#she FULLY lifts this man and swings him around like a bag of laundry

[3liza]

"the apache" was a dance fad that started around the 1910s, predating swing, but that influenced swing's moves, especially the aerial ones, and was meant to aesthetically simulate a physical domestic dispute. the advanced versions were almost indistinguishable from a professional wrestling match. this is one of the most athletic versions i've seen, it was filmed in 1937 so the dance had had time to mature in technique. the feats of strength being performed by the female partner especially are breathtaking (she wins btw)

[honeypiehotchner]

intelligence & issues (Hotch x Fem!Reader) -- chapter twenty-eight

Hi babes! I forgot to say this last chapter, but I made a playlist for this story! Here’s the link xx. You’re welcome to snoop around my Spotify! I make tons of playlists haha (Here’s the link to the “pov: you’re falling in love with aaron hotchner” one <3)

Chapter title is from “Let’s Get Married” by Bleachers!

Warnings: lots of ~suggestive~ comments (no smut), angst if you squint (i think), loads of fluff

Previous chapter || Fic Masterlist

Chapter Twenty-Eight: I know it’s hard enough to love me

Aaron doesn’t get done at the BAU until seven. Much later than he wanted, but he had work that he couldn’t abandon. The case still wasn’t closed yet – all the paperwork is done now, but it normally doesn’t take him this long.

He shouldn’t overanalyze his every move, but he can’t help it. He knows he’s walking a thin line, dating a member of his team. A fellow agent, a much younger fellow agent, when he’s a divorced father who doesn’t even have custody of his own son, only visitation.

It’s tearing him apart. But the one thing that puts him back together, is seeing you.

So, that’s what he does.

He didn’t like leaving you this morning. He didn’t want to. But he didn’t expect the psych eval to upset you as much as it did. He truly was only trying to give you a heads up – even though that’s against his rules, too.

He’s breaking all his rules for you. Every last one of them.

And yet, you don’t care.

You open your apartment door to him, and you throw yourself in his arms like you’ve waited all day for him.

“I’m sorry I’m so late,” he says, kicking your door closed with his foot. His arms are around your waist and yours are around his neck, so he’s lifting you off the ground just enough to carry you over to the couch. He’s careful when he shifts your weight as he sits down, so he can swing your legs around gently so you’re sitting in his lap, your arms never having to leave their place around his neck.

“It’s okay,” you say, your voice muffled due to the fact that you’re hiding your face in his neck. “I’m sorry I was so grumpy this morning.”

Aaron sighs, rubbing your back. “You’re forgiven, I promise.”

You lift your head a little to press a kiss to his cheek, your apology in two parts. “My mom and I talked about it.”

“What did she have to say about it?”

You smile softly. “That you look at me the way my grandpa looked at my grandma.”

Aaron hums, curious.

You continue. “She said you looked like you’d bring the moon down to Earth if I asked you.”

He chuckles, pressing a kiss to your lips. “I would.” Another kiss. “I’d need some help.” Another kiss. “But just say the word.”

Another kiss and you’re giggling. “I don’t need the moon, Aaron.”

“No?” He raises an eyebrow. “Or are you too afraid to ask?”

You shake your head. “I’m not.”

He tilts his head, giving you another look. “Little girl…”

“No,” you stop him, pulling him closer, staring into the glass of whiskey that is his eyes. “I don’t need the moon…because I have you.” You pause, watching his eyes, seeing his reaction. “And that’s enough,” you whisper. “I don’t know how to let you love me, but I’m gonna try.”

“Y/N…”

“Mom told me you just love me too much. You’re not trying to upset me, you’re just…trying to make sure I’m okay and that I can do this without killing myself, I guess.”

“She’s right,” he adds softly.

“I know she is,” you chuckle. “She’s right a lot more than I want her to be, but point is, I’m not mad at you. Thank you for the warning about the psych eval. I know you weren’t trying to be a dick by doing it.” He’s not out to get you. You know that now, or you’re trying to.

“Thank you for saying all this,” he says quietly, the one hand that isn’t holding your back coming up to brush your cheek. “I owe you an apology, too. I didn’t do a good job of explaining earlier and I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have sprung that on you right before I had to leave. That wasn’t fair.”

“It really wasn’t,” you laugh, “but thank you.”

He hums, sealing the resolve with another kiss. “Have you eaten dinner?”

You shake your head. “I was waiting for you.”

He sighs, smiling despite his better judgment. “I appreciate that, but it’s late. You didn’t need to wait for me.”

“Well, tough.” You lay your head on his shoulder, biting your cheeks to keep from smiling. You’re more than well aware that that little comment will poke Aaron’s buttons. His hand tightening around your waist is evidence of it.

“What do you want to eat, brat?”

Your breath hitches. Then, as if you want to make it worse, you say, “Do you want me to answer that honestly?”

Aaron sighs again, this time tired and ragged, holding on by a thin thread. “Food, little girl. Food. My cock isn’t food.”

“Well…”

“Y/N.”

“Fine, fine. I don’t know, pizza? Pizza is a safe bet.”

“Pizza it is then,” he says, pulling his phone out of his pocket. While he’s looking up the number of the pizza place, he says nonchalantly, “You know I’m not fucking you until you’re fully recovered. I won’t say it a third time.”

You want to argue because technically sucking him off isn’t him fucking you, but you decide not to. Right now.

Later, you will. He’ll cave eventually. You’re sure of it.

+++

Aaron curves your every attempt to steer things in a more sensual direction. You don’t mind it really, you like teasing him like this – even if you know it’ll come back to bite you in the ass when he decides to punish you for it all. But he insists on not fucking you.

You know you were just shot, but you wish he’d just slam you into the wall already.

Unfortunately, your injured leg doesn’t coordinate with your desire because rough sex – or any sex – is off the table now.

You weren’t going to take any pain medicine for it because it wasn’t hurting that bad, but then it got worse, and you think it’s probably because you did laundry today when you definitely shouldn’t have. You’re not telling Aaron that, though. No way.

Still, he made you take some pain medicine, and now you’re settling into the first Harry Potter movie. He kept his word and you did, too. He needs to watch all of them.

You’re lying down now with your head in his lap – on a pillow, of course, because he doesn’t want you getting any ideas – as the familiar tune of the opening scene plays.

You doze in and out, falling asleep quickly because Aaron’s hands are massaging small circles into your head. You recall him throwing a blanket over you at some point, so you must’ve been shivering.

It’s not long before you’ve fallen asleep completely, waking only after the movie has ended and Aaron has you in his arms bridal style, carrying you to your bed.

“What time is it?” You mumble, turning to bury your face in his shirt, inhaling the familiar smell that is your man.

“Almost eleven,” he whispers back.

You hum, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Are you staying?”

“Of course,” he replies almost instantly. “I stuck a bag in here when we surprised you.”

“You did?” You ask, smiling stupidly. “Cheeky motherfucker.”

He laughs, catching himself and muffling the sound so it doesn’t rattle your eardrums as hard. “Just looking out for my little girl.”

You hum again, pressing a kiss to his collarbone. “Your little girl loves it. And you.”

“And I love her too,” he murmurs. “Can I put you down now?”

Your eyes pop open lazily, seeing you’re in your bedroom. “Have you just been holding me?”

He nods as he lowers you onto the bed. “I felt like holding you.”

You hold onto his neck, and he doesn’t seem to mind as he stays bent over you, his nose brushing against yours. In the dim light, you take him in, searching his brown eyes, trying to find some reasoning, some magic spell that made it possible for him to love you this much.

“You better stop,” you whisper, not knowing where this is going.

“Or what?” He asks, inching closer, his lips ghosting over yours.

“Or I’ll wanna marry you for real,” you mumble. You’re aware of what you’re saying, but the exhaustion from the pain medicine makes it hard to fully process your own words. All you know is you mean them, every syllable.

“I already want to marry you,” he replies quietly. He’s not sure if you’re even coherent right now. You look like you are, but it seems too good to be true.

And as if his thoughts are confirmed, your eyes slip closed, sleep taking over.

You probably won’t remember this in the morning.

But he hopes you will.

+++

When you wake up, Aaron is long gone.

There’s a note next to a glass of water on your nightstand. He’s left for work and is going to try to be back earlier this evening. You smile at the thought, knowing he’ll get caught up again, but you don’t mind. It comes with the job.

You would love to go to the office for lunch. Maybe surprise him this time? You wouldn’t need a ride, as long as you don’t take anymore pain medicine today. The affects from last night’s is already gone.

He might kill you for it, but you’re doing it anyway. You miss everyone.

So, on that note, you get up and eat a quick breakfast before throwing on the comfiest clothes you own. It’ll be weird going into the BAU in these clothes with your badge clipped to the edge of your sweatshirt instead of to a blazer.

And sure enough, it does.

Stepping off the elevator on the floor of the BAU feels more nerve-wracking than it should.

On one hand, you’re excited to be here again, to see the rest of the team and to surprise all of them. On the other hand, you know Aaron won’t be happy with you (at first) for coming here. And you have this strange pit in your stomach, but you’re not sure what that’s about.

You push the negative feelings away and try to stay positive, focusing on the reactions from the rest of the team. They’ll be happy to see you, no doubt. That’s what you should be focusing on.

You’ve barely rounded the corner when you run into Penelope.

She grins, shaking her head. “You’re not supposed to be here, you sneaky little weasel.”

“I know, I know,” you groan. “But I was going insane and I miss you guys! I had to come visit and surprise everyone for lunch.”

“I can order in your favorite,” Penelope winks. “Come, come. Let’s grab JJ.”

Penelope links her arm with yours and the two of you walk to JJ’s office. JJ is at her desk and not on the phone for once, but the stacks of case files are as tall as ever. She looks up when you knock on her doorframe, and her face breaks into a grin.

“Hey you!” She stands, ignoring the open file to give you a hug. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to say hi,” you chuckle, squeezing her tight. “I’m going insane doing nothing.”

“It’s barely been two weeks,” JJ laughs. “What are you gonna do for the other two months?”

“Don’t even tell me that,” you groan. “I don’t know. I’ll just come bug you guys every day off the clock, I guess.”

“And if they’re gone, you can come camp out with me in my lair,” Penelope offers.

“Of course,” you nudge her arm. “I’ll probably hide out with you to avoid the wrath of Hotch.”

“He doesn’t know you’re here?” JJ asks. She grimaces when you nod. “Good luck with that one, sister.”

“Why do you think I want to walk in there with you guys? I’m not going into the lion’s den alone.”

“Oh, you’d be fine,” Penelope laughs. “We’re still having a girl’s night, right? We still need details and you are not getting out of it.”

“Yes, yes, we can, we’ll find time,” you promise.

After another moment of idle conversation, the three of you head up the hall to the bullpen. Through the glass doors, you can see Reid doing another magical science trick, and he must be practicing because Derek and Emily are working on some paperwork instead of watching him.

You decide to surprise Emily first since her desk is closest. Derek spots you, but doesn’t say a word, letting you sneak up behind Emily.

“Did you use my shampoo?” You ask right into her ear (don’t ask why, it’s the first thing that came to mind).

She spins around and jumps up, pulling you into a hug. Derek gives you a hug next, and Reid waves from his desk before going back to whatever experiment he’s in the middle of doing.

“Where’s Hotch?” You ask, glancing between everyone.

“Your man is in his office,” Derek snickers. “What? Did you not get enough lovin’ this morning?”

“Shut it, Morgan,” you try to smack his arm, but he dodges your swing with a laugh. “And since you asked so nicely, I’m never satisfied.”

Your shit-eating grin earns cheering from the girls, but Morgan groans loudly, shuddering.

“I did not need to know that, L/N. Seriously.”

You shrug. “Don’t ask then.”

Morgan shakes his head, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “I’m glad to see you’re just as feisty as always.”

“That’ll never leave me,” you wrap an arm around his waist, accepting his hug. “Where’s Rossi?”

“He took today off,” Emily answers.

“Something about his publisher,” JJ shrugs.

“Another book?” You ask. “I thought he was done with that.”

“Maybe,” Morgan says. “And I thought you weren’t allowed back here for at least another month.”

“To work,” you clarify, poking his stomach. “I’m just here to bug you guys and have lunch. I’m enjoying my time off, thank you very much.”

“You’re bored, aren’t you?”

“Out of my fucking mind,” you admit with a laugh.

You’re too busy talking to Morgan to realize Hotch has walked out of his office and is standing on the balcony, arms crossed over his chest, and a near death glare settled on you.

“Uh oh,” Morgan mutters, sliding his arm off your shoulders.

Your arm slips from around his waist, your eyebrows furrowing. “What—Oh. Oops.”

“Y/N,” Hotch says firmly. “Can I speak to you in my office?”

“You’re gon’ get it now,” Morgan says under his breath.

But you hear the remark, so you punch him in his side. “Of course, sir,” you say to Hotch, adding another jab to Morgan’s ribs when you hear him snickering at you. You’re gonna get him back later. So bad.

Aaron turns and walks back into his office. He’s closing the blinds when you walk in.

“Shut the door,” he says sternly.

You do as you’re told (for once), shutting the door behind you. “Aaron, I can expl—”

You don’t get to finish your sentence because the wind is knocked out of you, and Aaron lips are smothering your own. He nips at your bottom lip, and you open up for him, moaning when his tongue doesn’t even fight for dominance, just takes. The kiss has you hot all over, thanks to his wandering hands that run under your sweatshirt, leaving goosebumps everywhere his fingertips touch.

When he pulls back, you’re breathless, your chest heaving, your eyes wide, lips bruised.

“Um,” you pause to take a deep breath, licking your buzzing lips. “I’m sorry?”

“We’ll talk about this later,” he says sternly. “You’re lucky they’re out there or I’d bend you over my desk.”

You swallow thickly. “You still can.”

He smirks, but shakes his head, his thumb stroking your cheek softly. “No. And if they ask, you can say we were discussing your psych eval.”

You deflate at its mention. You try not to show it, but Aaron sees it. “When is that, by the way?”

“The Friday after next,” he says quietly. “At noon.”

“Okay,” you murmur. “When are you supposed to formally tell me?”

He chuckles. “Today is fine. I can tell Strauss I called you in to discuss it and you decided to have lunch with the team – if she asks.”

“Are you okay with lying to her this much?”

“Believe it or not, I’ve lied to her more often than you think. Before you joined us.”

“I don’t believe it,” you smirk. “You’re always such a stickler for the rules.”

“And yet here I am,” he pauses, kissing you again, “in love with you.”

“Loving me is dangerous, huh?”

“You have no idea.”

Next chapter

[wyn-n-tonic]

I Don't Count

Word Count: 1,479 Warnings: Drinking. Mentions of a car accident (briefly). Soft caretaker baby Will Miller. It's just fluffy. Author's Note: Fully formed this out of my need for a hug and comfort and decided I wanted to write it for the only blonde haired, blue eyed man I'd ever let get in these guts.

MASTERLIST

The Millers still had a landline. Of course they did. Benny’s big brother was very staunch about his boundaries. If he wasn’t going out after work, his cellphone went off as soon as he walked across the threshold. If you needed to reach him for any reason after that, you could call the house phone.

“But it better be a goddamn emergency,” he’d always say.

She bit her thumbnail as it rang, leg bouncing to a nonsensical rhythm. A drumming only she could hear. Once, twice. It was her last ditch effort to reach her best friend, to hear his voice telling her everything is okay. Three times and,

“Hello?”

Not Benny.

She contemplates hanging up, her voice stuck somewhere in her chest. This was most certainly not an emergency no matter what the bottle she’d been nursing had to say about it. But she can’t. Can’t speak. Not to Will, not about this.

Can’t let the phone fall from her ears. Can’t even breathe.

“Shane,” he sounds concerned, “are you okay?”

“I uh—“ the breath releases, “I was looking for Benny.”

A small laugh on the other end, “it’s Tuesday, Sunshine, he’s at the gym.”

Sunshine, his nickname for her. It started out as Sunshane but he got pissed at the autocorrect of his own brain, stopped fighting it after a while.

A sharp sound rings through, a whistle to get her attention.

“You didn’t answer my question,” it’s warm, “are you okay?”

She sniffs, “yeah, Billy—“

Another laugh, both disbelieving and amused, “you can’t lie to me. What’s going on?”

“Just…” another swig, “have Benny call me when he gets home, okay?”

“Are you drinking?” Not amused.

“I’m an adult, Miller, I drink.” It’s harsh.

“Yeah,” another disbelieving laugh, this time at your boldness, “but you sound like shit. Why are you drinking?”

Because I’m forcing my feelings for you onto others and I have the gall to be shocked when it blows up in my face.

“Look,” she’s pacing the kitchen, “just have Benny give me a call when he gets home. I’m really sorry t—“

“Did that fucking boyfriend do something?”

There it is, the sob she’d been swallowing.

“Give me half an hour,” he whispers down the line, “I’ll have my cell if you need anything, okay?” —————

The bottle’s gone when there’s a knock at the door.

She jumps but settles back against the couch, believing it must be coming from somewhere deep within the wine soaked sponge of her brain.

But there it is again, “it’s me, Sunshine,” coming from the other side.

She stands too quickly, blood rushing to her head as her right foot struggles to come back to life. He knocks again, nothing if not persistent.

“Don’t make me bust down this door, you know I can do it.”

She fumbles with the chain lock with wildly inebriated fingers, scratching desperately with her nails to get it through that little fucking hole. It springs free and she’s working at the deadbolt, much simpler, before throwing the door wide to the man on the other side.

“Would you really have busted down my door, Miller?” She slurs out, ever the lightweight.

He shrugs, “yeah but… I would’ve built you a new one so…”

“What's that?” She notices the bags for the first time, swinging idly at his side.

“I figured you were about halfway through the bottle earlier when you called, based on how the swish of liquid sounded on the pho—“

She rolls her eyes, “it's fucking creepy how you do that.”

“—so I brought cheeseburgers.”

She launches unsteadily toward him, wrapping her arms around his midsection.

“May I come in?”

His scent fills her senses, fresh laundry and a hint of Tom Ford as she nods against his broad chest.

Letting go, she stumbles back into the tiny apartment, the couch taking over the entire wall of the living room, and plops back down with her feet tucked under her as she makes grabby hands for the bag in Will’s hand.

He catches her out of his peripheral while he refastens the lock on the door, “can you be patient?”

“Absolutely not,” she whines out, “I'm starving.”

He toes his shoes off at the door and pads to the front of the couch, in front of her, and kneels down. He reaches into the bag and hands her a burger, “I got you two singles because I know you feel self conscious when you try to eat a double. Even when you’re alone.”

“But I’m not alone,” she mumbles through a bite, wrapper torn in half as soon as it touched her hands.

“I don’t count, I’m just Will.”

She almost chokes at that, because he does count.

“I'm really not trying to deep throat a fucking Big Mac in front of my best friend’s older brother.”

“Oh,” he stands and kisses the top of her head, “Is that all I am?”

Absolutely not.

She watches him walk into the kitchen, the clinking of glass and the sound of the tap rushing back out to meet her.

Thoughts swim in her drunk mind, the events of the day—the phone call, the fight, the follow up text messages. Colin’s raised voice still ringing through her ears as he accused her, “I don’t know if it’s Will or Ben but you’re fucking one of them and I’m done!”

“You wanna tell me what happened?” He’s soft, pulling the wrapper from her hands and pushing a glass of water in place of it.

“Um, ya know,” she swallows hard around the lump building in her throat again, “just what typically happens with men in my life.”

He looks defeated, apologetic. Colin’s not the first to accuse her of being with a Miller. It’s been a theme of the last three—Ryan, John, Adam—and this makes four. Four men that William Miller wishes he could add to his confirmed kills list.

That’s not what she wants to hear right now though, no matter how safe his words of protection always make her feel. Because it doesn’t matter.

“I'm sorry,” his heavy hand falls on the bare skin of her calf, sending a bolt of electricity through her body.

She was relieved.

Colin wasn’t right but he wasn’t far off from the truth she’s been hiding.

She’s in love with William Miller.

“Hey, Sunshine” his rough thumb across the smooth skin guides her back, “where are you?”

The alcohol has her still, a looseness in the hurt of her heart that makes up her mind before she fully realizes the words are already coming out of her mouth.

“He’s not wrong, Billy. None of them have really been wrong.”

He laughs, fingers stilled on her leg and she is aching for the movement to return as his stare seeps through her pores.

“You and Benny got something you need to tell me?”

Her breath is shaky.

She trails her fingers along his wrist before placing her palm on the back of his. Now or never.

“I think it’s more like you and I have something to tell Benny.”

He pulls away, blue eyes piercing through her, “you're drunk, Shane.”

“Just enough to not give a shit anymore,” she whispers, lifting herself up to her knees and pressing closer to him, “I know how we look at each other, Will.”

“Benny will kill us.”

She giggles, “I’ve been to his fights, my money’s on you.”

His heart swells as his laughter jumps up to meet hers. This is the first time they’ve been alone together, properly alone, since he realized his love ran deeper than that of just a friend.

When he realized on the last mission that he just really missed the smell of her hair when she gives him a hug. Or the way she laughs the hardest out of everybody whenever he tells a dumb joke.

He came home and, to stop himself from being reckless, made sure that he was only ever around when Benny was. He didn’t want to fuck up Benny’s friendship, that was something his little brother could excel at on his own.

But now, with her full lips inches from his, he decides.

It’s a decision he made less than an hour ago when her name popped up on the caller ID—she’d only called the house phone one other time, a car accident, and that same worry seeped beneath his skin again.

Her fingers run through the soft hair on the side of his head, his lips heavy against hers as he pulls her in and pushes her down.

He breaks away, “Are you sure?”

A question that dies with a crash as she tugs him back to her and he melts against her warmth when—

Her phone vibrates.

Got a figure like a pin-up, got a figure like a doll…

Benny.

TAGLIST: @justanotherblonde23 | @greeneyedblondie44 | @icanbeyourjedi | @princess76179 | @bbuckysbeardd | @notcookiebelle | @knivesareout | @phoenixpascal | @lexi-b-writes | @empress-palpat1ne​ | @starlightmornings​ | @soyelfuegoquearde​

[livesincerely]

it’s so easy (too easy) to love you, ch. 1

Also on Ao3

00000

Davey’s just gotten out of class—literally just walked out the door—when his phone starts ringing.

“Davey,” Tony says the moment he answers, not even giving Davey time to say hello, “can you swing by the apartment real quick?”

Davey sighs. “Are you locked out of the house again?”

There’s a guilty silence. Then, “Or maybe I just wanna see you, huh? You don’t know.”

“Tony.”

“Charlie’s the one that lost the spare,” Tony capitulates immediately, there’s an indignant “Hey!” somewhere in the background, “and I left my keys in my locker ‘cause I thought Charlie had his—”

There’s a scuffle of noise, then Charlie’s voice breaks in, “—don’t listen to him Davey, I asked him before we even got on the subway if he had his keys and he said he did but he didn’t even check—”

“—well, I thought you had yours, didn’t I?—”

“—and he was twenty minutes late picking me up from band practice because he was too busy making out with Spot Conlon to come help me carry my stuff—”

“—that was supposed to be a secret you little shit!”

“—you started it!”

Davey pulls the phone away from his ear as the other side of the line descends into a mess of indistinct yelling. He thinks about trying to get their attention, but he decides to just start heading towards the apartment, muting his side of the call while he waits them out—they’ll remember him eventually.

In the meantime, Davey sends a quick text:

Tony and Charlie locked themselves out of the house again

He’s not expecting a response, but Jack must be in-between projects because he gets one almost immediately.

jc again?

And you’re going to have to get a new spare made

fuck okay i’ll take care of it. are you heading over?

I’m walking there now

ur the light of my life dave

Davey can’t help but smile at this, a soft feeling fluttering in his chest. Before he can write back, Jack sends another text:

how did ur midterm go?

I feel good about it! Def did better than I thought it would!

duh youve been living in the library all week ofc ur gonna do great. ill swing by the grocery omw home and pick up some ice cream to celebrate. do we need anything else while im there?

Get a bell pepper and some tomato paste, I’m going to make spaghetti for dinner. And we need more laundry detergent.

fuck yes im starving! can we do garlic bread too?

Come home on time and we’ll see.

u drive a hard bargain. kerian owes me a favor so he can stay late tonight lol

“Davey?” The sound of Charlie’s voice, tinny and muffled, prompts Davey to lift his phone back to his ear; it seems like he might’ve been calling Davey’s name for a while. “Are you still there?”

“I’m still here,” Davey confirms.

“So are ya comin’ or what?” Tony cuts in, ever impatient. “I’m roasting out here!”

“Well, I was thinking about leaving you to ruminate on your poor life choices,” Davey responds dryly, “but I guess I can come let you in, since you asked so nicely.”

“Thanks, Davey,” Charlie says.

“I’ll be there soon,” Davey confirms.

“Hurry, will ya? Much longer and I’m gonna get heatstroke and die,” Tony declares.

Davey rolls his eyes. “Goodbye, Tony.”

00000

When he arrives at Jack’s building some twenty minutes later, Davey finds Tony and Charlie right where he expects them: crowded together in the little bit of shade the roof’s overhang offers, wearing identical grumpy expressions that brighten immediately when they spot him approaching.

"Finally!" Tony exclaims, shooting to his feet. "What took you so long?"

“Stop losing your keys and you won’t have to wait for me,” Davey counters, slotting his key into the deadbolt and hefting open the heavy exterior door. He props it open with his hip and lets Tony and Charlie scurry past him into the AC. “You couldn’t get anyone to buzz you in?”

“Old Man Davis hasn’t gotten his hearing aid replaced yet,” Charlie explains as they climb the stairs up to the second floor, “and Mrs. Ikeda isn’t home.”

“She joined a new book club,” Tony adds. “She won’t be back till late.”

“Oh, I’ll have to ask her about it when I see her next,” Davey muses.

He gets the apartment door unlocked and the boys pile inside, tossing their backpacks down with dramatic groans of relief.  Charlie makes a beeline for his bedroom; Davey expects Tony to do the same but he takes a seat at the kitchen table instead, booting up his laptop with a couple of keystrokes.

“I’ve got a paper due in English tomorrow,” Tony explains. “Can you look it over once it’s finished? Maybe later this evening”

“Of course,” Davey replies. “What’s it on?”

“Lord of the Flies.”

Davey’s nose wrinkles up. “Oh, I hated that one. What’s the essay prompt?”

“Identify Golding’s argument about human nature as proposed in Lord of the Flies,” Tony reads off the top of the assignment outline. “Then make an argument agreeing or disagreeing with his assessment, using evidence from the text.”

Davey rolls his eyes. “Good to see that high school literature classes haven’t changed much in the last few years,” he says with a sigh. “How much have you written so far?”

“Oh, I haven’t even started it yet,” Tony casually rebuts.

“Is everything going okay?” Davey asks, frowning slightly. “If things are getting worse we can make an appointment—”

But Tony waives his concerns aside. “Nah, this is regular old procrastination, not ADHD procrastination. Like ya said, Lord of the Flies sucks ass, so I just didn’t want to write it.”

“Well, let one of us know if you start having trouble,” Davey says.

"Okay, mom,” Tony agrees, somewhat distracted. He’s already got a blank document pulled up on his laptop, a battered and thoroughly dog-eared copy of the book laying open beside him.

Davey looks at him for another moment, then he shrugs and continues making his way into the kitchen—he figures there’s no need to worry unless Racer starts actually missing assignments. And he’s right: Lord of the Flies does suck ass.

By the time Jack gets home they’re each fully entrenched in different activities: Davey’s washed a sink full of dishes and is working on drying the last few pieces of silverware, Tony is still posted up at the kitchen table, carefully hammering out a draft of his paper, and there are the familiar sounds of Charlie working through different musical scales on his oboe in the back bedroom.

“Honey, I’m home!” Jack calls jokingly as he enters. There’s a rustle of plastic and soft thunk of the front door closing behind him, then he comes around the corner into the dining room with an armful of groceries.

“Hey, Jack,” Davey greets absently. He starts rifling through the bags almost before Jack can finish putting them down. “Did you get the tomato—?”

“I got the tomato paste,” Jack says, kicking off his shoes and leaving them in the entryway with all the others, “and I picked up some more of that fancy coffee you like from the place around the corner, even though it’s expensive as all hell.”

“Don’t judge me,” Davey replies, gathering up an armful of vegetables and carrying them further into the kitchen. “You spend a semester grading 'Intro to Shakespeare' homework and tell me how much caffeine you consume.”

“I’m just saying, the rest of us schmucks drink regular coffee and do just fine,” Jack continues. “You can feed your crippling caffeine addiction just as well with Folgers and it’ll cut down on the grocery bill.”

“Watch it, Kelly,” Davey says, pointing a finger teasingly in Jack’s direction. “Smartasses don’t get dinner.”

“‘s that so?” Jack asks with a grin. “Then why the hell are we still feeding Tony?”

“I heard that,” Tony grumbles from the kitchen table.

“Yeah, you were supposed to,” Jack says, moving over to Tony and slinging an arm around his shoulders, pulling him into a side hug. Tony bats at Jack’s hand but makes no real attempt to get away. Then Jack says, “So, I hear you and your brother lost another set of keys.”

Tony throws Davey a look of the deepest betrayal. “You told Jack?”

“Of course he did,” Jack says. “Someone’s gonna have to get new ones made, and it sure ain’t gonna be either half of the dynamic duo.”

“Charlie lost the spare,” Tony says, mercilessly throwing Charlie under the bus while he’s not in the room to defend himself. “And I didn’t lose my keys, I just left them in my locker.”

“Uh huh, save it for the judge,” Jack responds, ruffling Tony’s hair. “Just know if I end up having to change the deadbolt, it’s coming outta your subway money.”

“Jackie, leave Tony alone,” Davey comments mildly over Tony’s spluttering protests. “He needs to work on that paper and you’re distracting him.”

“Yeah, Jack,” Tony repeats, a little smug. “You’re distracting me.”

Davey turns to look at him, one eyebrow raised. Tony quickly busies himself with his homework.

Davey makes quick work of washing a green pepper and peeling an onion, then starts dicing both into small, neat pieces. He feels more than hears Jack sidle up behind him: the familiar weight of his gaze, the solid presence at his back. He stands there quietly, leaning against the counter-top and just watching Davey cook; unbothered, Davey leaves him be for the moment and moves to the stove, scraping the chopped vegetables off the cutting board and into a pan to start softening.

After a few minutes of comfortable silence, Davey glances over his shoulder at Jack and says, “Are you just going to stand there or are you going to help me with this? You know there’s no loitering in my kitchen.”

“Well, I’m nothin’ if not a law abidin’ citizen,” Jack drawls in answer, the corner of his mouth quirking up. He rolls up his shirt sleeves, exposing the long, muscular line of his forearms, and washes his hands in the kitchen sink. “Where do you want me?”

Davey licks his lips. “Think you can handle browning the hamburger?”

“I’m sure I can manage,” Jack responds with a smirk.

Davey steps out of the way, letting Jack take his place in front of the sauce pan while he gets a pot of water set up on a different burner, salting it so it boils faster. They settle into their familiar dinner-routine, moving around and past each other with ease as they work on getting everything ready, chattering idly all the while.

“I’ve gotta head back out this evening,” Jack says at one point, as he sets the tray of garlic bread in the oven to toast. “Johnson’s got me working a night shoot and I have to be downtown by 9.”

“How long is the session?” Davey asks. “Here, will you open this?”

“We’re scheduled for five hours, but we might get to wrap it up early if everything goes well.” Jack’s hand brushes against the small of Davey’s back and they trade places again, Davey stepping back up to the stove-top and Jack rifling around in one of the drawers for a can opener.

“Are ya spendin’ the night or are ya headin’ back to campus?”

“Depends on how much help Tony needs with his paper,” Davey replies, shaking his head. He takes the can when Jack hands it back to him and empties it into the saucepan, then gives the whole thing a good stir. “We might be at it a while.”

Jack huffs out a laugh. “Well, if you do spend the night, go ahead and take the bed. The extra blankets are in the usual place.”

Davey sets down the spoon he’s holding, crossing his arms across his chest. “Jack,” he says warningly.

“Davey,” Jack echoes back in the exact same tone of voice. In the background there’s the faint sound of Tony muttering, “Jesus, not this again.”

“Jack, I’m not gonna kick you out of your bed,” Davey says, rehashing the same old argument for what feels like the millionth time. “I’m perfectly fine taking the couch.”

“Or you could do the smart thing and just take the bed,” Jack counters as he always does. “I’m not even gonna be here to use it.”

“You’ll want an actual mattress when you get home, especially if you’re out late.” Davey argues. “I don’t even have class tomorrow, it’ll be fine.”

“If you don’t take the bed I’ll just carry you in there once I get back,” Jack says, as if that's a perfectly reasonable course of action. “So you might as well save me the trouble.”

Davey sputters. “That’s not— You can’t just— That only happened a couple of times!” he finally gets out.

"Well, actually, it's been more like four or five times," Jack says with a smirk. "But hey, who's counting?"

"That trick won't keep working," Davey grumbles, feeling the back of his neck start to heat up.

“You sleep like a fucking rock, Dave,” Jack says, rolling his eyes. “Why wouldn’t it keep working?”

“No, see, that’s exactly why I should take the couch,” Davey insists. “It’s not like the sound of you coming in will wake me up—”

Jack turns to face him. Davey cuts off, slightly startled—he hadn’t realized they were standing so close to each other.

“Just take the bed, Davey,” Jack all but orders, and those dark eyes with that low voice are a heady combination. “Please?”

Davey bites at his lower lip, suddenly flustered. “Fine,” he reluctantly concedes, hoping Jack will attribute his flushed face to the heat of the kitchen. “Just this once.”

"Thank you," Jack says with a dramatic heave of his chest, looking much too pleased with himself. "Now that wasn't so hard, was it?"

"You're letting the garlic bread burn," Davey answers tartly.

"Oh shit—!"

00000

Later that evening, after they’ve all finished eating and have cleaned up, Davey, Tony, and Charlie are still gathered around the table, working on various assignments.

Davey is finishing the readings for his Monday lecture in between helping Tony finalize the exact wording of his essay. Charlie sits opposite him, working through his geometry homework and every so often there’s a huff of breath and the rubbery scratch of an eraser—Davey makes a mental note to swipe some more pencils and notebook paper from the grad lounge when he’s there next.

Davey notices the time and frowns. “Jack,” he calls out, “it’s already 7:30. If you don’t leave soon you’re gonna be late for work.”

There’s a clamor of noise from down the hall, then Jack appears, freshly showered and fumbling to put on his socks and button up a clean shirt at the same time.

“Fuck, Johnson is gonna kill me,” Jack grumbles. He pats down his pockets, then groans. “Christ, has anyone seen my—”

“Your wallet and keys are on the counter by the microwave,” Davey says, pointing. “And take a jacket, it’s supposed to rain later.”

“Great, I’m sure the models will love that,” Jack says with a groan. “Hopefully we’ll be able to get through everything without getting rained out.”

He meanders his way over to the table, peering at Charlie’s homework from over his shoulder. “If Tony is still busy and ya get stuck, text me,” Jack tells him. “I probably won't be able to answer right away, but if ya send me a picture of the problem I can probably talk ya through it between shots.”

Charlie hums his acknowledgment, still scribbling furiously. Jack turns to Tony.

“Listen to whatever Davey tells you about your paper,” he advises. “The only reason I got through undergraduate writing was ‘cause Davey proofread all my shit before I turned it in.”

“I thought I was s’pposed to always listen to Davey,” Tony says distractedly, tongue poking out between his teeth as he types.

Jack pauses, considering. “Yeah, just do that.”

“Jack—”

“Oh, and Dave cooked, so you shitheads better do the dishes, get me?”

“Jack, you’re gonna be late,” Davey cuts in firmly, holding out Jack’s jacket for him.

“Alright, I’m going,” Jack says, shrugging it on, and he finally starts making moves towards the door.

He gives Charlie one last pat on the shoulder and cuffs Tony lightly across the back of the head in a slightly rougher, but no less affectionate goodbye, which is per usual. Then he turns to Davey, tips his chin up, and kisses him right on the mouth, short and sweet.

“Lock the door behind me and don’t forget to—” Jack stops mid-sentence, then turns bright red.

“Um,” says Charlie.

“Holy shit,” says Tony.

Jack’s mouth opens and closes soundlessly. Finally, he stammers out, “I u-uh— I-I d-didn’t mean—“

Davey doesn’t respond. He couldn’t, even if he wanted to—he’s frozen in place, his mind a sudden wash of static. For a moment, they just stare at each other. Then Jack blurts, “gottagoseeyoulaterbye,” and bolts out the front door.

Davey’s not sure how long he stands there, staring blankly into space, utterly dumbfounded.

“Davey?” Charlie asks hesitantly. “Are you okay?”

There’s a strangled, choking noise. A split second later, Davey realizes it’s coming from him.

"...What just happened?"

[searchingwardrobes]

The Early Leaf’s a Flower: 6/11

In different realms, Emma and Killian still think of the other as they search for something to fill in the hole in their hearts.

Yes, Emma and Killian are still separated in this chapter. Before you yell at me, though, this chapter also shows how often they still think of one another. Bear with me, I swear, all of this will make sense later, and I promise a great (steamy) payoff ;)

This chapter also introduces more of our favorite Once characters both in Neverland and the Land Without Magic. Emma does end up in Storybrooke, but I will go ahead and make something abundantly clear: it is an ordinary (albeit quirky) small town in this story. Some of the scenes in the Neverland section may sound familiar to some of you. I have had head canons for ages about Killian’s backstory with the fairies and with Wendy which I explored previously in fics that I have since deleted. They have been resurrected here, which I love because they are now fully fleshed out and in my own au! Anyways, I hope you enjoy my au versions of these characters.

Once again, massive thanks to the mods in the @captainswanbigbang​ fo organizing the CSRT especially @optomisticgirl​ who helped me handle self-doubt and writer’s block. B also was invaluable as a beta and in Discord chats as I tried to figure out how magic would work in this au. My other beta, @shippingtheswann​ whipped this chapter into shape, pointing out sooo many plot holes. Girl, where would I be without you?

Summary: She saw eyes that were the blue of the forget me not peering at her through the cracked door of the wardrobe. He saw hair as gold as the buttercups. Why does the wardrobe keep bringing them back to one another, if fate keeps tearing them apart? Or maybe fate has her reasons …

Rating: M for eventual sexy times, violence, canonical character death, and attempted rape

Trigger warnings: vague references to child abuse (physical and sexual), violence, and positive Millian

Words: Almost 6k in this chapter

** Complete and updated every Monday** Also on Ao3

Emma: Age 19

The taxi drives off behind her, and Emma startles, grasping the straps of her meager duffel bag tighter as she looks up at the quaint inn before her. The small wooden sign out front swings in the breeze: Granny’s Inn. Behind it, facing the opposite street, is Granny’s diner. The two are attached by a stairwell. Convenient, since Emma will be working there.

She hoists her bag with a deep sigh as she walks up the stone steps leading to the inn. In her jacket pocket is the recommendation letter from her parole officer. She doesn’t think she’ll need it, but she has it at hand just in case.

A bell rings over the door when she enters, and an elderly woman with white hair and bifocals perched on her nose bustles out. With a pang, Emma thinks of Martha so long ago, though this woman has a stern look on her face, almost a scowl, that Martha never would have borne upon her countenance.

“Need a room?” the woman asks, all business.

“Um,” Emma hesitates, fishing the letter out of her pocket. It’s crumpled from the cab ride, and she feels a bit foolish as she holds it out like it’s proof or something. “I’m Emma Swan.”

“Oh!” the woman cries out, flinging both hands in the air as she bustles around the check-in desk. “My apologies. I was expecting you this evening.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t think -”

“No trouble at all.” She glances at the paper in Emma’s hand. “I don’t need that, I’d know you from Marco’s description.”

The woman heads for the stairs, gesturing for Emma to follow. The inn is warm and homey, with vintage wallpaper and wall sconces illuminating the stairs. She follows the woman to the second floor and down the hall to room 210.

“This has a view of Main Street,” she tells Emma as she pulls an old fashioned key from her apron pocket and inserts it in the lock. “It’s a suite with a little sitting area and kitchenette, though you’re welcome to take your meals in the diner. On the house, of course.”

Emma’s eyes widen. “Oh, but I couldn’t. It’s your business.”

Granny waves her off. “I know a waitress’s salary isn’t much. How are you ever to get back on your feet if you have to spend every dime just to live? Besides, it was all in the agreement I sent you.”

Emma just nods, still nervously clutching her duffel. She doesn’t want to tell her that she didn’t actually read it. All the fine print and the legal jargon had made her head spin. Marco had said it was the best deal for a girl like her, and how many options did she have, anyway?

“Storybrooke is a nice little town,” Granny says as she pulls the curtains open to let in more light. “The last girl I helped, Ashley, ended up staying. She’s even engaged to a nice young man who works at the cannery.”

Granny comes closer, studying Emma’s face carefully. “Ashley was pregnant when she came. Marco told me you just gave up a baby. I want you to know, I’ve been there. Back in my day, they just shipped me off to a convent and ripped my little boy from my arms. I didn’t even have a say.”

Emma glances away nervously.

“Oh, I know you don’t want to talk about it. I’ve said my piece, and I won’t bring it up again. Just know this is a safe place, and I’ve got your back. And I don’t answer to anything but Granny, okay?”

Before Emma can say anything else, the woman is gone. Emma sinks down on the antique sofa situated in front of the fireplace. She feels out of place, out of sorts. Granny seems nice, and it’s clear she means well, but Emma isn’t staying here. Once she’s saved up enough money, she’s getting as far away from Maine as she possibly can.

Tallahassee still sounds nice.

**************************************

Emma stands in front of the large, mahogany piece of furniture, her dry toothbrush dangling from her lips. It doesn’t look like the one from when she was ten and sixteen: the carvings are far more ornate, and the trim is all wrong, yet her fingers itch to open it and her heart rate picks up just a bit. She’s just about to reach for the little pewter knob when a knock sounds on the door. Emma opens it to find Granny standing there with towels in her arms.

“Thought you might need these tonight,” she says, bustling in without an invitation. “You’re not a guest but an employee, so washing these is your responsibility. The laundry is in the basement. Do you know how to do laundry?”

Emma nods.

“Good. Ashley turned her sheets pink.” Granny says this matter of factly, and Emma stifles a laugh. “Well, I’ll leave you be.”

“Um,” Emma gathers the courage to ask, “this wardrobe . . . “

“Wardrobe?” Granny asks, brow creased in confusion. She sees what Emma is gesturing at, and nods. “Oh, that. It’s not a wardrobe, it’s an entertainment center. Just fits the decor better. There’s a tv behind those doors. A small one, and it’s just the basic cable with fifteen channels or so. Better than nothing, though, right?”

“Right.”

“Well, goodnight.”

Emma’s shoulders fall after Granny leaves. An entertainment center. Nevertheless, she holds her breath when she flings it open.

Nothing but a twenty inch television set, just like Granny had said. It seems even smaller in the large cabinet, and it sits atop a cable box. Emma sighs and closes the doors. What had she expected, anyway?

***************************************

Emma’s feet are sore as she sags against the prep sink and removes her apron. Ruby sees her and laughs in camaraderie.

“The first day is always the toughest,” she encourages.

“I hope so,” Emma groans. She pulls a wad of bills out of her apron pocket and thumbs through it. “I got good tips, though.”

Ruby smiles. “The breakfast crowd is always generous. Lunch? Not so much. Too much take out.”

Emma shoves the cash into the pocket of her jeans. There’s no uniform here, just the matching retro aprons with the pink frilly trim. Ruby is dressed vastly different from Emma in a tiny skirt and a midriff top. Emma wonders if this got the brunette more tips. Not that Emma is going that route, no matter how much she wants to get to Tallahassee.

“Speaking of lunch,” Emma says, “I’m starving.”

“Take a seat out there, and I’ll bring you something.”

“Grilled cheese and onion rings with a Coke?”

Ruby winks. “Coming right up!”

Emma heads for one of the smaller, two seater booths in the back near the jukebox, not wanting to take up room needed for real customers. She still feels a bit guilty taking food from Granny’s business. Of course, Ruby is Granny’s actual granddaughter, and she didn’t bat an eye at Emma’s “order.” She’ll just have to try and get used to generosity, she supposes.

Emma’s surprised when Ruby comes out almost immediately, but it isn’t her lunch on the waitress’s tray. With a flourish, she sets a mug of hot cocoa down in front of Emma. It’s even topped with Emma’s favorite: whipped cream and cinnamon.

“From a secret admirer,” Ruby chuckles with a roll of her eyes.

Emma frowns down at the beverage, and then her eyes flash as the cop she’d served at the bar earlier walks over. She’d recommended the whipped cream and cinnamon, telling him it was her personal favorite. The pervert! He stops at her booth and opens his mouth, but before he can speak, she lifts the mug and flings the cocoa right at him. It wets the front of his dress blues and drips from the badge at his hip. He glances down in shock at the front of him then back up at her.

“You do know I’m nineteen, right?” she snaps. “I may not have the most spotless past, but I’m not an easy score.”

The cop calmly grabs some napkins and pats at the stain on his shirt. “I agree one hundred percent,” he says, focusing on his shirt and not her. “I’m a thirty-two year old man. However, that creep Walsh Oaken over there is thirty-six and likes to sniff around Granny’s girls. I wanted to warn you.”

Emma’s brow furrows in confusion as she studies the cop, then looks over his shoulder at a skinny man who’s also perched on a stool at the bar. He winks at her, and Emma’s face turns red.

“Uh, you mean that guy at the bar? The one who’s been sitting two stools down from you since you came in?” Emma attempts a wry grin at the cop.

He chuckles, and Emma thinks that his eyes look kind, though also sad. The creep Walsh obviously overheard her conversation with the cop, and she suddenly wants to crawl under the table.

“Graham Humbert, sheriff of Storybrooke,” he tells her, extending his hand.

“Oh God,” Emma groans, “the sheriff?”

He laughs again. “It’s okay. I admire your spunk. Guys like Walsh obviously have no hope of taking advantage of you.”

“Ew,” Emma says, her nose wrinkling, “he’s gross and old.”

“I’ll overlook the old comment,” he tells her, “since he and I are too old for you.”

“Hello, Graham,” Ruby purrs as she sidles up with Emma’s plate of food. The sheriff’s eyes light up, and Emma is surprised when Ruby, over the top flirt, actually blushes.

“Hello, Ruby.” He replies, and Emma almost laughs at the way the man’s voice hikes up an octave. He clears his throat nervously, then says, “Well, duty calls, ladies. I’ll see you tonight, Ruby?”

“You know it,” the brunette tells him with a wink.

Ruby watches him go, and the sheriff even glances back in the doorway. Emma takes in the exchange with growing humor. When Ruby turns back around, Emma arches both brows at her.

“What?”

“You and the sheriff?”

“Shhh,” Ruby admonishes, waving at Emma, “not so loud, my Granny doesn’t know about us yet.”

“Why would she care? He seems like a nice guy. And you’re old enough for him.” Now that she knows he isn’t a pervert, Emma can acknowledge the man is attractive. She has eyes, after all.

Ruby shrugs. “Well, he lives here in the inn. Granny likes that he does, says he makes her feel safe, especially with the girls she takes in. If she found out I was sleeping with him . . . “

“Oh come on, Ruby, Granny seems more understanding than that.”

“Maybe,” Ruby gives Emma a sly grin, “but there’s also something thrilling about sneaking around.”

Emma rolls her eyes.

Ruby waggles her eyebrows. “Enjoy your lunch.”

*******************************************

The envelope is fat with bills and Emma smiles at the heft of it before she slips it beneath the panties in her underwear drawer. Not the most original of hiding places, but it works. Granny offered to take her to Storybrooke Savings & Loan to help her open an account, but Emma had declined. It’s too permanent, for one, like making a commitment to this quirky little town. But Emma also knows that plastic can be traced, and she has no desire to be found.

Or does she?

The pop and boom of fireworks shatters the silence of her room, and it's followed by a chorus of oohs from the families gathered below in the streets of Storybrooke. Emma merely crosses the room to draw her drapes closed before plopping down on her bed and turning on the tv. Fourth of July celebrations are playing on almost every station, but the last thing she wants to look at are families in the crowds with wide eyed children balanced on their hips. She could walk downstairs and out the door for that.

After she flips through the main four stations and PBS, she finally finds movies instead of fireworks. She’s not surprised by her options: Independence Day (naturally), Top Gun (of course), and a western she’s never heard of before. What’s more American than a western, right?

She settles for Top Gun, though she’s seen it so many times she can quote it by heart, wriggling beneath the covers and propping the pillows behind her head. Ruby had ragged her about living like an old woman, Granny had given her a reprimanding glare over her bifocals, and Graham had gently asked why she insisted on hiding. She supposes he’s right - she is hiding, but it’s for the best. This is merely a stop on her journey, and it’s best for everyone if she doesn’t get too attached.

She may live like an old lady, she won’t deny it, but Emma is still only nineteen years old. Going to sleep when even toddlers are gazing in wonder at fireworks is something Emma finds physically impossible, and by the time the smoke fades from the harbor, she’s antsy and slightly claustrophobic. She crosses to the window and sees the crowd slowly dispersing but not in any hurry to get home. She lets the curtain fall back into place and plops back down to watch Maverick and Goose for a bit longer. Once the credits roll, Main Street is finally empty, the few remaining revelers having headed down to the Rabbit Hole for drinks. Emma grabs a light sweater that’s draped over her desk chair and heads quietly downstairs.

This isn’t the first time she’s made her way through the quiet streets and headed to the docks. It’s one of the things she’ll miss when she leaves because Neal had been wrong. Emma looked it up - Tallahassee isn’t on the coast of Florida. The nearest beach will be over an hour’s drive away.

Emma sighs as she reaches the boardwalk, wrapping her sweater tighter around herself as a cool breeze sweeps across the water. She leans against the railing, looking out at the barges from which they’d shot off the fireworks. She can hear faint shouts from the crew as they clean up from the festivities. She glances over to her left and sees a sailing ship bobbing in the water where it’s tied to the dock. She thinks of a boy from years ago with sea-chapped lips, messy hair that smelled faintly of salt water, and bright blue eyes.

Three years ago, that’s when she saw that boy last. Has he changed as much as she has? Emma crosses her arms upon the wood railing and bends over to rest her chin atop them. As she often does when she comes here, she thinks of the first boy she really kissed and wonders if he’s still sailing the ocean. Maybe he’s a lieutenant now, like he had hoped. Maybe he has a nice, sweet girl who waits for him at the end of each voyage.

Emma isn’t sure why she entertains these fantasies of a boy she knew so briefly. Perhaps because it’s better than other places her thoughts could wander.

Only when her eyelids begin to droop and goosebumps rise on her arms does she leave the docks. She reaches into her pocket and pulls out a penny. She holds the copper to her lips and whispers “Tallahassee.” Why she needs to get there so badly, she can’t even say. Nevertheless, she says it like a promise before tossing the penny into the waves.

Killian: Age 19

“Bloody fairies,” Killian mutters as he makes his way deeper into the thick jungle. Tiger Lily and Tink just had to bring up Milah and the need to avenge her death.

He stops at another thick tree truck; the only ones on the island that grow so large and tall. As the fairies had instructed, he slashes his hook across the smooth bark. He leans close on bated breath, and within minutes he has his answer: thick, black viscous liquid seeps from the tree. Hook retrieves a piece of parchment and a stub of charcoal from his duster pocket and makes a mark. So far, he’s counted two dozen dead pixie dust trees like this one and only half a dozen that are still producing.

Half an hour later, sweat is trickling down his back as he hacks his way through the dense bush. Suddenly, Killian spins, his hook at the ready as someone or something comes crashing through the jungle foliage to his right. He takes cover behind another thick pixie dust tree and waits. Pan’s crew are breaking in a new lost boy, most likely. Killian is shocked when it’s a girl, not a boy, who stumbles into the small clearing near his hiding place. Her blonde curls are a matted mess filled with bits of leaves and bracken, and her white gown is tattered and stained. As she scrambles to her feet, the moonlight hits her face, and Killian can make out the sheen of tears. Her blonde hair reminds him of Emma so long ago, and he can scarcely breathe for a moment. Then he blinks, his eyes clear, and he obviously sees that this girl’s hair is darker than Emma’s was.

Killian is so distracted by this strange turn of events, he doesn’t even hear the lost boys coming. They have the girl surrounded before Killian can get a bearing on the situation. The girl spins in a circle, frantically searching for an opening of escape, chest heaving in panic.

Félix stalks towards her, smacking his club repeatedly into his open palm. A phantom pain throbs where Killian’s hand used to be as the urge to pummel Félix with both fists surges through him.

“Wendy, Wendy, Wendy.”

“Please,” the girl begs, “just leave me alone.”

What happens next is a blur of white hot rage. The boys advance, Wendy is on the ground screaming, and Killian is suddenly in their midst, flinging lost boys right and left. Félix has Wendy on the ground by the throat, and Killian turns on him next.

“Run!” Killian yells, but Wendy simply stares at him with wide eyes, trembling as she curls herself into a ball. An image of a nine year old boy, cowering behind the barrels in a ship’s hold, swim up in Killian’s memory.

Félix stalks towards him, the rest of the lost boys regrouping at his back. “She’s a little young for you, don’t you think, Captain?”

That’s all it takes to send Killian over the edge. He swings with his hook, slicing down the side of Félix’s face. The young teen howls in pain, and stumbles backwards, blood gushing from his wound. The other lost boys falter as Félix stumbles to the ground, then turn and flee. Wendy has backed herself against a tree, still cowering in fear. Growling in frustration, Killian hauls her to her feet and commands her to run. When she makes no move to obey, he plunges into the jungle, hauling her along with him.

A few moments later, Wendy comes to herself and begins struggling in his grasp. “Let me go!”

He stops, turns, and snaps at her in frustration, “I’m trying to help you!” He gives her a small shake, but stops when he sees the terror in her eyes. He looks down at his hook, still dripping with Félix’s blood. He suddenly realizes what he must look like to her. Trembling slightly, he drops her arm and steps away from her. He points towards a faint trail to his left. “There’s a fairy nearby. Her tree house is that way. It’s hidden from the lost boys. You’ll be safe there.”

Wendy narrows her eyes. “You’re . . . saving me?”

The sound of lost boys echo through the jungle. “Weeeendyyyy! Come out, come out, wherever you are! We only want to play!”

Killian gestures with his hook, “Go!”

Once Wendy is heading for the tree house, Killian takes off in the opposite direction, crying, “Wendy! Run!”

He can hear the lost boys behind him, following him far away from the little lost girl.

The sounds of the lost boys are distant once he stumbles onto the beach where he’s left the dinghy. He hasn’t finished his task with the pixie dust trees, but that will have to wait. The lost boys were never supposed to know he was here.

“Bloody fairies,” he mutters again as he scrambles into the boat.

“Going somewhere, Captain?”

Hook’s blood boils as he turns to find Pan hovering nearby, his arms folded over his chest and his head tilted at a cocky angle. “Do you have a death wish, boy?”

“You can’t kill me,” Pan scoffs, “or you would have by now.”

“I can try!” Killian growls, leaping from the boat and onto the sand.

Predictably, Peter flits about around Hook’s head, but his taunts aren’t what the pirate expects and makes his blood run cold.

“You can’t save them both, Hook.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You’re old friend Tiger Lily or your new friend Wendy? Which should die today?”

Killian gives a feral yell as he grabs ahold of Pan’s ankle and flings him to the ground. He pins the demon there, his hook to the lad’s throat.

“What game are you playing now?”

Pan smirks, as if cold steel at his jugular is of no consequence. “Wendy was a gift for Felix, and you ruined it.”

“You hate girls.”

“But teenage boys have needs, unfortunately. It was long overdue.”

Killian presses his hook just enough to break some skin. “Wendy is safe, and what do you know of Tiger Lily?”

Peter laughs. “My crew has Tink’s treehouse surrounded. And as for Tiger Lily, well . . . let’s just say I hope she can hold her breath long enough for you to save her. Skull Rock fills up with water when the tide comes in, you know.”

Killian hauls the imp up and tosses him across the sand as he plunges back into the jungle.

“You don’t have time to save them both!” Pan calls after him. “The tide is coming in soon, Hook!”

Killian ignores him as he slashes his way through the thick brush towards Tink’s place. He’s racing so fast to get to the innocent little girl that he doesn’t see the flash of two blond heads coming from the opposite direction. He collides with Tinker Bell with such force, she tumbles to the forest floor, taking Wendy down with her.

“What the bloody hell, Hook, are you trying to kill us!”

“Tink, thank the gods!” Killian exclaims as he hurriedly pulls first Tink and then Wendy to their feet. “Pan said -”

“That the lost boys had found my hideout?” Tink finishes for him. “Yeah, I got that already.”

“Hurry!” Wendy screams when they hear shouts in the jungle behind them.

“Let’s go,” Tink orders, yanking Wendy by the arm down a ravine nearby. Killian brings up the rear, his sword at the ready in case he needs to slow down the enemy. Soon they’re racing along the bed of a trickling stream, and the sounds of the lost boys fade into the distance.

Tink stops in front of a large boulder covered in moss and pushes at a curtain of thick vines to reveal a shallow cave.

“This doesn’t look like much of a hideout,” Killian mutters.

“Do I look dense to you, Hook?” Tink snaps.

Killian arches a brow and tilts his head at the fairy. “Don’t answer that,” Tink mutters, and Wendy giggles. He winks at the child and is pleased when he elicits a blushing smile from her. Tink taps on the back wall of her cave with her wand, and a door appears.

“Bloody fairies,” Killian says for the third time that day, but this time with affection. That makes him think of - “Tiger Lily!” he cries. “Will you two be okay?”

Tink rolls her eyes. “Of course.”

He gives a tremulous smile to them both, then turns back, taking a different route back to the beach from the way they had come.

*********************************

Skull Rock is a hulking menace in the distance, staring at Captain Hook with vacant eyes as he rows across the choppy waters. Rowing isn’t easy with one hand, even with his hook, and he wishes he’d thought to bring one of his crew along today. Of course, he hadn’t expected to be performing a rescue mission.

Killian curses himself, because – once again – he has mucked everything up. Just like with Milah, he has put a friend in danger. He just hopes Tiger Lily forgives him for going to rescue Wendy first. If she lives, that is.

Curse that wretched demon of a boy! His stomach turns remembering the lad’s mocking laughter on the beach.

The tide is rising faster, filling up the cavernous, yawning mouth of Skull Rock. Killian rows harder and swears again as the waves crash against boulders as he draws closer to his destination. Killian’s row boat is almost knocked sideways as he makes his way through the mouth of Skull Rock. There’s Tiger Lily, lifting her chin to call for help. The water splashes into her mouth, and her thick braids float on the surface of the water. Killian abandons the boat; there’s no more time. He dives beneath the waves, kicking his way to where Tiger Lily is tied to a rock. He comes up for air in time to see Tiger Lily’s wide and panicked eyes just as the tide completely closes over her. Killian inhales deeply and dives back under, hacking at the thick rope with his hook. Finally, it breaks free.

Killian grabs Tiger Lily around the waist and kicks upward. When they surface, they both gasp for air. The waves are beating harder, sending the row boat farther away from them. If they don’t catch up to it soon, water will completely fill the cavern, and they’ll both drown. Tiger Lily doesn’t need any instruction; she kicks her legs and swims alongside him. When they reach the side of the boat, Killian pushes her inside, then shoves the row boat through the opening of Skull Rock that has become the narrowest of exits. Killian dives under to follow the boat.

He swims with long strokes as far as he can, hoping he has cleared the rocks. When he breaks the surface, gasping for air, he’s relieved to find himself in the open air. A hand reaches down, and Tiger Lily hauls him over and into the boat. He barely has time to catch a breath before her hand connects with his cheek. The sound of her slap echoes across the water.

“What the bloody hell was that for?” he shouts.

“Hook, you are a dirty pirate, and I never want to speak to you again.” She yells, crossing her arms over her chest.

“What did I do? Pan was the one who tied you up in there!”

Tiger Lily glares at him, her arms still crossed. “And the only reason he found me was because YOU told him where I was!”

“Why the bloody hell would I do that?”

Tiger Lily deflates slightly, her brow furrowed. “In exchange for some of your crew.”

Killian arches a brow. “And you believed him?”

“Well, I . . . “

“I would have been here sooner, but I had to rescue Wendy.”

Tiger Lily shakes her head, even more confused. “Wendy?”

“A girl Pan had his shadow bring to the island. To . . . entertain his teenage crew.” Killian can barely get the words out.

“Pan hates girls, and he’s never cared . . . unless . . . “

Killian’s eyes widen. “Unless Wendy is bait.” He thinks of Mason and Felix telling Pan that he didn’t have the mark. “He’s looking for someone specific. He’s looking for -”

“A little boy,” Tiger Lily finishes for him, “very young.”

“But why tie you up in Skull Rock?”

Tiger Lily’s eyes widen as she takes up the oars. “A distraction. Where is your crew?”

Killian shakes his head as he too takes up the oars. “The ship is docked in Pirate’s Cove while I’m gone.”

“Exactly. No pirates to rescue lost boys from the shadow. Does Wendy have any brothers?”

Killian scowls. “I’m guessing the answer to that is yes.”

*****************************************

“Don’t they ever sleep?” Tiger Lily mutters from their hiding place behind a large rock. In the clearing, the Lost Boys are hunched around the blazing campfire, dipping spears and arrowheads into the sticky black sap of dreamshade.

Killian arches a brow at Tiger Lily. “Not much. Not without a mother.”

Tiger Lily tilts her head in confusion. “What?”

He shakes his head and mutters, “Never mind.”

The fairy crouches lower and tightens her hold on her bow as she draws closer to Pan’s camp on soft feet. Killian follows her, his palm sweating as he grips the hilt of his sword.

“They’re preparing for battle,” Kilian hisses to his companion.

“But why?”

Killian doesn’t reply; he’s too distracted by the rustling in the branches above them. He scowls when Tink drops to the forest floor beside him.

“Bloody hell, can you warn me before you drop out of the sky like that?”

“Tink,” Tiger Lily admonishes, “there isn’t enough pixie dust left for you to flit around like that!”

“Shut up both of you, and listen to me! I had to fly here, it was an emergency. Wendy is gone!”

“What do you mean she’s gone? ” Killian snaps. “I left you not an hour ago!”

“She was dirty and covered in scrapes, so we went to the stream for water. She swore she heard her little brother crying. I turned around for a second, I swear -”

“Shit,” Killian mutters, “it’s not a battle they’re preparing -”

“-it’s a hunt,” Tiger Lily finishes for him.

The three of them split up, knowing that covering more ground is the only hope for Wendy and her brother. His heart pounds in his chest as he makes his way up Dead Man’s Peak, thoughts of his brother swimming up from the dark recesses of his mind. He can’t let Wendy lose hers. He pauses for a moment, closing his eyes and taking a long, slow breath. Barreling around won’t help the children; he needs to focus.

Holding his hook aloft and using his sword to push aside the foliage, he continues his search. He wishes he had a lantern, but the risk of drawing the Lost Boys’ attention was too great. Thankfully, the moon is full tonight, and its light bathes the ground more and more as he ascends the peak, the foliage becoming sparser. His eyes scan the meager sized clumps of bushes, hoping for a glimpse of Wendy’s white nightgown.

Yet it’s a pair of green eyes that halts his steps. For a moment, his heart slams against his ribcage. The shade is so similar to Emma’s from long ago. As his gaze lands on those green eyes, they widen and he hears a small gasp. The bush from whence the sound came rustles, and he recognizes Wendy’s voice as she whispers, “hush!”

Killian sheathes his sword and lowers himself to his knees, not wanting to startle the children. “Wendy,” he hisses.

“Hook?” she asks in a wobbly voice.

“Yes, it’s me,” he says gently, easing around the bush. It grows right up against a wall of rock, and beyond it he hears the gurgling of Rainbow Falls. He pushes aside the foliage shielding the children, and the moonlight falls across them both. Wendy has her arms around a little boy of about four. For a moment, he looks up at Killian with wide, light green eyes, but then he shudders and buries his face against his sister’s shoulder.

“It’s okay, Michael, the pirate is our friend.”

“Come, children, quickly. The Lost Boys are on the hunt for you.”

“They don’t want me,” Michael says hoarsely, peeking out at Hook again. “I’m too little, and I don’t have marks.”

Killian’s brow furrows. “Marks?”

“Here,” Michael says, holding out his arm.

Killian blinks, thinking back to Felix yanking at Mason’s arm a year ago. He doesn’t have the mark. Yet he has no time at present to contemplate it further as the shouts of the Lost Boys echo from the canyon below. Killian reaches for the children, urging them to hurry, but he stills when he sees a large palm leaf resting near Wendy’s knee. Water shimmers in the center of it, reflecting the moonlight.

“Where did you get this?” he asks Wendy.

“From the falls,” she tells him, “we were thirsty.”

“You drank from Rainbow Falls?” he asks, his heart plummeting to his stomach.

Wendy tilts her head. “Yes, of course. Why?”

Killian puts on a brave smile as he scoops up Michael. “No time for that now. Let’s get you back to the fairy’s cave.”

“I want to go home,” Michael whimpers as he clutches the edges of Killian’s coat.

“Hook will help us,” Wendy says with so much faith, that it makes Killian want to weep.

He says nothing in reply. He doesn’t have the heart to tell them that they doomed themselves the minute they drank from Rainbow Falls. They will never be able to leave the island.

Tagging:   @snowbellewells  @kmomof4 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @teamhook @bethacaciakay @let-it-raines @welllpthisishappening @wellhellotragic @winterbaby89 @xhookswenchx @courtorderedcake @branlovestowrite @hollyethecurious @vvbooklady1256 @profdanglaisstuff @carpedzem @ekr032-blog-blog @jennjenn615 @tiganasummertree @lfh1226-linda​ @ultraluckycatnd @spartanguard @shireness-says @scientificapricot​ @stahlop​ @resident-of-storybrooke​ @superchocovian​ @sherlockianwhovian​ @snidgetsafan​ @ohmakemeahercules​ @thislassishooked​ @ilovemesomekillianjones​ @nikkiemms​@delirious-latenight-laughs​

[atc74]

Making Circles - Month One

Square(s) Filled: Fake Marriage for @spngenrebingo

Warnings: Case angst, being fake married to Dean, feels, mentions of death

Summary:  Dean and Y/N have to pretend to be married for a case. But this isn’t any ordinary case. Married couples have gone missing from Albert Lea, Minnesota, every six months for the last few years but there is almost zero evidence. People don’t just disappear like that do they? With Bobby and Sam’s help, plus an ally in their new town, they have just under six months to figure it out. Chances are they’ll survive the case, but will their friendship survive their fake marriage?

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 2342

Written for: @spngenrebingo

Beta’d by: @amanda-teaches, who says the nicest things and makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside and also keeps me on a straight line. I heart you! And @alleiradayne for letting me bounce ideas off her, like all the time. 

A/N:  This will be six chapter series, one for each month of the case, plus a bonus epilogue. Loosely based/inspired by the song Making Circles by Christian Kane and I just felt this needed to be written. There will be lyrics dispersed throughout the entire story. I hope you love this as much as I do. The nicest thing you can do for a writer is reblog their work and tell them, and others, how much you like it!

Making Circles master list

Month One

“So get this,” Sam started as Dean and Y/N entered Bobby’s kitchen early one morning. “I think I found a case.” Sam turned his laptop around so they can both see the details.

“You sure this is our kind of thing, Sammy? I don’t know man. This looks pretty normal as far as I can tell,” Dean grumbled, taking a seat.

“What else did you find Sam?” Y/N asked, turning her attention to Sam.

“Well, there have been disappearances going back a few years. Every six months or so another couple is murdered. All of these couples seem normal with blue collar jobs and homes, but from what I was able to dig up, nothing out of the ordinary,” Sam explained. “All the homes of the missing couples have been combed over, but all the evidence is at the Bureau of Criminal Apprehension (BCA) in Saint Paul and they have a mammoth backlog. We may not know anything for months, even years. Or possibly never. It isn’t exactly high priority, ya know?”

“You idjits better get a move on,” Bobby addressed Dean and Y/N as he poured a cup of coffee.

“Bobby, we’ve got basically no intel. We have no idea what we’re hunting and you want us to walk in there blind?” Dean argued with his surrogate father. “That’s not smart. Besides, why does it have to be us?”

“Oh, you want me and Sam to pose as happily married couple?” Bobby smacked Dean across the back of the head.

“Dean, it only makes sense. Y/N and I get along too well and it would be weird, pretending to be married to a woman I view as my sister,” Sam made a face at the thought.  

“Dean, we’ve got time. From this report, the last couple went missing just a week ago. That gives us almost six months to figure it out,” Y/N reasoned as she rose from the table, a smile on her face. “I’m going to go shower and pack.”

An hour later, Y/N and Dean sat with Bobby at his kitchen table, Sam having gone out to produce some documents. “Now, I’ve made some calls to a couple of friends in the area. Dean, Jake has a job ready for you in his shop Monday morning. Y/N, I’ve got something lined up for you at the County Library. Here are the keys to the safe house. My cleaning lady should have it ready to go for you by the time you get there and the cupboards should be stocked.”

“Bobby, I don’t like this,” Dean shook his head. “We have no idea what is going on here.”

“Your brother and I aren’t going to let anything happen to you idjits. I got too much time and energy invested in ya to just let you vanish,” Bobby groaned. “Now, there’s one more thing. Two really. Here.” He handed Dean a small box.

Dean lifted the hinged lid, finding two gold rings inside. The pit in his stomach expanded, knowing these rings belonged to Bobby and his wife Karen, whom he had to kill when she became possessed by a demon. The old man never fully recovered from that. “Bobby…”

“This ain’t no time for sentiments, kid. Just take em, okay,” Bobby stomped heavily from the room, the screen door slamming behind him, making Y/N jump from the sound.

“I guess here goes nothing. Mrs. Winchester?” Dean took out the smaller ring and held it up for Y/N to put her hand out. The ring slid easily onto the fourth finger of her left hand. Dean slid Bobby’s ring onto his own finger. It felt heavy on his hand, or maybe it was just heavy on his mind.

Sam returned a few minutes later with the papers they needed, along with new identification cards. “Here are your clean ID’s and marriage certificate. The house is listed in Bobby’s corporation, so that is not a problem. He also set up a joint bank account in both your names, well, new names. This is your proof of insurance and Y/N, there will be a vehicle parked at the house for you. A very unassuming Honda Civic.”

“A foreign car, Sam! Really?!” Dean protested.

“Actually, Honda manufactures models right here in the U.S., Dean,” Sam informed his brother.

“No way my real wife would drive a Japanese car,” Dean mumbled as he looked over the rest of the documents. “Wait...our new last name is Hetfield? Awww Sammy, it makes me all tingly when you remember the little shit.”

“Shut up Dean,” Sam said, turning to Y/N and handing her all the documents. “Safe travels. We’ll be in touch.”

~*~

“Jesus, I have driven a lot of miles over the years, but this is boring as fuck. There is literally nothing but farmland.” Dean pointed out for probably the tenth time in the last two hours. Y/N thanked her lucky stars that they were almost there.

Albert Lea, Minnesota was less than a three hour drive from Bobby’s place. It was close enough that he and Sam could get there quickly if she and Dean needed back up. With any luck, they would figure out what they were dealing with, and they wouldn’t be here long. On the other hand, six months of normal sounded like heaven to Y/N right now after the last few years.

She turned on her GPS as they entered town, programming the address Sam had given her. Within minutes, they pulled up to a quaint, craftsman style home with a long driveway and impeccable landscaping. Dean pulled into the driveway, cutting Baby’s engine.

“Did you know Bobby owned this place?” Dean looked at Y/N.

“I knew he had a couple of safe houses, but I thought they were all like Rufus’ hunting cabin. Not this. This is going to be like living in the lap of luxury compared to the motels we’ve slummed it in,” she chuckled softly, opening her door and getting out of the car.

Dean followed quickly, opening the trunk to grab their bags. “Motels? Shit, this place is even nicer than Bobby’s. I bet we won’t even need tetanus shots from walking around the yard barefoot!” He laughed, slamming Baby’s trunk shut.

They carried in their bags, not having much from living a life on the road, and walked up the front steps to the door. “Mrs. Hetfield, do you have the key?”

“Why yes, Mr. Hetfield. Allow me to do the honors,” Y/N smiled as she took the key and unlocked the door. Dean dropped his bags and scooped her up in his arms, despite her protests. He walked through the door and set her down on a comfortable looking recliner. “Dean!”

“It’s tradition to carry your bride across the threshold!” He told her, grabbing their bags from the front porch.

They took their time exploring the home. There were three bedrooms upstairs with one full bathroom. The updated kitchen had a small island and new appliances. The basement was fully finished with two small bedrooms and another full bathroom. Y/N grabbed two beers from the fully stocked fridge, as promised, and met Dean in the backyard. There was a two car garage, housing one newer model Civic and a large assortment of tools. It had everything Dean would need to maintain both cars. There was also a small shed in the corner of the yard which contained a lawn mower and a variety of garden tools and supplies.

“Wow, Bobby really set us up, huh?” Y/N turned to Dean as they sat on the double swing on the back patio. It was was a beautiful home and yard. Y/N looked forward to working in the garden, making a mental note to grab some books on the subject.

“Yeah, he did,” Dean sighed heavily, finishing off his beer. “I’m going to go take a shower.”

“Okay. I’m going to run into town and pick up some clothes for work. Do you need anything?” Y/N asked, taking his empty bottle.

“No, I think I’m good. Thanks,” Dean declined, holding the door open for her.

Y/N couldn’t help but see Dean was hiding something, and she knew him well enough by now to see the subtle differences. She decided to let it go for now. It had already been a long day with having this situation thrown at them and the drive. It would take some adjusting on both their parts. She set out in her car, exploring the town a little, finding a couple of diners, coffee shops and a thrift store. She picked out a few new things for Dean as well as a new work wardrobe for herself. Making a quick stop at the butcher shop, she picked up a couple of steaks as well as stuffed burgers, wanting to do something nice for Dean, and well, the man appreciated red meat.

Y/N let the steaks sit out while she started a load of laundry. Dean ambled into the kitchen just as she was putting together a quick salad, the potatoes baking in the oven. “Hey. Thought we could grill, I picked up a couple of Porterhouses.”

“That sounds great. I’ll go get it ready,” Dean acknowledged and slipped out the back door. A few minutes later, she followed, carrying the steaks and a couple of beers, handing one off to him.

“I know we got a lot thrown at us today, but we’re going to get to the bottom of this, Dean,” she tried to reassure him, resting a hand on his shoulder. “I promise.”

“We never go into a hunt blind, Y/N. I don’t care if we have six fucking months or not, this ain’t right, and they both know it, too!” Dean snapped and immediately regretted his words, seeing the look on her face. “Hey, I’m sorry. I know you’re stuck in this, too.”

“It’s okay. We’ll get through this together, Dean. It’s what couples do,” she stated, like it was the most simple thing in the world.

“But we’re not a real couple, Y/N. I’ve never been in a real relationship before, not really, and never like this. This apple pie life we’re supposed to live? We’re used to living a lie on the job, but long term? I don’t know.” Dean sighed heavily, turning the steaks on the grill. “I just don’t know.”

Once dinner was ready, they ate in an uncomfortable silence, both of them lost in their own thoughts. Y/N thinking of ways to help Dean see the positives and Dean working the case in his head, running through the list of monsters he knew and which one could be responsible for the married couples’ disappearances.

Monday arrived quickly, Dean taking off early for his new job at the garage, leaving without so much as a goodbye. Y/N felt her heart continue to sink, and it was only the third day. She readied for work and packed lunches for both of them. She had enough time to swing by the shop on her way to the library.

Y/N pulled up to the garage and stepped out of her car. She walked across the small lot and inside the lobby.

“Good morning, Miss. What can we help you with today?” An older gentleman, about Bobby’s age, greeted her. He was wearing grease covered overalls and a smile on his face.

“I’m Y/N, here to see Dean W-Hetfield please,” she caught herself, covering her slip with a cough.

“Are you the missus? You’re a pretty lady. Dean really out punted his coverage with you, didn’t he?” the old man chuckled, adding a wink. “I’m Jake. Pleased to meet ya.”

“Yeah, I guess he did,” she laughed along with him, knowing Jake already knew their secret and had given Dean this job as cover.

“Hetfield! Yer lady’s here!” He yelled through the door to the service bays.

Dean walked in a few moments later, wiping his hands on a dirty rag. She had seen him work on Baby, and numerous cars in Bobby’s yard, but seeing him now, shed a whole new light on him. This Dean, the one she was fake married to. The one that lived a normal life with a normal job and a wife and a house. She pushed down the simmer in her belly and walked up to her ‘husband,’

“You forgot your lunch, babe,” she smiled, handing him a brown paper bag.

Dean opened the bag, seeing two turkey and bacon sandwiches, chips, an apple and a can of Coke. “Thanks, honey. I guess I was preoccupied.”

“Have a good day. I’ll see you tonight,” she stepped closer and pressed a sweet kiss to his lips. She waved at both of them, exiting the shop. “Nice to meet you, Jake!”

And thus began the routine of her bringing Dean lunch at the shop every morning on her way to work. By the fourth day, she invited Jake over for dinner that weekend. She hoped it might put Dean at ease, having someone on their side locally that knew their real story and he didn’t have to fake it around Jake because of the others in the garage.

Saturday morning rolled around and Y/N had done her shopping, picked up the house and made a pie while Dean mowed the lawn and slow smoked a brisket on the grill. She was settling into their new life fairly well but Dean was having trouble adjusting. He came home late most nights and ate his dinner standing up at the small island.

She didn’t know where he was when he didn’t come home straight away, but the smell of stale smoke mingled with his own scent of coffee, leather and motor oil. At least it wasn’t cheap perfume, she thought. At least this Dean, her fake husband, was faithful to her.

The Whole Enchilada: @iwantthedean @dolphincliffs @mrswhozeewhatsis @meganwinchester1999 @cherrycokegirls1 @closetspngirl  @roxyspearing @flamencodiva @blacktithe7 @sis-tafics @just-another-busyfangirl @evansrogerskitten @amanda-teaches @hannahindie @wotinspntarnation @winchesterprincessbride @winecatsandpizza @kickingitwithkirk  @wi-deangirl77 @hobby27 @mogaruke​ @gh0stgurl​ @paintrider13-blog​ @hunterscabin @alleiradayne​ @idreamofplaid @squirrelnotsam

The Dean’s List: @jerkbitchidjitassbutt @dean-winchesters-bacon @maddiepants @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @supernatural-jackles @docharleythegeekqueen @adoptdontshoppets @mtngirlforever

[katherinethedork]

Telle

1/5

Part two,, my masterlist

Pairing: PeterParker x telekinetic!reader

Warnings: Just a dash of swearing, also a lot of flufffff it’s just a lot of Peter being real cute

Word count: 1.8k

Summary: You have telekinetic powers and are not ready for the world to see them yet.

A/N: Hey so I’m really excited for this number and I really love the idea, because if I were to choose a superpower it would be telekinesis or teleportation. So yeah. I hope you enjoy!

Oh also if you have any requests please send ‘em in or if you wanna be put on the taglist send me a message or an ask! Don’t be shy!

********

As you lay in bed looking at your phone you lifted a few goldfish crackers with your powers and put them in your hand. I could really get used to this you thought as you shoved the delicious snacks in your mouth. You had powers. Freaking superhero powers. You had telekinesis and teleportation on your side. But these still were quite new for you. You had your powers for about three months now. No one knew about what you could do because you had to get used to them before anyone else could. Not even your best friend Peter Parker, who you knew was Spider-Man.

Trying to keep your powers from him was one of the hardest things you had done. Since you had almost used them as a reflex by now it was hard to keep them from him, especially when you two were at your house. You felt as though that was a safe space, even when he was around, but because of this new development, it wasn’t always the safest.

You were also planning for more than menial. You had come across a mugging one night when you were walking alone (which wasn’t the smartest idea since you were in a sketchy part of Queens) and you had thrown the mugger against the wall and held him there motionless as you stole the lady’s bag from his grasp and handed it back to her. She ran off very quickly with a quiet thank you. You stared the man down not knowing what to do with him

“What are you- you freak!” He had screamed at you.

It didn’t affect you much, knowing that his opinion didn’t matter because he almost just robbed a woman. At this point you realized that you had some of Peter’s web formula in a spray can in your backpack that Peter had given to you in case of an emergency. You decided to web him up so it looked like Peter had caught him. You stuck him to the wall as he screamed in protest, like a toddler having a tantrum. You walked away throwing your hood over your head to try and blend in with the night. That was when you decided that you wanted to be a superhero. Someday, not today though.

The problem with your teleportation power, and the reason why you didn’t use it that night, was that you could only teleport as far as you could see. And that would easily risk you being seen by someone looking through their window and seeing you flash in and out of existence quickly. You didn’t want to take that chance, even if they couldn’t see your face.

You had been scrolling through your recommended section on YouTube when you felt your phone vibrate in your hands. It was a text from Peter

I’m at your window. Open sesame.

You heard three small taps at your window as you slid off your bed. You slid back your curtains to see that wonderful spider-face that was Peter’s. His mask eyes widened as he saw you. You unlocked and slid your window up so he could crawl in.

“You’re still wearing jeans? It’s midnight Y/N!” Peter says while crawling through the window.

“Eh well I was too lazy to take them off. “ you say messing with your hair a bit.

Peter then slid his mask off and all you could see is pure allure. His brown curls pouring out of the mask as he took it off, his soft brown puppy dog eyes looking at you, and his perfect small smile directed at you just made you want to kiss him. You wanted to kiss him so very much, in fact. But that was another secret kept locked away, not because it’s practical for you to get used to this before anyone else gets used to it, no, no, no, you were scared of the rejection which you had felt before. What you didn’t know was Peter felt the exact. Same. Way. But how could you know that. You had telekinesis, not mind reading.

While you were picking up your jaw off the floor, you noticed that Peter had winced as he put his hand back down at his side.

“Did you get hurt? Dr. Y/N is in,” you say as you squat down to get your first aid kit out from under your bed.

“Yeah. This one guy had a knife and he swung at me. Wasn’t fast enough that time and I blocked it with my arm. It doesn’t hurt that bad though,” he said as he sat down on your bed.

“Alright,” you said as you opened the kit. Sitting right next to him on his hurt side, “Peter you’re gonna have to take off your sleeve I can’t help you if I can’t see the cut,” you knew that the only way to do that was for him to take off the top part of his suit. And you fully well knew that he wasn’t wearing a shirt under that suit. Oh well. Better for you.

“O-okay,” Peter said as he pressed the button on his chest to release the suit. He peeled the top part of his suit off, being careful with his hurt arm, and let it sit in his lap (he just sat on the pants part).

Your breath hitched in the back of your throat as you look at his defined chest. You had seen him with his shirt off many times before, but it gets you every time. You quickly look away as you point your attention at the cut on his arm.

Fortunately it was just a couple inches long and not very deep at all, and it wasn’t bleeding very much. The mugger had to have been the worst knife fighter ever to do this little of damage.

“This is... good. It’s only like two inches long and not bleeding a lot so we’re just gonna use two of these,” you say as you hold up two of the large band aids from your first aid kit.

You softly put them over his cut, laying them so they slightly overlapped.

“There you go!” You said getting up and sliding your first aid kit back into its rightful place and sitting back down next to him on the bed, then an idea popped into your head, “Ha HA sucks for you! You’re gonna have to peel those bandaids off and rip some of your hair off.” You said while laughing maniacally.

“Why you little,” Peter said while slightly smiling at you. He looked down at the floor as to conceal the smile that was slowly spreading across his face. You noticed that there was a deep blush that quickly crawled up his face as his smile faded into a look of nervousness. He threw his head back up and stared at nothing in particular. He put a hand on the back of his neck and looked at you helplessly.

“What?” You say worried you had left a pair of- oh no. You quickly whipped down your head to look at the exact point that Peter was looking at when you saw a pair of your underwear just lying there. Trying to embarrass you. You mutter oh shit under your breath and use your telekinesis to throw your underwear into your laundry basket. You panicked and looked at Peter hoping he hadn’t seen you use your powers. You trying to formulate an excuse for why your underwear had flown across the air and into your laundry basket without you touching it once. Fortunately, he was staring at the ceiling clearly more embarrassed than you, for some reason. You sighed in relief and that cued Peter to change from looking at the ceiling, to looking at you.

He quickly realized that he wasn’t wearing a shirt and he pulled on his suit and clicked the spider button. The suit formed to his body and Peter put his attention back to you. You returned the eye contact that most would consider wasn’t exactly the most “friendly”. It was practically you two gazing like star-crossed lovers. Not wanting to, you peeled your gaze away from his and held a blush that glowed bright on your skin. You awkwardly laughed just to lighten the mood and let Peter know that he was okay.

Peter started fidgeting with his mask as he said, “Alright um I’ve- I’ve gotta go, May is gonna get home soon and she was working a late shift so she’ll probably expect to see me and she’ll probably bring dinner and she’ll get worried if I’m not there and—“

“Peter,” you cut him off in a calm voice, knowing that he would probably freak out if he got too far talking to you about this, “it’s fine I know it’s late. I get it. Go.” You smile at him, hoping he would ease a bit.

And he did. His shoulders dropped slowly from a stressed point to a more relaxed point. He returned the smile.

“Alright, you ready to swing off into the sunset Spidey?” You say, picking his hand up as you stood up off of your bed.

“Well it’s a little late for that, but sure.” He said following me to the window, a smile permanently plastered on his face. You pulled him into a hug and he gladly returned it. You couldn’t figure out how he was so warm, even though he came in from the outside and was shirtless for most your encounter with him. You pulled away and smiled at Peter again. You couldn’t help it. He always made you smile.

You turn to face your window and slide it up , letting in a gust of cold air. Peter pulled on his mask and faced you once again, just to get one last glance, but then he turned away and looked toward the fire escape outside your window.

“Sayonara Y/N,” he said climbing onto your fire escape.

“Adios Peter,” You said waving him goodbye as he webbed a nearby building and swung off into the (not really) sunset.

“God, I fucking love that boy.” You say out the window to no one.

What you didn’t know was that it wasn’t no one who was listening.

A/N: Okay post-production, wow that took me forever to write that, but I really liked how it turned out. There was a lot of fluff and I love it. Thanks for reading!

Tags: (I don’t know who to tag, but let me know if you want to be added to the taglist, don’t be shy!)

@one-big-dreamer @shurienough @peterparkerwho (wow I wrote another one yay, I thought you should see this one too!)

[guitypleasure052016]

Expecting Part 2

This is Part 2 of the Expecting series featuring the reader being married to Kozik and pregnant with their first child. The reader is also Tig’s sister so you can guarantee there’s lots of bickering. Part 1 can be found here. This chapter is a lot of fluff so be warned! ;)

Prompt:You’re married to Kozik and pregnant with his and your first child. Tig is your twin brother. You’re in your first trimester and dealing with the effects of severe morning sickness and have become a bit of a recluse. Your brother and husband convince you to come to the clubhouse for a party to get you out of the house. You’re excited to get out of the house but that changes quickly when drama ensues at the party.

You wiggled your hips back and forth trying to squeeze into your favorite pair of jeans. No matter how much you danced around the bedroom, you couldn’t fit into the pants. You sighed in resignation and stuffed them back in the dresser, instead choosing to slide on a pair of comfortable stretchy black leggings. Stopping for a moment, you looked yourself over in the full length mirror on the wall. Your hair hung loose around your face, still damp from your morning shower. You wore a simple cotton gray bra that fit snug on your growing bosom. What caught your attention was your abdomen, and the small bump that seemed to appear almost over night. You placed your hand on your stomach, spreading your fingers across the expanded skin, marveling at the little life growing inside of you. The sound of shuffling feet brought your attention to the bedroom door and you smiled at your husband who was standing there smirking.

“Enjoying the show you perv”, you teased Kozik while reaching your arms out towards him. He quickly closed the distance between the two of you, standing behind you and wrapping his arms around you, placing his calloused hands on your exposed abdomen. Gazing at your body in the mirror, he hummed in appreciation, pulling you as close to him as possible without squishing your belly.

“So perfect”, he whispered and placed soft kisses running from the side of your face down your neck. You placed your hands on top of his, and turned your head so you were looking him in the eye.

“Do you notice anything different about me”, you asked him, your face beaming with happiness.  

“Hmmmm”, he murmured, “Haircut? New outfit? Either way you look goooood baby”. He gave you a quick peck on the forehead, and then walked across the room to pick up his phone from the bedside table. You turned around, placed your hands on your hips, and stared at him incredulously. You didn’t believe that he didn’t see your swollen stomach and stalked across the room behind him. Kozik heard your agitated footsteps coming up behind him and he smiled to himself. He knew exactly what you were talking about, hell he had felt your new bump that morning as you laid together in bed, but he likes teasing you and continued to play dumb.

“Baby”, you whined while bouncing back and forth from one foot to the other, “you’ve got to notice something different about me”. He turned around and made a show of placing his index finger on his lip and circling slowly around you with a pensive look on his face. After circling you twice, he shrugged his shoulders, and walked across the room to grab his kutte and slipped it over his shoulders.

He began walking out of the room but was interrupted by your now loud and exasperated voice shouting, “Unless you’ve gone blind this morning, you’ve got to have noticed my stomach has seemed to have grown over night.” Your husband stopped where he was walking and slowly turned around coming face to face with you, his tiny fireball of a wife.

“Baby”, he chuckled, “when has it ever been in my best interest to tell my old lady that she’s getting a belly". He bent over, kissed you on the forehead, and then turned around to leave the room. He had a shit eating grin on his face as he trodds down the stairs to start making breakfast.

“Damn you Herman Kozik, tell me I’m getting fat”, you mockingly demand as you chase him down the stairs.

About a half hour later you were perched on one of the kitchen stools, head in your hands, having a stare down with the pile of large nutrient pills and prenatal vitamins. They tasted disgusting and you absolutely dreaded this part of your morning but you knew that in order to keep the little peanut growing inside of you healthy and strong, that you needed to swallow the mountain of pills. By the time you had finished gagging your way through all 7 pills, your handsome husband was heading your way with the breakfast he had made for you both. You sat up so you could plant a thank you kiss on his lips. You had normally done all the cooking in the house as Kozik wasn’t exactly experienced in that department, however with your severe morning sickness rearing its ugly head, you weren’t able to cook without running to the bathroom to vomit. It was a struggle at first, but your old man was a quick learner and was now whipping out delicious meals like a pro. You wished that you could fully enjoy this culinary side of your husband however your stomach could only handle bland and plain foods with the rare craving for something rich and delicious. The doctor also had you on a diet rich in vitamin B6 which was supposed to help alleviate your symptoms. This meant for the past few weeks you were on a steady diet of lean meat, avocados, spinach, dried fruits, ginger, and sunflower seeds with the occasional popsicle or jello cup if you were feeling daring. The two of you began eating your breakfast when you suddenly heard the front door swing open. Kozik reached for his gun in his waistband and stood up quickly but when he saw who had walked through the door, he put his gun away and plopped back down in his chair rolling his eyes.

“Ever heard of knocking asshole”, your husband shouted before taking a large angry bite of his breakfast.

“Ever heard of not being a dick you...what the fuck (Y/N), put a damn shirt on. What do you think this place is, a nude beach or something”, your visitor exclaimed. You rolled your eyes and took another bite of your breakfast before standing up and strolling into the laundry room. You grabbed a clean shirt from the dryer, slipped it on, and quickly returned to the two men in the kitchen. Your husband was exactly where you left him, trying to avoid eye contact with your brother who was lifting a bag onto the counter. You were going to scold Tig for coming over so early until you saw that the bag he had brought you was filled with your favorite strawberry popsicles. You skipped over, kissed him on the cheek, and grabbed the boxes of popsicles to put them in the freezer before they melted making sure to grab one out of the box to suck on right away. You settled yourself back on your stool as your husband continued to chow down on his breakfast and your brother helped himself to a cup of coffee.

“So what are the big plans for today?” Tig asked as casually as possible.

“I don’t know”, you mused, “I was thinking of just hanging out here today, maybe get some cleaning done”. Both your husband and your brother suddenly looked at each other as if waiting for the other to say something.

Kozik finally broke the silence, reaching over and grabbing your free hand and proposed, “How about we do something out of the house today. It’s been a while since I’ve been able to show off my girl”. You quickly shook your head, sucking on your popsicle to give yourself a minute to come up with an excuse.

“C’mon (Y/N), you’ve barely left the house in weeks. Everyone down at the clubhouse has been asking about you”, your brother chimed in. You dropped your half finished popsicle on your plate and hopped up from your stool. You trudged out to the living room, collapsing your body onto the couch and crossed your arms. Both men followed you into the room. Kozik sat beside you on the couch, wrapping his arm around you and kissing you on the side of your forehead. Tig sat in an armchair across from the two of you, leaning forward with his hands folded and elbows resting on his knees. Both men understood why you were so hesitant to leave the house. You hadn’t exactly been able to enjoy these early weeks of your pregnancy as you’d been to the hospital twice from dehydration and then when you were home, you were vomiting off and on throughout the day. You not only didn’t feel well physically, and you didn’t think that you looked good either. You were self conscious about the way you looked and you were terrified to be more than ten feet from a bathroom.

There was a long awkward silence. You could tell that the men wanted an answer from you but you didn’t know what to tell them. You were normally a much stronger and confident woman, however this illness had done a number on you physically and mentally. Tears started to well up in your eyes and you pulled your legs up on the couch, wrapping your arms around them and putting your head down on your knees to hide the tears. Your husband wrapped his arms tighter around you, and your brother got up from the chair and sat on the coffee table in front of you.

“Listen sis, I get that you’re scared and stressed but it’s not healthy for you to be locked up in the house all day. There’s a small party going on at the clubhouse tonight. The Tacoma charter is in town. So we’re just showing them some good old fashioned Charming hospitality. I think it’d be a good idea for you to stop by. Everyone would love to see you”. You raised your head from your knees and peered up at your brother first, then your husband.

Before you had a chance to shut down the idea, your husband chimed in, “C’mon baby. It will be fine. You can dress up, visit with everyone, and besides if you start feeling too sick, we can always go rest back in the dorms”.

Your brother groaned and rolled his eyes, “C’mon man, that’s how she ended up pregnant in the first place”. You let out a small laugh which seemed to make both men relax.

“There’s that smile I love”, your husband chuckled while moving his arm from around you, grabbing your hand, and bringing it to his lips planting a kiss on your knuckles.

“Now”, he began, “I’m going to go clean up breakfast. Why don’t you hop in the shower. I can even join you if you want”. He squeezed your knee and then quickly hopped up off the couch and sauntered in the other room, before you or your brother had a chance to respond. You blushed and shook your head until you were interrupted by the loud noises coming from Tig. You looked towards the angry man who had just hopped up from the coffee table after driving his fist into it.

You raised your eyebrows at him, and he put his hands up in resignation and declared, “I don’t want to hear it. I really fucking don’t. You all are fucking nasty. I got to go...somewhere...anywhere”. You quickly uncurled from yourself and stood up from the couch. Placing your hands on your hips, you cocked your eyebrow at your “big brother” and shot him your best death glare. No matter how big and tough he was, Tig knew not to mess with you or your fiery temper. He leaned his head back and let out a loud groan before walking over to you and wrapping you in a hug.

“I love you (Y/N)”, he sighed.

“You better”, you retorted.

“Watch it little sister”, he chastised you, “You’re sounding more like me, and with that beer gut of yours, you're looking more like me too”.

You feigned offense and smacked his arm while shouting, “Hey at least somebody noticed my bump”, packing on the sarcasm for your husband in the kitchen.

It was many hours later and you had just gotten out of the shower for the second time. Kozik had kept his promise to meet you in the shower earlier that day which the two of you spent a good amount of time enjoying, until the water ran ice cold. You then moved to the bedroom, where you had round two and three. While you always found your husband incredibly sexy, the hormones raging through your body had you constantly wanting to jump his bones and he sure wasn’t complaining. Eventually you sent him off so you could get dressed without any temptation. You had blow dried and straightened your hair which always took much longer than you expected. You settled on simple makeup, just some eyeliner, mascara, and lipstick. You accepted the fact that none of your pants were going to fit you, so you resigned to wearing another pair of dark black leggings, that were comfortable but also clung to every curve of your every growing body. You pulled on your favorite teal camisole, adjusting the material trying to find a way to have both your bump and your growing cleavage covered. You grabbed your favorite leather jacket. It fit snug and you knew that the zipper would not close, but it gave you a sense of normalcy so you decided you would wear it anyway. Finishing off your outfit, you slipped on a pair of socks and black ankle booties. You stood back to stare at yourself in the mirror. You ran your hands over your body, turning from side to side and looking at your larger form. You knew that your body growing meant that your baby was growing, and you should be thrilled about that and you were but you were absolutely dreading standing next to the tiny little crow eaters at the party. You walked downstairs to find your husband, flipping through the channels on the television, waiting for you. You cleared your throat to get his attention and as he turned his head to look at you, you saw his eyes go wide.

You quickly felt self conscious and cried, “I know I know, I look…”.

“You look sexy as fuck baby. I don’t know if we’re going to make it to that damn party”, he interrupted you while quickly hopping off of the couch and striding over until he was standing directly in front of you with a devilish grin across his face. He wrapped his left arm around your waist, pulling you flush to his body before sliding his hand down to grab on to your ass with his large rough hand. His right hand found the side of your face, pulling your lips to his and kissing you with a fervor that took your breath away. You reached your hands up, and grabbed him by the kutte, pulling him even closer if that was possible. Your arms then slid around his neck before quickly finding themselves balled up in his hair. You felt him smile against your mouth, and you took the opportunity to slide your tongue between his lips. He groaned in response and pushed you back against the wall. His right hand moved from your face, sliding down your body, palming your breast before eventually resting on your belly. Then as quickly as it started, it ended as your tease of a husband took a step back from you. You whined at the loss of contact and pouted, wanting nothing more than to bring this back to the bedroom and forget about the whole party. Sensing your frustration, Kozik chuckled, grabbing your hand and bringing it to his lips while his eyes hungrily roamed your body.

“Don’t worry baby, we will definitely be finishing this later”, he drawled while still trying to catch his breath, “now let’s get going before my phone starts blowing up with texts from your brother”. You groaned in response, but eventually relented, pushing yourself off the wall and grabbing his hand before walking out the door.

You had been at the party for a little over an hour and were surprisingly having an amazing time. The guys weren’t exaggerating when they said everyone missed you and you were practically swarmed when you got to the clubhouse. The first person to see you was Chibs who was outside smoking with a couple of prospects when you arrived. He quickly handed his smoke to one of the younger men and then ran over to the two of you, slapping your husband on the shoulder before enveloping you in a big hug. You hugged him back, excited to see the man who was equally as protective of you as your brother as the two of them had been the best of friends for as long as you could remember. When you walked into the clubhouse, your best friend Lyla Winston quickly ran into your arms, bubbling with excitement that you had decided to come. You couldn’t lie, you were thrilled to see her too and couldn’t wait to here all the clubhouse gossip you had missed while being stuck in the house. Your husband was thrilled to see the two of you interact as it was the most excited and upbeat you had seemed in weeks. He stood back and watched the exchange with a content smile on his face. Suddenly, a large thump from across the room caught your attention and you saw an angry looking crow eater sitting on the ground in front of your brother. She had been occupying his lap and his attention until you had walked into the clubhouse. When he saw you arrive, he had quickly stood up to greet you, forgetting that she was on his lap and she had unceremoniously tumbled to the ground.

“Oh shit, I’m sorry Sandie...Sadie….Susan. Damn, I’m sorry doll I can’t remember your fucking name. Can one of you guy take care of this”, Tig stammered as he took a swig of his beer and directed one of the other guys to take care of the angry crow eater now trying to get up off of the dirty floor.

“The name’s Sandy you fucking ass wipe”, the angry woman grumbled as she yanked her arm out of the reach of Juice who had been trying to help her up off of the floor. Tig paid her no mind however as he was ecstatic that his baby sister had arrived and was jogging over to wear you had walked in.

“Excuse me darlin”, Tig interrupted you and Lyla. She smiled, stepping aside allowing your brother to wrap his arms around your waist and pick you up, spinning you around causing you to laugh. He gently placed you back down on the ground and looked you over with a look of concern.

“How are you feeling (Y/N)”, he questioned. You smiled and nodded your head, indicating that you were feeling alright, much to your own surprise.

“Well that’s good”, your brother responded, “because I made sure the prospects stocked up on plenty of vitamin B6 to make sure we had good food for you and my future niece or nephew. We’ve got lots of dried fruit, sunflower seeds, and even your favorite strawberry popsicles. I told them that if anyone eats them, I’ll cut their nuts off”. You smiled at your overly protective older brother and stood on your tip toes, giving him a quick peck on the cheek.

“Thank you for the snacks and for ditching that skank for little old me”, you teased, “Now why don’t you two go find Jax. I’m sure he needs to fill you in on what’s going on with everything, besides, we’ve got some gossip to catch up on”. You linked arms with Lyla and smiled up at both men, showing you were being truthful and that they could go check in with their president. Tig smiled and pulled you in for a quick side hug before running off. Kozik grabbed you by the shoulders and looked you dead in the eye.

“You have someone come get me if you need anything, you understand”, he instructed.

“Yes sir”, you retorted while giving a salute with your free hand. He let out a deep breath and rolled his eyes, giving you a quick peck on the lips before running off to find his brothers. Lyla pulled you over to one of the few free couches and caught you up on all the gossip you had been missing while stuck at home.

Another exciting side effect of pregnancy was the fact that you had a bladder the size of a peanut, so it wasn’t too long before you had to excuse yourself to run to the bathroom. You knew enough to avoid the “public” bathroom and decided to use the bathroom back in your husband’s dorm. Making sure to avoid the full length mirror on your way out the door, you quickly exited the room, excited to get back to the festivities. As you rounded the corner in the hallway, you were stopped in your tracks when you heard your name coming out of the mouth of the same croweater who had been occupying your brother’s lap earlier in the evening.

“That stupid fucking cow”, she snarled, “She pisses me off so much. It’s bad enough that she took over all of Kozik’s attention and then got her slutty ass knocked up by him….but now she’s got Tig at her beck and call too”. The smell of cigarettes turned your stomach as you listened to the two women.

“Don’t worry about it”, another crow responded, “He’s going to get tired of her eventually. He’s going to get bored of the same old bitch day after day, especially with her body after she has that damn baby. Just a waiting game, and soon you’ll have both her brother and her husband wrapped around your finger”. You heard both women cackle and walk away, back to the party to see which biker they could attach themselves to for the evening. You stood there holding your breath with tears spilling over your eyes. Your hands began to shake and you wrapped your arms around yourself, gripping onto the sleeves of your small leather jacket. You felt your stomach begin to churn, and for once it wasn’t because of the morning sickness. You needed to get out of there and quickly. Not wanting to cause a scene, you grabbed one of your husband’s hoodies from his room and pulled it on over your body after discarding your jacket on his bed. You pulled the hood of the sweatshirt up around your face so nobody could clearly see who you are. You stayed on the edge of the room, following the wall as you slowly slipped out the door, walking out of the parking lot and into the night.

You had been gone for all of 10 minutes when Lyla had gotten up and decided to come looking for you. She checked the bathroom, Kozik’s room, Tig’s room, and all of the other rooms in building. At this point she was running around the building in a panic as losing her pregnant best friend was about the worst case scenario she could think of this evening. She knew the men were busy catching up on things in the chapel, but as it was an emergency, she decided to quickly knock on the large doors. Bobby answered the door with a look of annoyance, but when he saw the panicked look on Lyla’s face, he quickly ushered her into the room. Seeing the panicked look on his wife’s face, Opie quickly stood up and walked across the room, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and encouraging her to explain what had happened. Lyla explained that she had gone to look for you after you had went to the bathroom but couldn’t find you anywhere. Both Tig and Kozik cursed and jumped up from the table quickly walking out the door and heading towards their bikes. Kozik decided he would head back to your house to see if you had gone there. Tig said he would drive around looking for you as well. He instructed one of the prospects to figure out what the hell had happened to cause you to leave. Your brother drove from place to place searching for you first stopping at your favorite diner, then your favorite book store, and then your favorite bakery. His mind was going a million miles a minute. He couldn’t understand why you had left or what had happened. They would have noticed any signs of foul play so he knew you had to have walked off on your own somewhere. He sat on his bike for a moment trying to figure out where the hell you could have possibly gone. Suddenly an idea came to him and he hopped on his bike, driving as quickly as he possibly could. Driving the familiar roads towards your childhood home, he passed by the old dilapidated house before rounding the corner to the local playground. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw you sitting on the swing sets and took out his phone to text your husband informing him that he had found you and that he would bring you back to the clubhouse. 

Slipping his phone in his pocket, he hopped off his bike and strolled over to the swing set. You wouldn’t meet his gaze, instead looking at the ground and wringing your hands. Tig sighed and sat on the swing next to you, pushing his feet off the ground so that his swing lightly tapped yours in order to get your attention. You finally looked up from the ground and looked your brother in the eyes.

“Are you mad Alex”, you questioned.

“Fucking pissed (Y/N)”, your brother responded while reaching out his hand to grab yours, “Why the hell would you just run off by yourself. For fucks sake you know you have to be extra careful being married to a Son and being a sister of a Son. That’s not even taking into account your health issues. (Y/N), you’re pregnant and have been getting sick so often. What if something happened and you passed out and we hadn’t found you”.

“Well you both would have been better off”, you murmured while pulling your hand from his, wrapping your arms around yourself, and letting the tears escape from your eyes and roll down your cheeks. Your brother quickly shot up from his seat on the swing next to the one you occupied.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean (Y/N)”, he responded heatedly. His entire demeanor quickly changed when he saw the tears falling down your face. He moved his body so he was standing directly in front of you before squatting down on the ground. He grabbed both of your hands from your sides and held them in his own.

“Please don’t cry sweetheart. I was just worried about you that’s all. We all were. Now just tell me what the hell happened that made you leave in the first place”, Tig begged. You looked into your brother’s deep blue eyes that matched your own, not wanting to tell him about the crow eaters from earlier but you knew he would be relentless so you took a deep breath and decided to tell him what went on. As you told him about what the catty women had said, you could see the rage boiling up inside of him. When you finished telling him what happened, you breathed a sigh of relief, glad to have gotten it out but nervous to see what your brother’s reaction would be. He took a deep breath, pulled out his phone from his pocket and sent a quick text. He then stood up off the ground, pulling you up with him, and making you look him dead in the eye while placing a hand on both of your shoulders.

“Listen baby sister”, he reassured you in a calm but but steady voice, “You can’t listen to those bitches. They’re just jealous and pissed off that they’re not getting attention at the moment. All they do is chase kuttes and now there’s two less men giving them attention”.

“You’re just saying that because you’re my brother and you love me but I feel terrible that I’m taking up all of your guy’s time and attention. I feel like a needy bitch”, you whisper woefully.  

“(Y/N) nothing’s further from the truth”, Tig responded, “You’re my baby sister and I love the shit out of you. I would literally do anything for you and I am so beyond excited to have a little niece or nephew to spoil rotten. Plus as much as your husband pisses me off on a regular basis, he loves you like crazy baby girl. You’re giving him a gift by having this baby and he wants to be there for you to help you, the both of us do. Who cares if you’re needy, cause we like being needed by you. We’re going to be here to help you every step of the way because we love you”. You wiped your eyes and smiled at your brother. He was relieved to see a glimmer of happiness return to your face and he pulled you close to him, wrapping you in a tight hug.

“How did you know where I would be”, you questioned, surprised that he was able to find you so quickly. 

“Are you kidding me (Y/N)”, he replied with a laugh while stepping back and running a hand through his thick curls, “I remember when we were 9 years old and you got in a fight with mom because she wanted you to get rid of half of your doll collection. You were so mad that you decided you were going to run away but you only made it as far as this swing set here because you got scared so I came and got you and brought you home. Speaking of, how about we get you back to the clubhouse. Don’t worry about those bitches. It’s being taken care of as we speak”. You raised your eyebrows at him but shook your head, knowing that sometimes it was better not to know. The two of you walked over to his bike. He handed you a helmet, the two of you hopped on, and you drove back to the party.

The two of you walked into the clubhouse and within seconds your husband was at your side. Your brother excused himself to fill in his brothers and Lyla across the room. Kozik looked you over, making sure that you were indeed alright and had not been injured. He grabbed your face between his hands and pulled your lips to his, kissing you roughly and possessively. You leaned into the kiss, relishing the feeling of your husband’s lips against yours. When you broke for air, you both rested your foreheads against one another while catching your breath.

“Never again”, he panted with an authoritative tone to his voice. You nodded your head in agreement, reaching your hand up and stroking his face, a silent apology for the stress you had put him through that evening. Before the two of you could continue your conversation, a commotion drew your attention from across the room. You both looked over where the noise was coming from and saw your tiny spitfire of a best friend storming across the room towards the two crow eaters from earlier. She walked right up to the women and slapped them both across the face. Before they had a chance to retaliate, she grabbed both of their hair by the scalp and pulled them down to her eye level.

“You two bitches made a mistake, a big fucking mistake”, the small woman growled, “You didn’t just mess with the sister of a Samcro member. You didn’t just mess with the wife and Old Lady of a Samcro member. You messed with my best friend, and if you so much as look at her funny ever again, it’ll be the last thing you do in your slutty little lives”. The two women raised their eyebrows and stepped towards her. However they were quickly interrupted when Opie walked up behind Lyla, draping an arm around her shoulder. Tig and Chibs flanked the large man.

“It’s time for you to leave girls”, Chibs told the women. They looked at the men incredulously but before they had a chance to respond, your brother interjected.

“Get the fuck out”, Tig shouted, “You’re not welcome here. Leave and don’t even think about coming back”. Chibs directed two of the prospects to show the women out of the clubhouse and off the property. After the women were shown out, you ran over to your best friend and wrapped your arms around her, thanking her for sticking up for you.

“Not a problem babe”, Lyla replied with a wink, “Besides we all know I’m the toughest one here”. That caused all of the men to laugh as Lyla feigned offense while showing off her muscles. All of a sudden, the laughter was interrupted when your stomach let out a monstrous sound. This caught your husbands attention quickly and he looked at you in concern.

“Let me send one of the prospects to grab you a snack from the kitchen babe”, your husband offered, “I know we’ve got your favorite popsicles int here plus some dried apricots”.

“Well actually”, you replied with a shy smile, “If the prospects wouldn’t mind going a little farther, I’m actually craving a cheeseburger. Do you think one of them would be willing to run to the diner for me”. Everyone in the group, especially your brother and husband, had a look of shock at first but then broke out into huge smiles.

“I’m on it little sis”, your brother responded with a salute while running outside to catch up to one of the prospects to send them out to get you something to eat. You smiled to yourself, placing your hand on your stomach, thrilled that you were starting to feel like a human again. You hoped that now you could begin enjoying your pregnancy and maybe even start planning your baby shower, but that was a thought for another day. 

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[sunjaesol]

Working at "Bernstein, Hartman & Penn" was no joke. Every day, Morgan woke up at six o'clock, got ready by six thirty, arrived at work a little after seven and then fully got in swing by seven thirty. It sounded strict and early, but most colleagues had the same routine. The law firm abided a laundry list of rules and the boss was even tougher.

Because of this, most colleagues became friends to get through the day. Lunch breaks were a social festivity, many went out for drinks after work and every year, someone took the responsibility of organising a weekend getaway for anyone that liked to join. Most did... except Luke Patterson.

Luke was by the far the strangest enigma she had ever encountered. He worked on the dot from seven thirty to five thirty, laser-focused on the tasks of the day and kept to himself whenever he had some time to spare. Sure, he sat with the group during lunch, but no one really knew anything about him.

Just a twenty-seven year old dude from Los Angeles with a law degree, somehow being cursed with a sad personality while looking like an Abercrombie model. Nour, Morgan's best friend at the firm, suspected he had a depressing existence, maybe mommy issues he never got over, and now spent his days like a sourpuss.

Brief glimpses of humanity whenever he spoke with clients peeked through, but they were slim. Most had given up getting to know him by now.

Safe to say Morgan and Luke weren't friends.

That all changed one afternoon in early spring, when everyone's moods lifted marginally and the windows opened up to let in the fresh air. Even Luke smiled a little, but only when he thought no one was looking.

From Morgan's desk, she saw how a woman, casually dressed with a tote bag, walked through the doors and spoke to secretary. They directed her here, which was odd, as she couldn't recall anyone taking clients during lunch hours.

"Luke," she called out, catching everyone's gobsmacked attention.

The man looked up from his desktop and the unthinkable happened. His face lit up like a freaking Christmas tree, jumping up from his chair to meet her in the middle.

"Hey," he grinned, looping his arms around her and kissing her on the forehead. His voice was impossibly soft. "What're you doing here?"

"I thought we could have lunch together," she explained, nodding at her tote. Luke stared down at her with so much reverence Morgan nearly spilled her coffee down her trousers. Nour and her shot each other an awed look. What the hell was going on?

He squeezed her closer, kissed her again, and mumbled an, "Of course," before rushing back to his desk to rip off his tie, roll up his sleeves and ensure that all calls would go to voicemail. This was unprecedented. All the colleagues in the office gave each other knowing looks, no doubt the main topic when they played Trivial Pursuit tonight.

"Okay," he said, eagerly grabbing her hand and tugging her outside. "Let's go. I wanna know all about your day!"

When he got back thirty minutes later, Morgan didn't let the opportunity to investigate slide. Mustering her most charming smile, she went to his desk and asked, "So, who was that?"

Luke stared at her, indifferent. "What?"

"The woman from before."

"Oh!" He smiled. "That's my fiancée."

She blinked. "You- you have a fiancée."

"Yup."

"How long have you been together?"

He frowned. "Is that important?"

"C'mon, man," she sighed. "Give us something."

Rolling his eyes, he leaned back in his chair and drawled, "Ten years. Happy?"

Her jaw fell slack. "She's your high school sweetheart?!"

possible drabble where Luke has a Very Serious Job and is very stern on the clock, all his colleagues know him as such, but then Julie visits one day for lunch and Luke completely changes demeanour right in front of everyone