t going anywhere. But I want you to hear this. Yeah, I kept my sex life away from him until one day when he walked in on me fisting his math teacher, Mr. Gunter.

“Oh yeah, he goes to the same high school as you. He too is ready to graduate. You know him, oh yes you do. You’ve been texting him all year, ever since he transferred to your school. You were not very nice to him. In fact, you and a few of your friends beat him up. And what reason did you have for giving him a black eye?… Don’t remember? You called him a faggot. You told your friends that he hit on you in gym class. Talk about projecting.

“When he came home suspended for fighting and with a black eye, I wanted details. He gave me your name and showed me your pic in the yearbook. And wouldn’t you know, I recognized you from your attempted bookstore runs. A week later you start hanging around the diner. You couldn’t get into the bar area, but you sat every Friday afternoon in that same spot in my line of vision, pretending to read that book while groping yourself. So subtle.

“I had your background run by a this cop I regularly fuck. He told me a shitload about you. He’s the one that informed the bookstore across the street that you were underage. There’s a boy—a year older than you—that I fuck who is a Facebook friend of yours showed me your wall. I got to go through every word you wrote while he was giving me head. And unlike you, he knows how to deep throat. Again, having a big dick has its advantages.

“And about that time, you and my son were suspended, you posted a viral video of a bullied kid getting revenge on the bully by sleeping with the bully’s mom. And your comment was something like, ‘Best served cold.’

“Funny thing is, I’m out. While I don’t broadcast it in this tiny town, but I don’t hide it. My son and ex-wife know. The ranch I work at knows. Hell, the main reason how I got the job was that I fucked the owner and told him that I was looking for a job. The guys at the bar all know. So how were you going to humiliate my son? He probably would say, ‘He fucked you? You ain’t the first, you won’t be the last.’ or something like that.

“So, what’s happening next for you? Certainly not humiliating my son. No, for you, I have plans. I’m gonna fuck you again. I’ll leave you tied up. The motel is going to get full later on tonight, mostly truckers. I’ve let the motel owner and the guy that works the bookstore that you are here ready for all horny truckers.

“Tomorrow, I’m going to pass you over to this biker club one of my friends is a member of. He already set up something really nasty for you. The gang already knows what a piece of shit you are. They can’t wait to get their hands on you, and I can’t wait to hear all about it. By the end of the weekend, your cunt will be destroyed. I will give you two black eyes to make up for the one you gave my boy. Most likely your hair will be removed. You are going to be beaten. Hell, my cop buddy is a former boxer. He’s going to string you up and use you as a punching bag.

“And in the end,… I will decide if you keep your balls. Wow. That’s the first time you have flinched while lying under me. Aw, shut up. I work with livestock every day. I know how to castrate a bull. I haven’t decided about you. Just keep that in mind throughout the weekend. You complain or resist, your balls will be in jeopardy.

“You probably won’t see much of me. But I will you. I have it arranged to have it all filmed for me. I expect to see a cum hungry faggot whore knowing his place of being used by real men. Your balls will depend on it. For me, I’m going to be with my son doing dad things.

“And I don’t plan on letting him in to the fact that you are a faggot whore lookin to get raped seeing, he already knows. How do I know? I text him, while you were trying to give me head. I wrote, from your phone, ‘I have to get this off my chest. I am a faggot whore. I can’t live in the closet anymore. Please share this video.’

“Then I sent him your video. While you are going to be in a living hell for the next four days, you won’t be able to stop him or anyone from finding out. This is how I want it. As I said before, I am always in control of everything. Oh, and happy birthday.”

[professorrw]

Study Break, a Peter Parker One-Shot

Pairing: gn reader x Peter Parker

Warnings: fluff, swearing

A/N: Happy birthday to Tom Holland! This was a request I got on AO3! I’ve only watched Spider-Man Homecoming once and it was when it first came out so I don’t remember much but I tried my best! My requests are open! Please like, comment, and reblog! If you want to be tagged in my works let me know!

“Ugh. I’m going to fail. I’m going to fail, that’s what’s going to happen. I’m not going to get the credits. All that time in class was wasted.” You huff and lay your head on the library desk.

“You won’t fail Y/N. You’re doing pretty well, we just have a few more things to go over.” Your boyfriend Peter puts his hand on your back and pats it in an attempt to make you feel better. Although his touch was comforting it wasn’t going to help you on exams.

“We’ve been sitting here for hours. My head is full of all this stuff I need to know and it feels like it’s about to explode.”

“I have an idea. How about we go roller skating and then get milkshakes? We can take a little break, let your brain rest, and then get back to it.”

You roll your head over to look at him. His eyebrows are raised and his hands are out to the side making a gesture that says, “how about it?”

“That actually sounds fun. I haven’t skated in forever though, I’ll probably fall on my face.” You were just about ready to give up, to throw in the towel but Peter wasn’t going to rest until you were sure you would get a good grade.

“I’m sure you’ll do fine. Now get up and stretch those legs.” Peter lightly jumps on the balls of his feet, making him look like a kid that just got told he was going to get ice cream.

You pack up your stuff and shove it into your backpack before you leave. It was seven o’clock at night and the sky was getting gradually darker. You really had been studying for hours. You left right after lunch and had been at the library ever since.

You walk to the roller rink that’s a few blocks down. As you got closer you saw on the retro-style sign that it was 80’s night. You stepped into the carpeted building and went to the front desk. The cashier was an older woman and she was dressed perfectly in the 80’s style. Her hair was teased and she was wearing huge neon hoops.

The rink was designed to be like a disco, the lights were turned off and pink, blue, and green lights shining on the walls and wooden floor. Cyndi Lauper played over the speakers, completing the atmosphere.

You both laced up your skates and entered the rink together. You were definitely rusty and nearly fell as soon as you stood. Peter struggled to suppress his laughter as he glided ahead of you. You gripped the side of the divider as you found your footing and followed Peter.

There weren’t many other people there, a few kids and their parents and some couples skating together. Peter skated in a circle back to you and grabbed your hand. The song changed to a slower song and Peter pulled you a little bit closer.

You skated side by side around the dimly lit rink. “This is pretty fun, I have to admit.”

“I know right? I’m glad we got the chance to come. I’ve wanted to take you on a date here for a while but couldn’t find the right time to ask.” He rubbed the back of his neck and a shy smile appeared on his face. He was such a cutie no matter what.

You felt confident enough to try to do a spin. You picked up a little speed and started turning. You really thought you were going to do it but not a second later your feet seem to slip out from under you and you fall. You lie on the ground on your back dying from laughter. You weren’t even embarrassed, you were genuinely having a good time. 

Peter was quick to rush to your side and as soon as he knew you were okay he dissolved into a fit of laughter. You were both laughing so hard you were wheezing and clutching your sides. 

“Oh-Oh! Help me- Help me up!” Tears were forming in the corners of your eyes and Peter was not doing any better. He grabbed onto your arm in an effort to pull you up but ended up on his butt too. That just made both of you laugh even harder, making you look like fools. You were having too much fun to even care that people were staring at you.

You stayed for a while longer, gaining a bruised ass but having a great time in general. There was a retro diner joined with the roller rink so you headed next door to get milkshakes and fries. You slid into the red booth in the corner and ordered your food.

“Thank you Peter. I really needed this break.” You reached across the table to hold his hand. 

He gave it a squeeze, “I thought you might. I’m glad you liked it.” He leaned forward and kissed you across the table. You were interrupted by your waitress setting down your plate of fries right between you and putting your milkshakes to the side. 

You dug into the comfort food, dipping your fries into your milkshake, which was your favorite flavor. You and Peter continued to joke and talk, avoiding the subject of exams. Once your glasses and plate were empty you left.

It was around nine so Peter walked you home. You arrived on the doorsteps of your apartment complex in a few minutes. 

“Goodnight handsome.” You pressed a kiss to Peter’s red cheeks. He always got flustered when you complimented him like that.

“G-goodnight. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You turned to go in but Peter stood rooted in his spot. He wasn’t going to leave until you properly kissed him. You rolled your eyes and pressed your lips to his before finally waving goodbye. He grinned once more and then headed home.

Taglist: @bellamy1998​ 

[lovelylogans]

the little things

oh i love the little things you say and i love the little things you do let's stay forever together this way my love, i'm so in love with you

—matt monro, "i love the little things"

part of the wyliwf verse.

ao3 | read my other fics | coffee?

warnings: sick mentions, food mentions, that’s about it this one’s pretty fluffy (but please let me know if i’ve missed anything!)

pairings: moxiety

words: 2,913

notes: hey, everyone. the world's kind of a Lot right now, and i figured people would probably need some fluff. i'm working on (a couple) longer pieces in this verse, including a few fluffy ones in the midst of the slightly more plot-heavy ones i was originally planning to put out next. this one was a little informal one that i could get out relatively quickly. stay safe, stay healthy (mentally and physically) and i hope that this helps brighten your day, even just a little.

virgil always gets so fussy whenever patton's sick.

even if patton's just sniffling because of allergies, for goodness' sake, virgil will ask if he's taken his allergy medicine and then, he's found it if he forgets it at home, he stashes some extra in the diner just for him, just so patton won't be sneezy when he goes off to work.

but if patton, god forbid, catches as much as a cold, then it means he's in for the mother-henning of a century. 

virgil clucks after him, asking about his symptoms, is he too warm or too cold, patton knows they could probably manage without him at the inn for the day if he needs to take a day to rest, he should take a day to rest, let virgil feel his forehead just to triple-check that he doesn't have a fever, ooh he feels a little warm maybe he should make a doctor's appointment, just to be sure that it isn't anything worse than a cold, and he could get some antibiotics if it's the flu—

even as patton groans and complains about virgil being a fusspot, really, he'll be fine, he, well. he always feels a little warm in the chest that has nothing to do with his cold or the flu.

it's just nice to be taken care of, sometimes.

⁂

patton has this really deep appreciation for food. 

he leans in and inhales the scent of his hot cocoa/coffee, even if he's acting like a sleep-deprived zombie otherwise. he makes happy humming noises whenever he tries the first bite of something. there's always this bright smile on his face whenever he tries something that virgil makes for him, especially for him, that doesn't seem to go away even if he's got his mouth closed and he's chewing. he almost always scrapes the plate with his fork, to make sure he's gotten every last morsel.

patton loves food. anyone can tell that patton loves food.

he'll never admit it, but virgil always gets this fluttery feeling in his stomach whenever he sees how much patton loves his food.

⁂

most of the time, virgil's a pretty clean-shaven fella. but sometimes, virgil lets the stubble grow out.

when he's anxious or overworked or busy, sometimes, it means that he doesn't want to spend time shaving and so just gets all five o'clock shadowy. but sometimes, it's just that he doesn't want to shave, when he's feeling a bit lazy or running late. sometimes in the winter, he lets it grow out, just because it's cold, and he tells patton that he can fool himself into believing that it's helping his face feel warmer; plus, it's what his dad does, a lot of the time, so he grew up seeing him do that and then just starting doing it himself.

when he's particularly stubbly, virgil ends up running his hand across his jaw or his cheek a lot more often than he would if he was clean-shaven. patton thinks it's about the texture, but he's never really asked. 

it looks kind of unfairly good on him? actually, no question mark, no kind of. it looks unfairly good on him.

it helps add to the whole "grr-gruff-diner-guy" thing he's got going on, with his flannels, and it just makes him look a little... rougher around the edges. 

turns out patton likes rougher around the edges.

⁂

patton always means it when he says please or you're welcome or thank you. especially thank you.

a lot of people just keep to manners because it's polite, not because they particularly mean it. and it's not like that's a bad thing—virgil is the same way, most of the time, because it's absent-minded. it's habit. he does mean it some of the time, most of the time, even, just...

it's not like the way patton is.

you can tell whenever he says "oh, excuse me!" to a person that it's real. you can tell he really, actually means it when he tells people that if they need anything, to give him a call or a text to let him know and he'll help any way he can, it's not just a nice gesture. when he thanks people, he... he means it. he really wants them to know that he's grateful, because he is grateful.

patton's genuine like that. patton's thoughtlessly good like that.

⁂

people probably wouldn't predict it at the sight of him—tall, dark-haired, scowly, sometimes-stubbly—but virgil is really great with kids.

kids of all ages, really, from babies to teenagers about to head off to college. patton wonders sometimes, how much of that is borne from practice with logan, which is a whole other huge part of why patton loves him, so he's going to get back on track here. (honestly, it probably has a lot to do with logan, and a lot to do with virgil's various nieces and nephews and cousins.)

virgil always gets this smile on his face when someone offers to hold a baby, and he holds them so carefully, always moving to support their head first and making sure that they're as secure as possible and that he's holding them textbook-perfect, surveying them to make sure they don't make any expressions of discomfort or if they start crying before he moves to start carefully rocking them, or bouncing them, this disbelieving, self-satisfied grin breaking over his face if he manages to make a baby laugh.

with toddlers, and with little kids, if he's capable of doing it, he'll always crouch down to their level, so they can look him in the eyes (or look down at him, depending on how tall the kid is) and listens to everything they have to say, asking questions that they'll be able to answer, even if he knows the answer. 

he's got a stash of kid-friendly band-aids, just in case a kid skins their knee in the town square outside before they come into the diner, and kid menus that they can color over or just plain coloring sheets if they're sick of the diner menus, and those cheap waxy four-packs of crayons. 

he's pretty decent with teenagers, too, or as good as anyone could be with a teenager—that part is probably born from him being a sulky teenager himself. he seems to know when to let kids rant, or when to let them be, or if they'll participate with gentle teasing, either of themselves or at himself.

virgil's just... really great with kids. so patton can't really help it, the way he stares at virgil with this silly smile on his face as virgil makes an overdramatically surprised face to the latest fun fact that one of his regulars' kids is telling him.

⁂

patton would tell you that he is not a great knitter, in good humor, all sheepish grin and ducked head and hand rubbing across the back of his neck.

well, not as terrible as he used to be; virgil still has the purple yarn that is still a bit tangled together that was once his first-ever homemade gift from patton, for his twenty-third birthday. at least the stuff he makes now is relatively decent at holding its shape, as long as it isn't anything too complicated. he has scarves and baby booties and hats and bags down.

but when he does try to make things that are complicated? he's absolutely hopeless. sweaters turn out lopsided. stockinette stitching is the closest virgil's ever heard to him cussing something out. socks? not a chance. 

but patton seems to survey them and then, always, always, he tries again, needles clacking away as he stares at the project in concentration, brow furrowing, his curls flopping into his eyes as he hunches himself over it. and then if it turns out slightly better, he'll get all excited, showing virgil the latest project even with its missed stitches and loops and endings, and if it doesn't turn out great, he'll sigh, and maybe get a little frustrated, but he'll unloop it and move to reuse the yarn for his next project.

he's that way about everything, really. if he doesn't succeed, he'll try, try again. 

it's just that with the knitting, virgil gets to see patton with a blanket thrown over his lap, a ball of yarn to the side, and him all focused, biting his lip and counting under his breath, even though he'll inevitably get distracted by something. it's cute. it's a cute hobby.

it fits him, since he's such a cute guy.

⁂

there's this thing virgil does when he's been on his feet for a long time, which is basically every day, since he works in a diner.

stretch his arms up over his head, then down his back. turn his head from side to side, then stretch his neck. plant his hands on his hips, leaning far to one side, then the other. stand on one leg and let the other bend at the knee, his foot close to touching his butt, then the other. if the diner isn't busy, he'll even bend to touch his toes and stretch to touch the sky.

the thing is, he almost never does his little stretching routine if he thinks anyone is watching. he'll go all red and mutter and disappear into the kitchen if anyone catches him at it. so patton always has to watch out of the corner of his eyes as virgil lets out this sigh when a stretch is particularly satisfying, or if some bone of his pops, as he does his little mini-calisthenics session.

only virgil, really, would keep that kind of practical thing secret in fears of seeming silly.

⁂

patton cries when he watches movies. not even just the sad scenes; the happy endings for some movies, too. when he watched homeward bound during a movie night with virgil and logan, when logan was about five, he was practically sobbing when shadow ran back into frame, leaving logan to confusedly pat his dad on the arm as he said "this movie is ill-o-gi-cal, daddy, you know that, right, animals don't talk," and virgil to offer his shoulder for patton to basically wipe his face off on it. well, he'd offered a hug, really, but patton had done that and also wiped his face off on virgil's hoodie.

so now virgil makes sure that there are tissues in his hoodie pocket, if they're watching a movie in theaters, or in the living room, if they're watching something at home.

⁂

virgil squints, near-suspicious, at measuring cups every time he's measuring out ingredients, to make sure that he really really has it right, even if he's been making the same food every day since he was allowed near a stove. like an i'm watching you kind of look.

⁂

patton's curls practically have their own moods. in comparison with virgil's hair, which have the three states of "unruly," "combed," and "actually styled," it feels like patton's hair has a thousand separate categories.

there's "generally unruly," which is patton's usual day-to-day look; he's clearly at least finger-combed through his hair, but it's still at least a little bit messy.

there's "i have styled my hair," which usually happens when he either has to go to his parents' house for friday night dinner or some other event in that world (chilton, charity dinners, the like) where he's made an attempt with gel, which has the bright side of taming the frizz but the dark side of taking away a lot of the lovable chaos that is patton's curls.

there's "bedhead," which is just one side of his hair flattened to his head, the rest of it frizzy and generally discombobulated.

there's a stage behind "generally unruly" and "bedhead," which virgil hasn't named, but it's when patton ruffles a hand through his hair to look at least a little bit more presentable, but really only succeeds in un-flattening his hair and making it look equally as frizzy and discombobulated as the rest of his hair. it usually makes an appearance on lazy days and in the early morning.

there's "i made an attempt with a comb or product," which usually happens on days where patton had meetings or had to go to the bank or something equally important, where the curls at least seem like they've been put into some kind of order, for the most part, with a few rebellious ones ruining the general effect.

there's "chaotically unruly," on days when patton has given up on organizing his hair for whatever reason, which meant his curls were just amok and nutty and tended to serve as a shortcut to see how frazzled patton was.

patton's curls get glimpses of reddish-auburn when he spends a lot of time in the sun in the springs or summers. it's really only easily visible when his hair catches the light. it fades away as the weather cools and the days grow longer, and virgil's almost surprised by their reappearance every year.

patton's curls grow out quick, and he isn't always the best at making sure to go get it cut, but patton looks good with his hair longer or shorter or any which way. the curls are good. the curls are great.

⁂

virgil is funny.

like, really funny. which most people wouldn't expect, because, again, he's so broody sometimes, but he is! 

he has these sly remarks that are muttered out of the corner of his mouth, usually about someone in town, which is usually about taylor, that makes patton stifle his giggles into his hand so he doesn't disrupt town meetings.

then there's his outright sarcasm, which can be in turn gentle teasing or biting commentary, which are usually more public but patton still wants to muffle his laughter by his hands, because virgil usually looked all fittingly derisive whenever he was sarcastic, and if he heard patton laughing then he'd probably crack a smile.

he even puns. he even puns specifically for patton. even if puns, a lot of the time, if it was anyone but patton telling them, makes him roll his eyes and groan. just because patton likes dumb dad jokes.

⁂

patton's an absolute gentleman.

he offers his arm for virgil to take when they're walking somewhere, almost always, either in the form of his forearm or in the form of holding hands. 

he opens doors for virgil. he pulls out chairs and helps virgil sit.

he walks between virgil and the curb, which he'd asked about just kind of mildly, since he'd never made a point of doing it back when they were just friends, and patton had rambled out some kind of explanation born the old days, like mud would splash onto him from some passing carriage or something.

he has meticulous table manners, whenever they go out to a restaurant that isn't his restaurant.

he almost always tries to pay for the check on dates, until virgil had talked him into taking turns with it, because it was getting a bit ridiculous.

if virgil's been particularly joking about patton's rich-person background, he'll start going even more overboard with it, standing when virgil enters a room and not sitting until virgil sits, taking virgil's hand and kissing his knuckles and everything. he does all of it with a teasing glint in his eyes, of course, but there's something particularly sincere and sweet in his eyes too that it makes virgil blush.

and, of course, since patton is a gentleman, he doesn't even comment on it. he just leans up to kiss virgil's cheek.

it's probably a holdover from his various etiquette lessons and the way he grew up, but virgil finds it charming regardless, tries to copy it when he can because it makes him feel nice and special when they're out on dates, so he figures it'll make patton feel nice and special when they're out on dates. even if virgil's pretty clumsy with it, patton always appreciates the gesture.

⁂

virgil has these really teeny-tiny freckles. they're basically unnoticeable unless patton's practically nose-to-nose with them. it had surprised patton, at first; virgil's so pale, he has such a creamy complexion that it seems like he shouldn't have freckles, but there they are. tiny, just-slightly-darker spots dotting his forearms, his shoulders, his cheeks. virgil had seemed surprised that patton had noticed them, then, off-handedly, mentioned that they were probably leftovers from sunburn over the years. he was pretty prone to that, being so pale.

but since patton had found them, he found himself seeking them out more and more often; there, on his shoulder blade, and here, on his knee. they're so small. like little markings on a treasure map, the treasure they led to being, of course, virgil himself.

⁂

there are lots of little things that they love about each other. things that may seem small, or near-unnoticeable, or things that are just little habits or actions or movements that seem like they shouldn't serve to make them feel as fond as they do.

but they do see it. and they do love those things, big or little. and there are plenty of big things: the way patton really, whole-heartedly loves roman like he's his own, the way virgil really, whole-heartedly loves logan like he's his own, patton's kindness and strength, virgil's heart of gold and deep-seated care for others. 

but the little things matter too.

they're finding a lot of new things to fall in love with, day after day.

[sunmoonandeddie]

what the fuck did you do

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

word count: 3,080

summary: Bucky’s been using you to try to make Natasha jealous.

chapter warnings: Some h*ckin’ words.

a/n:  So like. This is lowkey angsty but with a sort of happy ending.  Let me know what you think!

“Are you sure this looks okay?” You asked Natasha, frowning as you turned in the mirror.  It was just your favorite sundress, the yellow material soft under your fingertips.

The redhead smiled warmly from where she was sitting at your desk, her legs crossed daintily.  Her phone was twirling absentmindedly in her hand.  “Y/N, you look gorgeous,” she said, her eyes drinking your form in.  “Barnes is going to lose his shit.”

Your cheeks flushed red as you turned in the mirror, peeking back over your shoulder.  “It’s not too much, right?  I mean, it’s just a movie.”

“And dinner,” she reminded you.

“Yeah, probably from a drive through,” you said, barking out a laugh.  “Or some twenty-four hour diner on the way.”

She uncrossed her legs, taking slow, languid steps towards you. “Do you feel good?”  She asked, taking your hands in hers.  When you slowly nodded, she continued, “Then that’s all that matters.  And he’s going to be blown away no matter what you wear.”  She turned you to face the mirror, resting her chin on your shoulder. “He asked you out because he likes you, not your clothes.  He’d still like you even if you wore a potato sack.”

“I doubt that, but thank you for the pep talk,” you said, covering your mouth as you let out a giggle.

For the past two months, Bucky had been flirting with you nonstop.  It had started slowly, with lingering hand touches and whispered jokes during dinner. Then it had turned into training together and curling up on the couch to watch movies together.  Then, finally, two days ago, he’d asked you to go to dinner and a movie with him.

It had been some what of a whirlwind.  You’d harbored feelings that were a teensy weensy tiny whiney bit more than a crush for over a year, but he’d never paid you any mind. Brisk nods and muttered “hellos” were all you’d ever gotten since you first joined the team.  After the whole Thanos thing, there was a need for more Avengers, more people who could help keep the world safe on the off-chance that another catastrophic event like the Snap ever happened again.

Your heart fluttered as you turned towards the door. “Wish me luck?”

Natasha laughed as she pushed you towards the door.  “You don’t need luck when you’re as stunning as you are, Y/N.”  Once you were in the hallway, she squeezed your hand.  “You’re gonna do great.  I’ll be here when you get back and you can tell me all about it.”  She sent you one last week before heading down the hall towards her own room.

There was a slight skip in your step as you made your way down the hall.  Over a year of pining, and you were finally getting a date.  A date with the man who’d completely stolen your heart.

You slowed down as you neared the living room, hearing Steve and Bucky’s muffled voices.

“You have to tell her,” Steve said.

“I know, but—”

Frowning, you pressed yourself back against the wall, trying to even out your breathing so that they couldn’t hear you even with their super soldier hearing.  You knew it was wrong to eavesdrop, but there was a sinking feeling in your gut that told you to listen.

“This has been going on long enough.”

“I know, Steve—”

“Do you?”

“Yes, I do.  Believe it or not, this isn’t how I wanted things to go,” Bucky said, and you could hear the pure frustration in his voice.  You were holding your breath at this point, your heart pounding against your rib cage.

“Yeah, no shit,” Steve snapped.  “But the longer you wait, the worse it’s going to be.”

“What the fuck am I supposed to tell her, Steve?  ‘So, babe, I’m sorry that I’ve spent the past two months using you to make Natasha jealous, but—‘”

You didn’t bother to hear the rest, tears coming to your eyes as you ran down the hallway towards your room.  There was a sharp pain in your chest, like someone had taken a dagger to your heart and twisted it.  Once back in your room, you slammed the door shut.  Your chest was heaving as you stood there, hot tears staining your cheeks. “F.R.I.D.A.Y.,” you said, your voice cracking, “Lock my door and don’t let anyone in.”

“Are you sure, Agent L/N?”

“Yes,” you snapped.

If an A.I. could pause, there was certainly one before the voice continued, “Agent L/N, I don’t believe it’s in your best interest—”

“Lock the door, F.R.I.D.A.Y.,” you said, your voice cracking as your eyes rolled.  Stupid perceptive artificial intelligence.  Sobs wracked your body as you collapsed onto your bed, curling up in a ball and willing all of this to fade away like a bad dream.

“What the fuck am I supposed to tell her, Steve?”  Bucky as pacing the living room, talking with his hands as he grew more and more angry with himself.  “’ So, babe, I’m sorry that I’ve spent the past two months using you to make Natasha jealous, but don’t worry, I’ve actually fallen in love with you.”

“Sure,” Steve said, scoffing as he sat down on the couch.  His elbows rested on his knees as he stared up at his best friend in disgust.  “Just tell her the fucking truth.”

Both men froze as they heard pounding footsteps followed by a door slamming.  “What was that?”  The brunet muttered to himself, suddenly feeling even more uneasy than he had been before.

Steve stood from where he’d been sitting, both of them listening quietly.  “Bucky… What time is Y/N supposed to be meeting you for your date?”

He didn’t even have to check his phone to know.  “Now.”

“F.R.I.D.A.Y.?”

“Yes, Captain Rogers?”

“Who was in the hallway?”

“Agent L/N.”

Bucky felt his heart sink, panic rising in his chest. There was no doubt in his mind that you’d heard him.  You knew. You knew about what he’d done. What he’d been doing for the past two months.

And from the way you’d run off, he highly doubted you’d heard the last part of his little unintentional confession.

Without even telling Steve where he was going, he bolted down the hall, stopping at your room.  His fist knocked against the dark wood of your door.  “Y/N?  Y/N, I know you’re in there.  Come on, open up.”  When there was no answer, he just kept knocking.  “Baby doll.  Please.”

He tried to twist the door handle, but found it wouldn’t open, and F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s voice called out, “I am not permitted to let anyone enter, Sergeant Barnes.”

He cursed as he leaned his forehead against the door.  “Please, let me in, Y/N.  I need to talk to you.  Explain.”  After a second, he added, “If you won’t let me in, I’ll just tell you from out here.”

His eyes widened as he heard you say, “F.R.I.D.A.Y., soundproof my room.”

“Wait, no—”

“I’m sorry, Sergeant Barnes, but Agent L/N has soundproofed her room.”

He growled, his hands clenching into fists.  But underneath his anger and frustration was a deep sadness.  He knew he had fucked up about three days into the whole thing, but hadn’t known how to stop.  Within just a few days, he’d found that he would subconsciously go out of his way to make you laugh, the sound having become his favorite sound.  He’d listen for you to start singing under your breath in the kitchen when you got up for your midnight snack to join you.  He loved that your favorite ice cream was birthday cake (even though he always asked why you didn’t just make a cake if you liked the taste of it).  The favorite part of his day had become watching you come into the kitchen first thing in the mornings, rubbing your eyes sleepily.

And he didn’t understand how he could’ve fucked up so badly. He honestly couldn’t have told you what kind of demon possessed him to think it was a good idea in the first place, let alone go through with it.  He didn’t know how he could’ve ignored you for a year before getting to know you, since he’d decided a while ago that ‘feeling broody’ wasn’t a good enough excuse anymore.

What he didn’t see was that inside the room, you had dragged yourself out of bed and started throwing clothes into a duffel bag.  You wiped at your tears, trying your best to suck it up and stop crying.  You needed to get out, even if it was just for a few days.  You couldn’t stay in the compound and have to deal with looking at Bucky and being reminded of how he used you.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y., is he still outside?” You asked, shifting from foot to foot as you threw the duffel over your shoulder.

“Yes, Agent L/N.”

You cursed under your breath, trying to decide how you were going to do this.  You could wait until he left, but you had no idea when that was going to happen.  It could take minutes, it could take hours. Barnes was one of the most stubborn people you’d ever met.

The only other option was for you to push past him and try to make it to the elevator without him somehow stopping you.

“Piece of cake,” you said softly, trying to hype yourself up. Rolling your shoulders back, you opened up your bedroom door.

Bucky, who had been leaning against it, stumbled towards you, his sea blue eyes wide.  “Y/N—”

Without even waiting to listen to him, you brushed past him. You willed yourself to keep going, despite the fact that he had started chasing after you.

“Y/N, where are you going?!”  He asked, easily catching up with you.  He broke into a run, getting ahead of you only to turn and block your way.  “Would you listen to me?”

“No, Barnes,” you snapped, your hands shaking as you faced off with him.  Your teeth were clenched together so tightly that they were starting to hurt.  “Do you know what it’s like, hearing that someone’s been using you to get to your best friend?”  You stared up at him with a steely resolve, despite the fact that tears were threatening to spill over at any second.  He had gone silent, regret so clear in his eyes.  “Do you know what it’s like to have the guy you’ve been in love with for over a year use you?”  You couldn’t help but laugh self deprecatingly as he stayed silent.  “And you know what the best part is?  The best part is I actually thought I had a fucking chance with you.  I thought that you might actually—”  You broke off, trying to swallow down the lump in your throat.  “Whatever.  It doesn’t matter.”

He watched as you moved around him, storming towards the elevator.  You punched the bottom floor as soon as the doors opened, not daring to look at him as they closed behind you and took you down.

Bucky stared at the elevator you’d just disappeared to, his cheeks suspiciously wet.  He didn’t even realize he’d started crying until Natasha appeared out of nowhere. Her hands shoved against his chest, sending him back a few feet as he looked at her with hazy eyes.

“What the fuck did you do?” She snarled, shoving him once again. The air around her seemed to crackle as she stalked towards him.  Murder was clear in her eyes, and he knew he was in for it.  “What the fuck did you do to her?”  When she saw the tears, she rolled her green eyes so far back he was sure she could see inside her head.  “Don’t give me those fucking tears, Barnes.  What the fuck did you do?”

Steve came in from the kitchen, scowling.  “Hey, what’s going—”  The blond immediately tensed up as he saw the state Natasha was in.

“What the hell did he do to Y/N?” She demanded, but her withering gaze didn’t shift from Bucky.

“Do you want to tell her or should I?” He asked, glaring at his best friend.  He clearly wasn’t very happy with him, and hadn’t been since he’d told him what he’d been doing for the past two months.

“I…  I tried to make you jealous… by flirting with Y/N,” Bucky said, knowing that he was digging himself into a hole.  There was really no excuse for what he’d done.

She stared at him in shock.  “Trying to make me jealous?”

“Yes.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“Listen, I know—”

“Bucky, I’m gay.”

He blinked owlishly at her, shaking his head.  “That’s not possible.  What about when we…  You know… In the Red Room?”

Natasha scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest.  “You mean the one time we hooked up when I was trapped in an organization that would literally kill you for being gay?  Yeah, I was definitely sure what my sexuality was then.”

“I…,” he said, trailing off.  He was beginning to realize just how far deep he was.  He had lost the best thing to ever happen to him, and all for a woman that would never be interested in him.

Not only that, a woman he had realized he wasn’t even really into. Around the month mark, he’d started realizing that he’d only wanted Natasha because they had history.  She was familiar and easy and he wouldn’t have to worry about his history because they had the same red in their ledgers.

But you…  You were soft and mysterious and new.  You helped people no matter what, going as far as defying Nick Fury himself when he told you to take out someone you thought was innocent.

He stared Natasha directly in the eyes, his voice surprisingly steady as he said, “I love her.”

And then she punched him.

Bucky groaned, clutching his eye as he tried to ignore the pain.  “What the hell was that for?”

“I’m still pissed at you,” she snarled, her lips pulled back in a sneer as she stared him down.  “But if you don’t go after her, I’ll be even more pissed.”

He stared at her for a long moment, frozen in place.  He was a little more than surprised that she was essentially telling him to go confess his love, but there they were.

“Go!” She shouted, pushing him towards the elevator.

“Yeah.  Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he said, whirling around.  He knew the elevator would take too long, so he flew threw the doors that led to the stairs.  Flight after flight, he kept pushing himself harder and harder, hoping he’d be able to catch you before you got a way out of there.

He made it to the ground floor and began to run for the front entrance, knowing that you’d have to call an Uber or something.

And sure enough, he could see you through the glass doors. You were loading your duffel into the car that had come for you, the driver staring up at the huge building with a sense of awe.

“Y/N!” He screamed, willing himself to go faster.  He finally made it outside and bolted down the steps.  “Y/N, WAIT!”

You turned to look at you, brows furrowed.  “What do you want, Barnes?”  Your tone was cold, brisk, and he’d be the first to admit that he deserved it.

“Don’t go,” he said, his chest heaving.

“Why?” You asked, rolling your eyes.  “Not like you want me here.”

Bucky shook his head, hoping that you would believe him.  “I do.  I do want you here.”  When you looked at him in confusion, he continued, “It started out really bad, me trying to get Natasha by using you to make her jealous.  I’ll be the first to admit it, and to be honest, I still don’t know what the fuck I was thinking.”  He swallowed thickly around his tongue, his mouth suddenly dry.  “But I realized within days that I want to be with you. I want you, Y/N.  You’re the only one for me and I’m so, so sorry.”  He took a chance and stepped closer to you.  “I love you.”

“What?” You croaked, shaking your head.  “No, you don’t.”

“I do,” he insisted, his blue eyes piercing you.  “Y/N M/N L/N, I am in love with you.  I’m in love with your smile and the way you drool on my shoulder when you fall asleep during movies.  I’m in love with how much you love cheesy romantic comedies.  I’m in love with everything about you.”  He hoped that he was getting through to you, since the look on your face wasn’t giving anything away.  “And I know that I’m the biggest asshole in the entire world, but I want to spend the rest of my life making it up to you.”  He then quickly added, “If you’ll let me.”

You wiped at the fresh wave of tears that had come over you, urging yourself not to fucking cry.  “How do I know you’re telling the truth?”

“I guess you can’t,” he said, softly and meekly.  His heart fucking hurt at seeing you cry, and even more since he’d been the one to cause it.  “But I mean it when I say I want to prove myself to you.”  Bucky reached out and tugged on your hand.  “But please, don’t go.  If only for Natasha.”

Sniffling, you eyed the Uber that was ready to take you to the city.  “I…” You stared down at the duffel in the seat.  “If you ever do this to me again, I will kill you.”

He let out a sigh of relief as he realized what you were saying. “I won’t.  I promise.”

“And this doesn’t mean we get to be… a thing, right away,” you said, your fingers fiddling together.  “But I… I forgive you.”

“I’ll wait as long as you need, baby doll,” he said, reaching out to pull you in a hug.  He relished in the feeling of your head tucked into his chest, the smell of your shampoo wafting into his nose.  “Just as long as you stay.”

You clutched onto his shirt, taking a deep breath in.  He was everything to you, and even though he’d fucked this up, you wanted to know if it was possible for the two of you to still work.  If you two could possibly have a future together.

“I’ll stay.”

[hadererer]

slice of pie

@it-fandom-exchange gift for @s-onora! 

prompt: a fic with young adult reddie, fluff and side stanlon-stanlonbrough

summary: of course richie would cause eddie and him to get detention on free apple pie day at the diner

“Psst….psst….Eds….Eds, look!”

Eddie continues to stare at the chalkboard straight ahead, determined. He didn’t want to talk to Richie right now. Richie is the reason they were stuck spending the next hour and a half with Mrs. Landers. Richie is the reason they are missing out on visiting Bill at work at the diner. Richie is the reason they’re missing out on free slices of apple pie. 

“Eds...c’mon…” Richie’s voice rose slightly from its original, soft whisper to a slightly higher whine, still low enough to avoid the attention of Mrs. Landers. Eddie just continued to stare ahead, showing no sign of having heard him. Mrs. Landers clears her throat, a not-so-subtle warning that ‘yes, I heard that.’ He is pulled from his thoughts when a wet, balled up piece of paper hits the side of his head.  

“Are you fucking serio--?” 

“Boys,” Mrs. Landers’ already stern voice was hard. Peeking over the top of her paperback, her eyes strained and stern behind thick glasses. “What is the problem?” Her voice made it clear to them that she wasn’t actually asking. And, honestly, knowing Mrs. Landers, she was more annoyed they were interrupting her latest dollar store paperback than that they were not following the rules of detention. 

“Nothing, ma’am,” Eddie tells her, then tilting his head slightly to the left, calls Richie an “asshole” under his breath. Without even looking, he can feel Richie’s smile.

The next few minutes are filled with blissful silence, only the clock ticking to interrupt it. 

“Eddie...check it out…”

Not wanting to deal with the incessant nagging for the rest of detention, Eddie turns, eyebrows raised.   

Richie held up his hand. On the back of it is a big heart with an arrow going through it. In the center, ‘Sonia’ is inked in red bubble letters, surrounded by hearts.  

“You’re the worst.”

“That’s not what your m---”

Eddie’s hand is in the air almost immediately. “Mrs. Landers, may I please use the restroom?” He ignores Richie’s high pitched “what?” 

She doesn’t even look up from her paperback while responding, tone uninterested and monotone, “Is it an emergency Mr. Kaspbrak?” 

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Fine. Take the pass and no funny business.” She gestured with a flimsy hand to the piece of laminated, bright red cardstock hanging next to the door, still not looking up. 

Eddie was out of his chair before she finished her sentence, flipping Richie the bird behind his back. … Eddie goes up two floors to the single bathroom above the auditorium, which was further from the classrooms so it was always empty. Plus, apparently it used to be a prep room turned bathroom, so it was larger than a usual single stall bathroom, able to fit a minimum of eight people into it comfortably. Over their four years in high school, this bathroom became a sort of meeting spot for the losers club, no one bothering them there. 

Looking out the large window overlooking the baseball field, Eddie tries to see if he can spot Stan on the field or even Mike, always a supportive boyfriend, in the stands. 

Eddie knows he just has to kill time until Richie joins him. This isn’t their first time in detention, or their second or third, so by this point they have a routine. Mrs. Landers never stops them anyway. She doesn’t get paid enough to care. True to routine, Richie is coming through the doors not five minutes after with his own pass, tossing it down on the ledge next to Eddie’s.  

“She didn’t even wait for me to ask this time,” he laughs, pulling out his pack of Camels and the Troll lighter Ben bought him for his birthday. 

Opening the window on the far wall next to the sinks, Richie hops onto the bathroom sink closest to it, lighting up his cigarette. Taking a deep drag, he blows it out, watching the team practice for a few seconds, before turning to Eddie. Seeing the look on his face, Richie takes the cigarette out of his mouth, blowing out a stream of smoke.  

“What?”

“You owe me two slices of apple pie, Dick.” 

“Two slices?” 

“One to make up for the free slice we missed today, and another because you spat a spitball at my head, you asshole.” 

Richie laughs, full and loud, before nodding as he takes another drag. As usual, Richie’s laugh is infectious. It echoes in the tiled bathroom, encompassing them even more. Eddie’s face cracks into a grin, annoyance dissolving. 

“I think Bill works until 8 tonight.” Richie wags his eyebrows. “And I can probably convince dad to let me use his car after dinner.” 

Eddie considers it. Obviously he’d rather go to the diner with Richie and Bill than spend the night doing a puzzle and watching, but getting away from his mom would be difficult. Especially since he’s already late coming home after school. 

“Don’t worry about Mrs. K, I’ll use the Tozier charm--ow!” Richie moves his leg away from where Eddie kicked him. 

“Shut up. I’ll tell her I’m tired after dinner and just sneak out.” 

Eddie clears the short distance between them. Taking the cigarette from between Richie’s fingers and snubbing it out, Eddie pulls him down for a kiss, which Richie warmly returns. It’s not the best kiss, the taste of cigarettes so strong. 

Pulling apart, Richie rests his head against Eddie’s. “So, does that count as one slice of pie?” 

“Actually, it’s up to three slices now.” 

Richie pulls away, face twisted in confusion but smile still present. “What? How?” 

“Because I had to kiss your cigarette breath, Trashmouth.” They’ve talked about this before. Eddie’s tried to help him quit, always stocking his pockets and fanny pack with gum, which he read in the pamphlets at the drugstore helps to soothe the cravings. 

Richie tips his head back in a laugh. “Woooow, very smooth, Eds.” 

Eddie doesn’t respond, just pulls out a stick of gum for Richie, which is gladly received. Chewing it obnoxiously loud, he leans back down to press their lips together. Now, all Eddie tastes is vanilla peppermint, Richie’s favorite. ‘Cause it’s sweet and fresh, just like me, he hears Richie repeat in his head. Richie kisses him three times, and in between each counts off. 

“One slice.” 

Another kiss. 

“Two slices.” 

Another kiss. 

“Three slices.”

A third kiss, this one longer than the last. 

When Eddie pulls apart, he smirks up at Richie, fingers playing with the mop of unruly hair. “That’s cute, but you still owe me apple pie.”

[cecilspeaks]

Live Show: A Spy in the Desert

1. A Spy in the Desert

Cecil: A tisket, a tasket. My god, what’s in that basket?! Welcome to Night Vale.

Listeners, it’s another beautiful day here in Night Vale, and I hope that you’re all outside staring wild-eyed into the sun, instead of cooped up in some dark room full of a bunch of people that you don’t know. The only thing that could ruin such a beautiful day as this is, well, this breaking news.

We have an outsider in our midst. A spy from a faraway land, a master of disguise who can mix imperceptibly into any crowd. Now this spy has been known throughout the world as the Sparrow Hawk, the Nightingale, the Southern Blue-Eyed Glossy Starling, and the Tough-Tit Titmouse. But recently, the spy started going by the code name the Mink. Which is much better, because minks are adorable and birds are idiots. Now the Mink has stolen secrets from the world’s most powerful governments, but unlikely most spies, the Mink works independent of any agency. They steal confidential information, but they never reveal any of that information to anyone. They are the perfect keeper of stolen knowledge. Now the Mink does possess an unparalleled range of regional and national accents, as well as a fanny pack full of fake mustaches, eyeliner and press-on nails. Right in the fanny pack. The founders of Night Vale built this town upon secrets, with a Byzanthine system of powerful and opaque city leadership, and what are we as a town without those secrets? It would make sense, then, that the City Council and the Sheriff’s Secret Police would want to stop The Mink from learning our secrets. So if you see anyone that you do not know, do not approach them. Because they could be a dangerous spy. Simply carry on as normal, as you would, and treat them like you would any stranger. Which is to stand 20 feet away, point and shout: “INTERLOPEER!!!” And thus by behaving in this completely normal way, they will not think that they’ve been spotted. And then immediately go and call the Secret Police. Make sure that you have registered for a citizen’s protection account with plans starting as low as 25 dollars a month, otherwise the police will not assist. And then once you’ve registered your account, tell the police that you saw a person you do not know. In public! And that person, thus logically could be The Mink! And they’ll catch them and we can all move on to the next terrifying news story.

2. Sports news

But first, a look at sports. Last night witnesses reported seeing a padded man carrying an inflated lump of animal skin across an open, well lit field. They could not identify him, as his face and head were fully covered by a round plastic hat. Several other unidentified men were chasing this man, panting and sweating, and hundreds of witnesses on this side of the field all began shaking their fists in the air and chanting: “Crush! Him! Crush! Him! Crush! Him!” [audience chants] And then witnesses on this side of the field were shaking their fists and shaking “Vio-lence! Vio-lence!” [audience chants] And their screams reached a crescendo, and then they stopped and they watched as this man spiked the lump of animal flesh and began to inch along a pinkish trail of viscous ooze. And the very back rows began a soft chant of “What have you done? What have you done? What have you done?” and it made its way forward, row by row, until the whole auditorium was chanting: “What have you done? What have you done? What have you done? What have you done?” And the skin split open revealing a white skeletal face with two bulbous red eyes, and the face craned up on a long neck, and it hissed and it bared its fangs and snapped into the neck of the man who had spiked it tore off a long swab of fleshhhhhh. And a woman wearing all black and white stripes took this flesh and blew into it like a balloon, and handed it to another padded man, and the process started all over again. And everyone in the crowd shouted: “Mortality!” [audience shouts it] And this has been sports. Hmm.

3. A Word from our Sponsors

And now a word from our sponsors. For that, we go to our lovably malicious spokeshaze, Deb the sentient patch of haze!

Deb: Hiya Cecil. Hiya listening audience with your squishy human minds. So easy to manipulate! Cute, so cute. Today’s show has been brought to you by Folgers brand coffee. We at Folgers believe good coffee comes from good hammers.

Cecil: Oo, that’s so true! You know, a lot of people don’t realize that good coffee is 90 percent the quality of the hammer that you use to smash up the bean, and ten percent how much you’re willing to lie to yourself that a 20-dollar bag of coffee tastes different than a 10-dollar bag of coffee.

Deb: That’s why we at Folgers hammer our coffee extra smooth, using only American made sledgehammers. We follow the hammer traditions of the finest coffee houses. From Sicilian espresso shops where they use wooden mallets, to the great institutions of Vienna, where the ornate tile walls ring with the echoes of handcrafted silver (ball-pin) [0:01:13] wielded by tuxedo-wearing waiters.

Cecil: You know, on my vacation I went to an espresso shop in Italy, and the woman behind the counter, lovingly crushed each and every ben with just the tiniest wooden mallet. And then she lit a whole pack o matches, threw it into the cup, and that is called a macchiato.

Deb: Macchiato. I’m unconvinced Italy even exists. For instance, have I ever seen it? No, there you go.

Cecil: Uh.

Deb: Yeah.

Cecil: But Deb, let me tell you, the flavor profile of that macchiato, it was – oh, it just had hints of sulfur and splinters, it was so authentic!

Deb: Gross.

Cecil: Yeah, it was kind of gross.

Deb: Why buy your own beans and pound away them in your kitchen, when Folgers has already hammered them for you? Folgers coffee. You guys wanna go see a dead body?

Cecil: Thanks, Deb. Oh hey, have you been following this news story about The Mink?

Deb: Oh, a little. It doesn’t interest me much because I already know every secret in town.

Cecil: Wait, what?

Deb: Yeah, yeah.

Cecil: How?

Deb: Oh, how doesn’t sound important, no no no. what’s important, listeners, is that I know.  [pause, laughter] So please do buy the products that I’m advertising. I’d hate to have a teensy slip of the tongue next time I’m broadcasting to the whole town, Joanne. Hey Cecil, you wanna know Joanne’s secrets?

Cecil: I mean it seems a little private – yeah, I do. [pause, Deb whispers into Cecil’s ear]  [sultry voice] Joanne!! I am simultaneously disgusted and impressed.

Deb: And that’s just one of the secrets I know. Well, it has been great talking at you Cecil. Goodbye!

Cecil: Alright, thank you Deb! Whooo! Wow.

4. Who is the Mink?

The Secret Police are hot on the trail of the Mink. In the hall of public records, they found a set of footprints left by a size 9 Adidas, but those shoes do not match any of the hall clerks, as the hall of record employees only have hooves. The police also found a person wearing a cloak and carrying a dagger inside the Moonlite All-Nite Diner. But upon investigating, it just turned out to be Steve Carlsberg. He was holding a lobster splitter and he got his lobster bib twisted around backwards. Oh, Steve. The City Council has upgraded our alert system from orange level to red. “Um, it’s really more of a lovely amaranth?” The multi-voiced council cooed in unison. “Um, excuse me, if the Mink never reveals any of the secrets that they learn, then what is the harm in them knowing?” asked one intrepid reporter. A brave and experienced radio man, who is quite smart and very handsome. But the City Council just hissed back: “All knowledge is harmful!” So I can’t argue with that. Now the Mink has carried out heists of secrets all over the globe. West Berlin 1985, the Mink disguised themself as a security guard and learned every account number in Deutsche Bank. German police noticed a person in a security guard uniform quietly mumbling numbers to themself, and they did give chase but lost the culprit in the crowd when they donned one of those glasses with a fake nose and eyebrows.

Kuala Lumpur, 1998. The Mink disguised themself as one of the Petronas towers and learned the secrets of every person inside. Witnesses reported seeing one of the towers just leeeaning over ever so slightly, as if listening in on a conversation. But when the national police arrived, the tower leapt into the Klang River and witnesses said: “Ooh, look at that kinda long but otherwise completely normal looking boat!”

2011, the Mink staged a daring escape from a military base in Nulogorsk. After discovering the intruder, the Nulogorskian got very excited, because they had never before met anyone with only two eyes. The Mink did get away, however, by disguising themself as a pirogi. [long pause] Having been eaten, they escaped two days later through the city sewer system. Weren’t expecting that, were you? You know, I hope we apprehend the Mink soon. I really, man, need to talk to somebody who has other secrets, it’s a journalist’s dream interview. And I mean, everybody has secrets so, I mean we all have something that we probably wouldn’t want the Mink to share on the air, I mean I know I do. You know what, “I value privacy above all else,” I have just now written on my Facebook page, so you know it’s super important to me.

5. Lee Marvin

Cecil: Oh wait, listeners, OK, I’ve just been given a note saying we have a very special birthday today. Wow, OK, this is a real honor. Listeners, please welcome to the studio, on the day of their 30th birthday, legendary actor and Night Vale resident, Lee Marvin!

Lee: It is a pleasure to be here. I don’t think we have ever met, even though it seems like we have both lived in this town forever.

Cecil: It actually does feel like forever, doesn’t it?

Lee: As we all know, time doesn’t work correctly in Night Vale. For instance, it has been my 30th birthday continuously for many years, and yet I never grow any older.

Cecil: I know just what you mean, I mean I was 19 for a long time like, decades probably.

Lee: And that’s the problem with millennials, you know?

Cecil: Yeah.

Lee: Instead of buying houses or shouting at barns, or researching owls, or any other number of normal and productive activities, they just age.

Cecil: Ugh!

Lee: Normally one day after the next. Why, I think there is not a millennial in this world who even tried to remain 19 for a terrifying number of years.

Cecil: I know! It’s lazy. Now let’s talk about the Mink. Mr. Marvin, as a very famous movie actor, I felt that you might be able to offer some analysis on someone so adept at disguises and false personas.

Lee: Well, sure sure I mean after all, what is acting but lying to a room full of strangers?

Cecil: Mm. Literally nothing at all.

Lee: When lying to a group of strangers, there are definitely some basic techniques to watch out for. One is speaking aloud. Anyone speaking aloud could be lying. Why, almost anything could be said out loud without research or citation .for instance, I could say aloud that uh, mountains are real…

Cecil: Oh come on! [Cecil and Lee laugh]

Lee: And it doesn’t matter that this is a ridiculous statement perpetuated by the mountain enthusiasts. It is still something I could and di say out loud. Another technique to look out for is accents. It seems that this Mink is able to deploy at will any accent at all. I myself am an expert at dialect and accents.

Cecil: Ooh! Would you care to give us a demonstration?

Lee: Well sure sure. Uh, start with something, a basic accent. This is an accent for someone from the country of Svitz. You’ll noticed that the Svitzians sort of speak from the back of the throat, it’s uh something like this um, [very deep, monotonous voice] “Hello, yes, thank you. I would like some cake.” Like that. Cecil: Yeah, oh yeah.

Lee: And um, here’s another one um, this is an accent for someone from the nation of Franchia. The Franchians have an interesting thing where they an, uh, a diphthong on every single vowel. Here goes, um. Yaa-aa, soo-am ceek, thyat would bee a boath low-ly and filing. Something like that, yeah.

Cecil: Oh wow, yeah, yeah!

Lee: And here is the ccent of someone who lived until the age of ten in  Svitz, before immigrating to Franchia. And now, at the age of 50, is learning to speak English.

Cecil: Right, OK, OK.

Lee: [deep voice] Aah piece of cay-ek for me, you’re only too kind. Something like that.

Cecil: Oh that’s, that’s amazing!

Lee: Yeah. Uh, seriously though, do you have any cake, I’m starving?

Cecil: Oh. Oh actually no I’m sorry, we’re not allowed to hae cake at the radio station because it makes  Station Mangement very restless.

Lee: That’s fine, that’s fine. Well the final technique I wanted to talk about is, is disguise, I am to understand that the Mink is able to easily adopt the look of anyone they wish to. Here’s a couple of ways of disguising yourself. One is through, of course the use of masks, make up, prosthetics, it’s very difficult, technical, very Hollywood. Let’s talk about the other method though, which is simpler and just as effective.

Cecil: Oh, wait, what is that one?  

Lee: It’s OK so you simply… so you take your hand.

Cecil: uh huh.

Lee: And you put it in front of your face. And then you say aloud who you’re supposed to be disguised as.

Cecil: Ah

Lee: For instance, I’ll demonstrate. Hello, I am Tom Hanks!

Cecil: Oh my god, oh my god! Oh my god Mr Tom Hanks, I-I loved you in Turner and Hooch, and whatever else you did after that, I..

Lee: No see, it’s just me, Lee Marvin!

Cecil: Oh man!

Lee: But with my hand in front of my face… Life is very similar to a bag of chocolates!

Cecil: Oh my god it is similar to a bag of chocolates!

Lee: There’s no way to tell!

Cecil: Oh my gosh, that’s amazing, Mr. Marvin! Thank you so much, we appreciate having you on the show.

Lee: It was no problem at all, thank you for having me, Cecil. Um, we before I go, this is Judy Garland saying goodbye.

Cecil: Oh my god, oh my, oh my gosh, no wait, wait wait, Ms. Garland, Ms. Garland, just one song before you go, Miss Judy Garland!

Lee: [sings] Ring ring ring goes the (--)..

Cecil: Ah! Judy Garland, everyone!

6. Children’s Fun Fact Science Corner

Now it’s time for the Children’s Fun Fact Science Corner. It’s a very special anniversary today, kids. On this day in 1872, the moon was invented. Yeah. You see, scientists had been reading a lot of paperback horror novels about werewolves and thought, wait! If the moon were a thing, then werewolves might also be a thing! So they built a moon out of limestone and hired artist (Marie Kassaut) [0:00:30] to paint it with a giant smiling wolf doing an “okay” sign with its paw and winking. But there was a problem: when they launched it up into the sky, something happened with the catapult, and it landed with the unpainted side facing the Earth. And almost a hundred years later, NASA would claim to have landed on the moon, but twinkly dot scientists or, oh sorry that’s what I call astronomers, they just proved that to be false. And you know, NASA retracted their statement saying: “Oh we were just joshing” and the American people all had a good chuckle. And ever since Alexander Fleming invented the werewolf vaccine – also known as penicillin – the moon is mostly just an ineffectual artefact, like a reminder of our once terrible taste in celestial bodies. And that is why each and every night, we all shout: “I hate you, moon!” up into the sky, and even though we can’t see it, we all think of that wolf on the dark side, quietly winking, and shedding a tear. [weeping] And this has been the Children’s Fun Fact Science Corner. It’s true. Science.

7. The Community Calendar Let’s take a look at the community calendar, shall we? Let’s see here, Monday night there is a blood drive in the Ralphs parking lot. There’s gonna be a van parked in the far corner, like just beyond the trees, and if you go inside that van, some blood will be taken from you. “Oh yeah, (she’s) gonna come out of you one way or another, man!” said a rapidly talking man in a dirty T-shirt, who I am not sure is connected to the blood drive at all. “Oh yeah, we’re just gonna do amazing things with your blood, man! Don’t worry about what, [disturbing voice] we’re just gonna do really good things with your blood!” and then he finished up by saying the national blood drive slogan: “Bloooooooooooood!!!” So I guess just, get on into the blood van!

Tuesday was lost last night by Bernadette Flynn, as she was watching the newly released remake of last year’s Spiderman movie. She thinks maybe Tuesday fell behind the seat during the film or something. So if anybody sees Tuesday, please let Bernadette Flynn know, as it was an old family heirloom, and her favorite day of the week.

Wednesday night is 80’s night at Dark Owl Records. For more on that, let’s hear from Dark Owl owner, Michelle Nguyen!

Cecil: Hey, Michelle!

Michelle: Hello, Cecil! On 80’s night, we’ll be putting on leg warmers and fingerless gloves, listening to Duran Duran, and thinking hard about what our lives will be like when we are 80 years old.

Cecil: Ahhh, that sounds like fun!

Michelle: We will consider life insurance plans and talk about several types of diseases that will affect our later years. There will also be a moonwalking demonstration, just like that famous Michael Jackson dance where he walked around shouting: “I hate you moon!”

Cecil: Yeah, yeah. Did you know it’s actually the moon’s birthday today?

Michelle: Stupid rock!

Cecil: Garbage satellite! Anyway, so Michelle, to change the subject, the Mink could peek into our private lives at any moment. Is there something that you are personally worried that they would find?

Michelle: [long pause] No.

Cecil: Oh, come on Michelle, we all have secrets! Is there any music you listen to that you would be ashamed of people knowing about?

Michelle: Please. You’re the one that starts every day with a choreographed lip sync to Robyn’s 2010 B-side “Cry When You Get Older”, and then you cry for a while, because you have gotten older.

Cecil: [sourly] Yeah.

Michelle: Each day just a little bit more and sometimes that makes you happy and other times it makes you sad and either way you feel like crying. Probably.

Cecil: [mumbles] Oh, yeah.

Michelle: That’s probably what you do, certainly I wouldn’t! I wake up listening to Leonard Cohen’s new album: “Wait Where Am I, I Thought I Died and How Is This Even Being Recorded?”

Cecil: [impressed] Oh, yeah.

Michelle: I listen to that album in full and then nod thoughtfully, and drink three cups of black coffee.

Cecil: Mmm.

Michelle: [scoffs] I don’t even know who Robyn is and I would never scream sing along to “Dancing On My Own” whenever I miss my mother.

Cecil: [scoffs] Oh wait, your mother, I don’t think you’ve ever mentioned her before.

Michelle: I learned everything about music from her. She once found me listening to The Smiths and said, [different accent] “Michelle! What are you doing! Morrissey turned out to be the worst person ever! I give you shelter over your head, three meal a day and access to a working time machine. And you don’t even use it to find out which celebrity turned out to be bad? It’s almost all celebrity, Michelle! Almost all celebrity turned out to be bad!” And she was right about that, Cecil. Can you name a good celebrity?

Cecil: Um, oh there’s Lee Marvin!

Michelle: That’s right, just Robyn.

Cecil: Just Robyn, yeah that’s it.

Michelle: I can’t think of anyone else either. Then my mother would say: “Michelle! I don’t wan the world to be the way that it is, but the world is that way. And people will judge. They will judge you for what you wear and what you listen to and what you say. They will judge you especially hard for so many unfair reason. So that music you listen to, that make you happy? Don’t let go of it. Never show that weakness to the world. In public, you listen to the music that tell them who you are, and you wear the clothes that show them wo you are. Always be one step ahead of them. And then at night, when it’s just you and  you’ve played their game and you’ve won, then you put on a record that makes you happy, and you let yourself sing!” Then one day, my mother took the time machine back to prehistoric times, to try to retrieve some of their music, which would have been the coolest and most obscure sons. But she never returned. I miss her, but I’ll never forget the last thing she told me. She said, “Michelle! I cannot emphasize enough how awful Morrissey turned out to be!”

Cecil: Awwww. Wow. Gosh Michelle, I’m so sorry about your mother, but thank you for sharing that extremely personal story on the air.

Michelle: Uh.. No what no? No, I don’t think I did. We were talking about 80’s night. Come to 80’s night! There will be a Cyndi Lauper lookalike competition, and the winner will take over Cyndi’s life, becoming the fifth person to play that role. See you there! Or not, whatever.

Cecil: Thank you, Michelle!

More on the community calendar. Thursday night is the adopt a pet fair at the Last Bank of Night Vale. There’s gonna all sorts of animals, and they will come home with you. You don’t even have to go to the fair. They already know where your home is. And they’re gonna be waiting for you. When you open your door that night, there’s gonna be panting and snarling and two little blinks of light, right inside your darkened doorway. So wow, that sounds like a really fun and socially important event!

And finally, Friday is Bring Your Issues to Work Day. So really dig deep there, people! Let ‘em loose! And this has been the community calendar.

8. Tamika Flynn

Cecil: So listeners, I’m joined in my studio right now by the most vigilant defender of Night Vale and of literature. Please welcome to the air 16-year-old Tamika Flynn!

Tamika: [giggles] Hi Cecil, hi!

Cecil: Hi Tamika! Now, you must be alarmed that there’s a dangerous spy on the loose.

Tamika: Of course! It’s not safe to have an interloper learning our secrets.

Cecil: But what could they learn that would hurt us?

Tamika: Oh, lots of stuff. What if they start uncovering all the plot twists of our favorite novels, like “Murder on the Orient Express”, Agatha Christie’s brilliant whodunit. What if they read ahead and learned at the murderer turns out to be-

Cecil: Wubububububuh! Spoilers! I mean, some of us haven’t read it yet!

Tamika: Oh I’m just teasing. That book doesn’t even have an ending. It’s the only murder Agatha could never solve.

Cecil: Hmm, hm.

Tamika: But learning secrets can be harmful, like one time, I was waiting in line at midnight for the release of the sixth Harry Potter book, and some jerk drove by and shouted: “Snape and Dumbledore are both featured prominently in the new novel!” [angry noise] Ruined.

Cecil: I’ve never read the sixth book!

Tamika: Oh.

Cecil: I’ve only read the third and the seventh. So now the whole experience is ruined!

Tamika: Well, if it makes you feel any better, I chased that fool down and I punched him until his bruises spelled out: “Don’t mess with a Hufflepuff!” But I do have a plan to catch this spy. I’ll disguise myself as the Mink. And then I’ll walk around town until I find someone that’s dressed exactly like me.

Cecil: Ah.

Tamika: [giggles] And then I’ll grab them and I’ll whisper that famous, oh um and then I’ll grab them and shout at them and say: “You wanna spoil the endings of books, pal? Why don’t you try Stephen King’s ‘It’, that whole ending is terrible!”

Cecil: Oh, come on, I liked the ending of “It”!

Tamika: Really?

Cecil: Yeah, you know when It just turns out to be the friends we made along the way. You and you and you… It’s nice. OK, anyway, Tamika. Now I have a question. How are you going to disguise yourself as the Mink, when nobody knows what the Mink actually looks like?

Tamika: Well I’ll j-, but I c-..

Cecil: I know.

Tamika: Oh.

Cecil: Yeah…

Tamika: Fine. Then, oh I’ll dress up as a manila folder with a “top secret” stamp on it!

Cecil: Oh yeah.

Tamika: And then when someone tries to take me, I’ll grab them and whisper that famous movie speech: “I don’t know who you are. I don’t know what you want. I don’t have any money. But what I do have are a very particular set of skills.”

Cecil: Ah!

Tamika: “Skills that I’ve acquired through reading! Would you like a list of book recommendations? Here are a few I think you’d enjoy.”

Cecil: Ah, ha ha!

Tamika: Yes!

Cecil: Oh man, that is my favorite scene from “Say Anything”.

Tamika: Yeah! [giggles] When John Cusack holds that boombox above his head outside the terrorist headquarters, I mean [kiss]! [laughs]

Cecil: So good!

Tamika: Yes.

Cecil: Mm mm, now wait. The Mink is a real threat, and they are interested in learning far more than just book spoilers. I mean, you in particular might be in danger, Tamika.

Tamika: [giggles] Cecil, I’m 16 years old. I know everything there is to know about taking care of myself, OK?

Cecil: Oh yeah, OK, alright. Alright. But listen, if you catch the Mink, bring them here to the studio, because I need to have a moment…

Tamika: Wanna rough him up?

Cecil: Oh uuuuh, um..

Tamika: Yeeeah, like I’ll pin him down and then you take this copy of Hanya Yanagihara’s “Little Life” and just like, bam, bam, bam!

Cecil: Oh, oh.

Tamika: Bam!

Cecil: Oh!

Tamika: This book made me cry, now it’s making you cry, sucker!

Cecil: Uh.. Yeah sure, something like that.

Tamika: Yeah. [giggles]

Cecil: Um-

Tamika: Well, I think I’m off to get that Mink!

Cecil: All right, thank you Tamika! Be safe. Tamika Flynn, everyone!

9. Public Service Announcement

And now, a public service announcement. The Night Vale Youth Fitness Initiative recommends at least 60 minutes a day outdoors for children under the age of 18. Being outdoors encourages kids to be more active and social. Fitness Initiative spokesperson, (Jin Housong) said: “Kids spend too much time indoors, and that makes it very difficult for us to monitor their physical agility and speed! We are trying to find children to fight in the Blood Space War, and that is very difficult when all kids wanna do is spend all their time inside Snapchatting and playing Fortnite.” Some outdoor activities encouraged by the Youth Fitness Initiative include cycling, soccer, breath holding, sensory deprovation, G force resistance, and string theory. The staff of the Youth Fitness Initiative welcome any kid wanting to have fun outdoor time to come on down to the Intergalactic Military Base. They can’t tell you where it is, but they are more than happy to send a chaperone in a burlap sack, and a van. And this has been a public service announcement.

10. Telly the Barber

So listeners, several Night Vale residents have sent in reports of seeing strangers sneaking about town, possible sightings of the elusive Mink. And we have one such witness with us in the studio right now. Please welcome – Telly the barber.

Telly: Hi Cecil!

Cecil: [long pause] Have you cut any hair lately,  Telly?

Telly: Oh sure, I’m always-

Cecil: Have you cut any hair that didn’t need cutting, Telly?

Telly: I-I think we all saw the signs..

Cecil: Have you taken any innocent person, any handsome person and perfectly coiffed scientist person’s hair and then just destroyed it so completely that you had to leave town, Telly?

Telly: Not lately.

Cecil: Mm hm.

Telly: Did you wanna hear my story?

Cecil: No.

Telly: OK, I’ll just hum and cut my hair with this butterknife.

Cecil: Oh OK, alright alright alright alright, I’ve changed my mind, I do wanna hear your story.

Telly: OK. So ever since that one bad haircut and please tell Carlos I’m so sorry, see he asked me for a light trim on the sides, and I misheard it as “shave asterisk in my sideburns, then cut me some bangs.”

Cecil: Bangs? Ugh.

Telly: After that, I banished myself to the desert, rehoning my cutting skills on cacti and tarantulas. Did you know that tarantulas are venomous?

Cecil: Yeah, I- I actually knew that. Oh my god, your hand!

Telly: I learned the hard way. But, but it was a great experience, see I finally reopened my barber shop in Night Vale last year, over by the library. Some of the librarians come in from time to time, I-I have to chain their tentacles to the (--) [0:01:45] first, and then I use grooming sheers to trim the hair along their pincers, which is tough because of the foaming slime that gathers there. Did you know that librarian saliva is acidic?

Cecil: Yeah of course, everybody – oh my god, your other hand!

Telly: I’m earning so much

Cecil: Ugh.

Telly: Anyway, earlier this week, an interloper came to my shop. They were wearing a hockey mask and a turtleneck, they had long thick curly black hair and they whispered: ”I need a new look! Can you cut it short and blond?” so I did.

Cecil: That could have been the Mink!

Telly: Why don’t you just tell the story, Cecil?

Cecil: Well no I’m sorry, I’m sorry. No please, go ahead.

Telly: So the next day-

Cecil: Please tell us more about the lives that those scissors have ruined.

Telly: The next day, the same person returned and they were wearing a sleep mask, vampire teeth, and a drum major coat. An excellent disguise, but I know my own work and I recognize their haircut immediately. I said: “Hello, brand new customer whom I have never seen before! What can I do for you?”

And they whispered: “I need a new look. Can you cut it long and straight with a beard like that guy from Queer Eye?”

Cecil: Awww, I love Jonathan Van Ness! Oh hey, did you ever see that episode where they consult that stone obelisk on that uninhabited island?

Telly: Yeah yeah that's the one where Jonathan was like: “We’re gonna make those cliffs glow!”

Cecil: Yeaah!

Telly: And then he uttered an ancient prayer and was granted a bent scepter and control of the weather.

Cecil: And then they just spent the rest of the episode flying around the island, screaming in Latin and zapping Bobby with lightning.

Telly: That was a great episode!

Cecil: So good.

Telly: You know, the part about the cliffs was so empowering .

Cecil: Yeah!

Telly: Anyway, I performed a wild flurry of scissor snips around the stranger’s head, and voila, they have long straight hair and a beard. Every day this week they’ve come to me, they wanted a Pam Greer Afro, a Sid Vicious Mohawk. That famous Friends haircut, the Ross.

Cecil: You know what you should do? Next time they come in, ask them to get like a blow dry or a perm, and then while they’re waiting-

Telly: Uh, well… don’t be mad.

Cecil: Wait, what?

Telly: So they were today and I kinda messed up? I-I don’t think they’ll be back.

Cecil: Oh come on, Telly!

Telly: See they wanted a 90’s fade and I misheard, and I cut my own foot off. See?

Cecil: Oh my god! Telly, you didn’t even put a bandage on it!

Telly: I didn’t wanna be late to your show. Anyway, they looked really annoyed and left before they got any more blood on them.

Cecil: Ugh. Well you know the important thing is that you tried. I mean, you messed up in a really serious way that I did not even think was possible, but… you tried. And also, I’m sorry I yelled at you before.

Telly: Thanks, Cecil. You know, this might be the blood loss talking but that means so much to me.

Cecil: Sure. Hey listen, have you ever thought about a different career maybe?

Telly: Like knife sharpening or gun cleaning, or chainsaw repair?

Cecil: You know what, no no, just stick to the barbering, Telly. Thank you so much.

Telly: Sure thing.

Cecil: Telly the Barber, everyone! Just grind it into the carpet, no one will ever know.

12. Sightings of the Mink

We are getting reports of Mink sightings all over town. Archeology professor Joel Eisenberg saw a stranger outside of Mission Grove Park, and they were dressed all in black and they were holding copy of the Night Vale Daily Journal, just high enough to cover their face. Now, Joel Eisenberg saw this person, and pointed and shouted “Interloper”, and then being a friendly neighbor, went over and said “Hi, I’m Joel, do you like dinosaurs?” And the stranger said yes, but kept their face hidden.

“What’s your favorite dinosaur? Mine’s the ichthyosaur.”

And the stranger said, “Yeah, I guess so, sure.”

And Joel’s face reddened and his voice thickened like wet concrete.

“Ichthyosaurs aren’t dinosaurs! Mink!” [scoffs]

Imposter didn’t even know the difference between a marine lizard and a dinosaur. But they did know how to throw that newspaper in Joel’s face and run.

Jackie Fierro, owner of the local pawn shop, said her half mother Diane Crayton came to the store to ask if Jackie sold cars that fired rockets from behind their headlights and/or turn into boats, and/or had ejector seats. Now, Jackie thought this was a fairly odd request from a single mother with a fairly bland day job. “What do you need all that for, Diane?” asked Jackie.

“It’s for my son, Josh Josh, my son’s name is Josh.”

Now Jackie knew this was not the real Diane. She was nose to nose with the Mink. Jackie started to speak, but there was a quick puff of smoke and the would-be-Diane was gone, and in their place, there was a wad that looked like skin and hair. And Jackie picked it up, and it was a perfect replica of Diane’s face.

Later, at the old shipping port, Tamika Flynn trailed a suspect into a dilapidated warehouse along the waterfront, which has no water, because we live in a desert. Which is a huge reason why they had to shut down the shipping port. Anyway, it was dark inside the abandoned building save for streaks of dusty sunlight through the shaddered windows, and Tamika heard a creaking from a pile of boxes nearby, and she was frightened, unable to move. But wait, she thought. Why, I’m the predator, the Mink is the prey. And then she remembered those famous lines from Alfred Lord Tennyson’s “Charge of the Light Brigade.” “I’m here to kick butt and chew bubblegum. Why not both?”

So she threw some chicklets into her mouth and shouted: “You’re trapped, Mink!” and raced toward the sound and a figure emerged from behind a tower of boxes, and they pushed the crates down on Tamika, but she did this like, backflip-kick thing and knocked that interloper right out of the warehouse onto the deck. And as they approached, the Mink pulled out a remote control and a tiny helicopter descended from nowhere and a tiny ladder descended from the tiny helicopter, and the Mink grabbed onto it and flew away.

Man, I thought Tamika really had him that time. I really wanna take a moment to just interview this person, someone who has all these secrets, just for journalistic reasons of course.

It would make the interview of the century.

13. Sheriff Sam

But until that moment, the Sheriff’s Secret Police would like us to know that they have this Mink situation firmly in hand. And in order to show how under control it is, the Sheriff would like to speak to you themself. Listeners, Sheriff Sam!

Sam: Hello Sessil.

Cecil: Cecil.

Sam: Sessil.

Cecil: Cecil.

Sam: Do you know, I really feel like I’m saying it. Sessil.

Cecil: Yeah, it-it sounds good enough, alright.

Sam: Now before I start, I want to apologize to the people of Night Vale for what I’ve done. And let me finish. I disagree that the new seasons of “The Great British Bake Off” are better. And I’m very sad that Mary Berry is no longer there, you know I couldn’t get enough of her famous catch phrase: “I’m unable to feel anything at all. Unless I can see clear layers in a baked good.”

Cecil: Ah, such a good catch phrase!

Sam: And I don’t like that they replaced Mel and Sue with two polar bears, who toy with and eventually eat the last place finisher.

Cecil: Yeah, I think I think it will grow us on, right?

Sam: Yeah but all that being said, I really shouldn’t have done what I did last night. When I raised my voice and said: “Paul Hollywood needs a new wardrobe.” I mean, what’s with those blue jeans, right?  

Cecil: Yeah, yeah.

Sam: And then Paul started crying and wailed: “Why would you say that, powerful desert law enforcer?” And channel 4 immediately cancelled the series.

Cecil: I know, I-I didn’t get to see the technical challenge that episode.

Sam: No. And I-I know it was your favorite show and now it’s gone..

Cecil: Yeah.

Sam: So I’m sorry. Television is a two-way street..

Cecil: Yeah.

Sam: ..and I should have thought about that.

Cecil: That’s right, they can hear us. So I-I, listen, I accept your apology and besides, it’s actually kind of nice not to have the TV on and to get to spend more time with my husband. Yeah.

Sam: And you know I didn’t even mean what meant, what I said. I didn’t even mean what I meant. [chuckles] I didn’t even mean what I meant when I said that thing about Paul Hollywood. I should look at the script, it would be more useful.

Cecil: That’s…

Sam: [chuckles] I think Paul Hollywood does look good in jeans, I mean he’s stepfather hot.

Cecil: Oh wait, please. He’s more like divorced tax accountant dad hot. That’s, you know. Anyway, let’s change the subject. I wanted to speak to you today about the Mink. Now, they are a master of disguise and this has made it impossible for us to find them. Does the Sheriff’s Secret Police have a plan to determine who the Mink is?

Sam: Well, we’ve consulted with experts, and outside of fringe sciences like parapsychology, divination, genetics…

Cecil: Yeah, right.

Sam: Not really, no. But we do have a new law enforcement tool. It’s called the brainwave transposition ray. [long pause, apparently something visual is going on]

Cecil: OK you’re just doing like spirit fingers.

Sam: Not at all. This is the brainwave transposition ray. Sessil, simply put: you point it at a potential criminal, which is to say anybody at all. And it tells you exactly what they’re currently thinking.

Cecil: Whoa!

Sam: Here, I’ll show you how it works. Now there might be Night Vale citizens on the sidewalk outside the studio, I can try it on.

Cecil: OK.

Sam: Let me move over to the window and… weird.

Cecil: What?

Sam: There’s hundreds of people staring at us right now.

Cecil: I know, they’ve been here the whole time. It’s making me nervous, but you know, it’s fine.

Sam: Yeah, creepy.

Cecil: Yeah.

Sam: Well, you see if I point the device right at this person, we should be able to hear their exact thoughts.

Cecil: Mm.

Voice: I like many kinds of animals, but I like sea lions best.

Cecil: Huh.

Sam: I mean doesn’t sound like the Mink…

Cecil: Ah no, no.

Sam: OK, let’s try someone else.

Voice: I forgot to wash the blood off the bath tub, my wife’s gonna kill me. Oh god.

Sam: No, the Mink wouldn’t be married.

Cecil: Yeah, yeah.

Sam: Let’s try…

Voice: Sure hope the Secret Police won’t arrest me for wearing a full disguise and a mask.

Cecil: Whoa! That’s the Mink!

Voice: Cause I’m not wearing a disguise or a mask. I’m just Chris (Brothon) from Night Vale with my usual face and limbs, and my greatest fear is false arrest.

Cecil: Oh. That was very specific.

Sam: Ahem. You know, having a fear of false arrest is highly illegal, so we’ll be by soon to collect you, Chris. Let’s try one more. Do you want to try doing it?

Cecil: Well I oh, I don’t know Sheriff, I mean it’s an amazing device but it does seem rather intrusive. Are you sure it’s safe?

Sam: Yes yes of course come on, try it on me. [loud music, glass shatters]

Cecil: Oh wow. That’s, that’s great. I-I had no idea that that’s what you’re thinking right now.

Sam: Yeah sure, why what do your thoughts sound like?

Cecil: I love my husband. I love my husband. I also agree that sea lions are so cute. So cute! Soo cute!!

Sam: None of that was illegal at all, how disappointing.

Cecil: Yeah I know, I’m sorry. Um, you know but I do hope that you end up arresting Chris later on.

Sam: Well that will cheer me up. Now Sessil, you do help me look on the bright side so thank you and do give me a shout if you find out anything about the Mink.

Cecil: Alright, I will. Thank you, Sheriff Sam!

13. Ascentia Ad

Cecil: And now another word from our sponsors.

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14. Deb Returns

Cecil: And now I present to you a major milestone in radio history: the first ever audio only magic shooooow! Yes, yes, yes!

Now listen, I’ve been practicing these tricks perfectly and I have every single one of them down, even the one with the-the doves and the aerial dancers. So, for my first trick, I will take a flamethrower that I have hidden under the… [long pause] OK, listeners, that may have to wait. For some reason, Deb the sentient patch of haze has returned to my studio. What’s up Deb?

Deb: Hello, Cecil! How are you? Oh, doesn’t this place just look a treat? Oh, and all the doves! I love doves! Almost as much as I love horses.

Cecil: Deb, are you OK?

Deb: Cecil, thank you, I’m doing wonderful, how are you? Oh, and isn’t this just the cutest little studio! Is that a safe? Full of secrets? How adorable! I can’t, I won’t, I absolutely will not...

Cecil: You sound a little different or something.

Deb: Well do you know what would make this studio that much more perfect, Cecil? Beautiful crystalline horse figurines. Can’t you just picture them? Oh, all of the sparkly horses! Especially, tsk tsk tsk, on that safe. I bet that safe just has the cutest combination.

Cecil: Oh yeah, it’s super cute, but I don’t see what it has to-

Deb: As a kid, I remember watching the horses drop by my house. Can you believe it, I grew up near a horse farm? “Get inside!” my mother would yell. [shrill voice] “You know you’re allergic!” But how could allergies ever stand up to my love of horses? Say, I bet the inside of that safe is even that much more adorable..

Cecil: Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait!

Deb: Can I ju-

Cecil: Love? Deb isn’t capable of love! Oh my god, you’re the Mink!

Deb: Nooo! No!

Cecil: Yes, the Mink has disguised themself as Deb in order to infiltrate my studio!

Deb: That’s not true.

Cecil: Yeah, certain small tells in their behavior indicated that this is not the real Deb!

Deb: No I’m definitely Bed, I mean Deb, excuse me..

Cecil: No wait wait wait, before you go, I just need to have a moment…

15. The Chase

Cecil: Tamika, this is the Mink! [long pause, suspenseful music] And the Mink has just jumped into a 1987 yellow (-) [0:00:22] and raced off, and Tamika is leaping onto her motorcycle and speeding after, and the Sheriff’s Secret Police, who had our station under surveillance, are joining the chase. The Mink has now turned the wrong way down a one way street and is weaving through oncoming traffic, and Tamika is racing up a loading ramp, jumping her bike from rooftop to rooftop, from rooftop to bus stop, and from bus stop to the street. She’s finally hit the ground and she’s only a few feet away from the Mink’s car and they’re swerving back and forth trying to get her to veer off. Watch out, Tamika!

Breaking news: I have just learned that the Mink and their ever increasing search for secrets has started to delve into forbidden and dangerous knowledge. Six security guards at the top secret facility on Oak Street have gone missing, and the entire place was ransacked. This is all according to a spokesperson from the Vague Yet Menacing Government Agency, who looked a lot like my neighbor Madeline, and lives in Madeline’s house but had a sign that says “I’m not Madeline”, so I have no idea where I’m getting any of this information.

Anyway, that spokesperson said that among the classified secrets taken were the truth about who killed JFK, Amelia Earhart’s continued whereabouts, several nuclear codes and what, what, what? That Night Vale resident and actor Lee Marvin died decades ago? But that’s impossible! Like, he’s alive and well, and today is his 30th birthday.

Update on the chase. Tamika has now trapped the Mink’s car at the top of a towering cliff, and the Mink is fleeing on foot, and overhead helicopters of every kind circle, and the Sheriff’s Secret Police secret police cars roar by on a nearby road, and dark clouds are gathering, and there is lightning and thunder and listen, I know it does rain sometimes in the desert but it was, like, sunny 15 seconds ago but this is a really compelling picture that I’m painting for all of you. And the wind is whipping back Tamika’s hair as she sprints after the Mink, who is rearranging their disguise even as they flee, but finally they hit a dead end. It’s a sheer drop on both sides. “There’s no way left to go, Mink!” Tamika shouts into the gusts of wind, and the Mink smiles at her ever so sadly and then – steps backward off the cliff. Now Tamika, not willing to let her (quarry) go so easily – jumps after. Let me get some information on this, this has all gone terribly wrong. But in the meantime,

Let’s check in

On the weather.

16. The Weather

[“Company Man” by Dane Terry, https://daneterry.bandcamp.com/]

17. Where is the Mink

Listeners, I do hope you found that weather report was edifying. I’ve been trying to get any word that I can on Tamika or the Mink, but they both have vanished. The helicopters lost track of them as they fell through the long curtain of rain, and so no one can say what happened next but – that fall was quite long.

This is all my fault. I knew it was dangerous, but I was blind to the dangers that I was asking Tamika to perform, because I wanted to speak with the Mink so badly. And now I fear – we have lost her.

I have never wanted to say these words but.. to the family of Tamika Flynn, I will never forget myself for what I have done, I will never be able to-

Tamika: No, I’m alive! I’m not dead!

Cecil: Tamika, oh Tamika!

Tamika: Hi hi hey hey hey, hey hey hey, I’m down here, no worries.

Cecil: What happened?!

Tamika: Oh, I-I caught the Mink.

Cecil: What?

Tamika: Yeah! They’re right hear.

Cecil: [gasps] [long pause]

Tamika: Yeah, I-I found them.

Cecil: That’s amazing, I’m so impressed!

Tamika: [chuckles] Bam, one Mink caught, I am very good at this.

Cecil: Yeah! No wait, are you positive that’s the Mink though?

Tamika: Yes. Well, I got some intel on their latest disguise, and they’re wearing sunglasses.

Cecil: Uh huh.

Tamika: You can put them over (--)  [0:01:33]. They’re wearing a hat.

Cecil: OK, yeah.

Tamika: It’s clean.

Cecil: Yeah, yeah, clean hat. Clean hat Mink, that’s what they call him.

Tamika: And they’re wearing a name tag that says: “Hello, I’m the Mink!”

Cecil: Aaaa, yes, that is some brilliant deduction!

Tamika: I am very smart.

Cecil: Yeah, well done but Tamika, bring them into my studio for just one second before the Secret Police get here, OK?

Tamika: Alright, we’re on our way!

Cecil: Alright, thank you Tamika! Oh, that’s such a relief! Whoa. (But!)  You know, it just goes to show that reckless decision making and snap decisions always pay off. And I’m so glad that I turned out to be 100 percent right about this whole situation. Versus how 100 percent wrong about this whole situation I was just a few months ago.

But you know, listen, I’ve gotta confess something to you all, and I hate to do this because I hold myself to high standards both morally and journalistically, but – I lied to you just a tiny little bit on my show, because I didn’t know who was listening. But now I will make it up to you by telling you all the truth. Not all the truth, I’m gonna withhold just a little piece of information, but I’m letting you know upfront that there’s one thing that I cannot tell you.

Listen, I was never seeking the Mink for professional reasons, not because it would make the interview of the century or because I wanted to get them to spill all their secrets on the air, no. I wanted to talk to them because they never spill their secrets, because listeners, I have this secret that I have been holding for two years, and I have to tell someone! And here comes this opportunity to talk to his person that never spills any of their secrets. They’re the perfect keeper of forbidden knowledge. And now, here they are.

Thank you so much, Tamika. Now Mink, I gotta tell you something, you know and I’ve only, I don’t think I’ve ever told anybody. Wait, hold on a sec-

18. Secret Interdlue

[music, audience reacts, no audible dialogue]

19. The Escape

Cecil: Oh no, they’re getting away! Aaaaah. Oh man, uh! Ahhhh. [strained noises] We’ll never catch them now. The Mink has escaped. Now, we as a society, we fear secrets. You know, maybe as a species, if we don’t fear them we look down upon them like secret lies or dirty little secrets, and if someone is not willing to say something out loud, then it must be shameful or evil or somehow incorrect but a secret, it’s not good or bad, it’s just not known and the universe is filled with secrets, like consider a field flush with flowers that humans have not seen in generations. If we don’t know about it, is it a secret or or, or a star in the middle of the galaxy that our telescopes do not reach. We will never know about this star, but it glitters secretly in the heart of the universe or, or something more down to earth and mundane like a, like a person who has never tasted a turnip. Doesn’t know what a turnip tastes like and just refuses to ask anybody or eat a turnip. Is that a secret? I don’t know. What is unknown and what is merely unsaid?

Officials from the Sheriff’s Secret Police, the City Council, and the Vague yet Menacing Government Agency all say that they have plans to catch the Mink and those plans are top secret. And since they’re top secret, the Mink has already learned about them, so they are highly unlikely to work. But you know what? Good luck.

Soon I imagine we will all return to a baseline normal as a town, a little less darkness, a lot less secrets but we’re still us, we’re still Night Vale. You know, there’s an energy in secrets. Who we share them with, who we don’t. And not everybody has a right to know everything about everyone, and our curiosity, it’s not a license. And we don’t have to share every part of ourselves with everyone, there’s no shame in privacy. There is, however, an energy in secrets, there’s a-a fission that happens when you share a secret with somebody. And that secret could be an aspect of love, platonic love or romantic love or the love you owe to yourself, love of every kind. And the biggest secret of all is the universe, one that we will never get to unravel.

I mean, I had a secret, and I needed the Mink to help me carry it. And I know that they’re not going to bow to peer pressure and tell aanybody what I just told them. No matter how many drinks people buy at the bar afterwards and say “Hey, what did he just say to you?” No, they’re gonna keep that secret. You know, secrets can be light. Share them with somebody, don’t share them with somebody, hold them for yourself. I mean I’m not ashamed of my secret, certainly not. Certainly not.

See? There’s an energy in secrets. Especially in secrets that all of you will never get to know.

There is an energy in secrets, and I hope that that energy lifts you.

So stay tuned next for the quiet roar of your secret thoughts, some of which you may some day share.

And for the secret heart of my secret self,

Good night, Night Vale,

Good night.

[yungimmortals]

spoilers | graves & cleo

date: june 21st, 2020

summary: morning after the masquerade. in through the door, clothes on the floor. out the window, there they go!

When sleeping in a clear spot to watch the stars, the sky was also open to the first rays of the sun to wake you up. Which would not be a problem, except that Cleo and Graves had fallen asleep (passed out mid-conversation) a mere hours earlier when Artemis and Apollo had been switching off chariot duty. Cleo’s mouth tasted of stale alcohol, and when she pushed herself up off of Graves’s shoulder, she could feel her hair sticking up in odd directions. She wasn’t insecure about her appearance, but she was pretty sure her eye makeup was either now non-existent or on a place on her face other than her eyes, and that wasn’t the cutest of looks. Despite that, she was happy as she woke up. The bed of a truck wasn’t somewhere you wanted to sleep for more than a few hours, even if there were as many blankets as Graves kept there. As she saw him stir as well, Cleo smiled down at him. “I think... I might still be kind of drunk,” she admitted with a laugh.

Feeling Cleo stir beside him, Graves cracked one eye open, squinting up at the sky. The rosy colors of dawn had started to light up the early morning clouds, giving the world a peachy glow. He turned his head to his shoulder, stifling a yawn and shielding Cleo from his breath which probably smelled worse than a hydra's. With a groan, he pushed himself up and inched back to lean against the side of the truck and stretch his legs. Graves wiggled his fingers at Cleo, a sleepy smile on his face. "I...also think that I am...the same," he mumbled, his voice gravelly.

His hair was sticking up in every possible direction and no amount of trying to flatten it with his hand was helping. Despite his rumpled appearance, he was elated; they'd fallen asleep after a night of drinking and dancing and joking around. Graves was thankful he always left a supply of blankets and pillows in his truck but, as his stomach growled, he wished he'd thought to keep some snacks in the cab as well. "D'you wanna...get some food?" He turned to Cleo with a grin as his stomach growled again, more insistent this time.

Cleo sat up fully, drew her legs up to her chest, and wrapped a blanket around her shoulders. She rubbed her eye, not caring enough that her makeup was going to get messed up if it was probably already a lost cause. She giggled at his response and wiggled her fingers back at him. “Drunk or sleepy. Or both.” She wrapped the blanket around herself more, so that only her head was poking out. 

She was tempted to tell him not to bother fixing his hair; that the floppy look was adorable and that she didn’t mind if it wasn’t nice anyway, but she figured that if she brought it up at all, it would just make him embarrassed. That in itself was somewhat compelling, since she’d get to see him red and mumbly, but her attention was brought elsewhere. “Yes,” her response was immediate. She needed a few things, and food was high on the list. “I need to brush my teeth first, I taste like a distillery.”

"Maybe both. Def sleepy though," he cleared his throat and rolled his shoulders back, satisfied when he heard one pop. "Gods, same. I don't remember drinkin' things that tasted this bad but I need to be minty fresh, stat." Slowly, Graves stood and climbed out of the truck, still feeling stiffness in his bones from spending the night outside. He held out his hands to help Cleo climb down. "We can stop at my cabin? I have clothes you can borrow too, so we don't show up at the diner like....this." He laughed, gesturing to his own rumpled shirt, suit jacket still tossed somewhere in the cab of the truck. "How's that sound?"

Cleo stretched as well, tossing her neck from side to side to open everything up. “Drinks hardly taste bad until the next day. We’re lucky it’s because we slept in a truck and not because we’ve thrown up.” She took his hand and hopped down, exhaling a small laugh at his state before she looked down at her own rumpled shirt and slacks. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Cam,” she said, clearly amused, squeezing his hand for emphasis. “But I guess if I look that baaad...” She laughed and swung their hands for a moment. “Sure, it sounds comfy. Should I borrow a toothbrush there or scramble home at the same time?”

He squeezed her hand in return, laughing lightly as she swung them. "Not what I meant at all, y'look great, Bancroft. I just thought you might want to add another pair of my sweatpants to your collection." Graves gave her a pointed look, but smiled so it was clear that he didn't mind. "I have extras so we can just make one stop, that cool?"

Cleo laughed and pressed his hand into her cheek, then moved to start pulling him towards the cabins. “Fine, that’s cool, but only because your sweatpants are so comfy, and only only because it’s your birthday.”

As they walked, Graves threw his hand around Cleo's shoulder. "Pretty good birthday, so far." Arriving at the Hermes cabin, he poked his head inside. "Coast is clear, c'mon," he whispered over his shoulder, reaching down to find her hand and give it another squeeze, hoping to lend some much-needed luck before he darted inside.

Cleo felt almost antsy as she followed Graves to the Hermes cabin. Just something about showing up to a place, with a guy she liked, whose sisters hated her, wearing last night's clothes... She was enticed. She held back a laugh when he squeezed her hand, almost holding her breath as she followed him. Once they were safely in his room, she felt safe enough to speak again, though kept her voice at a whisper. "Do you think we'll be the first people in the diner, save the staff? Oh my gods, do you think they'll hate us?" Her stomach growled, and she realized that she didn't care.

Graves closed the door behind Cleo, leaning against the door for a moment with a trademark Hermes kid grin on his face. He nodded, before bursting into action, rifling through his drawers. "We might be but-" He stifled a laugh with the back of his hand as Cleo's stomach growled. "I don't care either. I'll tip real nice, they'll be fine with it." He tossed her a pair of grey sweatpants and pulled open his t-shirt drawer, gesturing between her and the drawer before rummaging around in his closet. Over his shoulder he said, "Pick whatever shirt you want. Hoodie or flannel?"

Cleo didn’t hesitate to start changing her pants once Graves handed her the sweatpants. “Ugh, thank you. I don’t know how I slept in slacks,” she said, as though that was the least comfortable part of sleeping in the back of a truck. She exhaled a small laugh. “Plus, otherwise they’re just waiting around until people come in.” She nodded as she made her way over to his drawer. She pulled out a gaudy shirt that looked like it was about ten years old and held it out to him. “This one right here’s a winner. Love me some hot beer and lousy food.” She grinned. “Ooo, um, hoodie, please.”

To give Cleo some privacy, Graves kept his back to her, beginning to undo the buttons on his dress shirt and tossing it in a heap on his chair before taking off his belt. It joined his rumpled shirt on the desk chair a moment later, along with his pants. He quickly hopped into the pair of sweats he'd grabbed, then fished around in his closet again for a hoodie to give to Cleo. Unsure of her state of undress, he didn't turn around, instead calling out a warning over his shoulder as he tossed her the hoodie. "Incomin'!" Still looking in the closet for something to wear, he heard her comment on the shirt she'd picked and instantly knew which one it was. "Hey! Duffy's is a Myrtle Beach staple. I'll take you sometime, you can judge for yourself."

Cleo knew it was just curtesy, but she found it sweet that Graves didn’t turn around at all. She supposed that she should give him an equal amount of privacy, and stopped herself from running her eyes down his bare back, turning away from him. She squeaked and grabbed the hoodie from the air as it landed on her, and put the shirt back in the drawer, picking out something that looked about as comfy and not nearly as sentimental. “What an offer!” She laughed as she pulled the shirt over her head and took her dress top off under it. “Bringing me to a place with terrible service and food? I’m so in.” She pulled the hoodie on, warm and enveloped in Graves’s scent— the reason why she’d chosen it. She balled her hands up around the sleeves and made a content noise. “Are you feeling sweet or savory?”

"It's a great offer!" Graves laughed loudly, "The service...is slow, but the food is delicious and they make bangin' drinks. Plus, it's walkin' distance from my house and across the street from the ocean. What's not to like about that?" He pulled a flannel out of his closet and tossed it over one shoulder, turning around at her question and walking to his dresser. Rifling through the drawer for a shirt to finish off his outfit, he glanced at Cleo. The sight of her in his sweatshirt made him smile a little crooked grin. "Definitely feelin' sweet, come on Bancroft. You already know I'm getting waffles for breakfast. How 'bout you?"

Cleo listened as Graves described the restaurant, feeling the nostalgia dripping from his words. “It does sound nice,” she agreed. “I guess I’ll tell you what I think when you bring me there.” She glanced back at him when she noticed him move, and moved closer, struck with the sudden urge to wrap her arms around him. She stopped herself, but moved behind him, and pressed her face into the flannel on his shoulder to rest there for a moment. “Oh. How can I pass up waffles? Diners are all about having an excuse to have dessert for breakfast. I can make eggs at home.”

Graves dipped his head to hide the look of excitement on his face. "You've got yourself a deal. Next time I make the trip home, you're my co-pilot." He let his head rest on Cleo's for a second before moving away to pull on the t-shirt he'd grabbed and to slip into his flannel. Patting his pockets, his eyes scanned the room for his wallet, finding it on his desk. "A waffle girl, I knew I liked you," he joked, pocketing his wallet and looking over at Cleo. He quickly rummaged through a drawer; a moment later, he looked triumphant. "Toothbrush?"

Do not press a kiss into his shoulder. Cleo squeezed her eyes shut and repressed the urge. She leaned back when he moved and smiled at him, reaching out to take his wrist with both of hers as he found his wallet. "I know you are not thinking of paying on your birthday, Cameron." She laughed, shaking her head. "I will be taking that toothbrush though, please."

His face quirked into a half-smile as Cleo's hands wrapped around his wrist, gently tugging his hand away from his wallet. Graves pressed his hand to his heart, eyes bright. "I was, only because I had planned on treatin' you. But if you insist," he smiled, letting his hand drop, before remembering that he was holding the toothbrush which he then passed to Cleo. "C'mon, let's get cleaned up and out of here. I'm starvin'."

“Of course I insist, Cam!” Cleo laughed, happy that he didn’t protest. “What kind of friend would I be letting you spend money on your birthday? Not allowed.” She shook her head, the took the toothbrush from him. Reluctantly, she dropped his wrist before poking her head out the door, then crept to the bathroom, walking on tip toes as though that might help her hide from the Hermes girls. She held her brush out for toothpaste once they were ready. “Remember when you brushed your teeth at my place? I’m glad I didn’t have to dislocate my shoulder before this.”

"I'll remember that on your birthday, Bancroft," Graves smiled at her, fluffing his hair up with his hand in an attempt to rid himself of his bedhead. He darted to the bathroom, waiting until Cleo was inside to close the door behind them, grinning at their luck. Less lucky was the sound the toothpaste made as he knocked several things over in the medicine cabinet in an attempt to grab it. "Shit," he whispered loudly, trying not to laugh. Toothpaste on both their brushes, he returned it to the cabinet and raised his eyebrows at Cleo as he started to brush his teeth. "Don't think I could forget that if I tried," he stopped brushing to admit.

Cleo wet her brush and gave him a foamy smile, doing her best not to laugh at the mess he accidentally made. “Gonna have t’shneak out th’window.” She said around the toothbrush, shaking her head at him. She spit, took a bit of extra time on her tongue, and then rinsed her mouth, flashing him a now-clean smile. “Ready for some diner coffee and waffles? I’m picking up the tab, so feel free to get a steak and a smoothie and onion rings too.” She laughed, then covered her mouth when she realized that she probably shouldn’t be making so much noise when she was in the enemy household.

Graves finished brushing his teeth and cupped some water in his hands to splash on his face. "Nothin' I haven't done before," he dried his face with a towel and returned her smile. "Coffee and waffles sounds fuckin' mint. You're already tryin' to spoil me, I won't take advantage." He moved to the window, looking over his shoulder as he popped it open. Cleo's concern with getting caught by his sisters was cute, but right now Graves felt downright invincible. He jutted a thumb at the now-open window, mischief all over his face, voice innocent when he spoke. "You said this was our way out, right?"

As she watched Graves rinse his face, Cleo realized what a good idea that would be, and followed his lead, doing the same after. She wiped her face dry with the sleeves of Graves’s hoodie and smiled at him. “Not taking advantage, just having the perfect birthday brunch.” When he motioned to the window, she laughed once more, and skipped the short way over. “I did. Normally I’d like it if there were some vines and a veranda to climb down, but I guess I won’t complain.”

"Vines?" Graves scoffed, halfway out the window already. "You don't need vines, just step on the ledge where the paint's chipped a little and climb on out, I'll catch ya, swear." He shimmied out the rest of the way and hopped to the ground, beaming up at Cleo, silhouetted inside. He held out a hand, "Do you trust me?"

Cleo pressed the sleeve into her mouth as she smiled. “Where we’re going, we don’t need vines,” she mimicked Graves in a low voice, amused and comfortable and charmed. She followed him out the window, took his hand, and looked him in the eye as she hopped down. “I do,” she admitted plainly. “Is that a bad idea?”

Graves met Cleo's gaze as she gracefully landed next to him in the grass. Sunlight caught on a curl of her hair, his eyes flickered to it. Don't tuck her hair behind her ear. He repressed the urge, looking back at her as his lips quirked up in a crooked smile. "Maybe, but don't you want to find out?"

Cleo repositioned their hands so that their fingers were interlaced, and she returned his smile back to him. "You're right. I hate spoilers."

[madamsixx]

Beyond The Leather Chapter 7: Secret Revealed

Warnings: Mentions of drug use

February 2nd, 1985, LA

Theresa came down to come and get me from Toronto Canada and fly with me back to LA. I had a audition for an upcoming movie in December and a interview with Joan Rivers in February. I was staying at Theresa's apartment because Tamara was out in paris for fashion week. There were two major things I wanted to do while I was here; 1 visit Ola, Slash, and Albion and 2 nail this audition.

"So how was your Christmas and New Years?" Theresa asked as we walked into her tiny apartment.

"It was good no complaints. Hope yours was good as well?"

"It was, I went to go see my parents. They were excited to see me." She smiled. "So Motley Crue huh." She broke the tension.

"Yeah Tammy told me, wow." I say sitting on the couch. "Hey did you book the car service and glam team for my interview with Joan Rivers?" I asked.

"Um no not yet I'll do it closer to the day."

"Ok. Well I'm a bit hungry, you got anything to eat?"

"Uh no but we can go out and get something if you'd like?" Theresa says searching in the fridge.

"Sure that sounds great." I respond.

Later in the afternoon...

Theresa was on the phone talking to one of her friends, it sounded like she was making plans with them.

"So Iman one of my friends is having her birthday today at this club called the Whiskey A GO GO and wants me to come out, do you think your alright to stay on your own, or would you like to come out?" She asked

"Oh no I'll stay in doors, you go out and enjoy your self I'll be alright."

Later at Night....

I heard the door open and shut as I was sleeping. I also heard loud voices and things knocking around. I got up to check out what that noise was.

"Theresa are you ok?" I asked coming out of the room.

My eyes went wide when I saw Theresa. But it wasn't so much her it was who she was with. Robbin Crosby, Nikki Sixx and two other guys who I have never seen before. They're completely wasted.

"Iman help me please there all whacked out of there minds, they were trying to drive home so I just brought them here instead." She says as shes holding Nikki up, and the other two guys are holding Robbin up.

"Um.....sure ok" I say running to help her pick up Nikki.

We throw Nkkki on the couch and he's passed out completley. Theresa then guides the other two towards her room so Robbin can sleep on her bed.

"Thanks so much guys you can crash on the other couch. It's a pull out so you two will be comfortable on it."

"Thanks Theresa we appreciate it." One of the guys spoke up with an English accent.

They took the pillows off of the couch and pulled it out and got into the bed. Theresa went and brought some blankets for them.

"Thank you love." The other guy smiled at her.

"Here come with me." She pulled my arm and I followed her into my room.

"Theresa what the-"

"I know I know." She interrupted me. "Look I went out with my friend to the Whiskey A GO GO and Nikki, Robbin, and these two guys from Hanoi Rocks Mike Monroe and Andy McCoy were there drinking. And I saw them trying to drive so I took Nikki's car keys and drove them all here.

"That was good of you. Who are Hanoi Rocks by the way?" I asked with curiosity.

"There a rock band. The guy Razzle was there drummer, remember the one that was killed in the car crash with Vince."

"Oh yeah I remember."

"Anyways get some sleep, we'll talk tomorrow." She walks half way out my door then turns around alittle "Y' know Nikki has been asking about you since I got to the whiskey." she smiled.

"Goodnight Theresa." I say shoving her out of my room and shutting the door.

So Nikki was still thinking about me. I thought he would have hated me. But either way I needed to stay far away from him and his band.

I woke up the next morning to see a note on the side of my bed that read Went to go get breakfast- Terri. I got out of bed and headed to the bathroom to brush and shower. When I got to the bathroom I saw the guy from yesterday combing his hair and applying makeup on his face.

"Oh sorry I'll just wait till your done." I said as I backed away.

"Iman right?" He spoke looking at me through the mirror.

"Hi... um yes, and your?"

"Michael... Michael Monroe from Hanoi Rocks."

"Its nice to meet you. I'm a...I'm sorry about your drummer Razzle." I whispered.

"Thank you." He responded as he wiped the make up off his face. And started reapplying it.

I watched him do that a couple of times and realized that that could be a coping mechanism for him.

I turned and headed towards the living room. Nikki was sitting on the couch with another guy watching the news. He didn't look like him self, in fact he looked terrible.

"Why's Vince on the news?" Nikki asked with a slurred voice.

"That's for the manslaughter charge Nikki." I looked at him.

"Oh yeah." He leans his bed back on the sofa.

"Hi I'm Andy I'm from the rock group Hanoi Rocks, and you must be Iman." He got up to come and shake my hand.

"Hi yes I am. I'm sorry about your drummer Razzle," I shook his hand.

"You are a beauty, I can see why Nikki likes you." He looked down at Nikki and smiled. He walked back over and sat on the couch.

Nikki just glared at him. His eyes were droopy and red and he smelt really bad.

"So have you talked to Vince?" I asked sitting next to Nikki.

"No."

"Why not?" I furrowed my eyebrows.

"Because he ruined my band." He scoffed.

"Oh well don't you think-"

"Dont you think you should shut up and mind your own fucking buissness!" He snapped.

"You know what Nikki I'll do just that." I got up to walk back to the washroom, but turned back to give him a piece of my mind. " Vince is your bandmate, your best friend, and your brother. You guys just finshed a successful tour that not many rock bands have been blessed to have. I'm sure you have experienced some of the best times together and shared stories and even shared girls with each other. And your telling me that you cant even pick up the phone to call him, or visit him. He needs your support." I turned on my heel and walked away.

The door opened and Theresa came in with Robbin carrying breakfast for everyone. She set it down on the table and the boys started to dig in. I showered and stayed in the room rehearsing my lines for my audition and worrying about my first interview on TV ever with Joan Rivers.

Knock Knock

"Yes come in."

Nikki opened the door and let him self into my room. He sat down on the bed and just stared at me. He honestly didn't look like himself. And I dont think it was stress.

"How was your Christmas?" He asked

How was my Christmas??? How dare him even ask me that after the way he yelled at me.

"I'll answer that after you give me an apology for the way you spoke to me out there." I replied.

"I don't owe you shit." He snapped

"Really...after your outburst just now. You know..... I think you are that guy I met in New York Nikki."

Nikki was seething with anger, his fists rolled up into a ball and he clenched his jaw.

"Fuck you you stupid cunt." He shouted

"Get out." I grabbed my lamp on the dresser "Now!" I screamed and threw it at the door barely missing him.

"What the fuck is wrong with you psycho bitch." He yelled.

"Get out Nikki."

He flipped me off and then opened the door and slammed it shut. Ahole.

____

I finished my audition it went really well. So all I had to do was wait a couple days to hear a call back. Now as for my interview I was really nervous about it. Me and Theresa were sitting in her car outside her apartment. We just sat there talking while she had a smoke when all of a sudden we here another car pull up behind us. I looked through the rear view mirror and realized it was Nikki's car. Robbin was in there too.

"Is there a reason that there here?" I asked Theresa.

"Well Nikki has been asking about you through Robbin."

"What do you mean through Robbin?" I looked at Theresa.

"Well me and Robbin are kind of together. Were taking things slow." She smiled.

"Theresa after what they did at the Rainbow you still want that guy?"

"Look Iman he's sweet ok. He told me he was sorry. I forgave him. Besides he wants us to go out for lunch today."

"I'll pass."

"No your coming." She opens her car door and puts out her cigarette.

I see there car door open on the passengers side and Robbin walks towards Theresa giving her a hug and a kiss. I open my car door and walk towards the apartment to slip away quickly.

"Nooooo I dont think so your coming." Theresa chuckled and I huffed.

Nikki was driving his car, I sat in the passengers seat while Theresa and Robbin sat in the back giggling and whispering to each other. Nikki kept taking his eyes off the road to look at me. While I chose to look out the window.

"Is there somthing you want to listen to princess?" Nikki asked looking over at me.

No response

"I hear you have your first TV interview coming up, that must be exciting." He smiled. "And its Joan Rivers too."

No response

Nikki looked agitated, I know he was trying to talk to me but he really did hurt my feelings with blowing up on me earlier on in the day. Usually I'm a diva with a temper. But today I was being a sassy diva

We pulled up to a Diner. I was getting ready to get out of the car when Nikki grabbed my arm.

"Can we talk....please?" He pleaded and I rolled my eyes.

"Were going to go in, Iman just hear him out ok." Theresa rubbed my back and got out with Robbin.

"look I'm sorry for how I treated you earlier, I'm just upset over the whole Vince thing. I dont know how to handle it."

"Well drinking and having an attitude aren't going to help you handle it any better. And it's not just your outburst earlier today it was last year as well when you pushed me." I crossed my arms over my chest.

"What the fuck, Mani if I remember correctly you punched me." Nikki turned his full body towards me.

"Well you deserved it, you insulted my family."

"Because you insulted me!" He shouted.

"Were going no where with this Nikki I'm leaving." I opened the car door and he leaned over me quickly and shut it back.

"What the hell Nikki!"

"I would never hurt you on purpose Mani never. And I'm so sorry for last year and what I did today. I just want us to go back to how we were when we were at the record store and when we were meeting at the cafe. I miss you. And I know you miss me too."

He stared at me in my eyes and I needed to turn away from him immediately. I was trying to stay away from him but it just wasn't working. He was driving me insane.

"I'm sorry I made those comments to you and punched your jaw." I giggled and he giggled.

"I might need you to kiss it better for me." Nikki bit his lips and leaned closer to me.

"Nikki I'll punch your other jaw." I laughed while pushing him away and opening the car door.

After we ate at the Diner we went back to the boys home. Nikki helped me with my nerves for my interview that was coming up. He had been interviewed several times so he already knew what it was like. After that we all just sat around watching TV. Nikki and Robbin kept excusing themselves to go to the bathroom. Nikki now was in the bathroom and I had to go. I walked into the bedroom and headed to the bathroom.

"Um Nik I have to pee." I knocked on the door

"Oh uh one sec."

I heard fiddling and things dropping on the ground. He finally opened the door. And he looked different. His eyes were red and droopy and he was holding on to the door for a bit of support.

"Nikki you ok, you dont look so good?" I moved forward and tried to touch him.

"I'm alright just a stomatch ache." He moved back.

"Nik theres blood coming down your arm." I reached to grab his arm but he pulled away.

"I'm fine Iman fuck." He spat. "You said you needed to pee so you can go." He grabbed a little silver box off the counter and moved me to the side and walked out.

I wasnt sure what was going on, but what ever it is Robbin was behaving like Nikki. And I started wondering to myself if Theresa was doing what ever it is that they were doing. ______

February 16, 1985

It was the day of my interview. I quickly got up and got dressed. Tamara told Theresa to book me a glam team and a car service for today. The glam team should be waiting for me when I get there. And the car service was coming to pick me up for 7:00 because my interview was at 10. I ran to Theresa's room to wake her up so she could get ready. But she wasn't in there. She had been partying non stop with Nikki, Robbin, and the members of Hanoi Rocks for the past couple of months.

"Oh my God where is she!" I was freaking out.

Maybe she got up early to grab breakfast for us, or maybe she's downstairs in the lobby. I ran downstairs to check the lobby and she wasn't there. I came back up and decided to call Nikki and Robbin.

Ring Ring Ring

"Mmmm hello."

"Hello, Nikki its Iman please is Theresa there?" I asked a little panicked.

"Yeah but she's recovering from a hang over."

"A hang over! I have my interview today she knows that!" I shouted.

"Hey don't shout in my fucking ear ok, I had a long night." Nikki spat.

"Just put her on the phone please Nikki."

There was a bit of fumbling and then she answered the phone.

"Hello." She slurred

"Hi hello my interview is today you need to hurry back!"

"Mmm can you just do it by yourself I had a long fucking night and my head is pounding. You'll be fine. I need to get some sleep." I heard a thump on the other end but the phone wasn't hung up.

"Hello, hello, Theresa." I called out.

"Iman." It was Nikki's voice.

I started sniffling." Nikki I can't do this alone." I started crying. "She knew how much this interview meant to me. How could she do this?"

"Princess you'll be fine ok just remember what I told you, have fun with it ok." Nikki spoke calmly.

"Ok." He hung up.

8:23 am

"Where the hell is the car service?" I started pacing the room. I grabbed the phone and dialed Nikki's number again.

"Hello?" "Nikki is Theresa still there?" I asked frustrated.

"Uuuuh yeah but I dont think she can come to the phone." Nikki responded hesitantly.

"Oh God Nikki ask her if she booked the car service for me to get to the interview. It was suppose to be here at 7:00 my interview is at 10am." I burst into tears.

"Hey Theresa, hey wake the fuck up. Did you book Imans car service?" Nikki yelled.

"No she didn't she said she forgot. Dont worry princess."

"I have to worry I'll never make it Nikki." I cried.

"Yes you will." Nikki hung up the phone.

8:50

I heard a knock on the door. I ran to the door and opened it and saw Nikki standing there.

"Hey princess." He smiled and I jumped into his arms. My hero.

We got into his... oh he bought a new car. Actually it was a jeep. We got into his jeep and he sped down the roads.

We arrived just in time. But Theresa forgot to book a glam team for me. So I had to go on in the black dress I was wearing and sandals. Tamara was not going to be happy about my look. My hair was in a bun but I let it down it was a but wavy. And I didn't have any make up on.

"I look terrible." I frowned and Nikki furrowed his eye brows.

"I've never seen a more beautiful woman in my whole entire life." He put his hand under my chin for me to look up at him.

We stared at each other. Even though it was just seconds it felt like years. We both leaned in ready to do somthing we have never done before.

"Hey Iman 2 Minutes till go time."

Our eyes gaze was interrupted by Joan's producer. And a good thing to. I can't be with Nikki. So far 3 people have already told me no. _____

Joan Rivers- My next guest is a star on the rising. She has been on 30 teen magazine covers, she has stared in the hit block buster movie of 1983, and she's also staring in the new TV comedy sitcome. Please give it up for our darling, Iman Darlington.

I walk and wave at everyone. Oh my goodness I'm sooo nervous.

Joan Rivers- Hi Iman it's a pleasure to have you.

Iman- it's a pleasure to be here. Thank you.

The interview went very well. By the time she asked me about my family and growing up I was comfortable. But more so because I glanced to the side to see Nikki standing there. It really helped me. I walked off and hugged Nikki. I felt so happy. Hopefully my other interviews would be just like this. _______

"Nikki honestly I don't even know how to thank you for this." I smiled, I felt like a million dollars.

"Well I mean a kiss on the lips would be nice." Nikki turned to me and pouted.

"Keep your eyes on the road Nikki." I chuckled.

"Well I'm kind of hungry we can go out to eat?"

"Nikki your always going out to eat, cant you cook?" I raised an eyebrow.

"No never learned. Can you cook?" He asked with an amused look.

"Yes I can I was taught at a young age."

"So then why don't you cook for me?" He smiled.

I have to admit his smile was so cute and it didn't help that he covered his eyes so that he couldn't be seen. It made him so adorable. Kind of like a lost puppy.

"We have to go to the grocery store."

____

It was weird seeing Nikki in the grocery store. He didnt look like he fitted in with the rest of the customers. But he was so cute picking out fruits and vegetables. People were staring at us, we looked like an odd couple me looking all dolled up like a princess and him looking like a rock star in all leather. Plus he was Nikki Sixx after all, so girls were fawning over him. Actually they kept coming up to him and asking for pictures. So I was left to shop by myself pushing my cart.

"I dont know if crushed Tomatos would be better for a stew." I say to myself.

"I usually use crushed Tomatos for making stew." A voice responded behind me. I turned around and saw a very very handsome man standing behind me.

"Oh do you, and how does it taste?" I asked. "Well.... you can find out your self if you'd like?" He smiled. His teeth were white, Colgate white. He looked sheek and slick. Like someone you would take to go meet your parents. I could tell he was rich as well with the Givenchy suit he was wearing.

"That sounds-"

"Iman!" Nikki called out interrupting me while walking towards me.

"Oh hey Nik." I say scratching behind my neck. Well this is awkward.

"Can I help you?" Nikki asked crossing his arms over his chest sizing the man up.

"Uh I was just helping the young lady decide on a good stew." He smiled nervously.

I could tell Nikki didn't like him already. Nikki seemed like a very jealous type of guy.

"We're leaving now." Nikki grabs my arm and pulls the cart.

We payed for the groceries and headed out to his car. Nikki was quiet during the car ride. He gripped onto the steering wheel tight to the point where his knuckles were turning white.

"Nikki." I called out to him and he ignored me.

"Nikki" I sighed. "He was really helping me with a good stew." I chuckled.

"Iman don't be naieve. He was trying to get your number. You're just a peice of ass to him."

"Wow ok." I looked out the window.

"Look you're mine ok, and I don't want anyone else near you or having you." Nikki spat.

"Nikki you're not my boyfriend I can talk to guys if I want to." It went a bit quiet in the car.

"We'll see about that." Nikki scoffed.

In the truth I liked Nikki but as a friend. I didn't want anything else more than that. ______

We were in the kitchen cooking. And Nikki seriously had no idea what he was doing. I had to give him a really easy task. And that task was boil water, but even that was too hard for him. He kept excusing himself to go to the bathroom and leaving me to watch the water. I decided on making lasagna.

"Hey Nik the lasagna is in the oven so we could just chill and watch TV while we wait." I called out to him.

No response

I walked towards the bathroom and knocked on the door "Hey Sixx you alright?" I called. "Nikki." I knocked on the door again.

"Yeah I'm good I just have a... a runny stomatch is all."

"Oh ok." I walked away.

I walked to the living room and turned on the TV and sat on the couch. It had been a couple minutes and Nikki was still in the bathroom. Finally the door opened and he came out. And he didn't look good.

"Jesus Nikki you look pale, are you alright?" I stood up and cupped his cheeks in my hand.

"Yeah yeah um...I gotta I gotta go ok." He rushed passed me. "But the lasagna Nikki?"

"Just save me some ok princess." He turned back and kissed my forehead and bolted out the door.

Later that Night

I heard the front door open so I came out of my room and saw Theresa, she looked just like Nikki pale and sick with droopy eyes. Something wasn't right and I'm starting to feel like it's drugs. After all she had white powder on her nose in the bathroom at the Rainbow when Nikki took us. _____

February 17, 1985

Nikki called me early in the morning and asked if I wanted to come with him to the recording studio. I agreed, I thought it would be interesting to see how people recorded in a studio. Motley were to be releasing there new album this year.

"Where you off to?" Theresa asked.

"Nikki asked me if I could come to the recording studio with him." I responded while making my self breakfast.

"Do you want something to eat, you look frail?"

"No I don't, and Tamara is not going to be happy with you going any where with Nikki. You know that already." she frowned.

I'm not sure what has gotten into Theresa but she seemed alittle bitter. Maybe even a bit mad.

"Its just them recoding. I'll give you the adress. It's at Cherokee Studios."

"It doesn't matter Iman ok, Nikki is bad news. And so is Robbin. They have been strutting the streets of LA with the guys from Hanoi Rocks as if they are kings of the world." Theresa snapped.

I was so confused at what was going on. "Did Robbin or Nikki do somthing to you?" We were interrupted by a knock at the door. I went to open it and Nikki was there. He looked pale and tired.

"Hey princess you ready?"

"Yeah let me just grab my bag." I say walking to the room. When I came back out Theresa and Nikki didnt say one word to each other. In fact they were scowling at each other. ___

"Oh what's this?" I grabbed a book off the floor of his car. "The Theater of Cruelty." I read. "What's this about?"

"Well, I was reading about the relationship between theater, politics, and culture from the olden days when entertainers who failed to make a king laugh would be put to death."

"Oh that sounds interesting. What's the album called?"

"Originally I was going to call it Entertainment or Death but I changed it to Theater of Pain. And I'll tell you something funny. Our manager Doug Thaler tattooed it on his arm." He laughed.

Nikki's laugh was charming. But when I heard him speak I could tell he was very intellectual. He told me more about what he wanted from the album. But he also said he had only written 5 songs. We arrived at the studio and it was nothing like I have ever seen before. There were two rooms I guess one side was for recording and the other was for mixing the recordings. Mick was sitting on the couch drinking vodka, Tommy was hitting his head on his drums and there was Jack Daniel bottles everywhere with a platter of white substance in it.

"Hey sixx is here Tommy." Mick spoke up. "Hey Iman how are you?"

"Hey Mick I'm good just checking you guys out." I smiled.

"Dude, dude, dude hey long time Iman, why'd you stay away from us?" Tommy ran and picked me up and swung me around.

"I'm sorry I've been really busy. How's your wife Candice?"

"Oh I divorced her crazy ass." Tommy laughed.

They all looked like a mess. Nikki excused himself to go to the bathroom. And when he came back out he sat on the couch and started drinking. His eyes became droopy and he looked like he was about to pass out.

"Dude check this out." Tommy grabbed me and pulled me towards the piano he started playing a tune on it that sounded so nice.

"Wow I love it." I looked over and saw Tommy's drum kit. I had always wanted to sit behind a drum kit. "Soooo uh Tommy can I." I pointed to the drum kit.

"Yeah dude c'mon." He pulled me and I sat in front of him and he kneeled behind me. He took my hand in his and started hitting the drums slow. "Mmmmm you smell good." Tommy smiled at me.

I turned my head to the side to look at him and smiled back. "Well it's the lotion I use." I smirked

"I'd love to try some of that lotion but not from the bottle." Tommy joked.

I turned around and saw Nikki glaring at us. He did not look happy. As a matter of fact he was clenching his jaw.

The door all of a sudden opens and in walks Vince. When Vince arrived at the studio there was no tearful reunion. It was awkward in there, very awkward. I at least broke the tension and got up to give him a hug. "Hey how are you feeling?" I broke the hug "Not too good but im getting there. Thanks for asking." He walked passed me and headed to the guys.

"Hey." Vince spoke to the guys.

"Hey." Nikki spoke up.

"Um here are the lyrics."

"Home sweet home" Vince looked up at Nkkki.

"Yeah it's been too long brother." Nikki smiled. "Here, have a bump with me." Nikki picked up the silver platter and handed it to Vince.

Vince leaned down and snorted what I now know is drugs off of the silver platter. My eyes went wide when I saw Vince cover up his mouth and run to the garbage throwing everything up.

"What the fuck was that?" Vince asked.

"Smack, man," Nikki told him

"Smack? What the fuck are you doing that for?"

"Because it's cool."

"Jesus you're fucked up, fuck you!! I know what you guys are all thinking. Yeah I'm the bad guy I killed Razzle but it could have happened to anyone of you!" Vince shouted and left the studio.

"Nice job Nikki." Mick spoke up. ______

Nikki dropped me back at Theresa's place, and walked me upstairs.

"So you gonna let me come in?" He moved closer to me and wrapped his arms around my waist.

"Nope." I responded popping the p.

"Your a tough one. Most girls are begging to be with me. But you...you keep running away from me. Why's that?" He chuckled as he pulled me in closer.

"Cause I'm not like those rocker girls you talk to." I whispered. He leaned down closing the gap between us and I pulled away. "Why do you do drugs Nikki?" I asked.

His eyes went wide.

"Princess I only snort coke that's it."

"Yeah but even that is bad."

Nikki glared at me and clenched his jaw. "I have to go." He told me.

"Nikki wait I'm telling you this as your friend it's not-

"Just mind your own buissness Iman, ok!" He snapped and cut me off.

"Ok." I said quietly. He stormed off and walked away. All I could say was that Nikki is definitely trouble.

[sweetcatmintea]

A Very Good Day

@inexorableblob​ tagged me in a find the word game and I didn’t have any that they’d listed. The challenge was set; write a sentence with all of the words. I wrote a whole scene :v Enjoy! (Thanks for the prompts ^u^) Feedback appreciated!

Prompt: Frontier, Insubordination, Minimal, and Victory (Frontier was hard)

Words: 3404

Character(s): Echo and Storm

          Was it a dumb idea to slip out of the facility, practically at the crack of dawn with a sleepy Echo in tow, before anyone noticed they were gone? Absolutely. Was it down right idiotic to bring Avian, of all people, in on it to find out who was supposed to be shadowing them that day? Undoubtedly. Was that exactly what Storm found himself doing that dewy morning in the middle of winter? Three for three. Echo followed along, obediently holding his hand as he guided them away from the building. She was rugged up to the ears in her fuzzy brown jacket, their mothers red scarf, and thick gloves protecting her fingers. A stark contrast to Storm’s thin hoodie. Although, he only wanted it to cover his wings. The cold didn’t bother him after all. He had thought it would be difficult for her to wake up so early, but she’d recovered quickly. She was having a wonderful time pretending to be a frost dragon. Funny, that trick never seemed to work for him.

          The real plan wouldn’t start for a while - the rest of the world needed a chance to get up first. But if they’d delayed any longer, there’d be no getting away. In the meantime, they found a small, open-all-hours diner. There weren’t many perks to his current … situation, but there was one definite advantage. Money.

          A blast of warm air and stale coffee greeted them when they entered. A jukebox muttered out a jangly tune as they slid into one of the many empty booths. Red faux leather creaking with their movements. Storm unfolded a menu, holding it open so Echo could see.

          “Pick whatever you want for breakfast. Today’s gonna be a lot of fun.”

Her face lit up. [Anything?]

          “Yeah. Whatever you want. It’s your birthday breakfast.”

          She let out a delighted chirp, making quick work of scanning the menu and carefully contemplating the options. There were so many things to choose from! So many things she’d never even had before. Two steps in front of her head, her stomach growled. Burgers, eggs. Soup, pancakes …

          [Can I have waffles please? With bananas and maple syrup? And cream too! Please?]

          “Sure thing.” Storm signalled the waitress. It’s all about the confidence, he told himself. He’s totally not completely out of place here. He repeated the order, adding bacon and eggs, a coffee, and an apple juice. He could hardly believe his little sister was already eleven. She certainly didn’t act like it, but he still felt old. His heart tweaked a little at the thought. She was growing up. A blink and she’ll be a teenager. Gods knew he wasn’t prepared for that. He could only hope he was making the right decisions for her.

          Echo poked his arm, pulling him out of his musings. She looked like she was waiting for a response. Had she asked something?

          “Sorry, what did you say?”

She huffed, but repeated herself. [Are we going to get in trouble for this?]

          “No, of course not.” The awareness behind her eyes made his fur stand on end. What happened to all that naivety?

          Her brow furrowed, worry playing on her features. [We’re not supposed to go out alone. They’re gon-] Storm captured her hands in his own. They still fit.

          “Trust me. Everything is going to be fine. We’ll have a nice day, celebrate your birthday, head back, and everything will go back to normal. No problems.”

          Doubt flickered but faith overpowered it. Echo nodded, smiling brightly again. That was better. Storm was, without a doubt, going to have his ear chewed off when they went back. White would probably accuse him of “insubordination” or some other garbage. It didn’t matter. There were more important things than pleasing that pig sniffer. If Storm wanted to spend one day with his sister, by the stars, he was going to. And if White had a problem with that, well, he was just going to have to get in line.

          Their food arrived quickly. Unsurprising given the sparse customers. Storm didn’t know if Echo realised it, but she was purring while she dug in, happily munching away. Darn, she was a cute kid. She offered him a forkful of dripping banana waffle in exchange for a bite of his bacon.

          Business began picking up for the diner, signalling the next phase of his plan. Storm gathered up his sister, paid for the meal, and strolled onwards. Echo remembered her manners, signing her thanks from the safety of slightly behind her big brother as they left.

          Breakfast sorted, they boarded a train and watched the city melt away. Passing towns, parks, and lakes, Echo couldn’t begin to guess where they were going. There was a half-grown hope that they weren’t coming back, but Storm was not the kind of person not to pack beforehand. Without a suitcase between them, it didn’t look likely. Regardless, they shouldn’t be too easy to track down today.

~~~

          She never expected to be led to a zoo. She couldn’t quite believe it even as they manoeuvred around other milling patrons to gain admission. A ticket had always been a luxury beyond their means. The biting cold snapping at her nose suddenly didn’t matter. Jittery excitement filled her limbs, warming her and filling her with butterflies all at once. She tried to contain it, but her tail was practically vibrating as she bounced on the balls of her feet. They were going to the zoo!

          One glance at Echo and Storm knew he’d made the right decision. He’d torn himself apart debating the purchase for weeks. He wanted to get her the right gift. Tickets were expensive, even now that they weren’t on dirt poor avenue, poverty lane, and he’d been carefully saving every peckie so they could leave as soon as possible. But it was her birthday and if anyone deserved something nice, it was her. Maybe it would make up, at least a little, for his forced absenteeism. He could hardly keep his own tail from wagging as Echo walked, spell-bound, through the gates. Whatever was waiting for him back there, today was going to be a victory.  

          Not three feet passed the entrance and they saw their first animal. A peacock, all dazzling blues and greens, wandered up to them. Echo, reckless as ever, immediately took off after it, almost disappearing into the crowd. Hand holding was going to be a must here.

          “Echo, don’t run off! I don’t want to lose sight of you.”

          She gave a sheepish apology. [I was asking Nathaniel, that’s Mr. Peacock’s name, where we should go. He said to see the birds first.]

          Storm eyed the bird. “Did he now?”

[Yep.]

          Storm opened the map, pointing out where they were. “The birds are all the way back here. If we go there first, we’ll miss a lot of other exhibits and have to backtrack. Why don’t you pick a direction, left to giraffes or right to sheep, and we’ll go from there? We’ll take the best route to see all of the animals.”

          Echo followed along as Storm traced his finger along the potential paths, proving his claim.

          [Let’s go to the sheep!] Bouncing again. [Will we be able to pat them? I wanna pat a sheep!]

          Storm chuckled at her enthusiasm. “It looks like you can. There’s a little hand sign on the map.” She bit back a squeal of delight. “Let’s go then. Hold my hand while we’re here.”

          They found the path with minimal trouble. Despite all of the movement and the winding walkways, the signs were very clear. Birds twittered overhead, presumably chatting to their exotic friends. They arrived at what Storm could best describe as a giant, open, barn, ‘Petting Zoo within. Please wash hands’ was painted over the large entryway. Sheep and goats took turns bleating a chorus to chicken clucks and pig snorts. The smell was offensive. Hay and timber on their own were pleasant, but they couldn’t compete with the musty farm animals. Echo’s beeline for the first enclosure was circumvented by the insistence she take two seconds to follow the posted rules. Other children ran ahead of her, trailed by their less enthusiastic guardians. Finally, permission was granted. Barely waiting for the zookeeper to open the gate, she was waist deep in animals in no time. Storm followed, ready to fish her out again at a moment’s notice.  She chittered and trilled to them, greetings and pleasantries he supposed, before running her fingers through the closest sheep’s woollen curls. If the way she beamed was any indication, it held up to all her hopes and dreams. The more she spoke to them, the more animals joined her. They mustn’t get many Tainted visitors, or at least, many with animal speak. Storm kind of wished he knew what they were talking about. It was uncomfortable not knowing what they were filling her head with. He scratched at the rough horn of a goat to distract himself from his own over-protectiveness. The hair was coarser than he was expecting.

          When murmured complaints began piling around them, Storm figured it was time to move on. It wasn’t Echo’s fault that the animals were ignoring the other kids but that didn’t matter. Besides, there were plenty of other places to explore.

          “Come on, say bye to these guys. I think alpacas are next.”

          [But I love them.] Echo wrapped herself around a lamb, snuggling into its soft coat with big doe eyes for emphasis. Storm sighed internally. Please don’t let this be the procedure for every animal. He wouldn’t survive. His resolve was already wavering. Instead, he plucked a hay straw out of her hair and tried negotiations.

          “We don’t have a lot of time before we have to go. You can stay here all day if you really want to, but wouldn’t it be better to see the other animals too?”

          It was so very tempting, but she relented, reluctantly untangling herself from the animals and leaving the barn. He was no match for her puppy eyes, but she couldn’t dispute his logic. Her high spirits returned as soon as she saw the alpacas wandering about their field. More so when they crept through the reptile emporium, making an exaggerated effort not to disturb the slumbering snakes. An interactive encounter in which a massive python was draped over Echo’s tiny shoulders left Storm’s stomach in his shoes and a spring in Echo’s step. Did children have no sense of self-preservation or was it just her? Tracing the scales on the snake’s behemoth body was enough to send queasy shudders down Storm’s spine.

          Monkeys next. Storm enjoyed their silly antics much more than his sister. It was fun to watch them swing around and groom each other. Echo claimed they were making a lot of terribly rude comments about visitors.

          The red pandas’ acrobatic show enchanted Echo and the kangaroos’ raw power awed her. Although she wanted to watch the crocodiles, she couldn’t bring herself to go anywhere near their big pools. Of course she knew there was no way to fall in, what with the dual fenced perimeter, but her feet would not allow it. It was beyond frustrating. So close to a living fossil, someone almost certainly acquainted with the gods, and the mere thought of approaching their watery habitat sent tremors through her hands. She wouldn’t have been able to speak to a crocodile regardless of whether she visited the exhibit, the language of reptiles beyond the frontiers of her abilities, but to stand in their presence would have been enough. After several minutes of trying to convince her body to follow her wishes, Storm saved her from her self-appointed torture. Scooping her up, he tossed her into his shoulders.

          “Come on big kid, let’s see the birds. Did you know it’s actually the dad cassowaries that raise the babies?”

          Two taps for no.

          “It’s true. They’re also one of the heaviest and tallest birds in the world. Let’s go see if we can find one.”

          One excited tap and a wiggle for yes.

          Even in the safety of her pen, the shaggy black and blue dinosaur bird was intimidating. She stared down visitors with an almost menacing cocked head. Judgement made, she disappeared back into the trees. It took longer than Storm would like to admit for the pair to remember to move. Thank the stars cassowaries are not native to Yonder.

          They enjoyed walking through the massive aviary together. Hundreds of different colours whirled around them as birds called and sang. A handful of crows jeered at parrots who performed for fruit. Echo tried to provide a running commentary for Storm’s benefit, but there was so much going on, she couldn’t keep any of the conversations straight. They came upon a big cockatoo that she really liked until he squawked in her face, making her puff in response. Storm had been mindful to accidentally miss the sign offering canopy walks. Echo would have loved to romp around in the tree tops but even he had his limits.

          At some point, they had found themselves at the giraffes even though they were supposed to be at the meerkats. Apparently the signs were not as easy to follow as Storm had presumed. Echo took to the tall creatures much more than Storm had anticipated. Sure they were cool with their weird alien horns, ambling through their fields like new age brachiosauruses, but that was more his interest than hers. When she started bouncing on her toes again, leaning over the railing to get as close as she possibly could, he had to ask.

          “They’re pretty cool, huh?”

          She turned to him, a full-fanged grin plastered over her face. [Yeah! Plus, they talk like me!]

          He focused his ears to the field. Giraffes were supposed to be silent. Did they communicate with inaudible noises like cats sometimes do? It wouldn’t be that strange, most researchers were just normal people. That kind of thing might have gone undetected. Though he listened carefully, he couldn’t hear anything. He glanced back at Echo.

          [Not like that! They talk with their bodies. They sign.] She turned her attention back to the exhibit, eagerly watching. He’d never thought she’d be so happy over something as little as that. It made sense, but he was so used to her little noises, the way she would chatter to practically any animal she came across, he’d never considered she might feel … isolated? Out of place? He didn’t really know. Was this what parenting felt like? Like you spend every day learning how much you don’t know about your kid? He felt a little guilty. He was doing his best, but she was just running ahead of him, changing before he could catch up. How was she eleven already? He used to think being a parent was synonymous with growing up. It’s not. His breath caught in his throat, a single quiet hitch. He rubbed the mist out of his eyes before Echo turned back to him, head tilted in concern. A charming smile – he was good at those – and an easy laugh to prove he was fine.

          “Are you ready to keep going? We’ll get some ice cream before we check out the next exhibit.”

          Echo slid her hand in his, giving a reassuring squeeze. “Mn.” She was still by his side.

~~~

          Finally, they arrived at the exhibit Storm was most excited about. He’d purposefully saved the best for last. A rush of hot air hit as they shuffled into a building, decorated with leafy plants growing up a forest mural splashed over the unoccupied walls. Silence settled around them. There was no one else there. Thick glass panels covered an entire wall, dividing the room from the habitat. With a sharp intake of realisation, Echo froze. Storm nudged her closer, one shaky step at a time. Face to face with the glass, she stared, wide-eyed at the great predator. He surveyed his land atop his artificial tor, reclining into the stony throne. Light and shadow waltzed over the orange flames of his pelt, leaving stripes of ink where they tread. Massive paws hid keratin daggers. Echo let out the tiniest of breathes. His round ears swivelled, taking note. He stared down at her. Gold so intense her gaze dropped. She was face to face with a tiger.

          He rose, stretching his body, a lazy display of godly creation. He did not leap, but dripped to the floor in one fluid movement. Muscles rippled under fur. He was no house cat. A low growl rumbled as he sauntered to them. Not a threat, a reminder. They were so very soft to him. Echo dipped her head, tail lowered politely. An automated response. She wasn’t thinking straight, too busy trying not to throw up her heart. Storm followed suit. Eagle eyes never left his little sister’s form. As closely as he watched the interaction, it didn’t change the facts. He was an outsider here.

          The tiger padded to the glass. He held his head high. Even sitting, he stared down at her. The growls continued. A quiet edge to the air between them. It felt as if she was nothing. Not that she was suddenly any Less but that he was looking past her. Past her body. Past her mind. Scrutinising her very being.

          “Chfufufa.”

Her ears flicked up. His razor gaze had softened to a kind king’s.

          “Chfufufa.” He repeated himself, waiting for her to understand. Starstruck, she almost didn’t respond, but she recaptured her flickering mind, returning the greeting with a chuff of her own. She hoped he wouldn’t notice how fluffed her fur was.

          {Are you going to introduce yourself?}

          {Oh! Sorry! Yes! I – I’m Echo. Echo Bell. It’s an honour to meet you.} She bowed again. His eyes crinkled warmly at her earnestness.

          {Little Echo, you may lift your head. I am Nikita.} He looked towards Storm momentarily. {Your guardian does not share our tongue, does he?}

          {No. I don’t think many people can. I – I don’t know many people who can speak to tigers.}

          He nodded solemnly, a noise of affirmation. {Few can. Fewer still I wish to spend time on. Perhaps once, but I am old now. My desires have changed. You are young, a child.} He paused. {It is lonely, isn’t it?}

          Echo’s fingers worried the soft fibres of her scarf. She tried not to think about that too much. To speak to more animals than most knew languages, and yet still only able to communicate with precious few humans. But she was a cat, what more could she expect? Realising she’d left him without an answer, she hurried to compile her messy thoughts, but his expression stopped her. He didn’t need her explanation. He already understood.

          {There is a piece of us in you. I can feel him. He’s young, rash, despite the ancient stardust lining his hide. You are afraid. That is understandable. You do not have to be. She guides you with the ferocity of a mother, but you are not overpowered.} A full smile. {You are very interesting little Echo. I can see why the remnants watch you so intently.}

~~~

          They continued talking until crowds filtered into the building. Nikita had little patience for their noise, slipping into his pool in retreat. By the time Storm had gotten them both out, a new plush firmly in Echo’s grip, it was time to leave. They farewelled the zoo, both knowing perfectly well they would not be able to return for some time. Neither was sad. It had been a very good day.

~~~

          They sat, waiting for the train to complete its journey. Echo had fallen asleep several stations ago. She’d fought the doze off with all her might, but the rhythmic click clack of the tracks had her out in minutes. She nestled into her brother’s side, content. Storm held her steady, making sure she didn’t fall off the chair while he braced himself for the garbage parade that was undoubtedly waiting for him. Of course he was going to have to face the repercussions of his choices. But when he thought about Echo’s expression as she recounted the day to him, like her eyes had swallowed galaxies, he knew he’d made the right decision. “Happy birthday Echo.”

----------

Taglist

@inkovert and @snobbysnekboi

[magicallygrimmwiccan]

My Head Told My Heart (Let Love Grow)

Summary: Love through the years. Growing in love with your soulmate, from two different perspectives. Moxiety! For @theotheralya for his birthday. Love ya, Bärchen! 

Notes: ... This is almost pure fluff with some angst. Some of my headcanons wandered in. Hope you all like this! 

Patton squealed and bounced on the balls of his feet in excitement as he watched the purple letters slowly crawl their way across his arm. After months of waiting, his soulmate was finally writing back to him!

Hello, Patton. My name is Virgil, his soulmate wrote in looping, gorgeous script. Patton squealed and grabbed his favourite light blue pen and began to write back.

Hey, Virgil! It’s nice to meet you. Do you like dogs? Patton wrote, excitement shaking his hands and making his messy script almost illegible. It took a few minutes, but Virgil wrote back, a simple Yes near his elbow. Patton beamed and giggled a bit before launching into his series of questions he wanted to ask his soulmate.

Do you like cats? Yes. Do you like to bake? No, I can’t bake to save my life. How old are you? 10. Funny, I’m 10 too! What do you like to do for fun? I listen to music, I draw, I write poetry… boring stuff. That’s not boring, that sounds really cool! You think so? Yes! Where do you live? Madison, Wisconsin. You? I’m from Florida! Gainesville, to be exact. Cool, I’ve always wanted to go to Florida. What are your friends like? I only have one. His name’s Logan. Ooh! He sounds cool! Could I meet him someday? Maybe, he’s kinda shy… That’s okay! Tell him I say hi! Alright. What are your parents like? I live with just my dad, Sascha. He works as a waiter at a diner in town. Oh cool! I live with my moms! And your dad lets you call him by his first name?! Yeah, he’s pretty cool like that.

“Patton! Sweetie, dinner time!” his mom called from down the stairs.

“Coming!” Patton yelled back, quickly scribbling a Dinner, gotta go on his wrist before jumping up and dashing down the stairs, eager to tell his parents all about Virgil.

His mom looked up when he dashed in, her short light brown hair clipped back haphazardly from her face. “Hey, Patton! What were you doing all afternoon?”

“Talking to my soulmate! His name’s Virgil, he’s 10 just like me, his dad’s name is Sascha, he likes cats and dogs too, he draws and writes, he’s from Wisconsin!” Patton babbled, his eyes shining with happiness. Cory giggled and ruffled his hair, beaming.

“I’m glad you like him, kiddo! You’ll have to sit down and have us meet him sometime, okay?” Patton nodded, and his other mom took the opportunity to sweep into the kitchen, her long red hair tied back from her face in an intricately messy ponytail.

“What’s this I hear about Patton’s soulmate?” she sang, a smile crinkling the corners of her eyes. Patton excitedly told her everything he knew about Virgil, and she laughed at the end of it, ruffling his hair. “Well, we’ll just have to go to Wisconsin sometime then, yeah?” Patton nodded and sat down to dinner, almost too excited to remember to shove food into his mouth. He’d met his soulmate, and he loved him already, and this was going to be the best thing that ever happened to him.

11-year-old Virgil looked up as Sascha ran around the house, muttering to himself with eyes blown wide in panic. Virgil just finished up his poptart and jumped down from the stool at the counter.

“Mika and Logan should be here, Dad, but do you need anything before I go?” Virgil asked calmly. Normally he too would be freaking out, but Sascha needed him to be calm.

“Hm? Oh, no, I just lost the schedule and I need to find it, but you can go,” Sascha babbled, pausing to spin around and drop a kiss on Virgil’s forehead. “I’m working late tonight, do you want Mika to drop you at the diner or at home?”

“Diner. I’ll be fine, Dad. Love you too, have a good day,” Virgil replied before grabbing his backpack and heading towards the front door, leaving Sascha to run around panicking. Virgil would help, but… he didn’t want to keep Mika and Logan waiting, and he didn’t want to be late… and Sascha had been doing better lately. Virgil sighed as he closed the front door and headed outside to find Mika’s black minivan idling along the road their apartment complex was on. Virgil quickly scrambled into the backseat next to Logan, and Mika shot him a small, tense smile.

“How are you, Virgil?” they asked, pulling out into traffic after checking multiple times that it was safe.

“Good. Sascha’s stressed, I’m going to the diner tonight, but otherwise we’re fine.” Mika’s eyebrows furrowed in concern but they said nothing, falling instead into a heavy silence.

“Virgil, did you finish the homework from last night for history?” Logan asked in an attempt to lighten up the atmosphere. Virgil nodded, and Logan nodded, and then they returned to silence, broken only by Mika cursing out the drivers who kept rudely cutting them off. Virgil still felt guilty about that. Logan had asked to be transferred to Virgil’s middle school so Virgil wouldn’t be alone, even though he could be going to a much better middle school that wasn’t full of hooligans. The silence finally started to get to Virgil, and he yanked his favourite purple pen out of his backpack and began to write to Patton.

Hey how’s school going? It only took a couple seconds for Patton to write back. Great! Oh! I have something to tell you later! Virgil’s heart climbed into his throat at that. What was going on? Before he could spiral down into a panic attack, however, Mika tapped him on the shoulder.

“V, we’re here,” they murmured softly. Virgil nodded, quickly scribbled a Cool, talk to you later to Patton, and jumped out of the black minivan to follow Logan into the hell that was middle school.

The day seemed to pass at once both instantaneously and at a snail’s crawl, but before Virgil knew it, Logan was dragging him out the door to Mika’s car and mentioning that he had something to talk to Virgil about as well and was just going to spend the night with him after hanging out at the diner until Sascha’s shift ended. Virgil’s heart once again climbed up into his throat. First Patton, now Logan? Was everyone giving him bad news today?

“Virgil, it’s nothing bad, alright? Please breathe with me,” Logan’s voice broke though his thoughts, his large blue eyes boring into Virgil’s. Virgil nodded and tried to focus on his breathing while Logan lead them through the throng of children to Mika’s minivan. The two boys climbed into the backseat, and Logan slid the door shut before crouching down in front of Virgil. “Okay, Virge, can you follow my breathing please?”

“What happened?” Mika asked, turning around, their hazel eyes blown wide in panic. Logan turned around and snapped out “Please just shut up and drive, Dad, Virgil needs Sascha.” Virgil whimpered, and Logan spun back around to ramble apologies and shush him while Mika silently put the car in gear and drove away, leaving the two boys in the backseat to try and calm down.

It seemed to take forever, but eventually, Mika pulled into the parking lot of the diner where Sascha worked and murmured “Wait here, boys,” before going inside. Virgil struggled to keep his breathing calm; he could tell that Logan was beginning to panic at how long it was taking to calm him down.

“Could… could you grab my purple pen?” Virgil whispered. Patton. Patton would help. Logan nodded and handed over the purple pen, and Virgil frantically began to scribble for help on his arm.

Patton I’m panicking help

The response was almost instantaneous. Virgil, can you breathe?

Yeah. Good, good. What’s the problem? You and Logan both need to tell me bad news today and just… I don’t know… Mine wasn’t bad news, Virgil. It wasn’t? No! I’m letting you know that we adopted the foster kid I told you about! Roman? He’s officially my brother now! And he’s going to try to write to his soulmate today! That’s… wow, that’s great Patton. Sorry for freaking you out… Don’t apologize, Virge.

“Virgil? Is that… your soulmate?” Logan asked. Virgil glanced up at his oldest friend and smiled shakily.

“Yeah. That’s Patton. He’s great. Thank you for trying to help me calm down, Logan. What did you need to talk about?”

Logan simply shook his head. “It can wait, Virgil. Would you like to head inside and find your father?” Virgil nodded, and together the two boys exited the van to enter the warm diner, one feeling lighter and one burdened even more with the weight of secrets.

12-year-old Patton sat on the couch and comforted Roman, who was finally crying over the thing that had been bugging him for nearly a year.

“My soulmate obviously hates me, Patton. They haven’t written back and I know they’re not dead because pen marks show up sometimes and I know I didn’t put them there, so they must hate me!” Patton sighed and ran their hand through Roman’s thick red hair.

“I’m sure they don’t hate you, Roman. Maybe they’re just shy? You can come on… a little strong sometimes. Not that that’s a bad thing! Just… not everyone can handle your excitement right off the bat.” Roman sniffed and let out a watery smile.

“Yeah… that’s probably it… how are things with Virgil?” Roman asked, putting on a fake smile that hurt Patton so much. They just wanted Roman to be okay…

“Virgil and I are great! We’re planning when to meet up,” Patton chirped, also putting on a fake smile. Roman smiled and slung an arm around their shoulder, smiling.

“Wonderful, Patton! You deserve your Prince Charming.” Patton giggled a little at their friend’s ridiculous antics as they recalled how far they and Virgil had come in two years.

Both Patton’s mom and Patton’s father loved Virgil and practically considered him their third son. Virgil, for his part, loved both of Patton’s parents and couldn’t wait to meet them.

“I’m sure your soulmate will write back soon, Roman. You’ll get your own happy ending,” Patton whispered before perking back up. “Now, you want me to make hot cocoa and popcorn and we can marathon some Disney movies?” Roman perked up as well, and Patton set about trying to make their brother feel better. They really wanted to write to Roman’s soulmate and ask what the heckity heck they were thinking, ignoring Roman like that, but they didn’t. It wasn’t their business. The best they could do was help Roman through this by making him smile, and gosh darn it, they’d do that to the best of their ability right now and every day until everything was okay again.

13-year-old Virgil sat comforting a crying Logan as he read the messages their soulmate had just written to them. Rage filled his gut as he read the message from the person who was supposed to love Logan and be perfect for them.

Listen. I’ve lost hope in you responding. Obviously you don’t want me. So… this is your last chance. Either respond to me now, or I’m going to figure out how to sever the soulbond. This isn’t some game, asshole. This is someone’s feelings. And you’ve been toying with them for far too long.

“I just… I don’t know if I can. He’s so bright and boisterous and perfect and… and I’m just going to disappoint him,” Logan sobbed, curling into Virgil’s arms. Virgil grit his teeth and grabbed Logan’s favourite pen, a lovely midnight blue with silver sparkles mixed in, and roughly grabbed his friend’s arm. “What… what are you doing?” Logan asked. Virgil uncapped the pen and began to write.

“Helping you,” he answered, showing Logan what he was writing.

Alright, listen. I’ll write when I’m ready. Please stop pushing, it’s getting on my nerves. Logan nodded, and Virgil recapped their pen, realizing with a start that he’d just chosen Logan’s pen for the rest of their life. Logan grinned shakily and whispered “Thank you Virgil.” Virgil nodded and handed Logan the pen as their soulmate began to write back in swirling red-gold script.

Finally! I was wondering when you would say something! I’m Roman, what’s your name? Virgil grit his teeth. The asshole didn’t even care. Logan uncapped the pen and furiously wrote in their perfect script: My name is Logan, and that is all you are getting until I decide to trust you. With that, Logan rolled their sweater sleeve down and stood up, wiping tears out of their eyes.

“I’m sorry, Lo,” Virgil whispered, taking his best friend’s hand into his own. Logan sniffed.

“It’s perfectly alright, Virgil. We are probably not going to work out. I… I still need to come out to you, I realized…”

“Hey, Lo, don’t pressure yourself,” Virgil cut in, seeing his best friend shaking. Logan shook their head.

“No, no, Virgil, I am going to tell you now.” They took a deep breath. “I… am asexual and quite possibly aromantic.” Virgil let out a sigh of relief.

“That’s fine, Logan. Thank you for telling me,” Virgil mumbled, pulling his nerd into a tight hug. Logan giggled a little and pushed Virgil off after a few seconds.

“Thank you, Virgil. I feel… much better now,” Logan said after a few moments of silence. Virgil nodded and slung his arm around Logan’s sweater-clad shoulders.

“No prob, nerd. Now, I’m hungry. Wanna go bug Sascha for food?” Logan smirked and simply answered “Always.”

14-year-old Patton gripped the straps of her backpack tightly as she stared up at her new high school. Her two mothers had just had to move for jobs, and so she and Roman were enrolled at this new high school. The good news was that it was in the same state as Virgil! And the same city! The bad news was that she didn’t know where in the city Virgil lived. But hey! She had Roman at least, so that was good!

Someone crashed into her and she stumbled backwards, right into Roman’s arms. “Oh my stars I’m so sorry are you alright?!” the person yelped, and suddenly Patton was being dusted off by a stranger in all black and purple, their violet eyes blown wide in fear. Another new person hovered at their shoulder, dressed like a stereotypical dorky college student, holding Patton’s bag.

“I-I’m okay, thank you for asking,” Patton answered before she paused. The writing on the dark stranger’s arm… that was her light blue pen.

“... Virgil?!” she shrieked. The dark stranger blinked and took a closer look at her arm, noticing the swirling purple pen decorating it.

“... Patton?!” he yelped, staring into her brown eyes in shock. Patton nodded, and Virgil grinned shakily before launching himself forward to hug Patton tightly. Patton quickly hugged back, and soon, both found themselves on the floor crying. Roman and the bespectacled stranger just stood there awkwardly, glaring at anyone who dared to stare at the scene in front of them.

“I’m… I can’t believe you’re here,” Virgil whispered. Patton giggled and planted a kiss on Virgil’s forehead.

“I can’t believe it either, sweetheart,” she whispered. Virgil snorted and gently placed his hands on Patton’s cheeks.

“Kiss me like a normal person, dork,” he whispered before leaning forward and fitting his lips against Patton’s. Patton squeaked but kissed back, joy flooding her system. Here she was, in the arms of her soulmate, with the most amazing man she’d ever met, with everything write in the world. She couldn’t ask for more.

Notes: Happy birthday and happy holidays, Alya! Love you, honey! Hope you liked this!

[talesofhavekostca-blog]

OPERATION: STRAWBERRY PUSSY BLAST

Jack Burroughs

January, 3rd 2015

Havekost, CA

“Cuthbert The Carnivorous Cunt-Louse did it again.”, said Jake while opening the trunk of his warhorse, showing me the large bag of marijuana. It is a clear five-gallon garbage bag. Inside were smaller bags of weighed out weed. Anywhere from ounces to dime bags.

“My God, I’ve never seen so much weed in one place before.” I say before looking around the school parking lot,” How did you fit it into your car, Jake?”

“Easy, gumption and my ever-growing need to make that money, Jack”

“Yeah, but aren’t you super-rich?”

“Bitch I’m gonna be richer than that.” He laughs and hands me an ounce. “Here, this is for letting you leave the concert while you were tripping. I’m really sorry we lost you, man, but I ended up hooking up with twins. You know the Breenes?”

“Wait, aren’t they a brother and sister?”

“Jack, did you forget I was bi?”

I pause and go,” I guess it has been a while since I saw you making out with some jock.”

“Ahh yes, the good ole’ days. Anyway, while you were tripping balls with furries, I was getting it on. I’m, again, sorry Jesus and I lost track of you.”

I light up a cigarette and shrug, “So what if I lost my girlfriend and ended up stranded in a diner for several hours and was taped by the local news helicopter taking a piss in the woods while a furry orgy happened behind me. It’s cool that you let me walk off with a homeless man while you and Jesus did random shit.”

“You sound bitter, Jack.” He smiles and hands me another ounce. “Are you still grounded?”

“OF COURSE I AM, THIS JUST HAPPENED A WEEK AGO. My grandparents saw me on the news and now they think I like people in animal costumes! “

“Well...This is something you can tell your grandkids, at least.”

“...I guess.” I look at the weed in my hands and I open the bag and I smell it. “Oh my god. This smells amazing, what is this?”

“Oh, get this, it's called ‘Strawberry Pussy Blast’.”

“What? No way, that’s fucking great.” We laugh and I throw down my spent cigarette and we head to class. I hide the two ounces in my bag, which I then hide in my locker.

***

First-class of the day and its Mr. Perry’s Homeroom class and I’m doodling and everyone is still looking over and snickering at me. The kid next to me, Clarence, has his shirt over his nose due to my smoking and I feel bad as he’s nice but on the other hand I just want to tell him to quit being such a pussy.

Mr. Perry is sitting at his desk, reading a book about superheroes during the war. He thoughtfully strokes his beard and sips his coffee. He is my Arch-Nemesis. Well, besides Anxiety, Depression, my seeming forever-virginity and I guess my addiction to Shirley Temples.   I have pranked Perry so many times, as of this moment I have tied him to a chair, crashed his birthday party that his wife threw and kidnapped him for a better grade and we ended up bonding over history and goth music. He didn’t press charges because I accidentally helped him get out of a dinner with his in-laws, you know, because he was in my attic.

Jake is behind me doodling as well and I look over occasionally and I see that he’s drawing The Masked Avengement, who is some guy who’s running around the city, claiming he’s a superhero but apparently he’s been fighting random homeless people on video for money. His ‘sidekick’ Owly is even worse, I hear he sells PCP to girl scouts. These guys are our local legends and I’ve seen a kid dressed up as Owly, and I fucking laughed.

The intercom squelches and whines, “Jake Stone and Jack Burroughs, to the principal’s office. Jake Stone and Jack Burroughs, to the principal's office.” 

Perry looks up and makes eye contact with me and points to the door and I pull Jake’s arm for him to come with and he whines saying, “But I haven’t finished the crack pipe!”

***

 When we walk inside, The Principal is waiting for us. He looks grandfatherly, but like, the kind of grandfather that used to be a nazi and probably molests himself while dressed as a clown.  “Ah, gentlemen, I've been waiting for you. Please have a seat.” 

We do and after a few seconds, he gets up and opens the closet. He pulls out the five-gallon clear bag of weed Jake had in his car.

Oh shit.

“DID YOU BREAK INTO MY CAR?!”

“No, Bruce the security guard did after he saw you hand Mr. Burroughs some weed.” 

He opens the bag and takes out a dime bag and sits back down at his desk. He then opens a drawer and pulls out a bong that is shiny and orange. He fills it up with water and weed and takes a hit. He coughs while blowing out smoke. He then presses an intercom button and says, “Ms. Abner will you come in here. I have some chronic.” and she says, “Yes sir, right away.” and comes into the office and Ms. Abner looks like the kind of lady who’d play the organ at church, but badly, and would leave her estate to her cats. She takes a hit and coughs and she says “Oh, oh my.” and coughs some more and the Principal says “Quit being a bitch, Martha.” 

Jake and I are surprised and uncomfortable. He takes another hit and says, “This weed is so good, I might not expel you from school. Now listen clearly, you can keep the two ounces you have in your locker, Mr. Burroughs. You two have bought our new computer lab with this...donation if you will.”

“Wait, you’re selling weed for the school?” I say, still in shock.

“Well, we have to get funding somehow. So for the last decade, we take the weed stupid kids as yourself bring to school to sell and sell it ourselves. It's pretty brilliant. Wouldn’t you agree, Ms. Abner?”

“Yes, sir,” Ms.Abner says while opening a bag of Cheetos and eating some. Her eyes are red. 

“YOU BASTARDS WILL PAY!” Jake roars and I hold him back and The Principal just smiles and laughs and then asks, “Burroughs, what is this strain called?”

I tell him before leaving as I pull Jake away, “Strawberry Pussy Blast.”

I hear nothing but laughter as we walk away.

***

Jake and I are in front of the Principal’s house, the lights are off and I’m nervous and Jake is applying war paint on his face and I’m cold. Its 10PM and I’m not supposed to be outside. 

“What’s the gameplan, Jake?”

“We’re going to find dirt on this bastard, anything.”

We check the backdoor and its unlocked. We go inside and the house smells like old hard candy and cat litter and clown makeup. We search high and low but find nothing. I find old playboys, handcuffs, zip ties and superglue in a bag but that’s it.

Then we hear noises from the basement. Jake looks at me and I shrug and we walk to the door and the noises get louder and I can tell there are at least two people downstairs. 

We tiptoe down quietly and we hide behind old newspapers and a dresser, and from we are standing we can see the Principal in Mormon underwear, tied to a rack while Ms.Abner is dressed as a nazi, whipping him and I’m not even a little surprised.

Well, I’m surprised he doesn’t have makeup on.

Jake starts filming on his phone and Ms. Abner really goes to town on The Principal. She screams at him in German and he’s crying saying he’s been a good boy and after a particularly brutal slap, he pisses himself and I stifle a giggle.  Ms. Abner then grabs a bucket of ice-cream and pulls out a handful and rubs it all over the Principal’s face. He keeps screaming between bites and breaths, “Thank you, Mommy, thank you, Mommy. Gimme More.”

I fucking die at this point and Ms.Abner looks behind her and sees Jake and I. Ms. Abner faints and falls over and I laugh harder.

“What are you boys doing?!” The Principal is shocked and ashamed and is trying to get out of his ties but he’s stuck and helpless.

“Mr. Principal, I see we meet again. Now, I know you’re doing a good service. But you stole what is rightfully mine. If you don’t tell me where the weed is, I will ruin you. Do you understand?” Jake holds up his phone and plays the video. The Principal is crying and he keeps apologizing and says the weed is in the closet, by the clown costume. 

I FUCKING KNEW IT.

We grab the weed and leave him on the rack. Ms. Abner, still very much asleep and looking the most peaceful a woman dressed as a nazi can be, murmurs random things. We leave the house and Jake posts the video to the internet later. It goes viral on shock sites by the morning. The next day at class, we see that the Principal and Ms. Abner have been fired and everybody's watching the video and laughing.

Jake turns to me and says “Operation: Strawberry Pussy Blast was a success!” as we sit down in class. Perry looks up and looks at us and Jake winks and shoots him a few times with finger guns.

 No teacher bothers us again for the rest of the year.

[shireness-says]

Playing the Part ch. 8: Before the Parade Passes By

Summary:  As a stage manager who’s clawed her way up from bottom, Emma Swan can handle just about anything thrown her way. But does that include handsome lead actor Killian Jones? A CS Broadway AU.  Rated T. Also on AO3.  Prologue  Ch. 1  Ch. 2  Ch. 3Ch. 4  Ch. 5  Ch. 6  Ch. 7

A/N: Thanksgiving has come early! For the readers, at least. I definitely don’t know anything about parade set-up, so take this with many grains of salt, please.

Chapter title taken from “Hello, Dolly!”

Just to reiterate, this is a Slow Burn. I know we’re all anxious for Emma and Killian to get together, but Emma’s still hesitant since they work together - and especially since she holds a position of some power over him. Plus, her ex keeps reminding her how men are dicks. Hang in there, guys - there is a plan, and the plan is for 20 chapters (unless I accidentally add more again) with a happy ending. We will get there.

Special thanks to @snidgetsafan, always the best beta ever, as well as to @distant-rose for telling me all about New York bowling alleys so I could add in a tiny reference. You guys are my favorites, don’t tell anyone.

Tags: @kmomof4, @winterbaby89, @thejollyroger-writer, @mythologicalmango, @onceuponaprincessworld, @idristardis, @teamhook, @courtorderedcake, @aerica13, @revanmeetra87, @snowbellewells, @searchingwardrobes. If you want to be tagged going forward (or taken off this list - I won’t be insulted!), shoot me a message, and I’ll make it happen.

Enjoy! Let me know what you think. :)

Henry’s birthday this year falls conveniently three days before Thanksgiving, on a dark Monday when there’s no show to pull Emma away from her kid. Well, that’s not strictly true; she has to go in for a few hours so everyone can rehearse their parade performance, but that should start after he goes to school and wrap up before he gets out. It’s not like they’re doing new choreography or anything, just making sure everything is as polished as possible. Regardless, work won’t be keeping her from her kid on his birthday, and she’s grateful for that.

Henry’s birthday party was yesterday, Sunday - 6 boys and 2 girls at the Lucky Strike for bowling, a perennial hit - but Granny’s hosting a family birthday dinner at the diner with Ruby, Mary Margaret and Elsa. It’s a long-standing tradition, and every year Granny makes all of Henry’s favorite foods and a big, gooey chocolate cake as everyone showers the birthday boy with more love than he can handle. Honestly, Neal can stick his bullshit about “real family dinners” up his ass - Henry’s got the best aunts imaginable and Granny’s been there since he was born. If you ask Emma, that’s all the family the two of them need.

It’s so hard to believe that it’s been eleven years since Henry was born. She still remembers his tiny, wrinkly red face like it was yesterday - this little, precious baby, the first thing that was truly hers. Now he’s half grown, his own person, smart as hell and sweet to boot. He’s growing so fast, she can’t help but think as she watches him practically inhale a stack of chocolate chip pancakes, his requested birthday breakfast, and talking a mile a minute in a recap of his party yesterday. Where has the time gone?

Emma remains in an introspective mood much of the day, thinking back on when her little boy was younger. God, he was so cute - not that he isn’t now, but there’s something about that gap-toothed look that was especially endearing. It keeps her distracted at work, but thankfully, there’s not much that requires her undivided attention. Her cast is just running their choreography for Thursday - the opening number, “In Want of a Wife”, should be a hit, Emma thinks - so she takes the opportunity to re-pencil some of the cues in her script that have gotten smudged over weeks of opening and closing the pages. If she has trouble focusing on that, it’s not such a big deal.

The hours fly by, much to Emma’s surprise, and before she knows it, they’re packing up to leave. Emma just needs to send out a detailed itinerary for Thursday, probably print out a stack for good measure, but then she’s free for the rest of the day and can actually pick her kid up from school for once. That’ll be a nice change of pace. Just as she’s making the final edits to her email, she’s startled by Killian’s sudden appearance.

“Fuck, you scared me,” she mutters, eliciting an embarrassed chuckle from Killian to match his suddenly pink-tinged cheeks and the signature scratching behind his ear.

“My apologies, love,” he smiles. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I was just hoping you might give this to Henry,” he explains further, thrusting a carefully gift-wrapped package in Emma’s direction.

Emma raises an eyebrow in question. It’s sweet of him, and certainly generous, but also a little weird that one of her coworkers is sending gifts home for her kid - even if he and said kid are, admittedly, friends-ish. “Should I be concerned about this?”

“Oh no! I don’t think so, at least. It’s just a notebook. For him to write in? I’ve heard so much about how he likes writing and wants to be a playwright, I just thought this would be a nice place to write all those thoughts down,” he babbles. Emma thinks she can detect a thread of nerves in his voice. “Of course, if you think I’m overstepping, that’s completely fine, it was just an idea, the lad had mentioned that it was his birthday and I just thought — ”

“No, that’s fine,” Emma replies, suddenly resolute despite her earlier confusion. Killian means well, and honestly, that is kind of the perfect gift for Henry. “I’m sure he’ll love it. Thanks.”

“Ah, well, it wasn’t a bother in the least,” he deflects, the pink cheeks making a reappearance in a sudden attack of bashfulness.

“Killian. You got a gift for my son. Let me say thank you. Now, what do you say when someone thanks you?”

“You’re welcome,” he parrots back.

“Well done.” While her words could have been taken in a patronizing manner, Jones still grins at her, seemingly pleased with their banter (despite the fact that it isn’t the first time they’ve had this kind of back and forth - or at least Emma doesn’t think so). “Ok, well, I’ve got to meet the birthday boy at school,” she concludes, jerking a thumb towards the general not-here, “but I’ll make sure he gets your gift and knows it’s from you.”

“Thank you, Swan. And a happy birthday to Henry!”

———

Henry loves the notebook, of course, telling Emma all about all the stories he intends to write in it. She suspects that Killian will receive the same treatment the next time Henry sees him as well.

The days between Monday and Thursday pass faster than Emma ever thought possible, so fast she wonders in passing whether they ever happened at all - though if her notepads are any indication, they certainly did. Thanksgiving dawns bright and clear but cold, pulling Emma out of her bed earlier than she wants. That’s fine, though; she didn’t really sleep much the night before, too busy running through lists in her head of everything that could go right and especially everything that could go wrong. It doesn’t help that she’d had a late night before she climbed into bed either, having trekked from the theater to Macy’s with the stuff they’ll need for the parade. There’s just a chair and a couple of hedges - not to mention the racks of costumes and boxes of wigs carefully supervised by the costume department - but this gives her a chance as well to check out the space set aside for the cast to get ready. Not to mention, Emma would much rather deal with transport the night before than fighting through the madness Thanksgiving morning. It’s going to be enough of a pain getting to Macy’s this morning with all the crowds milling about; there’s no way in hell she would willingly add bulky equipment to that mix.

The good news is that Henry’s so excited about the whole affair that he all but flies out of bed without needing to be nagged like she’d have to on a regular school day. It’s probably a mistake to give him a pack of pop-tarts for breakfast - lord knows he doesn’t need the extra sugar rush on top of his already excessive energy level. But they’re in a rush today, and she doesn’t have time for much else, not even a bowl of cereal. Robin doesn’t have to work today - performing outdoors for tv crews doesn’t leave much need for a lighting technician and designer - but he’s there with Roland anyways in the section set aside for production members if they want it, and he agreed previously to keep an eye on Henry while Emma works. Hopefully he doesn’t come to regret that.

Emma figures she’ll get to Macy’s before anyone else, but Belle’s already inside, practically vibrating with nervous excitement, and Emma spots Ruby helping a few of the chorus members with their wigs. Though Belle’s still in her street clothes, her hair and makeup are already done, leaving Emma to wonder exactly how long the brunette has been here.

“You alright?” she asks, more in amusement than genuine concern. Belle’s a trooper; Emma has full confidence that whatever nerves are playing through Belle’s head right now, she’ll power through like the pro she is. Still, it feels like the thing to ask when you find a key player in your production bouncing on the balls of her feet like an Easter rabbit who showed up for the wrong holiday.

Belle whips around, eyes blown wide with surprise at Emma’s little interruption. Too late, Emma realizes that their Elizabeth must have been lost in her own little world, and was likely given quite a shock. As Emma pulls a contrite face, Belle’s own visage softens into a slightly embarrassed smile.

“Yes, I’m fine, thank you,” Belle assures. “This is mostly excitement, I promise.”

Emma throws her hands up in the universal sign for backing off. “I can understand that. Just wanted to make sure. Walking in you looked at little…”

“On edge?” Belle offers. “There’s a hint of that as well.”

Emma laughs. “Well that’s fine too.”

“It really struck me last night what an institution this is,” Belle elaborates, hastily adding “And I’m thrilled to be a part of it! But it was a little… daunting, remembering that legacy. And we’re going to be part of that, after today,” she concludes, voice echoing with traces of awe.

“Oh, don’t I know it,” Emma replies, before making an attempt to lighten the conversation. “You should see Henry outside, he’s ecstatic. It’s been helping my nerves a bit, honestly,” she admits, “seeing how excited he is, his conviction that we’re going to be the stars of the whole thing.”

“He’s a good kid,” Belle smiles back. “You’ve raised him well.”

Even if it’s true, even if it fills her with a glowing pride that’s reserved especially for Henry, Emma never knows how to respond to such a compliment, so she deflects. “Yeah, well, he’s right outside with Robin and Roland and a disgusting amount of bagels if you want to borrow him. Steal a little bit of that confidence for yourself, if you need it.”

Belle laughs, seemingly accepting the words as they were intended - an emotional de-escalator. “I just might have to. At the very least, I should go say hi. Right outside, you said?”

“Yep, to the left near the heaters. He’ll be the one talking a million miles a minute.”

“Should be easy enough to find,” Belle twinkles back, offering a final wave as she heads to presumedly find her coat before setting foot beyond the doors.

From there, it’s a blur of preparations and quieting mini-crises that turn out not to be the end of the world. Honestly, her file box is filled with so many random odds and ends at this point, but it’s days like today, where everyone’s common sense and operational memory is clouded by nerves, that those things pay off. Even if it’s her first time at the parade, this isn’t her first rodeo; she’s learned a few things over the years, and how to prepare for so-called disasters is one of them.

Truthfully, she had expected to be talking Jones down from another breakdown the whole while, but he’s surprisingly cool as a cucumber, acting like none of it affects him in the least. Someone ought to be, at least, because Emma is internally freaking out a little bit - not over the actual mechanics of the performance, but over the knowledge of what a cultural institution they’re about to be a part of. It adds a certain amount of pressure, and even if Emma is confident that they can shoulder it with ease, she still feels the weight on all their shoulders.

Miraculously, the performance actually goes well. In fact, if Emma were to borrow a few of Killian’s fancy words, she might say that they pulled it off with aplomb. “In Want of a Wife” isn’t Emma’s favorite number - she prefers the ballroom scenes with their intricate whirling that shows off the costuming so well - but it’s a great introductory bit, and gives a great peek of the characters the audience will come to love, hate, and everything in between. The cast is in particularly fine form this morning; Emma can see Killian shift into Darcy’s uptight persona the moment the makeshift stage is in sight, and Belle exudes the perfect believable combination of curiosity and exasperation at the scheming of Mrs. Bennet and the Meryton neighborhood as a whole. Yes, there’s a few pitch issues - nothing major or particularly egregious, just the normal effects you’d find in temperatures barely above freezing - but overall, she’s quite pleased with their efforts.

Without cues to call or crew members to direct, Emma’s left without much to do during the performance itself. She’s already seen the show countless times, and will likely do so countless times more, so she instead takes the opportunity to find Henry in the crowd to watch his reactions to the action in front of him. In short, Henry looks enthralled, pointing out things to Roland as the four-year-old bounces with an energy only preschoolers can maintain. Emma longingly thinks in passing that she’d love to hear what Henry is saying, but reassures herself with the knowledge that she’ll likely get the full replay when she meets up with him afterwards.

In the meantime, she’ll turn her mind to the work still to come.

———

Well done, little brother! his phone reads when Killian retrieves his street clothes, accompanied by an array of celebratory emojis. Killian’s heart swells with pride at his brother's words, even if he does slightly regret introducing the old man to emojis. Lord knows he’ll never get a plain normal text message again.

There had been a general awareness, in the middle of the singing and choreography and concentrating on being as impressive as possible while also frowning ferociously, of the spectacle of the whole thing. Killian had been aware that the roaring sound was the crowd, not just the blood rushing through his ears, though he hadn’t focused on it at the time, too concerned with hitting his marks to allow himself to process much else.

Now though, as he goes to exit the department store and is faced with the full force of the crowd, it’s astounding. It seems the citizens of New York - and likely half the country to boot - have turned out in force, forming a mass of people exuding an almost palpable energy of excitement. It stops him in his tracks for a moment, right outside the revolving door with little awareness of the chill biting his ears.

He’s no idea how long he stands there, really, before he’s suddenly startled out of his shocked trance by a shockingly close voice, jaw snapping shut with a clack.

“Hey, Earth to Killian,” Emma grins. “Did you get lost in there?”

“Aye, maybe a little,” Killian admits with a chuckle. “I didn’t hear you come up.”

“Sorry if I scared you, I’ve been doing that today without meaning it.”

“It’s fine, Swan,” he waves her off. “Did you need something?”

“Oh, no, not at all,” she says, shaking her head in a hasty denial. “You just looked stuck there. Stuck and struck, if you want to play with words.”

“Oh, I think we both know how I feel about playing with words,” he winks.

Emma rolls her eyes, but also bumps into his side companionably, so the expression is rather negated. “Anyway,” she continues pointedly, “I thought I’d come see if you wanted to come watch the rest of the parade with me and Henry. I’m sure he’s got plenty of commentary about the performance.” The last bit is hastily added, as if in justification, but Killian doesn’t need any further convincing.

“I’d love to,” he smiles, attempting to muster every ounce of sincerity he possesses. “Lead on, Swan.”

As promised, Henry is ready with a full recap, stretching longer than the actual performance lasted. Killian catches Robin’s eye over Henry’s wild gesticulating, the lighting designer clearly struggling to hold back laughter as his shoulders shake with the effort.

“If you couldn’t tell, Henry very much enjoyed your performance,” Robin relates in as serious a tone as he can muster, causing Killian to suppress his own snort.

“We’ve got the best spot, you’re going to love it,” Henry assures, completely ignoring Robin’s comment as he grabs Killian’s hand to forcibly force him into a seat. “Have you seen the parade before? I mean, probably not in person - even Mom and I have only done it once when I was, like, five or six, and we missed half of it because we couldn’t get close enough. But we watch it on TV every year! Do you?”

It’s a lot to keep up with, but Killian does his best. “I’ve only seen a little, so this will be like my first time watching it. They don’t celebrate Thanksgiving in England, so Liam and I usually just enjoy the day off and don’t do much.” Honestly, he thinks Liam might sleep through the parade most years, but Henry doesn’t need to know that. Such blatant lack of festivity might break the lad’s heart, he suspects, if the current level of enthusiasm is anything to go on.

“We’ll just have to show you then,” Henry replies decisively, nodding to seal his declaration.

Indeed.

Henry proves to be quite the narrator, providing commentary on seemingly every float or balloon that passes by. Killian is particularly impressed by the balloons, floating far above the street in an almost otherworldly spectacle.

“Spiderman’s my favorite,” Henry offers, “but Mom likes Snoopy best.”

Killian turns just in time to see the woman in question shrug. “What can I say, I like the classics,” she explains. “Except the pilgrims. Those inflated heads are friggin’ creepy, and always look like they’re about to tip over.”

(She’s got a point.)

In the meantime, Henry’s mind finally catches up with some of Killian’s earlier words. “Wait,” he says, “you and your brother don’t celebrate Thanksgiving?”

“No?”

“So you’re not having a Thanksgiving dinner?”

“Not everyone does, Henry,” Emma reminds her son.

“Yeah, but he’s alone on Thanksgiving. That just seems wrong.”

“I don’t know, lad, I wouldn’t call this big crowd alone,” Killian reasons.

“Yeah, but what are you doing after this?”

The lad’s got him there. “Ah… well, I was planning on going home and heating up a bit to eat. Maybe order some Chinese takeout, if I can find a place that’s open.”

Henry stares at him at those words, wearing an expression Killian can only describe as being one of pure horror. “You can’t!”

“I’ll see if I have the makings for a deli turkey sandwich, if that makes you feel any better,” Killian offers to a stunned silence.

“Or you could just come to dinner with us,” Emma offers.

Killian’s head snaps around to meet her eyes. “Oh no, Swan, I couldn’t possibly intrude,” he protests, but Emma’s already waving off his attempts.

“Really, it wouldn’t be a hassle. Granny usually makes enough to feed 20,” she explains. “I mean, let me give her a call to make sure, but I don’t think she’d have a problem with it. If you want to come, that is, I don’t want to pressure you into anything,” she hastens to add, but there’s no need for that.

“I’d be honored,” he smiles.

———

God, what was she thinking, inviting Killian to Thanksgiving dinner?

Well, she knows what she was thinking, totally focused on making her kid happy and wiping that horrified look off his face. Plus, you know, it wouldn’t exactly be a hardship, inviting Jones to dinner. He’s pleasant company, and chatty enough to fit in with all the rest of the maniacs crammed into Granny’s. Plus, he’d already know everyone, Ruby and Mary Margaret from the show and Granny from Emma’s birthday party. It certainly wouldn’t be the fiasco she’s currently inflating it into.

Granny had been more than agreeable to Killian joining them. “Of course he can come,” she said. “He’s a sweet boy. Hell, invite some of the other Thanksgiving orphans in the show if you want, Lord knows we’ve got enough to feed them all. As long as they bring booze to share.”

With Granny’s blessing, Belle had graciously accepted the extended invitation along with Killian, and Emma suspects that if Scarlet ever checks his phone and sees that his little crush is coming, he’ll join in too. Robin already has plans, taking Roland to Thanksgiving with his maternal family - “It’s the least I can do, now that his mother’s gone” - but there’s tentative plans to swing by later for pie, if timing permits.

The plan is to serve the meal at three, so all attending have been sternly instructed by the lady of the kitchen to arrive between two and two-thirty, drinks in hand. Of course, all attending just means their unexpected guests - Ruby and Emma are both expected earlier to help with the meal as needed, though in Emma’s case that mostly means putting stuff other people made into the oven and setting the table. When Granny runs out of things for Emma to stir - seriously, even Henry is trusted to do more in the kitchen - she’s banished to the dining room to act as a welcome committee for whenever their guests arrive.

Honestly, it’s a little too much time spent with her own thoughts. Emma invited Killian for the same reason she invited everyone else - she didn’t want him to have to be alone on for the holiday. That’s it. She doesn’t need to be worried for this, like it’s some date; it’s just a bunch of friends having dinner together. As friends.

That doesn’t keep her heart from jumping into her throat for a moment when Killian shows up at precisely 2:04 in the afternoon with a full bottle of red wine under one arm and an already opened bottle of rum under the other.

“I hope that’s alright,” he says. “The wine was a gift, so I’m not sure how good it is, but the rum is my own so I knew that would be palatable.”

“Yeah, that’s great. We can put those behind the counter if you want. Or back in the fridge, though I don’t really think either needs it, but hey, what do I know? Though they’re probably pretty cold already from the trip here — ”

“I promise, the counter is fine, Swan,” Killian laughs. As he moves to leave them on the laminate top, he leans in to whisper in her ear. “Relax, love. Don’t overthink it.”

“Easy for you to say,” Emma mutters, but Killian doesn’t hear her, already moving to greet Granny where she’s poked her head out of the kitchen.

“Thank you for permitting me to join your undoubtedly spectacular Thanksgiving feast, Mrs. Lucas,” he says with seemingly every ounce of formality he possesses. It’s funny to watch, Emma has to admit, especially knowing Granny and Ruby will disabuse him of that notion shortly.

“Enough of that,” she tells him briskly. “Now set down those bottles and come help, we need an extra set of hands.”

Emma can breathe easier with Killian in the kitchen as she turns back to setting the table. It doesn’t hurt, either, that the rest of the afternoon’s guests start trickling in not long after. Belle manages to arrive not ten minutes after Killian, cheeks pink from the chill, and Scarlet shortly after 2:30 with a case of cheap beer in hand.

Shockingly, it’s Mary Margaret who leaves them waiting the longest, everything but the bird itself already having been set on the table before she finally shows up. Her delay is easily excused, though, as she arrives hand-in-hand with David Nolan and red, chapped lips.

“I knew it!” Ruby crows from the table before smacking Henry in the arm. “Pay up.”

“Are you teaching my kid to bet, Ruby?” Emma calls, trying to infuse her voice with disappointed incredulity.

“Please, it’s five bucks,” she dismisses. “And it was his idea, for the record.”

“Hey Mom, do you have five bucks?” Henry grins across the table, causing a loud guffaw from Scarlet and what Emma thinks was a muffled snort from Killian. Figures.

“Hey, you got yourself into this mess, kid, you can get yourself out of it. This is what you get for betting that Co-Captains Obvious weren’t dating.”

“Oh, I still thought they were dating,” Henry clarifies. “I just thought that they’d hide it until New Year’s.”

That gets the whole table laughing, even Emma, as Mary Margaret tries to sit down with as much dignity as she can muster and a barely suppressed smile on her face. “If you all are quite done,” she says primly, “then yes, David and I have been seeing each other for the last couple of weeks. And I’m very happy about it.” She takes the moment to smile at her paramour, the picture of lovesick serenity. “And he is too. Now, can we start dinner before everything gets cold?”

“Don’t think you’re getting off that easy, girlie,” Granny warns, the affection clear in her voice. “But we’ll put it aside for the moment. Serve yourself, everyone, I’m the cook not the waiter.”

As the room dissolves into laughter and conversation, everyone attempting to grab for their favorites, Emma leans over to whisper in Mary Margaret’s ear. “I am happy for you, you know, all bets aside.”

“Thanks, Emma,” the pixie-haired brunette beams back. “I’m happy too.”

Emma probably shouldn’t be surprised, but despite all the last minute additions, it still feels like a proper family dinner, not the hodge-podge of people it technically is. Of course, Killian is right in the middle of it all, trading innuendos with Ruby, patiently listening to Henry tell about seemingly every past Thanksgiving he’s ever celebrated, and gently ribbing David and Mary Margaret - but mostly David - about their budding relationship. Honestly, she could picture another holiday spent in his company, would welcome it in fact.

(With everyone else too, of course. Purely as friends. Because when you stumble across a good thing, why mess with it?)

———

Killian misses Liam’s first call that night, too busy trying to wrestle the mountain of Thanksgiving leftovers Granny sent him home with into the fridge, and almost misses the second, the device buzzing precariously close to the edge before he executes an impressive dive to snatch the phone off the counter in time.

“Hello?” he manages to gasp out, slightly out of breath from his dramatic grab.

“Am I interrupting something?” Liam asks, amusement coloring his voice. “I just wanted to call and congratulate you on the parade again, but do I need to call back later? Or tomorrow perhaps?”

“No, no, not really. It’s fine. What’s up?”

“‘Not really’? Not to pry, but I thought you were set up for a quiet day in after the parade. Did you have plans I didn’t know about?”

“Not that you knew about, no,” Killian hedges, “but I ended up having a late lunch with some people from the show.”

“Oh? Anyone I know?” Liam asks, a little too genuinely. The bastard probably already knows exactly what happened without even being told. Some days, Killian wonders if there’s some kind of psychic power associated with being a big brother.

“Oh, you know. Belle. David and Mary Margaret - they’re dating now, as it turns out. No one is particularly shocked. Will Scarlet put in an appearance - he’s the one who’s got his sights set on Belle. A few others. Anyhow, did you have an eventful day?” Killian attempts to breeze right over the fact that he spent his holiday with Emma’s family, essentially, but doubts it was very effective an effort.

“Oh no no no, little brother,” Liam redirects, laughing right over Killian’s muttered protest of younger, Liam, younger. “I see what you’re doing. A few others? One of those ‘few others’ wouldn’t happen to be your lady and her boy, would they?”

“Still not my lady,” Killian reminds Liam. Honestly, it’s getting a little old - especially since Liam was one of the voices telling him that maybe it wouldn’t be such a brilliant idea to ask Emma out in the first place. “But yes, they might have been there.”

“Might have been?”

“Ok, they were there. In fact, Emma was the one that invited me. They always spend Thanksgiving, and most holidays I think, with one of the costume assistants and her grandmother. Happy?”

“Quite.” It’s impossible to miss the smug note in Liam’s voice. “So, tell me,” he continues, “how was Thanksgiving dinner?” It’s so easy in Killian’s mind’s eye to picture Liam leaning forward with his chin propped in his hands, the universal sign for sarcastic attention. Wanker.

“No. I’m not telling you if you’re going to be a horse’s arse about it.”

“Oh c’mon, Killy,” Liam wheedles, but Killian’s having none of it.

“No, I’m serious. I appreciate your advice when I need it, but not when I have to deal with your relentless teasing the rest of the time! It makes me not want to tell you things, honestly.”

“Ok, ok, I’m sorry,” Liam concedes. “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. I’m sorry, younger brother,” he emphasizes, as if to underline just how genuine he’s being. “Would you like to talk about your day - or at least the dinner part of it? I’m a willing ear if you want it. Otherwise, I’d love to hear about the parade.”

Killian considers telling Liam no, flat-out, but the truth is he kind of does want to rehash the day, share his excitement and enthusiasm over his first real Thanksgiving (not the vaguely British facsimile he and his brother half-assed, to borrow a phrase, their first few years on this side of the pond). That doesn’t mean he’s going to make it easy on his brother; no, after the teasing he’s been subjected to, he deserves a little taunting of his own - at least by way of leaving Liam in suspense for a while.

“The parade was amazing, Liam, every minute of it. Watching it on TV doesn’t give you any idea of the sheer spectacle of it all,” Killian says, gushing a little bit despite any intentions he might have had about acting like an adult on the phone. It’s far too late for that; the grin stretching his face at the mere memory of the day’s festivities is proof positive of that. “I must have looked like a fool in the crowd afterwards, just grinning like a madman, but Gods, Liam, I’ve never seen anything like it. Even for New York standards, the crowds were huge, and everyone was just buzzing with excitement. I swear, I’ve never experienced anything like it.”

“Well you were amazing, Killian,” Liam replies warmly. “I’m so proud of you. I’m tempted to go find a YouTube video of the performance and email it to everyone I know, like some kind of obnoxious parent.”

“Well, that seems a bit excessive,” he comments dryly, “but I take your point. It really felt like we were one organism today, you know? All moving as once to execute the best performance we could.”

“Trust me, Killian, it showed. I’ll be shocked if that appearance doesn’t exponentially increase the buzz around the show.”

Killian could drag this out, describe each balloon in detail, exactly where and how they prepared inside of Macy’s, precisely how cold it was to the tenth of a degree with excruciating attention to which specific fingers and toes felt the chill, but he takes pity on Liam instead. He’s behaved, even though Killian knows he’s dying to hear about dinner. “Somehow, the Swans found out that I was planning to go back and microwave a meal in my apartment - Henry insisted we watch the parade together - so they invited me along to their own plans. Which kind of spiraled out into inviting several of the other Brits without plans. It was truly lovely, Liam,” he exudes, really getting into the recounting. “I swear, Mrs. Lucas cooked enough food to feed half of Manhattan. Henry swears she does this every year, and likely didn’t even have to cook any extra when Swan called about extra seats at the table. Though I doubt that last part.”

“Sounds like a regular feast,” Liam comments, chuckling.

“Oh, you have no idea. I missed your first call, and nearly the second, because I was trying to stack all the tupperware I was sent home with into the fridge. What do they call it? Fridge tetris?”

Liam barks out a laugh at that. “Aye, I think that’s the technical term. That much food?”

“That much. And Mrs. Lucas was sending it home with everyone, I wasn’t a special charity case. The whole affair was so lovely, really, I’ve never seen — ” Killian stops abruptly. “No teasing, you promise? Even if you think me some kind of ridiculous lovestruck fool?”

“No teasing,” Liam swears. “Even if you’re carrying on like a lovestruck fool. I’ll sit here and listen attentively and supportively, I promise.”

If they were having this conversation in person, Killian would toss his brother a skeptical look, but since that’s not an option, he plows on ahead. “I really understood the whole thing first-hand for the first time, you know? I mean, you can hear about how this is a holiday for families as much as you want, or see it on television or in the movies, but it doesn’t really sink in until you’re sitting in the middle of it. There was so much sheer affection at that table, Liam. And I’ve never seen Emma so at ease.” He pauses for breath, taking the opportunity to collect his thoughts. “I’m aware that that doesn’t really mean much, considering our relatively short acquaintance, but still. She was comfortable, in a casual way I haven’t previously associated with her. Like that was her place, in some kind of deep and emotional and cliche way. Does that make sense?”

“She looked at home,” Liam supplies, putting the words right in Killian’s mouth.

“Yes! Exactly. I know I must sound silly - this is where the lovestruck fool bit comes in, so please, contain yourself - but it’s nice, being able to discover these new sides to Swan that I don’t see every day. Charming. Wonderful. Some other word more expressive than nice.” Killian stops himself before he gets too far. “I’m babbling.”

“A little bit.”

“Kind of you to downplay it.”

“Anytime.”

They both laugh at that. Technically, the comments break Liam’s vow not to tease him, but their spirit certainly doesn’t, so Killian lets it pass.

“So you had a great day?” Liam asks.

“The best. Enough about me, though, what about you, how was your Thanksgiving? Sorry I didn’t call earlier.”

“Don’t worry about it, brother. My day was much more low-key than yours. Dropped by to have a few beers with a couple other ex-pats from the film, but that’s about it. Honestly, watching you in the parade was the highlight.”

Killian blushes at the words. “You don’t have to say that,” he mumbles, but Liam can probably hear the smile in his voice anyway.

“I only say it because it’s true,” his elder brother promises.

“Thanks, Liam.”

Conversation turns towards more general topics eventually, not that Killian minds. He loves these calls with his brother, even if he was a bit late to this particular one.

“Christ, it must be getting late for you,” Liam finally says. He’s not wrong - they’ve been on the phone for almost an hour, and in that time it’s gotten quite dark outside. “I’ll let you go - I’ll have to be up early tomorrow anyways.” It’s a half-assed excuse and they both know it, especially since Killian is pretty sure he’s the only one who has to work tomorrow.

“Are you sure?” he asks, even though he’s sure of the answer. Big Brother Liam, still trying to make sure little Killy goes to bed on time and brushes his teeth.

“Go on. We’ll talk later,” Liam replies, absolutely certain. Who is Killian to argue with that?

“Alright, well, Happy Thanksgiving, Liam.”

“Happy Thanksgiving, little - younger brother.”

[fatestemptress]

Paramount Remembrances - Chapter Two

Summary: Dean Winchester has reached a point in his life where he doesn’t have many firsts left to fulfill.  Except maybe falling in love.  This is the story of how he got there.

Warnings: Smut. Lots and lots of smut.  Oral (male & female receiving).  Dry humping.  Backseat sex. Teaching/Guiding. 18 Plus ONLY! 

Pairings: Young Dean x OFC, Dean x OFC, Dean x Reader (Eventually)

Word Count On this Chapter: 1,553

A/N:  Here we go!  Part Two! 

Please note, I’m not sticking to canon timelines as rigidly as some wonderful writers do.  Please take any errors in timeline continuity with a grain of salt.  Many thanks!    

 As I said before, I’m new to tumblr so if any of this posts incorrectly, I apologize.

 Please note, this is unbeta’d.  Any and all grammatical errors are mine.  (And I’m sure there are PLENTY. :)) 

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Dean was eighteen when he lost his virginity.  

The back of the Chevy that his father had officially gifted to him on his eighteenth birthday has seen a hell of a lot of action.  But the night Dean first slid into his first wet pussy would easily go down in history as one of the best on the sizzle reel.

Her name had been Gillian.

Such a sweet name for such a dirty girl.

His dad had left him and his brother behind and took up with another hunter friend on a tough case wanting to keep them out of the more dangerous hunts until he felt they were ready.

One evening, with Sammy at the town library studying God knows what, Dean had made his way down the road to the diner closest to the motel they were staying at.  He sat down at a corner booth, looking out the window, bored out of his mind, when a sweet voice interrupted his musings.

“Hi, I’m Gillian. What can I get ya?”

Dean turned his head and looked up into the sweetest hazel eyes this side of Texas.  Her long red hair was gathered into a side ponytail and curled softly down the front of her waitress uniform.  Her small waist led to a curvy set of hips that immediately made things inside of him tighten.

A slow smile spread across his face and he watched as she bit the bottom of her lip as he tilted his head and looked up at her, “The special, please.”  

She blinked down at him, “Uh, yeah sure.  Coming right up.”

One special and three coffees later, Gillian was off work and taking Dean on a tour through town, telling him about her plan to get the hell outta dodge the second she graduated from college in a year.  

Two nights later, in his car, on some cliff overlooking some lights that Dean never got to appreciate, Gillian sat beside Dean in the backseat as she led his hand under her skirt and over her soaked panties as his tongue licked its way into her mouth.

His fingers hesitated for the slightest of seconds.  He had never touched a girl down there before.  Sure, he had rubbed his jean covered dick against an equally covered pussy, but he and Mandy never got as far as him actually putting his fingers on her.

But when Dean rubbed his way over Gillian’s soaked white panties and she reached down and pulled them to the side for him, he was hooked.

Gently, he rubbed his fingers over her folds and swallowed her erratic breaths as he slid his middle finger down to her waiting hole.

Should he?  Shouldn’t he?

Gillian answered the question for him as she canted her hips into his touch and whined when the tip of his finger entered her.  When he still hesitated, she reached down and pressed his middle finger in deeper and moaned into his mouth, her tongue darting out and wrapping against his as she kissed him deeply.

“Fuck.”  He whispered into her mouth as he slowly started moving his hand, savoring the feel of her slick running down his finger onto his hand.

Gillian broke the kiss and moved her hips into his motions, her harsh breaths grazing along his lips as she met his eyes with intensity. With a low groan, Dean licked his way down to the swell of her breasts and she immediately started unbuttoning her shirt and threw it somewhere behind her.  Her white lacy bra glowed in the moonlight and he pulled down the cup with his free hand to suck her nipple deep into his mouth.  

Before he could contemplate his next move, Gillian was pulling back from him as she shimmied out of her panties.  Quickly, she unbuckled his belt and pulled down his jeans, “Need you now, Dean.”

Dean lifted his hips, “Ummm, o-okay.”  He answered as he helped her bring his jeans down to his ankles.

Gillian lifted an eyebrow at him as she took in his dick, “Well that is pleasantly surprising.”

Dean blinked at her and let out a small huff, “Uh, thanks?

She reached behind her and undid her bra throwing it in the same direction as her shirt, “You got a condom, right?”

“Uhhh, yeah, in my, uh, wallet.”

The same condom his dad had given to him when he had turned eighteen along with a long embarrassing speech about safe sex and the rules of the road.

As he fumbled through his jacket pockets, looking for his wallet, sweet Gillian leaned over and engulfed his cock in one smooth stroke, careful to put her lips over her teeth.  Immediately, his fingers gripped the leather of his jacket in a death grip as he tried to keep his composure.  

Mandy had been sweetly naive.  

Gillian on the other hand knew what the fuck she was doing.  

And she was doing it well.

Too well.

When she pulled up his cock and started tonguing his sack he knew he had to stop her.  He was milliseconds away from spurting into her face and God knew he wanted to come inside of her instead.

“Gill-Gillian.  Sweetheart, you gotta stop.”

Gillian hummed and rolled her eyes up at him as she gave his balls one last swipe, “Eager to fuck me, are we?”

Dean nodded jerkily and finally pulled out the condom from his wallet.  He had a moment of pure panic as he pictured himself fumbling with the slippery thing, struggling to put it on but it seemed it was for naught as Gillian plucked it out of his hand and quickly ripped open the package and rolled the condom on with a practiced hand.

The moment of truth was upon him and he half expected someone to start knocking at the window, stopping him from losing the virginity that he felt should have been left behind a hundred towns ago.  (Life on the road, taking care of a sibling, didn’t really amount to a lot of personal time.)

Lucky for Dean, the only knocking that sounded was the rapid beat of his heart as Gillian tugged on his t-shirt and ripped it over his head.  Oddly enough, she kept on her skirt, the only piece of her clothing left, before simply raising it up as she threw her leg over his lap and straddled him. Holding her skirt with one hand and grabbing his cock with the other she lined him up with her core and slowly slid him in inch by inch as she mewled at the stretch.

Dean’s eyes crossed as the searing heat enveloped his cock and it took everything in him not to come right then and there.  

“Oh, fuck that’s good.” Gillian moaned as she bottomed out.

It was the most amazing feeling in the world and nothing in his life had ever topped this moment.

Or at least nothing had until Gillian started to move her hips and slid his cock in and out of her wet heat.  

The sound that came out of Dean’s throat should have been embarrassing but it was quickly overshadowed by the high-pitched whines coming out of Gillian’s mouth.

Dean wished he could say he lasted a long time.  That he was a stallion.  But having your first wet pussy roughly pounding out on your virgin dick, didn’t exactly give a guy stamina.

Lucky for him, someone in heaven must have liked him, because Gillian was one hell of an orgasmic chick and came about two point five seconds before he raised his hips is abandon meeting her rough thrusts as he squeezed his eyes shut and came with a loud groan that paled in comparison to her screams.

Holy shit.

Dean came out of his stupor to Gillian placing warm wet kisses up and down the column of his throat, before she nipped at his ear and whispered, “Let’s do it again.”

When he was able to formulate sentences, he had to tell her that he only had the one condom. Luckily, Gillian was a paragon for safe sex and had condoms of her own in her purse.

They had stayed in that town for two weeks.

Dean had fucked Gillian left, right and sideways, every chance he got.

One time he had even had her in the diner’s kitchen after closing.  Bending her over the stainless-steel countertop as she begged him to go harder and harder until he had exploded with a loud grunt that left him on shaky legs.

Another time, Gillian showed Dean just how dirty she really was as she begged him to come in her mouth and on her face so she could swallow and swipe up his extra essence with her fingertips before bringing it into the hot cavern of her mouth with a humm.

She had certainly taken his virginity with a bang.  

And then he had to leave her.

It was somehow easier this time.

Gillian knew he was a drifter and expected nothing more from him than what he gave and when it was time to say goodbye, she looked him in the eye and told him, “See ya around, Winchester.”

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Dean was nineteen when an older woman taught him how to eat a girl out.

Chapter 3

@chook007 @scorpiongirl1